swimming motions up toward the bunk where she clung. He undipped the safety net and, clasping her tight in his arms, propelled them both down to the floor.
“Poor love, poor little thing,” he murmured, stroking her hair, “were you frightened? You should have called out before, only I thought it was only in my own cubicle; I should have come in and checked to make sure you were all right.”
She hid her face against Teague’s naked chest, wondering why she felt so boneless, so wholly devoid of strength in his arms. Could a simple biological process, even when aided by hormones, do that to her, or was it simply a matter of suggestion and psychology, was it all in her mind after all?
Still holding her in the circle of one arm, he slid down toward the DeMag unit, turned the dial firmly off and then on again. Ching, still holding her breath and struggling against nausea, felt the world blessedly settle down to normal again.
“Are you all right, sweet? I’d better check up on the others, and then I’ll be right back,” Teague promised. She heard his voice, calling out to the rest of them, one after the other, reassuring them.
“I guess it was only your cubicle, and mine, Ching, everyone else seemed to be all right.”
“Did — it — wake you?”
He shook his head. “No, I was awake, working. Working on my string quartet; it’s not going the way I want it to go. I really don’t have the training in theory that I need. And I’m not a good enough violinist to know whether the things I write are playable or not. Theoretically, they should be, but I can’t really imagine if they would sound the way I expect them to sound. And I don’t know how to resolve it,”
“Ask Peake to play them for you,” Ching suggested. Teague had crawled into the bunk beside her, clipped the safety net over them both: he lay on his side, facing her, his face almost invisible in the dimness; there was no light except the dim rim of illumination just outside the door of the cubicle, but as her eyes grew accustomed to the dark she could make out that he looked dejected.
“Peake? No, I couldn’t. He’s a real musician. He’s used to great music, or at least to the computer doing things right, and my stuff is so crude. I’d be ashamed to show it to Peake.”
“Don’t be foolish, Teague. He likes you, he’d be glad to tell you what’s good about it and what’s wrong with it—”
“That’s what I’m afraid of,” Teague muttered.
“Even if it was awful, Teague — and honestly, I don’t think it is — Peake is much too nice to be rude to you about it, or make fun or you. He’d understand what you were trying to do, and I’m sure he’d be nice and helpful.”
“That’s not what I’m worrying about,” Teague said, his face buried in her neck, so that she could hardly hear the words. “I wouldn’t mind how rude he was, or how much he made fun of it, if he levelled with me. What I’m afraid of is that he’d just be — be nice about it. Nice and polite, and not take it seriously. How could anybody take it seriously, writing string quartets in this day and age? It’s like writing sonnets. Peake would think it was sort of quaint and cute and be ever so nice about it. Kind and, well, condescending, but he wouldn’t take it seriously as music, he couldn’t.”
“How can you possibly know that without asking him?”
“Oh, well, maybe I will,” said Teague, in such an offhanded way that Ching knew he wouldn’t. “Are you all right now, not feeling sick any more?”
“Oh, yes. Thank you, Teague, you don’t have to stay with me any more…”
“But I want to,” he whispered holding her close. “You don’t mind, do you? Let me stay, Ching.”
She knew that she should make him go, she had resolved that she would make him go, it was not right to use Teague this way, to give herself confidence, to hold her fears and loneliness at bay.
We are all foolish, she thought. Teague is foolish about showing his music to Peake. And I am foolish too, I let Teague stay when I should make him go, learn to cope with these fears on my own.’
“Have you tried making in love free-fall?” Teague urged. “It’s fun, it’s like flying…”
Much as she wanted to please him, Ching flinched from the idea. She said ruefully, “I don’t think you’d have much fun with me vomiting all over you.”
“Oh, you’re doing better, you didn’t get sick this time—”
“I almost did, though. If it had lasted any longer, I would have,” Ching said, and Teague hugged her. “Well, we’ll work on it. But it’s a good thing, sometimes, free-fall. For instance, my weight wouldn’t be so heavy on you — you’re so tiny, I’m always afraid I’ll crush you beneath me!”
“I don’t mind,” she murmured, drawing him down to her, and for a time they did not talk at all, only murmuring, soft love-sounds.
A considerable time later, she asked him, “Where did you have experience making love in free-fall? Was it in Lunar Dome?”
“No, it was here on the Ship,” Teague said. Her eyes were dilated enough to the dark now that she could see his face clearly. “Fontana — you don’t mind my talking about that, do you, Ching?”
“No, no, of course not,” she said, “Fontana and ! were talking about that. I know there aren’t enough of us for — for any kind of permanent pairings. And, Teague, you don’t have to choose between us, really. 1 don’t mind, if you want Fontana sometimes—”
“I know that,” he said gently, petting her, “but I’m glad you can be sensible about it, too, Ching. It’s going to be a long trip Even provided we get the computer fixed.”
“We will,” she said, “I’ve gone through a lot of the connections, and found out where some of the trouble might be. I can’t imagine what they were thinking of in Lunar Dome when they assembled it; I wish I’d been there when it was done, it would have made my work so much easier now. At least you had a chance to help install the drives!”
“Along with Fly and Dolly and Duffy and Perk,” he said, smiling, “and each of us wondering if it would be our one and only sight of the Ship.”
“Are you glad you were chosen, Teague? Really?”
“I’m not sure,” he said, at last, slowly. “It happens, it’s done, there’s no chance for second thoughts. I spent my life wanting to be Ship when our class graduated. Now, I wonder. Maybe that’s just let down. But yes, I suppose I’m glad. It’s an adventure. It’s real.”
She yawned, tucking her hands behind her head. She said, “I think we ought to try and get some more sleep; I have work to do. I would think making love in free-fall would be a lot of trouble. Every time you moved, you and — the other person — would go flying apart…”
“Oh, you do, unless you’re careful,” Teague said. “You have to do it with a safety net clipped on, or one of you could crack your head against the wall and get a concussion. But it’s fun. Free-fall is fun, Ching, only you have to learn to relax, to go with the flow, be willing not to be in control all the time. Just let it happen. Just surrender to it.”
Although he had spoken gently and without any personal emphasis, Ching felt her cheeks flushing with heat, aware that she had still the horror of losing control, surrendering — whether in free-fall or in sex. She said, trembling, “I don’t want to be afraid of free-fall. Teach me to like it, Teague, the way you do.”
“I will,” he promised, “Later today. But sleep now, Ching. We have a lot to do — and everything should be verified and the final course corrections made before we leave the Solar System.”
“We still have three days,” Ching murmured. “Anything could happen in that time.”
Curled against Teague, she slept.
“Did you find anything in the DeMag tie-ins?” Moira asked.
Ching stretched, wriggling free of the computer module. “So far, nothing. There is absolutely no reason why the DeMag units should go on and off like that, and therefore, going by pure logic, they should stay on unless they are turned off, and stay off unless they are turned on.”
“But the fact is that they don’t,” Moira said, “and it doesn’t make sense! Dammit, Ching, I like machinery to make sense, to do what it’s designed to do. When it starts acting temperamental, it’s no better than a man!”
“Are all men really that bad, Moira?” Ching murmured.
“All of them. No exceptions. Believe me.”
“Well,” Ching said, with a wisp of a smile, “you should know.”
Moira flung back her head and laughed. “I think you’ll do, Ching. I was beginning to think you were just too sweet and kind to be true, but that remark sounded quite normally catty!”
