She ran her fingers delicately across her naked skull. ?Feels weird. Like the hair’s still there but when you reach for it, there’s nothing.?

He nodded. ?Like someone who’s lost a leg and thinks he can still feel his foot. The body’s a funny thing, and the mind’s a heck of a lot funnier.?He drained his glass, looked into her eyes.

?Now that I’ve gone out on a limb for you with Andrews over the cremation, damaging my already less than perfect relationship with the good man, and briefed you on the humdrum history of Fury 161, how about you telling me what you were looking for in that dead girl? And why was it necessary to cremate the bodies??She started to reply and he raised his hand, palm toward her.

?Please, no more about nasty germs. Andrews was right. Cold storage would have been enough to render them harmless. But that wasn’t good enough for you. I want to know why.?

She nodded, set her cup aside, and turned back to him. ?First I have to know something else.?

He shrugged. ?Name it.?

?Are you attracted to me??

His gaze narrowed. As he was wondering how to respond, he heard his own voice answering, as though his lips and tongue had abruptly chosen to operate independent of his brain. Which was not, he reflected in mild astonishment, necessarily a bad thing.

?In what way??

?In that way.?

The universe, it appeared, was still full of wonders,

70

even if Fiorina’s perpetual cloud cover tended to obscure them. ?You are rather direct. Speaking to someone afflicted with a penchant for solitude, as I have already mentioned, I find that more than a little disconcerting.?

?Sorry. It’s the only way I know how to be. I’ve been out here a long time.?

?Yes,?he murmured. ?So have I.?

?I don’t have time for subterfuges. I don’t have time for much of anything except what’s really important. I’ve had to learn that.?

He refilled both cups, picked up his own, and swirled the contents, studying the uninformative eddies which appeared in the liquid.

The fan blades were each twice the size of a man. They had to be, to suck air from the surface and draw it down into the condensers which scrubbed, cleaned, and purified Fiorina’s dusty atmosphere before pumping the result into shafts and structures. Even so, they were imperfect. Fiorina’s atmosphere was simply too dirty.

There were ten fans, one to a shaft. Eight were silent. The remaining pair roared at half speed, supplying air to the installation’s western quadrant.