She put her hand over his; she could feel how it was bunched up, almost into a fist. She stroked his knuckles. “Listen. I’ve been thinking. We don’t see enough of each other.”

“Hell, I know that. But what can we do about it? We’ve always known what the deal would be.”

She sought for words. “But I think our lives are kind of hollow, Mike; we’ve been neglecting ourselves too much. Too many other things to distract us.” She waved a hand at the motel room. “We need something more than patches of neutral territory like this. We need something solid. I think we should get a place to live—”

He snorted out a billow of smoke. “Where? We’re lucky if we’re both in the same state for more than twenty-four hours.”

She was irritated at his dismissiveness. “I know that. ‘Where’ doesn’t matter. Anywhere. Here, or Berkeley maybe. And it wouldn’t even matter if the damn place was empty for three-quarters of the year. It would be ours, Mike; that’s the point. It would be a kind of base for us. At the moment, all we have is this. Holiday Inn. I don’t think it’s enough.” I’m twenty-eight years old, for God’s sake.

He stubbed out his cigarette and watched her; on the TV screen, ignored, Captain Kirk was facing another crisis. “You’re a crazy woman, Natalie York.”

“Maybe so. What do you say?”

“Why now? I mean, it’s not going to make a damn piece of difference to the way we live our lives, the extent to which we see each other. You’re not going to give up your career.”

“Of course not, and neither are you.” She pulled at his fingers. “But that’s not the point.”

Then what is, Natalie? What primeval instinct has dragged this up, after all this time? And right at this moment, when you’re thinking of getting on a road that could take you off the Earth altogether…

She surely hadn’t come to terms with what had happened last night, yet.

Maybe this — tonight, with Mike — was all just some kind of way of dealing with Ben, she thought bleakly.

But if that was true, where did it leave her and Mike?…

Christ. What a mess.

The phone rang, its sharp tone startling her.

“Jesus.” He reached out and took the receiver. “Hello?… All right, I’ll be there.” He put the phone down.

“Mike—”

He was already halfway out of bed; he scrabbled over the floor, looking for his pants. “The burn was another failure. Sustained for less than half a second. Shit.” He touched her hair. “I’ve got to be there, Natalie. You go back to sleep.”

“I haven’t been asleep.” She kicked away the sheets and stood up; the air in the room was distinctly cold. “I’ll come, too.”

“You don’t have to.”

“I’d prefer it. Anyway, we have a conversation to finish.”

Mike had already pulled on his shirt; he was muttering to himself, as his mind started to whirl around the problems of the engine.