'Almost certainly. Time delay,' Cee muttered back.
'I'm sorry, sir,' said the pharmacist to Teki. 'There seems to be a glitch. If you'll have a seat, I'll retrieve your order manually. It will just be a few minutes.'
Quinn dared a look toward the counter. The pharmacist pulled out a thick index book, blew off a fine layer of dust, and thumbing through the thin pages exited by a rear door.
Teki sighed and flopped down on a padded bench. He glanced up at Quinn; her gaze immediately broke away from the dispensing counter to focus in apparent fascination upon a rack of contraceptives. Ethan flushed in embarrassment and stole a glance at Cee, whose concentration appeared unruffled. Ethan returned his gaze straightly to the holovid. The galactic man was no doubt used to these things, having by his own admission lived intimately with a woman for several years. He probably saw nothing wrong. Personally, Ethan wished Quinn would go back to the spacesick pills.
'Rats,' breathed Quinn. 'That was quick.'
Another dizzying glance, up at the new customer hastily entering the dispensary. Average height, blandly dressed, compact as a bomb—Rau.
Rau slowed down abruptly, cased the counter, spotted Teki, and drifted down the display aisle breathing deeply and quietly. He fetched up on the opposite side of the contraceptive rack from Quinn. She must have given him one of her dazzling smiles, for a startled answering smile was jerked involuntarily from his lips before he retreated across the room and away from her distracting face.
The pharmacist returned at last and fed Teki's credit card to the computer which, working properly now, tasted it and gave it back with a demure burp. Teki gathered up his package and left. Rau was not more than four paces behind him.
Teki wandered slowly down the arcade, with many a furtive glance toward the empty balcony on the far end. He finally seated himself by the standard fountain-and-green-plants display in the middle, and waited a good long time. Rau seated himself nearby, pulled out a hand-viewer, and began to read. Quinn window-shopped interminably.
Teki glanced at the balcony, checked his chromometer in frustration, and stared down the arcade at Quinn, who took no apparent notice of him. After a few more minutes of fuming foot-tapping, Teki got up and started to leave.
'Oh, sir,' called Rau, smiling. 'You forgot your package!' He held it up invitingly.
'Gods fly away with you, Teki!' Quinn whispered fiercely under her breath. 'I said no ad libs!'
'Oh. Er—thank you.' Teki took the package back from death's polite hand, and stood a moment blinking indecisively. Rau nodded and returned to his hand-viewer. Teki sighed aggrievedly and trudged back up the arcade to the dispensary.
'Excuse me,' Teki called to the pharmacist. 'But is it tyramine or tryptophan that's the sleep aid?'
'Tryptophan,' said the pharmacist.
'Oh, I'm sorry. It was the tryptophan I wanted.'
There was a slightly murderous silence. Then, 'Quite, sir,' said the pharmacist coldly. 'Right away.'
'It wasn't a total loss,' said Quinn, pulling out her earrings and attaching them carefully to their holders in the monitor case. 'At least I confirmed that Rau is hiding out in Millisor's listening post. But I'd kinda figured that anyway.'
She added the hair clip, sealed the case, and slipped it into her jacket. Hooking a chair under herself with one foot, she sat with her elbows on Terrence Cee's little fold-out table. 'I suppose they'll follow Teki around for the next week, now. So much the better, I like to see my adversaries overworked. Just so he doesn't try to call me, nothing can go wrong.'
Nothing can go right, either, thought Ethan with a sideways look at Terrence Cee's face. Cee had been almost hopeful when the tyramine seemed within their grasp. Now he was closed and cold and suspicious once again.
Quite aside from his own ill-advised pledge to protect Cee, Ethan could not walk away from this frenetic tangle as long as Millisor remained a threat to Athos. And whatever their separate ends might be, Cee's and Quinn's and his own, the untangling would surely take all their combined resources.
'I suppose I could try to steal some,' said Quinn unenthusiastically, evidently also conscious of Cee's renewed frigidity. 'Although Kline Station is not the easiest place for that sort of tactic…' she trailed off in thought.
'Is there any particular reason it has to be purified tyramine?' Ethan asked suddenly. 'Or do you just need so many milligrams of tyramine in your bloodstream, period?'
'I don't know,' said Cee. 'We always just used the tablets.'
Ethan's eyes narrowed. He rummaged the little wall-desk nearby for a note panel, and began to tap out a list.
'What now?' asked Quinn, craning her neck.
'A prescription, by God the Father,' said Ethan, tapping on in growing excitement. 'Tyramine occurs naturally in some foods, you know. If you choose a menu with a high concentration of it—Millisor can't possibly have every food outlet on the Station bugged—nothing illegal about going grocery shopping, is there? You'll probably have to hit the import shops for a lot of this, I don't think much of it is room service console standard fare.'
Quinn took the list and read it, her eyebrows rising. 'All of this stuff?'
'As much as you can get.'
'You're the doctor,' she shrugged, getting to her feet. Her smile grew lopsided. 'I think Mr. Cee is going to need one.'
Two hours of strained silence later, Quinn returned to Cee's hostel room lugging two large bags.
'Party time, gentlemen,' she called, dumping the bags on the table. 'What a feast.'
Cee quailed visibly at the mass 'of edibles.
'It—seems rather a lot,' remarked Ethan.
'You didn't say how much,' Quinn pointed out. 'But he only has to eat and drink until he switches on.' She lined up claret, burgundy, champagne, sherry, and dark and light beer bulbs in a soldierly row. 'Or passes out.' Around the liquids in an artistic fan she placed yellow cheese from Escobar, hard white cheese from Sergyar, two kinds of pickled herring, a dozen chocolate bars, sweet and dill pickles. 'Or throws up,' she concluded.
The hot fried chicken liver cubes alone were native produce from the Kline Station culture vats. Ethan thought of Okita and gulped. He picked up a few items and blanched at the price tags.
Quinn caught his grimace, and sighed. 'Yes, you were right about having to hit the import shops. Do you have any idea how this is going to look on my expense account?' She bowed Terrence Cee toward the smorgasbord. 'Bon appetit.'
She kicked off her boots and lay down on Cee's bed with her hands locked behind her neck and an expression of great interest on her face. Ethan pulled the plastic seal off a liter squeeze bottle of claret, and helpfully offered up the cups and utensils the room service console produced.
Cee swallowed doubtfully, and sat down at the table. 'Are you sure this will work, Dr. Urquhart?'
'No,' said Ethan frankly. 'But it seems like a pretty safe experiment.'
An audible snicker drifted from the bed. 'Isn't science wonderful?' said Quinn.
CHAPTER TEN
For courtesy's sake Ethan shared the wine, although he gave the chicken livers, pickles, and chocolate a pass. The claret was rotgut despite its price, although the burgundy was not bad and the champagne—for dessert —was quite tasty. A slightly gluey disembodiment warned Ethan that courtesy had gone for enough. He wondered how Cee, still dutifully nibbling and sipping across the table, was holding up.
'Can you feel anything yet?' Ethan inquired of him anxiously. 'Can I get you anything? More cheese? Another cup?'
'A spacesick sack?' asked Quinn helpfully. Ethan glared at her, but Cee merely waved away the offers, shaking his head.
