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rudeness had never existed.
And the Prospector flamed through space like a star class yacht.
This can't last, Ataine thought. An indicator flared yellow, warning the
approach to the asteroid field they were assigned to survey. Dorren would
certainly brake to quarter speed, fresh as she was from orientation training.
Skilled astrogator she might be, but at ore prospecting she was a novice. The
first obstacle loomed on the screens, dead ahead. Instinctively, Ataine
reached for the portside throttle, to cut back for the turn, just as Dorren
began a bank to the left. He toyed with the trim, unnecessarily, and said,
'You knew which direction I would go.'
'Yes.' Ataine paused to wonder how she'd known, and gave up. The move seemed
natural at the time.
'Don't reduce speed.' Dorren leaned over the controls, suddenly impulsive. 'I
don't know why, either, but there's something between us I can't leave
unexplored. Do you mind if we simply let rip... ?'
Ataine returned a pleased smile. 'The Commander will scorch our shorts off,
when we get back to
Station.'
'I/c we get back to Station.' Dorren fingered the lieutenant's stripes on his
cuff. 'Those rocks out there won't be half so forgiving if I'm wrong.'
Ataine laughed. 'We'll get back to Station, and maybe wish we hadn't.' She
kicked in the thrusters, her movement precisely co-ordinated with his.
The Prospector leapt ahead, cut a tortuous, blistering course through the
tumble of debris. Very quickly they discovered they shared something
preciously rare. As a team, they were subconsciously, if not telepathically,
attuned.
Glued to her controls, Ataine knew a companionship untainted by any human
doubt. She and Dorren
Carlton thought alike, acted alike, and the mixture was addictively heady. An
asteroid skated onto the screens. She banked right, certain Dorren would
balance for the slop in the vanes. Between us there are no limits, she
realized, none at all.
The communicator buzzed. Dorren sighed, throttled back, and punched the
'receive' toggle. The speaker shrilled to life. 'Are you two nuts? Hot-shot
any
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Do...
more, and you'll make hamburg of your escort. You've outdistanced us, to
understate, and if you get sighted by anti-nationals, serve you both right.'
Dorren shrugged. 'Flame the anti-nationals. We haven't seen any in months, and
they'd have to catch us, first.'
The Sabre captain sighed into his mike. 'Right. Wait up, will you?' , They
passed the remainder of the assignment with more decorum. But upon their
return to Station, even their disgruntled escort boasted over the territory
they had covered.
'Two claims, and a twelve beacon mark-off,' said the $abre's captain in
admiration as Dorren stepped through the Prospector's chipped hatch. 'You and
that greenie did a helluva day's work.'
Ataine followed the second lieutenant out, tired but content. She slipped off
her helmet, and smiled, freed hair tumbling in slow motion over her shoulders
in the flight deck's low gravity. Yet as she met
Dorren's eyes, she watched his pleasure die, pinched deliberately from a face
still flushed from happiness.
She felt as though he'd struck her. Warily interpreting his mood, she said,
'You're going to insist on re-assignment.'Dorren frowned. 'Especially after
this.'
'Why?' Her outburst escaped before she thought to quell it.
But Dorren strode off without reply, leaving her desolate with uncertainty.
'What's with him?' said the puzzled captain at her shoulder.
Ataine shook her head angrily. 'Blast if I know.' She left abruptly for her
quarters and hoped for a better partner next shift.
But three weeks brought no change in the roster. Inured to Dorren's uncertain
temperament, Ataine avoided conversation. By barring her heart against
feeling, she learned to anticipate his mercurial shifts of mood, and respond
only during those moments when the rigors of their profession drove him to
reciprocate the gift they possessed between them.
When things went well, his supply of banter seemed endless. 'Don't bring home
any strays,' he said as she hauled out the tools to take a core sample. Dorren
usually handled the task. But lately Ataine had grown restless waiting for him
in the cockpit.
'You're kidding. No anti-national hardware has turned up for
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months.' Ataine clipped the tool satchel to her shoulder harness and looked
up, startled to find him watching with the same concern she'd shown each time
he 'walked' an asteroid. 'I'11 be fine. Safe as sugarcake.'
'But clumsy.' Dorren grinned as she stumbled into the air lock, unaccustomed
to the awkward bulk of the tools. 'Be careful. And watch that outside hatch.
It's defective.'
'Grandmother.' Ataine dogged the inside seals and kicked the depressurization
switch. The lock slid open, and she rolled clear, weightless as a swimmer, the
asteroid a convoluted coral head in the beam of the Prospector's floodlamps.
Air-hose and tether unreeled behind as she drifted downward. The magnetic
soles of her boots touched first, and clung.
'Iron here,' she reported. 'Are we out of claim buoys?'
Dorren's reply crackled over her suit mike, strangely distant. 'Set your
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