way the crew ran Lover-Girl. Old Aphrodisiac's family was a select community.

There was a handsome Martian Naval Lieutenant with Celia, but when she saw the thoughtful expression on her Captain's face, she dismissed him peremptorily. Here was something, apparently, of a family matter.

"Well, I can't see anything to worry about, Skipper," she said when he had explained. "I should think you'd be glad of a chance to see Ivy again."

Cob Whitley leaned precariously forward on his bar-stool to wag a finger under Celia's pretty nose. "But he doesn't know what Captain Hendricks has cooked up for Lover-Girl, and you know the old carp likes to be treated with respect." He affected a very knowing expression. "Besides, we shouldn't be gallivanting around testing Ivy's electronic eyelash-curlers when the Eridans are likely to be swooshing around old Sol any day!"

"Cob, you're drunk!" snapped Celia.

"I am at that," mused Whitley with a foolish grin. "And I'd better enjoy it. There'll be no Martinis on Tethys, that's for sure! This cruise is going to interfere with my research on ancient twentieth century potables..."

Strike heaved his lanky frame upright. "Well, I suppose we'd better call the crew in." He turned to Cob. "Who is Officer of the Deck tonight?"

"Bayne."

"Celia, you'd better go relieve him. He'll have to work all night to get us an orbit plotted."

"Will do, Skipper," Celia Graham left.

"Cob, you'd better turn in. Get some sleep. But have the NPs round up the crew. If any of them are in the brig, let me know. I'll be on the bridge."

"What time do you want to lift ship?"

"0900 hours."

"Right." Cob took a last loving look around the comfortable officer's club and heaved a heavy sigh. "Tethys, here comes Lover-Girl. It's going to be a long, long cruise, Captain."

How long, he couldn't have known ... then.

The flight out was uneventful. Uneventful, that is for the T.R.S. Cleopatra. Only one tube-liner burned through, and only six hours wasted in nauseous free-fall.

 Prev. P 3/20 next