Seed of Stars Read Online Free Page B
"I think . . . perhaps I can understand. But I must still feel sorry for them, for what they have lost..."
"Then go back to Vee Twelve and if you wish, make a paper shrine and burn a stick for them. But be happy for them."
She nodded. "Ill try. And when you are back, and we are together again . . . then, will you take out the capsule?"
The need of her had him in thrall. This was no cold-minded bitch who wanted him for mere physical relief; she needed him to fulfill her creative purpose,
and she gave him a love that no other woman, not even his mother, had ever given him before. "Yes—the capsule," he said. A sudden, incredibly bright smile, and she was gone. He returned to his work.
Back on Venturer Twelve, in the commander's standby room, Bruce was taking informal reports on the Wangituru operation. Lindstrom hovered close by, aware of his impatience to continue the journey to Kepler III.
Kuznetsov, a two-meter piece of Ural rock, was pleased and boastful. "All repairs completed. My boys did the job straight, no rest, no sick calls, no spacehead. When they got their suits off they all stank like latrines —or maybe just like engineers." He grinned at Lindstrom.
Bruce grunted his acknowledgment.
Radar Lieutenant Maranne, looking like something fresh off a recruiting poster, said: "All replacements completed, no hitches. Mia Mizuno is developing so well I intend to put in a promotion recommendation. We ought" to have a larger proportion of Japanese in electronics. They're so good at it, supple in mind and body."
Magnus looked in and said: "I took the liberty of calling Kepler III on sub-etheric to explain the delay. Courtesy, you know. They will be feeling very sensitive in this, their independence year, so I felt that the expenditure in tact was quite justified."
"We'll not keep them waiting longer than necessary," Bruce said.
Kibbee said: "Captain Sikorski is a good man. We had time to do the burial service properly."
Maseba said to Kibbee: "May their spirits see God in the light of a far sun." He anticipated Kibbee's eager response. "I mean, your God. Mine isn't so liberal. He looks at skins, and man, I'm favored." Kibbee left with a slightly bemused, somewhat hurt expression. "All items stored in the replacement bank, sir."
Lindstrom winced as Bruce said: "Fine! Now maybe you can make me those dozen extra crewmen Admin wouldn't allow me back on Earth?"
"I guess not," Maseba answered smoothly. "It seems I'd need Kibbee's God for that. Little matter of the breath of life, he'd say." He looked keenly at Bruce. "Sir, please come in for an eye check tomorrow, about twelve-thirty, or when you can make it."
Bruce stiffened. "What's supposed to be the matter with me?" he snapped.
"You come in the morning, sir, and we'll find out Your eyes are slightly off-focus. Overwork, maybe— but we ought to know."
Lindstrom smiled to herself, anticipating Bruce's growling reply.
"I'll see if I can fit it in, if you insist"
Maseba rose, easy and graceful as a young lion. "You do that sir." He paused at the door, a mischievous smile suffusing his ebony face. "That is a medical order, sir."
Lindstrom expected Bruce to snap again, but he turned his attention to his checklist giving her an opportunity to say something that had been on her own mind.
"George."
"Ma'am?" He looked at her, enquiringly.
"That was great work you did. I saw that Chinese girl. When she gets the bandages off, is the covered half of her face going to match the half I saw?"
"Why, sure it will," Maseba said. "Why else do you think they used to call me the Rodin of the plastic surgery department back in Lake Cities?"
"I just hope you're around if anything like that should ever happen to me," Helen said.
He grinned and held up his big, delicate-fingered hands. "They're all for you, baby. Any time."
Then he was gone, and Lindstrom was alone with Bruce. She realized that this was something which rarely happened now. Once, back on Earth, before he had
"Then go back to Vee Twelve and if you wish, make a paper shrine and burn a stick for them. But be happy for them."
She nodded. "Ill try. And when you are back, and we are together again . . . then, will you take out the capsule?"
The need of her had him in thrall. This was no cold-minded bitch who wanted him for mere physical relief; she needed him to fulfill her creative purpose,
and she gave him a love that no other woman, not even his mother, had ever given him before. "Yes—the capsule," he said. A sudden, incredibly bright smile, and she was gone. He returned to his work.
Back on Venturer Twelve, in the commander's standby room, Bruce was taking informal reports on the Wangituru operation. Lindstrom hovered close by, aware of his impatience to continue the journey to Kepler III.
Kuznetsov, a two-meter piece of Ural rock, was pleased and boastful. "All repairs completed. My boys did the job straight, no rest, no sick calls, no spacehead. When they got their suits off they all stank like latrines —or maybe just like engineers." He grinned at Lindstrom.
Bruce grunted his acknowledgment.
Radar Lieutenant Maranne, looking like something fresh off a recruiting poster, said: "All replacements completed, no hitches. Mia Mizuno is developing so well I intend to put in a promotion recommendation. We ought" to have a larger proportion of Japanese in electronics. They're so good at it, supple in mind and body."
Magnus looked in and said: "I took the liberty of calling Kepler III on sub-etheric to explain the delay. Courtesy, you know. They will be feeling very sensitive in this, their independence year, so I felt that the expenditure in tact was quite justified."
"We'll not keep them waiting longer than necessary," Bruce said.
Kibbee said: "Captain Sikorski is a good man. We had time to do the burial service properly."
Maseba said to Kibbee: "May their spirits see God in the light of a far sun." He anticipated Kibbee's eager response. "I mean, your God. Mine isn't so liberal. He looks at skins, and man, I'm favored." Kibbee left with a slightly bemused, somewhat hurt expression. "All items stored in the replacement bank, sir."
Lindstrom winced as Bruce said: "Fine! Now maybe you can make me those dozen extra crewmen Admin wouldn't allow me back on Earth?"
"I guess not," Maseba answered smoothly. "It seems I'd need Kibbee's God for that. Little matter of the breath of life, he'd say." He looked keenly at Bruce. "Sir, please come in for an eye check tomorrow, about twelve-thirty, or when you can make it."
Bruce stiffened. "What's supposed to be the matter with me?" he snapped.
"You come in the morning, sir, and we'll find out Your eyes are slightly off-focus. Overwork, maybe— but we ought to know."
Lindstrom smiled to herself, anticipating Bruce's growling reply.
"I'll see if I can fit it in, if you insist"
Maseba rose, easy and graceful as a young lion. "You do that sir." He paused at the door, a mischievous smile suffusing his ebony face. "That is a medical order, sir."
Lindstrom expected Bruce to snap again, but he turned his attention to his checklist giving her an opportunity to say something that had been on her own mind.
"George."
"Ma'am?" He looked at her, enquiringly.
"That was great work you did. I saw that Chinese girl. When she gets the bandages off, is the covered half of her face going to match the half I saw?"
"Why, sure it will," Maseba said. "Why else do you think they used to call me the Rodin of the plastic surgery department back in Lake Cities?"
"I just hope you're around if anything like that should ever happen to me," Helen said.
He grinned and held up his big, delicate-fingered hands. "They're all for you, baby. Any time."
Then he was gone, and Lindstrom was alone with Bruce. She realized that this was something which rarely happened now. Once, back on Earth, before he had
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