Toys

Chapter 61

It turned out that most of the mining labor in Vlosk was robotic; there weren’t many human inhabitants, and though they’d tried to add touches of warmth-brightly painted houses, for one thing; greenhouse gardens; a couple of roughhouse taverns-the place was still as grim as an addict’s funeral.

But our driver, a bristly-mustached young man named Sergei, seemed cheerful enough-maybe because, like the nomads, he wasn’t living with the Elite boot pressed down on his neck.

Our flight was ready to depart, so we said a hasty good-bye to Sergei and drove with a robot attendant to a bulky transport missile waiting on one of the launchpads.

Trouble was, these ships didn’t have passenger accommodations; there wasn’t much demand for them. The few occasional travelers were sealed into small cargo units that were pressurized, heated, and oxygenated.

Lucy and I climbed into the one that was ready for us. It was about the size of a double coffin and just big enough to get us both in-not all that different from the trunk of her car, only with a little more legroom.

After the jolts and metallic clamor of final loading and the fierce roar and terrific acceleration of blastoff, everything settled down into a deep, dark silence.

Lucy and I lay there side by side, close enough to touch, but not touching.

I could hear her breathing though. And I was surprised that she wore some kind of fragrance. She must have put it on before getting into the cargo space. Was the perfume for me?

“Just in case you’re getting any ideas, don’t,” she said after a minute.

“Farthest thing from my mind. Hadn’t occurred to me.”

“Oh, really? It didn’t look very far from your mind when I found you in your car yesterday, making out with your dream girl.”

I could feel my face redden. “I can’t help what happens when I’m asleep.”

“Asleep!” she said scornfully. “You had the simulator on full blast.”

“I was just trying to relax. So I could get to sleep.”

To my surprise, she giggled. “You didn’t look very relaxed. Or sleepy either. You seemed rather alert.”

I didn’t have any snappy comeback to that, so I decided to go on the offensive.

“You’re the one who started a striptease for those bush pilots. Pardon the pun.”

“It was just business,” she said with the patience of a teacher speaking to a child. “Yuck-I just got your joke about the pilots.”

“That’s all it is for you, just business?” I demanded. “You’re the iron maiden?”

This time she sighed, a sound that might have been troubled, or just bone tired.

“No,” she said. “Not iron, and not a maiden either. Get some sleep, brother.”

“I definitely will,” I said. “By the way, you smell nice. For a human.”

“Thank you,” Lucy said. “Pig.”

“No-skunk.”