Leo could have wished for more certainty in her tone. "Well . . ." He cleared his throat, inexplicably blocked. "Take care. Don't get hurt."

"You be careful too." She did not hug him, as she had Pramod and Claire.

"Right."

And don't ever believe, his mind cried after her as she vanished into the flex tube, that nobody could love you, Silver . . . But it was too late to call the words aloud. The airseal doors shut with a sigh like regret.

Chapter Ten

Chapter Ten

The freight shuttle docking bay was chilly, and Claire rubbed all her hands together to warm them. Only her hands seemed cold; her heart beat hot with anticipation and dread. She looked sideways at Leo, floating as seeming-stolid as ever by the airseal doors with her.

"Thanks, for pulling me off my work shift for this," Claire said. "Are you sure you won't get into trouble, when Mr. Van Atta finds out?"

"Who's to tell him?" said Leo. "Besides, I think Bruce is losing interest in tormenting you. Everything's so obviously futile. All the better for us. Anyway, I want to talk to Tony too, and I figure I'll have a better chance of getting his undivided attention after you've got the reunion-bit over with." He smiled reassuringly.

"I wonder what condition he'll be in?"

"You may be sure he's much better, or Dr. Minchenko wouldn't be subjecting him to the stresses of travel, even to keep him close under his eye."

A thump, and the whir and grind of machinery, told Claire that the shuttle had arrived in its clamps. Her hands reached out, drew in self-consciously. The quaddie manning the control booth waved to two others in the bay, and they locked the flex tubes into position and sealed them. The personnel tube opened first. The shuttle's engineer stuck his head through to double check everything, then whipped back out of sight. Claire's heart lurched in her chest, and her dry throat constricted.

Dr. Minchenko emerged at last and hovered a moment, one hand anchored to a grip by the hatch. A leathery-faced, vigorous man, his hair was as white as the GalacTech medical service coveralls he wore. He had been a big man, now shrunken to his frame like a withered apricot, but, like a withered apricot, still sound. Claire had the impression he only needed to be rehydrated and he'd pop back to like-new condition.

Dr. Minchenko shoved off from the hatchway and crossed the bay toward them, landing accurately by the grips around the airseal doors. "Why, hullo, Claire," he said in a surprised voice. "And, ah—Graf," he added less cordially. "You're the one. Let me tell you, I don't appreciate being leaned on to authorize violation of sound medical protocol. You are to spend double time in the gym for the duration of your extension, you hear?"