John Maddox Roberts - Spacer: Window of Mind by John Maddox Roberts Page A
Authors: John Maddox Roberts
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pinned to their jackets, as was permitted for a diplomatic function.
"And I thought 1 looked changed!" Kiril commented.
"You'd be surprised what you'll find, rummaging through a spacer's bag," said Torwald. "And, may I add, Lafayette is going to be a much-envied man tonight." Kiril refused to blush: it wasn't her style.
Ham and the skipper arrived, both in full naval dress with the Reserve collar insignia. "What do you know?" said Finn. "It still fits after all these years." She favored him with a look that boded ill for his future duties.
"Where are Bert and Achmed?" Michelle asked.
"They've elected not to attend," said Torwald. "They're going to a party being thrown for the rest of the crews and the lower-ranking scientists. It'll probably be a lot more fun, and it's a good place to pick up rumors."
"Fine," said the skipper. "They'll probably learn a lot more than we will."
"Do you think those Satsuma people will give them any trouble?" asked Michelle.
"B'Shant's going with them," answered Finn.
"No trouble, then," said the skipper.
"And here comes K'Stin," said Torwald, "the belle of the ball."
The Viver entered. He wore a weapon harness studded with medallions and awards and hung with a variety of daggers and swords. He had painted himself from head to foot with stripes of red and green.
"Why the stripes, K'Stin?" asked Ham.
"The colors of the glorious Clan T'Chak. One must honor the Clan, even among inferior beings."
"You'll be the envy of everybody there," said Torwald.
"I know," said K'Stin complacently. "Yet do not feel too humiliated, for comparing the beauty of a Viver with that of you soft persons is as absurd as comparing the brilliance of a star with that of a luminous fungus." Kiril worked hard to keep a straight face. The Viver was almost supernaturally ugly, and the paint only increased the effect. But then, she reflected, the Vivers had their own standards of beauty, and they were far better equipped to enforce their opinions than were standard humans.
When Homer arrived, they left the ship. They found a somewhat smaller honor guard waiting for them. This guard was led by an officer older than the first, whose manner was far more congenial. It was plain that Pierce the diplomat was making a few adjustments.
The reception was being held in a vast room fitted with a lavish buffet and bar. All around the floor low-ranking servicemen were dancing attendance on the guests. Conversation stopped and all eyes turned their way when the doorkeeper announced the arrival of the personnel of the Space Angel. They were, indeed, celebrities. Pierce immediately rushed to greet them, and he steered Ham and the skipper off on a round of introductions, leaving the others to fend for themselves. They headed for the bar first. Torwald and Finn ordered drinks for their ladies.
"Would you like anything?" asked Lafayette.
"No, thanks," said Kiril. She knew that alcohol clouded one's judgment and slowed one's reflexes. In her experience, people with such afflictions ended up dead. Kiril had an almost Viver like aversion to being dead. Lafayette signaled for the bartender.
"Have anything without alcohol?"
The bartender eyed Lafayette's nonmilitary dress with some disdain. "Admiral says no dope allowed on this voyage."
"That's not what I asked," Lafayette said, his face and neck going red. "The lady would like something nonalcoholic."
"Well, I'll see what I've got," said the bartender, looking about with insolent slowness.
Kirjl had been studying the man's eyes closely. Now she leaned across the bar and said sweetly: "Hey, sailor, how would you like it if I told your commander what you've been smoking lately?" The bartender stared at her wide-eyed, swallowed hard, and quickly poured a glass full of something that was most definitely nonalcoholic.
Lafayette chuckled as they walked away. "Good stunt, Kiril." They found Torwald and Michelle, and Lafayette told them of their run in with the bartender.
"Bad blood
"And I thought 1 looked changed!" Kiril commented.
"You'd be surprised what you'll find, rummaging through a spacer's bag," said Torwald. "And, may I add, Lafayette is going to be a much-envied man tonight." Kiril refused to blush: it wasn't her style.
Ham and the skipper arrived, both in full naval dress with the Reserve collar insignia. "What do you know?" said Finn. "It still fits after all these years." She favored him with a look that boded ill for his future duties.
"Where are Bert and Achmed?" Michelle asked.
"They've elected not to attend," said Torwald. "They're going to a party being thrown for the rest of the crews and the lower-ranking scientists. It'll probably be a lot more fun, and it's a good place to pick up rumors."
"Fine," said the skipper. "They'll probably learn a lot more than we will."
"Do you think those Satsuma people will give them any trouble?" asked Michelle.
"B'Shant's going with them," answered Finn.
"No trouble, then," said the skipper.
"And here comes K'Stin," said Torwald, "the belle of the ball."
The Viver entered. He wore a weapon harness studded with medallions and awards and hung with a variety of daggers and swords. He had painted himself from head to foot with stripes of red and green.
"Why the stripes, K'Stin?" asked Ham.
"The colors of the glorious Clan T'Chak. One must honor the Clan, even among inferior beings."
"You'll be the envy of everybody there," said Torwald.
"I know," said K'Stin complacently. "Yet do not feel too humiliated, for comparing the beauty of a Viver with that of you soft persons is as absurd as comparing the brilliance of a star with that of a luminous fungus." Kiril worked hard to keep a straight face. The Viver was almost supernaturally ugly, and the paint only increased the effect. But then, she reflected, the Vivers had their own standards of beauty, and they were far better equipped to enforce their opinions than were standard humans.
When Homer arrived, they left the ship. They found a somewhat smaller honor guard waiting for them. This guard was led by an officer older than the first, whose manner was far more congenial. It was plain that Pierce the diplomat was making a few adjustments.
The reception was being held in a vast room fitted with a lavish buffet and bar. All around the floor low-ranking servicemen were dancing attendance on the guests. Conversation stopped and all eyes turned their way when the doorkeeper announced the arrival of the personnel of the Space Angel. They were, indeed, celebrities. Pierce immediately rushed to greet them, and he steered Ham and the skipper off on a round of introductions, leaving the others to fend for themselves. They headed for the bar first. Torwald and Finn ordered drinks for their ladies.
"Would you like anything?" asked Lafayette.
"No, thanks," said Kiril. She knew that alcohol clouded one's judgment and slowed one's reflexes. In her experience, people with such afflictions ended up dead. Kiril had an almost Viver like aversion to being dead. Lafayette signaled for the bartender.
"Have anything without alcohol?"
The bartender eyed Lafayette's nonmilitary dress with some disdain. "Admiral says no dope allowed on this voyage."
"That's not what I asked," Lafayette said, his face and neck going red. "The lady would like something nonalcoholic."
"Well, I'll see what I've got," said the bartender, looking about with insolent slowness.
Kirjl had been studying the man's eyes closely. Now she leaned across the bar and said sweetly: "Hey, sailor, how would you like it if I told your commander what you've been smoking lately?" The bartender stared at her wide-eyed, swallowed hard, and quickly poured a glass full of something that was most definitely nonalcoholic.
Lafayette chuckled as they walked away. "Good stunt, Kiril." They found Torwald and Michelle, and Lafayette told them of their run in with the bartender.
"Bad blood
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