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“Where’s Griffin?” she asked.
“It’s eleven hundred hours. Master Griffin—asked Lance—”
“I remember.” She waved her hand, robbed me of the excuse I had hoped for to stop all of that, dismissing it all.
“Shall I go?” I asked.
Again a wave of the hand. My lady walked out into the sitting room and sat down at the console there, started calling up something on the comp unit—all the log reports, I reckoned, of all the time she had slept; or maybe the supply inventories. My lady was herself again; and let Griffin beware.
I padded out, ever so quietly, closed the door and wiped my hands and headed down the corridor to the lift as fast as I could walk. I went down and toward the gym in the notion that I had to be quiet, but quiet did no good at all: the gym rang with the impact of feet and bodies. They were at it again, Griffin and Lance, trying to throw each other.
It was crazy. They were. I had thought of lying again, saying that Dela wanted this or that, but she was paying sharp attention today, and the lie would not pass. I stood there in the doorway and watched.
They were at it this time, I reckoned, because there had been no decision the last encounter, thanks to me. No wi
They went back and forth a great deal, muscles straining, skin slick with sweat that dampened their hair and made their hands slip. Neither one could get the advantage standing; and they hit the floor with a thud and neither one could get the other stopped. They didn’t see me, I don’t think. I stood there biting my lip until it hurt. And suddenly it was Lance on the bottom, and Griffin slowly let him up.
I turned away, fled the doorway for the corridor, because I was ashamed, and hurt, and I didn’t want to admit to myself why, but it was as if I had lost too, like it was my pain, that Lance after all proved what we were made to be, and that we always had to give way. Even when he did what none of the rest of us could do, something so reckless as to fight with Griffin—he was beaten.
Lance came up to the crew quarters finally, where I sat playing solitaire. He was undamaged on the outside, and I tried to act as if I had no idea anything was wrong, as if I had never been in that doorway or seen what I had seen. But I reckoned that he wanted to have his privacy now, so downcast his look was, and I could hardly walk out without seeming to avoid him, so I curled up on the couch and pretended to be tired of my game, to sleep awhile.
But I watched him through my lashes, as he rummaged in his locker, and found a tape, and set up the machine. He took the drug, and lay down in deepsleep, lost in that; and all the while I had begun to know what tape it was, and what he was doing, and what was into him. The understanding sent cold through me.
He should not be alone. I was sure of that. The lady had deserted him and his having the tape in the first place was my fault. I took the drug and set up the co
The story ran to its end and stopped, letting us out of its grip; and whether he felt me there or not, he just lay there with tears streaming from his closed eyes. Finally I couldn’t stand it any longer and took the sensors off him and me and put my arms about him.
But he mistook what I wanted and pushed me away, stared at the ceiling and blanked awhile.
It was that bad.
And when he came out of it he said nothing, but got up, went to the bath and washed his face and left. Me, who was so long his friend, he left without a word. I heard the lift go down again; and it was the galley or the gym down there, so I had no difficulty finding him.
It was the gym. From the door I watched him ... doing pushups until I thought his arms must break, as if it could drive the weakness out of him.
Now, Beast, I thought toward the voice that had terrorized our night. Now, if ever you have something to say. But it stayed mute. Lance struggled against his own self; and I wished with all my heart that someone would discover some duty for him, some use that would get him busy.
He saw me there, turning suddenly. I knew he did by his scowl when he got to his feet, and I turned and fled down the corridor, to the lift, to the upper level, as far from the gym as I could excepting Viv’s domain.
And came Percivale, down the corridor from the bridge, looking as dispirited as I felt.
“Percy,” I said, catching at his arm. “Percy, I want you to do something for me.”
“What?” he asked, blinking at my intense assault; and I explained I wanted him to go down to the gym and fight with Lance. “It’s good for you,” I said, “because we don’t know what’s out there trying to get in, do we? and you might have to fight, to protect the ship and the lady. I think it’s a good idea to be ready. Griffin’s been working out with Lance. I’m sure it would be good for all of you.”
Percy thought about that, ran a hand over his red hair. “I’ll talk to Gawain and Modred,” he said. “But Lance is much stronger than we are.”
“But you should try,” I said, “at least try. Lance did, with Griffin, with a born-man, after all; and can’t you, with him?”
Percivale went down there first, and later that afternoon the three of them were looking the worse for wear and there was a little brighter look in Lance’s eyes when I saw him at di
“I think it’s given up,” my lady said, quite cheerful, lifting her glass.
It was true. There had been silence all day. Modred was glum. His carefully constructed tapes had failed. Gawain said so ... and my lady laughed, a brave, lonely sound.
Griffin smiled a faint, small quirk of the lips, more courtesy than belief. And drank his wine. Before di
“No!”my lady snapped, stopping the crew on the instant, and Griffin, half out of his chair, hesitated. “We can’t be ru
My heart felt it would break my ribs. But no further sound came to us, and the crew settled back into their places and Griffin sat back down.
“We would have felt a settling,” Griffin said.
“Enough of it. Enough.”
There was silence for a moment, no movement, all down the table; but my lady set to work on her dessert, and Griffin did, and so did we all. My lady talked, and Griffin laughed, and soon we all talked again, even Lance, idle di
But it didn’t help that night. Lance was sore and full of bruises, and he wanted to be let alone. He didn’t object to my moving my bed over or getting in with him, but he turned his back on me, and I patted his shoulder. Finally he turned an anguished look on me in the light there was left in the room, with the others lying in their beds. He started to say something. He didn’t need to. I just lay still and took his hand in mine, and he put his arm about me and stroked my hair, with that old sadness in his eyes, stripped of anger. I could hear noises from farther over toward the wall, where Ly