He watched her thoughtfully—the smooth, soft line of her chin, belying the firmness into which she was attempting to force it, the straight and thinly drawn nose, the peculiarly rich overtone to the complexion, so characteristic of Earth.
He caught the corner of her eye upon him. It was hastily withdrawn.
“What’s the matter?” he said.
She turned to him and caught her underlip in two teeth. “I was watching you.”
“Yes, I could see that. Smudge on my nose?”
“No.” She smiled tinily, the first since she had entered his car. He was becoming absurdly conscious of little things about her: the way her hair seemed to hover and float gently each time she shook her head. “It’s just that I’ve been wondering ever since—that night—why you don’t wear that lead clothing, if you’re an Outsider. That’s what fooled me. Outsiders generally look like sacks of potatoes.”
“And I don’t?”
“Oh no”—and there was a sudden tinge of enthusiasm in her voice—“you look—you look quite like an ancient marble statue, except that you’re alive and warm. . . . I’m sorry. I’m being impertinent.”
“You mean you think that it’s my opinion you’re an Earth-girl who doesn’t know your place. You’ll have to stop thinking that of me, or we can’t be friendly. . . . I don’t believe in the radioactivity superstition. I’ve measured the atmospheric radioactivity of Earth and I’ve conducted laboratory experiments on animals. I’m quite convinced that under ordinary circumstances the radiations won’t hurt me. I’ve been here two months and I don’t feel sick yet. My hair isn’t falling out”—he pulled at it—“my stomach isn’t in knots. And I doubt that my fertility is being endangered, though I will admit to taking slight precautions in that respect. But lead-impregnated shorts, you see, don’t show.”
He said that gravely, and she was smiling again. “You’re slightly mad, I think,” she said.
“Really? You’d be surprised how many very intelligent and famous archaeologists have said that—and in long speeches, too.”
And she said suddenly, “Will you listen to me now? The fifteen minutes are up.”
“What do you think?”
“Why, that you might be. If you weren’t, you wouldn’t still be sitting here. Not after what I’ve done.”
He said softly, “Are you under the impression that I have to force myself very hard to sit here next to you? If you do, you’re wrong. . . . Do you know, Pola, I’ve never seen, I really believe I’ve never seen, a girl quite as beautiful as yourself.”
She looked up quickly, with fright in her eyes. “Please don’t. I’m not trying for that. Don’t you believe me?”
“Yes, I do, Pola. Tell me whatever it is you want to. I’ll believe it and I’ll help you.” He believed himself, implicitly. At the moment Arvardan would cheerfully have undertaken to unseat the Emperor. He had never been in love before, and at that point he ground his thoughts to a halt. He had not used that word before.
Love? With an Earthgirl?
“You’ve seen my father, Dr. Arvardan?”
“Dr. Shekt is your father? . . . Please call me Bel. I’ll call you Pola.”
“If you want me to, I’ll try. I suppose you were pretty angry with him.”
“He wasn’t very polite.”
“He couldn’t be. He’s being watched. In fact, he and I arranged in advance that he was to get rid of you and I was to see you here. This is our house, you know. . . . You see”—her voice dropped to a tight whisper—“Earth is going to revolt.”
Arvardan couldn’t resist a moment of amusement.
“No!” he said, opening his eyes wide. “All of it?”
But Pola flared into instant fury. “Don’t laugh at me. You said you would listen and believe me. Earth is going to revolt, and it is serious, because Earth can destroy all the Empire.”
“Earth can do that?” Arvardan struggled successfully against a burst of laughter. He said gently, “Pola, how well do you know your Galactography?”
“As well as anybody, teacher, and what has that to do with it, anyway?”
“It has this to do with it. The Galaxy has a volume of several million cubic light-years. It contains two hundred million inhabited planets and an approximate population of five hundred quadrillion people. Right?”
“I suppose so, if you say so.”
“It is, believe me. Now Earth is one planet, with a population of twenty millions, and no resources besides. In other words, there are twenty-five billion Galactic citizens for every single Earthman. Now what harm can Earth do against odds of twenty-five billion to one?”
For a moment the girl seemed to sink into doubt, then she emerged. “Bel,” she said firmly, “I can’t answer that, but my father can. He has not told me the crucial details, because he claims that that would endanger my life. But he will now, if you come with me. He’s told me that Earth knows a way by which it can wipe out all life outside Earth, and he must be right. He’s always been right before.”
Her cheeks were pink with earnestness, and Arvardan longed to touch them. (Had he ever before touched her and felt horrified at it? What was happening to him?)
“Is it after ten?” asked Pola.
“Yes,” he replied.
“Then he should be upstairs now—if they haven’t caught him.” She looked about with an involuntary shudder. “We can get into the house directly from the garage now, and if you’ll come with me—”
She had her hand on the knob that controlled the car door, when she froze. Her voice was a husky whisper: “There’s someone coming . . . Oh, quick—”
The rest was smothered. It was anything but difficult for Arvardan to remember her original injunction. His arms swept about her with an easy motion, and, in an instant, she was warm and soft against him. Her lips trembled upon his and were limitless seas of sweetness . . .
For about ten seconds he swiveled his eyes to their extremes in an effort to see that first crack of light or hear that first footstep, but then he was drowned and swept under by the excitement of it all. Blinded by stars, deafened by his own heartbeat.
Her lips left his,
