Fire Time by Poul Anderson Page A

she’d be a good partner; he proceeded systematically to fall in love. ‘I have been looking forward,’ she said.
    Younger than he, she nonetheless showed more gray in her hair. The snub-nosed countenance had gone pudgy, as had the short body. Yet passing by on her way to the kitchen, she stroked a palm across his head, and he recalled their first years.
    Alone, he puffed his pipe and wondered if Becky’s difficult birth had brought on the slow change. The doctor had said there was no point in cloning her a new uterus; she’d lose it afresh, and the baby too, next time. But they hadn’t been required to try for more children, had they? Did the loss inside carry some consequence too subtle for meditechnics to see? The blunt fact was, she remained gentle, popular in the community, an excellent cook, et cetera, et cetera, but drop by drop they came together less often, in spirit and in flesh.
    Or,
he thought, not for the first occasion or the hundredth,
was the change mainly in me?
For his work had sent him adventuring across half the planet, while hers and the child kept her behind. He got the Earthside business trips, while she – who missed her kinfolk more than he did his, though she never complained – must settle for a few weeks every four years. On the other hand, she kept her human associations in Primavera, her interest in human creations, while his involvement steadily increased with Ishtarians and their minds.
    Be the cause what it might, these days he felt little for her beyond a certain liking and compassion: a truth which he only had the heart – or the nerve – to tell himself. When his projects began to demand he spend most of his time here,planning and directing, instead of in the field, his main emotion was resignation to dullness.
    Until he grew fully aware of Jill Conway.
    He tamped his pipe with his thumb, almost savoring the slight burn.
    Rhoda brought in their drinks. ‘I’m glad you got away this early, dear,’ she said. ‘You have been straining too hard. I thought tonight, if you didn’t come in late, for dinner I would make something special.’

VII

    Captain Dejerine accepted happily an invitation to a day’s guided outing with a person who could explain what he saw. Besides a chance to start making friends in a community whose co-operation he needed and which he knew was hostile to his purposes, he welcomed the sheer recreation, after a wearying space journey. When the person whom Goddard Hanshaw mentioned turned out to be Jill Conway, his pleasure boosted to delight.
    She called for him before Belrise, in the eerie red light of Anu low in the north. He and a few associates were temporarily lodged at the inn; most of the men must remain in orbit till their prefab shelters could be erected. He had been supplied a flywheeler. (‘Might as well do you the courtesy before you requisition it,’ Hanshaw had growled half amiably.) Jill’s was a great deal larger and livelier. He was appalled at the prospect of matching her driving style, but clenched his jaws and presently found himself enjoying the speed. By then they had crossed the river – on a small automatic ferry, since his machine lacked a skimmer – and were well into untouched Ishtarian countryside.
    Bel arrived in heaven, shadows doubled and the ember illumination became rosy. Jill halted at a grove where a spring flowed. ‘How ’bout breakfast?’ she proposed. ‘Afterward we’ll go more leisurely.’
    ‘Magnifique.’
Dejerine opened the carrier box on his vehicle. ‘I regret being unable to make a real contribution, but here is an Italian salami, if you will accept–’
    ‘Will I!’ She clapped her hands in glee. ‘I’ve had that exactly once before in my life. Believe me, a first love is nothing compared to a first Italian dry salami.’
Liar,
she thought, remembering Senzo. And yet … the hurt of that was well healed over.
In you also, darling, I trust.
    Dejerine helped her spread a cloth on the ground and