A bunk could be folded out to double width, though it then filled most of the deck space in a so-called stateroom. Lights could be turned down to softness. Music could be commanded, La ci daremm' la mano, Liebestod, afterward the lilt and gentleness of Fynsk Foraar, though likewise softened to a background. "That was amazing," he said as low. "I didn't quite expect a supernova." "Thank you," she answered, snuggling, refusing to wonder if he'd used those words before or how often. "Same order of magnitude to you, sir. But let's settle for ordinary novas. They can repeat."
He chuckled. His lips brushed her cheek. "Shameless hussy."
"I'd better be. You too. How many bets will be paid off tomorrow?" He looked away. She heard the sudden seriousness. "You told me you… don't do casual."
She confronted her own spirit. "I don't."
"It's far too early to make promises. On either side."
"I realize that. But I decided, nothing ventured, nothing gained." And, if this didn't last-certainly the obstacles were many-she would at least have a profit of memories. As he would; she'd see to that. And she had the strength to pay the price. Which maybe wouldn't be required of her.
His eyes met hers. "I'm being as honest as I'm able," he said, "because in fact I am in love with you."
"All right, it's mutual."
"I wish I could, well, give you more. Now, I mean, before we go… home. We have so little here."
Through the eased-off happiness she felt her mind sharpen. She had given thought to this too. She did not believe the idea had snapped the leash she kept on herself. His escape did that. Nor was it a price she set, a bargain she struck. Nevertheless
"You can," she said.
His head lifted off the pillow. "What?"
She moved slightly aside from his warmth and male odor to lean on an elbow and keep hold of his gaze. "When Kumukahi begins breaking up, you'll be out there to watch, won't you?"
"Of course. We haven't that many free machines, and we don't know enough to write adequate programs for any. Who can tell what human observers might catch?" "Take me along."
"Eh?" he exclaimed, and sat straight. After a moment, he leaned back. "No, really, darling, it's not feasible. If the event begins in the next few days, and it probably will, Birgit won't yet be fit to pilot. That leaves Josef for one boat, crammed with scientists and their gear."
Tyra nodded. "I know," from what Rover's crew had told her. Neither they nor Eisenberg were weaklings, but kzinti captivity was at best unnerving. Given a stiff enough emergency, you could force yourself to carry on for a while. Thereafter medications merely helped time and nature. Eisenberg was absolutely right to disqualify herself for another week or two.
"And autopilot won't do for the other, not when we are bound to be surprised and must react fast if we are to collect the data," Raden went on. "I shall have to steer." Even now, she heard the relish.
"Exactly," Tyra said. "In that case, you can pick who comes with you, can't you? If you make a point of it."
"Well, I see where it could give you a spectacular story. But no, the hazard no."
"What hazard?" she challenged. "You're skilled, you're not a fool, you won't take unnecessary risks."
"Not knowingly. Still, who can foresee what happens?"
"Who can foresee what will happen anywhere?" She moved back to his side and laid an arm around his neck. "Yes, I may get quite an eyewitness account, but that doesn't matter, Craig, truly it doesn't. This," she crooned, "is something you can give me, because it's something splendid we can share."
She was entirely wholehearted and honest. Well, almost.
Her free hand roved. She knew she could persuade him.