Robert Silverberg - Across A Billion Years

It was all right with me, and I started toward the rack where the breathing-suits were kept. But as soon as Dr. Schein had walked away, Jan gave me a poisonous look and whispered, “Are you sure you wouldn’t rather go outside with Kelly?”

“Kelly’s got other work to do this morning,” I said, not getting the point at all.

That was this morning. Jan suited up after all, and accompanied me outside in icy silence, and we lit the flare and came back in. But now I’m finally seeing the picture.

Jan didn’t start cooling on me until after the night when she walked into the cruiser’s library and found me talking with Kelly. I think Jan believes I’ve been fissioning around with her, that I’m having an affair with her.

I swear I haven’t given a cough in Kelly’s direction, not once. Kelly and I have become good friends, but purely platonic. There can’t be anything real between us — and Jan knows it. Kelly just isn’t the sort of one-in-a-million android who’d go in for biologizing. Or is Jan jealous simply of the time I spend with Kelly? Sometimes I envy androids. This business of humanity having two different sexes makes for all kinds of headaches.

We now have located seventeen asteroids that are possible sites for the High Ones vault. Captain Ludwig thinks that he’s just about checked out the entire belt, but for the sake of caution he wants to keep scanning for three more days, that is, through December 20. Then we’ll set out to inspect them.

Our chances of actually finding a billion-year-old vault on an uncertainly located asteroid suddenly seem fantastically slim to me. The others probably feel the same way. But we don’t voice our doubts. We try not even to think about them. At least, I try. I start not to understand how we ever committed ourselves to such a chimpo scheme. Walking away from the juiciest High Ones site ever found, defying Galaxy Central, running up huge outlays of stash to romp around from star to star — ! Archaeologists are supposed to be stable people, patient drudges who stick to their proper work year after year. What are we doing here? How could we have let this happen? Why did we imagine we’d find anything?

Dark thoughts on a dark world of a dark star.

Dr. Schein must be thinking similar things. Certainly this quest is out of character for him. The strain shows in his face. We’re a little worried about him. He lost his temper at Steen Steen yesterday and really cranked the Calamorian over, just because Steen accidentally turned on a data mixer, fed two streams of info into the computer, and sposhed a couple of hours’ work. Dr. Schein got so angry we all were shocked, especially when he said right to Steen’s face, “You wouldn’t have been here at all if I had had my way! You were forced on me in the name of racial tolerance!”

Steen kept his/her temper pretty well. His/her tentacles did a little twining movement, and his/her side-mantles rippled in an ominous way. I expected a militant denunciation of Dr. Schein’s bigotry to come tumbling out. But Steen had been discussing Christianity with Mirrik earlier in the day, and I guess he/she was in a Jesus mood, because what Steen said was, “I forgive you, Dr. Schein. You know not what you say.”

A silly interlude all around. But it was disturbing to see our good and kind and rational Dr. Schein screeching that way. He must be worried. I am.

As you know I’m famous for my subtle approach. So after I had had a few days to think about Jan’s remark about me and Kelly, I worked out a subtle way to take the matter up with her.

We went out to light flares again. The rotation schedule called for 408b to accompany me, but I arranged things with Pilazinool, and Jan was substituted. As we emerged from the airlock and stepped out onto the icy plateau I said, “What did you mean by that remark about me and Kelly?” Subtle.

Jan’s helmet hid her expression. The voice that came over my breathing-suit radio was carefully neutral. “What remark?”

“Last week. When you asked if I’d rather come out here with Kelly.”

“I understand you prefer her company to mine.”

“That’s not so! Jan, I swear to you—”

“Hand me the flare.”

“Zog, Jan, you’re absolutely imagining things! Kelly is an android, for zog’s sake! How can you imagine that there’s even the slightest—”

“Will you push the ignition plunger or should I?”

I lit the flare. “Give me an answer, Jan. What makes you think that I and Kelly — that Kelly and I—”

“I really don’t care to discuss it.”

She walked away, turned her back on me, and peered up at the dark star in an elaborate display of fascination with astronomy.

“Jan?”

“I’m examining solar phenomena.”

“You’re ignoring me.”

“And you’re boring me.”

“Jan, I’m trying to tell you that you’ve got absolutely no right to be jealous. I’m the one who ought to be jealous. Watching you lock yourself up in Saul Shahmoon’s cabin for hours at a time. If you’re in love with Saul, say so, and I’ll zap out. But if you’ve been doing all this just as some way of paying me back for my imaginary affair with Kelly, then—”

“I don’t wish to discuss any of this,” she said.

Females can be pretty wearying — yourself excepted, of course, Lorie. What I particularly loathe is when they begin coming on with secondhand dramatics, handing out a replay of the big love scene from the last tridim they saw. Jan wasn’t speaking out her feelings to me; she was playing a part. The Cold, Aloof Heroine.

Fight fire with fire. Old Earthside proverb. I could play a part too: Dashing, Impulsive Hero. Rush up to stubborn girl, whirl her into your arms, burn away her irrational stubborn frostiness with a passionate embrace. I did. And, of course, smacked the front of my helmet against the front of hers.

We stared at each other across the ten-centimeter gap that the helmets imposed. She looked surprised, and then amused. She wiggled her head from side to side. I wiggled mine. Old Eskimo custom of affection: rubbing noses. She stepped back, scooped up ice, smeared it over the front of my helmet. I made a snowball and tossed it at her. She caught it and tossed it back.

For about ten minutes we capered around on the ice. In our big, rigid breathing-suits we were none too graceful; it was like a pas de deux for Dinamonians. Finally we sprawled out together, exhausted, laughing wildly.

“Chimpo,” she said.

“Zooby quonker!”

“Feeb!”

“You too. To the tenth power.”

“What was between you and Kelly?”

“Talk. Just talk. Nobody else was around that night, and Leroy Chang was pursuing her, and she wanted protection. She’s quite an interesting vidj. But she does nothing at all for me that way.”

“Swear?”

“Swear. Now, about you and Saul—”

“Oh, that’s old stuff,” Jan said. “Absolutely prehistoric.”

“Sure. That’s why you’ve been practically living with him for the past two weeks.”

“I’ve learned a great deal about philately,” Jan said primly.

“Of course,” I said. “He can’t find anything better to do with a beautiful girl in a locked cabin than show her his set of Marsport imperforates.”

“That’s right. That’s exactly how it is.”

“I bet.”

“I mean it, Tom! Saul has never touched me. He’s terrified of girls. I gave him all sorts of opportunities, hints… nothing. Strictly from zero.”

“Then why’d you chase him so furiously?” I asked. “As a challenge?”

“At first it was because he seemed interesting. An older man, you know, dark, handsome, romantic-looking. That was before I paid any attention to you. I guess it was a sort of crush I had on him.”