She was the Galaxy's most beautiful whore. He knew that if he went to her couch during the time-storm, he, too, would be booking
PASSAGE TO GOMORRAH
ILLUSTRATOR SUMMERS
EVEN for a lady of the stars, the Lady Berenice was beautiful. Her short blonde hair made Cross think of Martian maize, and her blue eyes, set wide apart in her tanned, oval face, reminded him of the ice lakes of Frigidia. Her tall, Junoesque body put to shame the pornographic photographs he had seen of it, cheapened the lurid passages he had read about it; betrayed, as yet, no evidence of her apostasy.
He wondered who her lover was, and why she had refused to reveal him.
When the Jacob's lift matched levels with the Pandora's lock, she stepped lightly into the ship beside him. The corporation officer who had accompanied her, handed him her papers, then signalled to the longstarmen below. After a moment the lift and its sole occupant sank from sight.
"How soon do we blast?" the Lady Berenice asked.
She was looking at Cross intently, as though trying to probe beyond the bleak grayness of his eyes. "In about fifteen minutes, my lady," he said.
She nodded, stepped into the ship proper. He sealed the lock and escorted her up the spiral companionway to her cabin.
She paused in the doorway. "I'd like my luggage, please."
"I'll bring it up as soon as we're in A Priori, my lady. Right now, I'll have to insist that you strap yourself on the acceleration couch."
He watched as she did his
