bidding. "You can get up as soon as the 'all clear' signal sounds," he said presently.
She nodded again, not in the least perturbed. He wondered if she’d be equally calm if "acceleration couch" was something more than a hand-me-down term from pre-degravitation days; if she'd be equally composed if she had to contend with 3 or 4 g's, instead of just the temporary instability of blast-off.
She probably would be, he decided. A miscarriage would not affect her banishment to Gomorrah, but it would save her the unpleasantness of having to give birth to a mutant.
He excused himself and headed for the control room.
A Priori drive, once activated, required no supervision except in cases of emergency. The Pandora was only a one-passenger-one-pilot job, but Falcon Lines, Inc., had a reputation throughout the civilized sector of the galaxy for fast, efficient service, and even its smallest ships boasted the latest in automatic equipment.
Cross secured the control-room door behind him, made his way leisurely down the spiral companionway to the hold, where the WineWomenandSong longstarmen had deposited the Lady Berenice's luggage. Even in the artificial ½ g, the two bags were heavy, and he was breathing a little hard when he halted before her door.
He knocked. "Yes?" she answered, her voice muffled by the sound of running water.
"Your luggage, my lady."
The sound of running water ceased, and presently she opened the door. She had wrapped a ship's towel deftly around her torso. It was a white towel that enhanced the hue of her clear, tanned skin. Water glistened on her golden shoulders, ran in twinkling rivulets down her coppery thighs and calves. "Set them inside, please."
Cross complied. She did not move an inch, and his arm, despite his efforts to avoid touching her, brushed her thigh. He withdrew quickly. His arm tingled and his hands were trembling. He kept his eyes averted because he knew what she would read in them. "If you wish anything further, I'll be in my cabin," he said. He turned to go.
"Wait," she said.
"Yes?"
"How—how long will we be in A Priori?"
"A little over four hours, ship's time."
"Is—is there any likelihood of a time storm?"
