“I do,” Van admitted. “Not often, but they’re still there.” And they probably always would be, he reflected, along with those unexplained nightmares about the Fergus.
“You’re the sort of man that can’t let a puzzle or a wrong drop easily.”
But hadn’t he? He’d never really followed up on the attacks on him. Or the puzzles of the Collyns and the Fergus.
“That might not be true when they impact you, because you’d feel self-indulgent if you spent too much time on yourself.”
Van groaned. “I think I’ve had enough honesty for the moment.” Even if Emily were right, he should have followed up on the missing ships, even if no one else cared. He should have.
“Just for the moment?”
“Let me recover.” Van noted a server hovering and glanced around.
“The green button there,” Emily said.
Van touched it and was rewarded with a menu projected before him. “What’s good?”
“Pretty much everything, but I’ve never cared for the squish.”
Van raised his eyebrows.
“An experiment when they adjusted the ecology during colonization. Squish is short for a squid fish. People here find it very tasty. To me…” Emily grimaced.
“Slimy?”
“That’s charitable.”
Van wouldn’t have ordered fish in any case, but he appreciated the information.
The server eased to the table.
“The golden gourd soup, and the rosemary-apple lamb,” ordered Emily.
“The salad emeraud, and the lamb, also.” He glanced at Emily. “Would you like anything else to drink?”
“The almaryn is fine.”
Van nodded, and the server slipped away.
“I wasn’t sure I’d hear from you again,” she said slowly. “You didn’t stay long the last time.”
“I didn’t have a choice then,” Van pointed out. “I told you that.”
“I wondered if that were just an excuse to leave.”
Van wondered if she were teasing him, just a bit. “Not at all. I’d rather not leave you.” He almost flushed at the inadvertent admission.
For a moment, Emily glanced down.
Van took the instant just to look at her. He liked what he saw, but he always had.
Emily raised her eyes. “And this time you’re just at loose ends?” Her words were definitely teasing—with an undertone.
“This trip, I made time. I still have to catch the midnight shuttle.”
“I feel flattered.”
Van wished he were more glib, but he’d never been that quick with women. “You…let’s say, you deserve to be flattered.”
The woman he had thought of as so composed…flushed. Then she shook her head. “I can’t believe…”
“You can’t believe what?” he asked with a smile.
“You.”
“What…I didn’t mean to offend you. I hope I didn’t…”
“No…no!” Abruptly, she laughed. “You didn’t. Not at all. I hope you don’t mind. But I have always pictured you as so calm, so collected. All your compliments at the embassy were just…so professional. Even your last visit…”
Van wished he hadn’t been quite so professional. “Maybe I shouldn’t have been so professional.”
She reached out and touched his hand, fleetingly. “You were charming…at least to me. Cordelia was scared to death of you.”
“I never—”
“She said that you’d pilot a ship through a sun to do the right thing, and she couldn’t understand that.”
Van knew he wasn’t that ethical. “I hope I’m never that foolish.”
“You know what I meant…Van.”
He smiled again. “I try, but I don’t think I’m that ethical.”
“No. You’re not ethical. Not at all. Let’s see. You risked your life to stop the Vetachi. You took on three armed men without a weapon to protect a driver you scarcely knew. You threw yourself in front of eight assassins to save the premier. And I don’t even know all the other things you’ve done.”
“Those all could be called stupidity or foolhardy.”
“They could,” Emily replied amiably.
“Thank you for agreeing.”
They both stopped as the server appeared with Emily’s soup and Van’s salad.
Emily immediately took several spoonfuls of the soup. “Pardon me. I didn’t have much to eat today.”
“You should have told me…I could have come earlier.”
She shook her head. “I wouldn’t have been able to get away earlier.” After more soup, she looked at Van. “We were talking about foolhardiness and ethics, but being ethical is always being foolhardy today. It may be that way in any technological society.”
“You think so?” Van gestured to the greenery. “Good salad.”
“I know. I’ve had it before.” She paused, then continued, “I can’t give you reasons or even a good argument. I just have that feeling. Maybe it’s because technology speeds up information and the ability to make decisions, and when people act quickly, they don’t have to think too long about whether something’s right.”
“There are still moral people,” Van pointed out.
“That’s true. How about this? There’s a small group of people in any society who are instinctively ethical, and another group that’s instinctively unethical, but most people are in the middle. With technology, it’s easier to focus on self-interest and what you can do, rather than what you should do, and that pushes all the people in the middle away from being as ethical as they might have been.”
“You have a point there. A good point. I hadn’t thought about that.”
“Do you miss the RSF?” Emily asked.
“Why?”
“You seem happier in a way, and yet…wistful.” She shook her head. “It’s not that. Like something’s missing.”
Van knew what was missing, or part of what was missing, and that was the woman across the table from him. “It’s a rewarding position, in most ways.” He tilted his head, trying to figure out exactly how to say what he wanted, without being either obscure or forward. “Effectively, it’s so highly integrated—the ship is—that it takes a crew of two.”
“You and a tech?”
“Eri’s very good, but she’s almost old enough to be my mother.” Van laughed. “I’m exaggerating. She’s older, but more like an aunt, I’d guess.”
“Aunt is definitely better than mother.” Emily watched as the server took her empty tureen and replaced it with a platter piled with spiced lamb and surrounded by apples that looked neither stewed, nor dried, nor fried, but somehow embodying features of each of those preparations. Then the server took Van’s empty salad plate and presented his lamb.
Van hadn’t realized how much he’d
