Читать книгу The Science Fiction Anthology онлайн

222 страница из 776

“Try not to get any more involved, Clarey,” Han Vollard said as they stood outside the airlock. “Maybe you ought to move on—to a city, perhaps, another country—”

“When I want your advice, I’ll ask for it!” he snapped.

After they’d gone, Blynn turned on him. “Man, you must be out of your mind, talking to Secretary Vollard like that.”

“Why does she have to keep meddling? It’s none of her business—”

“None of her business! Secretary of the Space Service, and you say it’s none of her business?”

Clarey blinked. “I thought she was Spano’s secretary.”

Blynn laughed until the tears dampened his dark cheeks. “Spano’s only Head of Intelligence. She’s his Mistress.”

“Of course—mistress, feminine of master! I should have realized that before.” Then Clarey laughed, too. “I’m a real all-round alien. I can’t even understand my own language.”

On the way back home he couldn’t help thinking that Han Vollard might be right. It could be the best thing for him to disappear now; the best thing for himself, the best thing for Embelsira. He could pretend to desert her—better yet, Blynn could fake some kind of accident, so her feelings wouldn’t be hurt. A pension of some kind would be arranged. She could marry again, have the children she wanted so much. If he waited the full ten years, she might never be able to have them. He had no idea at what age Damorlant females ceased to be fertile.