Time Enough for Love (24 page)

This time all three went to Ishtar’s apartment; they had matters to discuss. On arrival there Ishtar checked:

“Minerva?”

“Listening, Ishtar.”

“Anything?”

“Lazarus and Ira are talking. Private conversation.”

“Keep me advised, dear.”

“Certainly, dear.”

Ishtar turned back to the others. “Who wants a drink or something? Too early for dinner. Or is it? Ham?”

Galahad answered, “A bath for me, then a drink. I was all set for a dip—hot and sweaty—when Lazarus kicked us out.”

“And stinky,” Ishtar agreed. “I noticed it in the transport.”

“A bath wouldn’t hurt
you,
big arse; you were exercising as hard as I was.”

“Regrettably true, my gallant knight; I was careful to sit downwind from our elders after that last match. Ham, get us all something tall and cold while Stinky and I get clean.”

“Will you two settle for Idleberry Jolts or whatever is handy? While we all bathe? I don’t have the excuse of heavy exercise, but I broke out with fear stink when I put the proposal to Gramp. And
muffed
it! After all your coaching, Ish. I’m sorry!” She started to sniffle.

Ishtar put her arms around the younger woman. “There, there, dear—stop it. I don’t think you muffed it.”

“He refused me.”

“You laid a good foundation—and shook him up, which he needed. You startled me with your timing but it will work out all right.”

“He probably won’t even let me come back!”

“Yes, he will. Stop shaking. Come, dear; Galahad and I will give you a long, relaxing back rub. Stinky, fetch the fizz and join us in the shower room.”

“With two women around I have to work. Okay.”

When Galahad arrived with cold drinks, Ishtar had Hamadryad stretched out facedown on the massage table. Ishtar looked up and said, “Dear, before you get wet, see if there are three towel robes in the rack; I didn’t check.”

“Yes, ma’am; no, ma’am; right away, ma’am; will that be all, ma’am?—plenty of robes; I dialed for more this morning. Don’t bruise her, you don’t know your own strength. I’m going to need her, later.”

“And I’m going to swap you for a dog, sweetheart, and sell the dog. Pass around those drinks, then come help, or you won’t get either of us later. If ever. We’re busy agreeing that all males are beasts.” She continued to massage, gently, firmly, with professional skill, down Hamadryad’s back while the massage table matched her appropriately down the subject’s front. She let Galahad hang a drink around her neck and place its nipple in her mouth without slowing her careful fingers.

He snapped Hamadryad’s drink to the table, placed nipple in her mouth, patted her cheek, then took the other side and started to help, following Ishtar’s lead. The table changed action to match four hands.

Some minutes later he let the nipple for his drink retract, and spoke. “Ish, any chance that Gramp twigged? About you two broads?”

“We’re not all that broad. At least, Ham is not.”

“‘Broad’ is a usual English idiom for a female, and you said we should talk and think in English as long as we are on this commitment.”

“I simply said that Hamadryad is not very broad. Even though she’s had more children than I have—and I haven’t had any since rejuvenation. But it’s a colorful idiom; I like it. I don’t see how Lazarus could guess that we are pregnant. Not that it would matter if he did, in my case—except just how I am pregnant, and he can’t know that as I fudged the record on the source of the cloned cell. Ham, you haven’t hinted anything to Lazarus—have you?”

Hamadryad surrendered her drink. “Of course not!”

“Minerva knows,” Galahad said.

“Of course she does, I discussed it with her. But—Now you’ve got me wondering. Minerva?”

“Listening, Ishtar.” The computer added, “Ira is leaving; Lazarus has come inside. No problems.”

“Thank you, dear. Minerva, is there any possible way that Lazarus could know about Hamadryad and me? That we are pregnant, I mean, and why and how.”

“He has not said so, nor has anyone mentioned it in his presence. Evaluation of pertinent data available to me makes it probable by less than one part in one thousand.”

“How about Ira?”

“Less than one part: in ten thousand. Ishtar, when Ira told me to supply you with service and to assign to you a restricted memory, he programmed me so that any later program will simply wipe your assigned box. Truly, there is no way for him to retrieve from your private memory file, nor can I self-program to get around it.”

“Yes, so you assured me. But I don’t know much about computers, Minerva.”

Minerva chuckled. “Whereas I do. You could say that I have made a career of computers. Don’t worry, dear, your secrets are safe with me. Lazarus has just told me to order a light supper for him; then he is going to bed.”

“Good. Let me know what he eats and how much and when he goes to bed—then call me if he wakes. Awake and alone at night, a man is at his lowest ebb; I must be ready to move quickly. But you know that.”

“I shall watch his wave patterns, Ishtar. You will have two to five minutes’ warning—unless El Diablo jumps on his stomach.”

“That damned cat. But being wakened that way doesn’t depress him; it’s his suicidal nightmares that worry me. I have about used up diversionary emergencies; I can’t set fire to the penthouse a second time.”

“Lazarus has not had one of his typical depression nightmares this month, Ishtar, and I know how to spot the wave sequences now; I’ll be very careful.”

“I know you will, dear. I wish we knew the incidents in his past from which each is derived; we might be able to wipe them.”

“Ish,” Galahad put in, “you go tinkering with his memory and you might lose everything Ira is after.”

“And I might save our client, too. You stick to backrubbing, dear, and leave delicate work to Minerva and me. Anything more, Minerva?”

“No. Yes. Ira is telling me to find Hamadryad; he wants to talk to her. Will she take the call?”

“Sure!” agreed Hamadryad, rolling over. “But patch him in through you, Minerva; I won’t go to the phone, I don’t have my face on.”

“Hamadryad?”

“Yes, Ira?”

“Message for you. Be nice to an old man and show up at the cottage as usual, will you? Better yet, get there early and have breakfast with him.”

“Are you sure he wants to see me?”

“He does. He shouldn’t, after the way you embarrassed him. What possessed you, Ham? But this message is his idea, not mine. He wants to be sure he hasn’t scared you off.”

She sighed with relief. “I’m not scared off if he will let me stay. Father, I told you I would devote as many days to this as
he
will permit. I meant it and still mean it. In fact I’ve told my manager that she can buy me out on long-term credit; that’s how serious I am.”

“So? I’m very pleased. If you do, and want to cash out, I—the government, that is—will pick up the loan from you without discounting it; I’ve assigned unlimited credit to anything relating to the Senior. Just tell Minerva.”

“Thank you, sir. I don’t expect to need it—unless Gramp gets tired of me and I see something else I want to invest in. But the business is prosperous; I may just let Priscilla support me in style for a few years. Quite prosperous—betcha my assets exceed yours. Your private fortune, I mean.”

“Don’t be silly, my silly daughter; as a private citizen I’m almost a pauper—whereas in my official capacity I could confiscate your assets with just a word to Minerva and no one would question it.”

“Except that you never would—you’re sweet, Ira.”

“Huh?”

“You are…even if you can’t remember the names of my children. I’m feeling very gay, Papa, you’ve made me happy.”

“You haven’t called me ‘Papa’ for, oh, fifty or sixty years.”

“Because you never encourage intimacy once a child is grown. Nor do I from mine. But this assignment has made me feel closer to you. I’ll shut up, sir, and I’ll be there early tomorrow. Off?”

“One moment. I forgot to ask where you are. If you’re home—”

“I’m not; I’m having a bath with Galahad and Ishtar. About to, that is; you interrupted a wonderful back rub they were giving me.”

“Sorry. As you are still in the Palace, I suggest that you stay. To be here early tomorrow. Beg a bed from them or, if that is intruding, come to my apartments; we’ll find something.”

“Don’t fret about me, Ira. If I can’t shame them into keeping me overnight, Minerva will find me a bed. Truly, Lazarus’ bed is the only one I’ve ever found impossible to get into—maybe I need to apply for rejuve.”

The Chairman Pro Tem was slow in answering. “Hamadryad…you were serious in proposing to have children by him—were you not?”

“Privacy, sir.”

“Sorry. Hmm—The custom of privacy does not forbid me to say that
I
think it is a very good idea. If you tell me to, I will encourage it in any way I can.”

Hamadryad looked at Ishtar and spread her hands in a gesture of “What do I do now?”—then answered: “His refusal seemed very firm, sir.”

“Let me offer you a male viewpoint, my daughter. A man often refuses such a proposal when he wants to accept it—a man likes to be sure of a woman’s motives and sincerity. At a later time he may accept. I don’t mean that you should nag him with it; that would not work. But if you want this…bide your time. You’re a charming woman; I have confidence in you.”

“Yes, sir. If he does give me a child, we would all be richer thereby—would we not?”

“Yes, certainly. But my motives are somewhat different. If he dies or leaves us, there is always the sperm bank and the tissue bank—neither of which he can touch because I’ll cheat if necessary. But I
don’t
want him to die, Hamadryad, nor do I want him to leave soon—and I am not speaking from sentiment. The Senior is unique; I’ve gone to much trouble not to waste him. Your presence pleases him, your offer stimulates him…even though you feel he reacted badly. You’re helping to keep him alive—and if he eventually lets you have his child, you may succeed in keeping him alive a long time. Indefinitely long.”

Hamadryad wiggled with pleasure and smiled at Ishtar. “Father, you make me feel proud.”

“You have always been a daughter to be proud of, dear. Although I can’t claim all the credit; your mother is a most exceptional woman. Off now?”

“Off, with music playing. Good night, sir!”

Without getting up, Hamadryad grabbed both her friends around their waists and hugged them tightly. “Oh, I feel good!”

“So get down off this table, narrow broad; it’s my turn.”

“You don’t need a massage,” Ishtar said firmly; “you’ve been under no emotional strain and the hardest work you’ve done all day is to beat me two games of murder ball.”

“But I’m the spiritual type. Sensitive.”

“So you are, dear Galahad, and now you can most spiritually help her down and help me bathe her—still most spiritually.”

Galahad complied while complaining “You two ought to bathe me, instead. Pretend I’m a blind music maker.” He closed his eyes and sang:

“That’s me—‘unlucky’—or I wouldn’t have to work with two women in the house. What cycle, Ish?”

“‘Relaxing’ of course. Hamadear, since you let us hear that call, I assume that I can talk about it. I agree with Ira. You have Lazarus sexually stimulated whether he knows it or not, and if you can keep him that way, he won’t be depressed.”

“Is he truly that nearly recovered, Ishtar?” Hamadryad asked while raising her arms and letting them work on her. “He looks better. But I can’t tell—his manner doesn’t change.”

“Oh, definitely. He started masturbating a month ago. Shampoo, dear?”

“He did? Really? Oh, that’s wonderful! Do I need one? Yes, I do—thanks.”

“Close your eyes, Hambone baby; shampoo mix coming. A client has no privacy with Ishtar. But she didn’t tell
me
; I had to infer it from his graphs. Ish, why do I always wind up washing Ham’s back?”

“Because you tickle, sweetheart. There was no need for you to know. But a client certainly has no privacy with Minerva to help—and that’s as it should be; we need better computer service at the Clinic, I now see. Although he
does
have privacy in its true sense, as all of this is covered by the Oath. Even though you are not regular staff, Ham, I’m sure you realize that.”

“Oh, certainly! Not quite so hard, Galahad. Red-hot pincers could not make me talk other than to you two. Not even to Ira. Ishtar, do you think I could learn to be a
real
rejuvenator?”

“If you feel a vocation for it and want to study that hard. Let it rinse now, Galahad. You have the empathy, I’m sure. What’s your index?”

“Uh…‘Genius-minus,’” Hamadryad admitted.

“Takes genius,” Galahad said helpfully, “as well as a compulsive need to work; she’s a slave driver, Hammy baby.”

“You’re off key, dear. You’re ‘Genius-
plus
,’ Ham, slightly higher than Galahad’s index. I looked it up just in case—and you did ask. I’m very pleased.”

“‘Off
key
’? Now you’ve gone too far.”

“You have other virtues, my true knight; you need not be a troubadour. Hamadear, if you search your heart and really want it, you could be an associate technician by the time we migrate. If you intend to migrate. If not, the Clinic here always needs staff; a true vocation is scarce. But I’d tike—terribly—to have you with us. Both of us will help you.”