Take a rest at Orville till further instructions.
Why should Ferdias want him to go back to Orville?
Wasn't this over now? Hadn't the battle been fought and won? What was there left for him to do now, but take part in the commemoration flyover and go home?
Why bother with Orville?
A vacation, perhaps. Reward for a job well done. Go and relax in the country, look over your ancestral fields, forget all about ships and stars.
Maybe.
Maybe it was only because the other things were so fresh in his mind, so strongly connected with the place at Orville that the mere mention of it made him uneasy — Karsh and Tauncer, secret meetings, intrigue and treachery and sudden death.
But that was ridiculous. Karsh was dead, Tauncer was in whatever place the UW people maintained for such as he, and the threat of Orion was thoroughly disposed of as far as Earth was concerned. What was between Orion and Lyra was another matter and had nothing to do with Orville. It was foolish to suppose that Ferdias was suggesting another assignation with some agent there. Birrel shook his head. He was just tired, imagining things. Ferdias was pleased with the way he had handled things and was giving him a leave, and that was all there was to it.
That was fine, only why should Ferdias care where he spent his leave?
Take a rest at Orville. Coming from Ferdias, a suggestion like that was an order.
A cold foreboding settled upon Birrel. There was something wrong here, something hidden. But what?
For no reason at all, there came into his mind the memory of Tauncer, lying rigid with the vera-probe playing on him, saying mechanically in answer to Mallinson's question, “—if he doesn't, Ferdias will grab Earth first.'
Birrel told himself he was a fool. Just because Ferdias had further instructions for him did not mean that he had any plans like that. Ferdias had told him that he didn't want Earth.
Ferdias had told him… Yes. But wouldn't he have told him that even if his plans were quite different? Just as he had let him go into that cluster without telling him the real score until later?
Hell, thought Beryl. I'm building all this up because I'm tired and jumpy. I need sleep.
He was not to get it for a while. Mallinson came. There was a brief and slightly awkward silence, and then Mallinson said stiffly, “The Chairman is waiting for you.'
He paused, looking over Birrel's head, his mouth set as though he tasted something bitter.
'I would be glad,” he said, “if you would accept my personal apology for past suspicions.'
Birrel shrugged. “None is needed.'
And on the way back to New York with Mallinson he thought,
New York was blazing. The big crowds that had gathered for the commemoration had something else to commemorate tonight, the victory over the ‘unknown invaders’ that everyone knew had been from Orion. The streets were wild and even Mallinson's official car had trouble getting through.
'The town will belong to the fleet personnel tonight,” Mallinson said. “Your men as well as ours, Commander.'
Birrel said gloomily that be hoped people would not get all of his crews drunk.
Mallinson smiled, for the first time. “I can practically guarantee that they will.'
They went into the UW tower by a back entrance. Charteris was waiting in a little office. He did not look calm or stony now. He looked, all at the same time, older and careworn and excited and eager.
'Well,” he said. “The Council will want to tender you our formal thanks later, Commander. Right now I wanted to say…” He stopped and looked blank and then said, “I'm not sure just what I did want to say. Maybe just the same thing. Thanks, that is.'
Almost shyly, he stuck out his hand.
Then he said, “Sit down, Commander. I can well imagine you're tired. Fortunately, there'll be time enough before the commemoration to give you a rest, and to repair the damage you've suffered.'
He went on, when Birrel had sat down, “I had a message today from the governor of Lyra.'
Birrel's nerves went hard and tense. “Yes?'
'A very warming message,” Charteris said. He paused. “I'm considered a bit of a dreamer, you know. But I still cherish the idea that someday the Sectors will return to us. Perhaps this is the beginning of new and better things. Who knows?'
Birrel's tension relaxed not at all. He was thinking that this might indeed be the beginning of new things, but that Charteris might not like the new things very much.
Charteris misinterpreted his silence, and sprang to his feet. “I'm detaining a weary man with babblings. I won't keep you longer now, and I apologize for bringing you all the way in here.'
Birrel rose too. He said, “That's all right. I'm going on back up to the farm in Orville. My wife's still there.'
Charteris looked at him curiously. “You really like that old place, don't you?” His eyes brightened. “Well, then that's something the UW can do to show its gratitude to you. We'll have the recent sale of that place voided, it having been made for what you might call illegal purposes. It will be bought in your name. Consider your old, ancestral home your own property, Commander.'
Birrel, startled, began to protest, but his protests were waved aside.
'Forget it, Commander. It's a pretty trivial, little piece of Earth to give you in return for what you've done for us, but it seems to mean something to you.'
On his way down with Mallinson, Birrel still felt vexed. He didn't really care anything about the old place. It was all a misunderstanding. He didn't want even a trivial piece of Earth.
Ferdias might feel differently. Ferdias might want it all.
CHAPTER 21
Vinson came across the fields in the middle of the next morning. He looked as though he had waited as long as he could, but just could not wait any longer. He came up onto the sunny porch, where Birrel and Lyllin had lingered over late breakfast, and he stood looking at them awkwardly and grinning, “Hear you had quite a fight out there,” he said, in an elaborately offhand way.
Birrel shook his head. “A brawl in space is just radar and computers. It's not a real fight where you can see the men you're fighting, like the one we had back in those woods.'
Vinson turned dull red with pride, but he said nothing to that as, at Lyllin's invitation, he sat down. He looked at the black cat that sat on a chair near Lyllin.
'Picked up a cat, I see,” he said. “Well, there's nothing like a good cat to keep down pests.'
Birrel looked sourly at the small, black animal that sat there with such insolent self-assurance, as though he owned the whole place and they were merely his guests.
'I haven't seen this one doing anything useful,” he said.
Lyllin laughed, and reached and stroked the sleek back. Tom looked boredly away, as though he only permitted this as a mark of special favor.
Birrel thought how surprised he had been when he had arrived the night before and found Lyllin sitting on the porch waiting for him, with the cat in her lap. He had had, for a moment, a slightly eerie feeling of sudden recognition, as though he, who had never been here before the past few days, could remember other women in the past, sitting on the porch of this old house and waiting for their men to come home.
Lyllin's eyes had clung to his, but she had merely said, lightly, “I've been accepted.'
'You've been bribing the beggar with food,” he had accused. “His sides are bulging.'
She had only laughed and stroked Tom, as she was doing now, but when he had bent and kissed her, her lips had been trembling.
Vinson was saying, “I promised to go over the fields with you, remember? Wondered if you would like to do
