you take up medicine?” Laura asked after a few seconds.
“Oh, it was in the family I guess. My father was a doctor . . . space medicine.”
“Was? Isn’t he around anymore?”
“Oh sure. Retired. Lives on the West Coast with my mother. They’re okay.”
“What kind of space medicine did he do?” Laura inquired, intrigued. “Was he with ISA? Did he go on any space missions or anything exciting like that?”
“He sure did.”
“Wow! I’ve always wanted to go up and never had the chance. Tell me about it. I’m interested.” Laura sat forward to lean on the table and stared at him expectantly. Dyer smiled and shook his head.
“It was nothing wildly spectacular. He was in it a long time . . . joined in 1985 after he left the Navy, when it was still NASA . . . did a few tours in orbital stations over the years . . . spent a lot of 1992 up at one of the lunar bases . . . moved to Europe when ESA was set up, and then came back to the States when they all got merged into ISA. He had plenty of variety to keep him from getting bored I guess.”
“So where did you appear on the scene?” Laura asked. “Here or in Europe?”
“I was two years old when they moved to Europe,” Dyer told her; “If I told you where I was born, you wouldn’t believe it.”
“Try me.”
“Ever hear of Gilbert and Sullivan?”
“Of course.” Laura looked puzzled. “They wrote songs.”
“Not that Gilbert and Sullivan. The ones who came later, in 1994.”
Astonishment flowed into Laura’s face.
“You don’t mean the two experimental space colonies they put up before they started building the big ones?”
“Uh huh.”
“Really? You were born in one of those? That’s fantastic!” She frowned as another thought occurred to her. “Say, that makes you something of a rare animal, doesn’t it? No offense, but I thought they didn’t go in much for that kind of thing that long ago. You must have been special or something.”
Dyer laughed. “I was—a special kind of accident. Pa was the Chief Medical Officer on Gilbert, which meant he was up there for a long time at a stretch, so it was normal for wives to go along too. But because of regulations, when they found out that I was on the way, they couldn’t ship mother down again. Normally she’d never have got away with it, but being the Chief M.O.’s wife . . . Well, if Pa didn’t say anything about it, there was no reason for anybody else to think anything.”
“You mean he let it go deliberately?” Laura sounded incredulous, but at the same time delighted.
“He always said he didn’t, but I don’t see how he couldn’t have known. But if you knew him, you’d know it’s him all over.”
“He sounds the kind of guy that does things his way and to hell with what you or I or the world thinks,” Laura commented.
“You’ve about got it,” Dyer nodded.
“It shows,” Laura declared with a trace of satisfaction. “ That’s what makes you so pigheaded. There—now you’ve been shrunk. And I didn’t even have to go to Harvard to figure it out.”
“I’m not pigheaded,” Dyer protested. “I just happen to have firm opinions on what my job’s all about. I know what works and what doesn’t if you’re trying to separate truth from garbage. That’s what science is. I get irritated when people insist on misinterpreting it.”
“And you’re also touchy,” Laura told him sweetly. She drank from her glass while Dyer calmed down again. “Anyway,” she said, “It’s the same thing.”
“What is?”
“Being firm and being pigheaded,” she replied.
“Of course it isn’t. What are you talking about?”
“The form of the verb varies according to its subject,” she said. “ I am firm; you are obstinate; he is pigheaded.” Dyer collapsed back in his chair and shook his head in capitulation. Laura leaned forward and patted him fondly on the back of his hand. “You’ve forgotten I used to write scripts,” she said, laughing. “You see,
“Oh, it was in the family I guess. My father was a doctor . . . space medicine.”
“Was? Isn’t he around anymore?”
“Oh sure. Retired. Lives on the West Coast with my mother. They’re okay.”
“What kind of space medicine did he do?” Laura inquired, intrigued. “Was he with ISA? Did he go on any space missions or anything exciting like that?”
“He sure did.”
“Wow! I’ve always wanted to go up and never had the chance. Tell me about it. I’m interested.” Laura sat forward to lean on the table and stared at him expectantly. Dyer smiled and shook his head.
“It was nothing wildly spectacular. He was in it a long time . . . joined in 1985 after he left the Navy, when it was still NASA . . . did a few tours in orbital stations over the years . . . spent a lot of 1992 up at one of the lunar bases . . . moved to Europe when ESA was set up, and then came back to the States when they all got merged into ISA. He had plenty of variety to keep him from getting bored I guess.”
“So where did you appear on the scene?” Laura asked. “Here or in Europe?”
“I was two years old when they moved to Europe,” Dyer told her; “If I told you where I was born, you wouldn’t believe it.”
“Try me.”
“Ever hear of Gilbert and Sullivan?”
“Of course.” Laura looked puzzled. “They wrote songs.”
“Not that Gilbert and Sullivan. The ones who came later, in 1994.”
Astonishment flowed into Laura’s face.
“You don’t mean the two experimental space colonies they put up before they started building the big ones?”
“Uh huh.”
“Really? You were born in one of those? That’s fantastic!” She frowned as another thought occurred to her. “Say, that makes you something of a rare animal, doesn’t it? No offense, but I thought they didn’t go in much for that kind of thing that long ago. You must have been special or something.”
Dyer laughed. “I was—a special kind of accident. Pa was the Chief Medical Officer on Gilbert, which meant he was up there for a long time at a stretch, so it was normal for wives to go along too. But because of regulations, when they found out that I was on the way, they couldn’t ship mother down again. Normally she’d never have got away with it, but being the Chief M.O.’s wife . . . Well, if Pa didn’t say anything about it, there was no reason for anybody else to think anything.”
“You mean he let it go deliberately?” Laura sounded incredulous, but at the same time delighted.
“He always said he didn’t, but I don’t see how he couldn’t have known. But if you knew him, you’d know it’s him all over.”
“He sounds the kind of guy that does things his way and to hell with what you or I or the world thinks,” Laura commented.
“You’ve about got it,” Dyer nodded.
“It shows,” Laura declared with a trace of satisfaction. “ That’s what makes you so pigheaded. There—now you’ve been shrunk. And I didn’t even have to go to Harvard to figure it out.”
“I’m not pigheaded,” Dyer protested. “I just happen to have firm opinions on what my job’s all about. I know what works and what doesn’t if you’re trying to separate truth from garbage. That’s what science is. I get irritated when people insist on misinterpreting it.”
“And you’re also touchy,” Laura told him sweetly. She drank from her glass while Dyer calmed down again. “Anyway,” she said, “It’s the same thing.”
“What is?”
“Being firm and being pigheaded,” she replied.
“Of course it isn’t. What are you talking about?”
“The form of the verb varies according to its subject,” she said. “ I am firm; you are obstinate; he is pigheaded.” Dyer collapsed back in his chair and shook his head in capitulation. Laura leaned forward and patted him fondly on the back of his hand. “You’ve forgotten I used to write scripts,” she said, laughing. “You see,
Similar Books
