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Val smiles, the trust in her eyes momentarily pierces him. His solemn word,
what does that mean? But it has to be all right, he thinks. After all, Noah
Catledge
"It's not just the Navy," Frodo says. "That Major Fearing isn't in the
Navy. He despises us."
"Aren't you being just a little, ah..."
"No, he really does." Valerie's eyes have clouded again. "He hates us."
"I don't see how his likes or dislikes could be a threat to you," Dann says
soothingly.
"I do." Frodo stares at him over Val's head and draws her finger across her
throat. "I bet he'd hate having his mind read." Her tone is light but she's
scowling ferociously, willing him to understand.
Dann recalls his brush with Fearing, that intensely covert man. His aura of
secret power, the invisible fortifications of self. Trust nobody, withhold
everything; classic anal type. Frodo is perfectly right; for a man like
Fearing to have his mind read would be traumatic. A terrible threat. Dann
chuckles, disregarding some subterranean unease. Could Fearing be snooping
about to check on Kirk's enterprise? Comical!
"I really wouldn't worry," he says so warmly and firmly he quite believes it.
"After all, he can't do away with me."
The girls smile back and they chat of other things. But under the surface Dann
has an instant of wondering. What could he do if the military decided to treat
these people as resources, conscript them in some way? If he had to make some
protest, who would listen? Nobody, especially after one look through his
prescription records. For that matter, who would miss him if he never showed
up again?
 But this is crazy, he tells himself. And sanity returns with the conclusive
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answer: It's all nonsense because tomorrow nothing will happen. Nothing ever
has. This test will turn out like all the rest, ambiguous at best. He hopes
it's ambiguous for old Noah's sake. But unseen voices are not going to come
out of that submarine, this ragtag of people is not able to read secrets out
of anybody's mind. They've got him as crazy as old Noah with his blue lizard
science fiction.
Relieved, his smile strengthens. Valerie is telling him how she's working
as a junior nurse while Frodo starts law school at Maryland U. The vision of
Frodo as a lawyer diverts him. In the fantasy twilight of Deerfield he wishes
them well with all his battered heart.
When they go in he remains, waiting for what he will not admit. The twilight
deepens. From back in the woods the frogs tune up. Nothing is going to occur.
But just as the last light goes, she is there.
Tall and so divinely lean as to be almost grotesque, in a sexless grey suit,
she is in the water almost before his eyes can separate her from the dusk.
He has only an instant glimpse of sharp high breasts and elegant thigh.
She makes no splashing; only a straight wake down the pool to him, a swift
turn underwater and she's started back again, the long dark arms reaching
rhythmically, a chain of foam at her feet. In the shallow end her jackknife
turn makes an ebony angle against the water. Then she is streaking back toward
him, only to turn and repeat, again and again and again.
He sits hypnotized. Is this strenuous ritual a professional skill? It doesn't
look like play. Indeed, it has almost an air of self-inflicted penance.
Whatever, she gives no friendly sign.
The stars come out, the cicadas start their shrilling. From the far barracks
he can hear voices and music. How marvelous that the others wish to stay in
their lighted box, leaving him alone here with her. But she is still at it,
like a mechanical thing. Swim, turn, swim, turn God knows how many times, he
hasn't counted. So long... Surely she will go straight in afterwards. He is
unreasonably saddened.
At last she climbs out to wrap herself in a pale robe. He summons courage.
"Miss Omali? Margaret?"
She hesitates and then to his delight comes pacing toward him. He jumps up,
choking the impulse to comment on her exercise. Instead he points up at the
spangled sky.
"Would you like to inspect my friends?"
Her face turns up. "Hey, they're really bright here."
"If you're not too chilly I could tell you about a few of them."
"All right." Her aloof voice is amused, more relaxed than he has heard it.
Abruptly, she has stretched out in the chaise. He daren't look.
"Well, first see that bright one just rising above the trees. That's not a
true star, it's Mars, a world like ours, shining by reflected sunlight. Notice
how red it is. It comes very close, say thirty-four million miles " He rattles
through every picturesque fact he can think of.
"How far are the others?"
"Take that very bright blue-white star right overhead there. It's a sun called
Vega, it's bright because it's comparatively close. The light that just
reached your eyes took only twenty-six years to get here. Call a light-year
six million million miles, Vega is about a hundred and fifty million million
miles away."
"Fifteen times ten to the thirteenth. Um." In the starlight he can see her
flawless profile.
"Wait. That reddish one just moving up from that oak, that's Antares.
It's four hundred and forty light-years
A man's figure has emerged from the woods right behind them.
"Hi." It's Ted Yost's voice. Dann is gripped by fury.
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"Hi, Ted. Doc's showing me some stars."
"Hello, Ted." Dann can scarcely control his voice, he is in such dread that
the boy will sit down. "Having a stroll?" he croaks.
"Yeah. Well, goodnight Doc," Ted says to Dann's infinite relief. "I
thought you might be somebody else." His footsteps fade away.
"Ted's good," Margaret remarks.
Dann would call him a saint for his absence, he starts an involuntary word of
pity and stops.
"I know about him. I have all your records."
"I see... What did he mean?"
"Oh, Ted kind of watches. He breaks up the lieutenant's games."
"I see," Dann repeats, thinking with loathing of Kendall Kirk. And be himself
has done nothing to help her, has let that barbarian persecute her while he
festered in his selfish fogs.
She is still staring dreamily upward. The sky is magnificent here, even the
air seems charged with mysterious energy. Beautiful Deerfield. [ Pobierz całość w formacie PDF ]

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