Time Enough for Love (30 page)

But females are built differently from males. I could not let Llita work out with us until I devised a plastron to protect her tits—necessary; she was a bit oversized in that department, and we could have hurt her without intending to. Then I told Joe privately that bruises were okay, but that if he broke one of her bones, I would break one of his, just for drill.

But I put no restrictions on his sister—and I underestimated her; she was twice as aggressive as he was. Untrained but fast—and she meant business.

The second day we worked out with her, not only was she wearing that plastron, her brother and I were wearing jockstraps. And Llita had been allowed to read a real book the night before.

Joe turned out to have talent for cooking, so I encouraged him to be as fancy as ship’s stores permitted while crowding her to become an adequate cook. A man who can cook can support himself anywhere. But anyone, male or female, should be able to cook, keep house, and care for children. I hadn’t located a trade for Llita, although she displayed a talent for mathematics once I set up inducements for that, too. That was encouraging; a person who can read and write and has a head for math can learn anything she needs to know. So I started her on bookkeeping and accounting, from books, not helping her, and required Joe to learn to use all the tools the ship boasted—not many, mainly maintenance gear—and supervised him closely; I didn’t want him losing fingers or ruining tools.

I was hopeful. Then the situation changed—

(Circa 3,100 words omitted)

—easy to say that I was stupid. I had raised stock and a good many children. Being ship’s surgeon as well as everything else, I had given them the most thorough examinations my equipment permitted when we were a couple of days out—quite thorough for those days; I had not practiced medicine after leaving Ormuzd but did keep my sick bay stocked and equipped, and picked up the latest tapes whenever I was on a civilized planet and studied them during long jumps. I was a good jackleg doctor, Minerva.

The kids were as healthy as they looked, aside from slight dental caries in him, two small cavities. I noticed that the factor’s allegation about her was correct—virgo intacta, semilunar hymen, unfrayed, so I used my smallest speculum. She neither complained nor tensed up nor asked what I was looking for. I concluded that they had had regular checkups and other medical attention, far more than slaves on Blessed usually received.

She had thirty-two teeth in perfect condition but could not tell me when the last four molars had erupted, just that it was “not long ago.” He had twenty-eight teeth and so little space in his jaw for adult molars that I anticipated trouble. But X-ray prints showed no buds.

I cleaned and filled the cavities, and made note that he must have those fillings removed and the tissue regenerated on Valhalla, and be inoculated against further decay; Valhalla had good dentistry, far superior to what I could do.

Llita could not tell me when she had last menstruated. She discussed it with Joe; he tried to count on his fingers how many days it had been since they had been taken from their home place, as they agreed that it was before that. I told her to let me know next time and each time, so that I could determine her cycle. I gave her a tin of napkins, emergency supplies I hadn’t known I had—must have been in the ship twenty years.

She did tell me, and I had to open the tin for her; neither of them knew how. She was delighted with the little elastic panty included in the package, and often wore it when she did not need it, as “dress up.” The kid was crazy about clothes; as a slave she had never had a chance to pamper her vanity. I told her it was all right as long as she washed it every time she wore it—I clamped down hard on cleanliness, inspecting their ears, sending them from the table to scrub their nails, and so forth. They had received no more training than a hog. She never had to be told twice, and picked on him and made sure that he met my standards, too. I found myself being more exacting with myself; I could not bring dirty fingernails to the table or skip a shower because I was sleepy—I had set the standards and had to live up to them.

She was almost as unskilled a seamstress as she was a cook, but she taught herself because she liked clothes. I dug out some bright-colored trade cloth and let her have fun—and used it as carrot-and-stick; wearing anything became a privilege that depended on good behavior. I put a stop that way—well, mostly—to her nagging her brother.

That wouldn’t work with Joe; clothes did not interest him—but if he rated it, I gave him more of a working over during exercise period. Seldom—he was not the problem she was.

One evening, three or four of her periods later, I noticed on my calendar that she was past due—having forgotten the matter. Minerva, I never walked into their staterooms without knocking; shipboard life required such privacy as can be managed—too little, that is.

Her door was open, and her room was empty. I tapped on his door, got no answer, went on, looked for her in the wardroom and galley, even in our little gym. I decided that she must be taking a bath and I would speak to her in the morning.

As I passed his stateroom again in heading back to my cabin, his door opened; she stepped out and closed it behind her. I said, “Oh, there you are!” or some such. “I thought Joe was asleep.”

“He’s just gone to sleep,” Llita said. “Do you want him, Captain? Shall I wake him?”

I said, “No, I was looking for you, but I tapped on his door five or ten minutes ago and got no answer.”

She was contrite over not having heard my knock. “I’m sorry, Captain. I guess we were so busy we didn’t hear you.” She told me how they were busy.

—which I had figured out, having suspected it from the moment I noticed that she was a week overdue after being clock regular. “That’s understandable,” I said. “I’m glad my knock didn’t disturb you.”

“We try never to disturb
you
with it, Captain,” she answered with sweet seriousness. “We wait till you go to your cabin at night. Or sometimes when you take siesta.”

I said, “Goodness, dear, you don’t have to be
that
careful. Do your work and keep your study hours, then do as you please the rest of the time. Starship ‘Libby’ is not a sweatship; I want you kids to be happy. Can’t you get it through your fuzzy head that you are not a slave?”

Apparently she could not, quite, Minerva, for she still fretted that she had not heard my knock and jumped to respond. I said, “Don’t be silly, Llita. It will keep till tomorrow.”

But she insisted she wasn’t sleepy and was ready and anxious to do whatever I wanted—which made me a touch nervous. Minerva, one of the oddities about “Eros” is that women are never so willing as when they just have, and there was nothing in Llita’s background to inhibit her. Worse, I found that I was aware of her as a ripe female for almost the first time since the two came aboard—she was standing close to me in a narrow passageway, carrying in one hand one of those weird costumes she delighted in making, and was a bit whiff from happy exercise. I was tempted—and felt certain that she would respond at once and happily. The thought crossed my mind that she was already pregnant—nothing to fret about.

But I had gone to much trouble with these ephemerals to shift from slaveowner to father figure, stern but loving. If I took her, I would lose that and add one more disturbing variable to a problem already too complex. So I grasped the nettle.

*

Captain Sheffield said, “Very well, Llita. Come to my cabin.” He headed toward it, she followed. Once there, he offered her a seat. She hesitated, then put her gaudy dress down and sat on it—thoughtfulness that pleased him, as the ignorant animal she had been would not have been capable of it; the humanizing process was working. He did not comment.

“Llita, your period is a week overdue, is it not?”

“It is, Captain?” She seemed puzzled but not troubled.

Sheffield wondered if he could be mistaken. After he had taught her how to open a sealed tin, he had turned over to her the limited emergency supply, warning her that if she used it too lavishly, she would have to fashion by hand some make-do, as Valhalla was months away. Then he had dismissed the matter other than to log it on his desk calendar whenever she reported onset. Could he have failed to notice? There had been three days last week when he had kept to his cabin, leaving the young people on their own and having his meals sent in—a habit he had when he wanted to concentrate on a problem. During such periods he ate little and slept not at all and barely noticed anything not part of what he was studying. Yes, it was possible.

“Don’t you know, Llita? If you were on time, then you failed to report it.”

“Oh, no, Captain!” She was round-eyed with distress. “You told me to tell you…and I
have
—every time, every time!”

Further questions showed first, that despite her new grasp of arithmetic she did not know when she should have experienced onset, and second, that it had not been last week but a much longer time.

Time to tell her—“Llita dear, I think you are going to have a baby.”

Her mouth dropped open, again her eyes rounded. “Oh,
wonderful!
” She added, “May I run tell Josie? May I,
please?
I’ll be right back!”

“Wups! Don’t rush things. I said only that I thought so. Don’t get your hopes up yet, and don’t bother Joe with it till we know. Many a girl has gone much longer than a week past her date, and it didn’t mean a thing.” (But I’m pleased to learn that you want it, child, as it appears you’ve had every opportunity.) “Tomorrow I’ll examine you and try to find out.” (What did he have aboard for a pregnancy test? Damn it, if he must abort her, it should be as quickly as possible when it’s no worse than plucking a splinter. Then—no, there wasn’t so much as a “Monday morning” pill in the ship, much less modern contraception. Woodie, blast your stupid soul, don’t ever go into space again so poorly equipped!) “In the meantime, don’t get excited.” (But women always did get excited by it. Of course.)

She was as dashed as she had been jubilant. “We tried so hard! Everything in the Kama Sutra and more. I thought we ought to ask you to show us what we were doing wrong, but Joe was certain we were doing it right.”

“I think Joe is correct.” Sheffield got up, poured a cup of wine for each of them while performing legerdemain which dosed hers such that she would go to sleep before long—after some relaxed talk that she might not remember; he wanted the full picture. “Here.”

She looked at it dubiously. “I’ll get silly. I know, I had a chance to try it once.”

“This isn’t the popskull they sell on Blessed; this is wine I fetched from Landfall. Pipe down and drink it. Here’s to your baby if you’re having one, or here’s to good luck next time.” (But how to handle that “next time”?—if his worries were well grounded. These kids must
not
be saddled with a defective. A healthy baby would be burden enough while they were learning to stand on their own feet. Could he stave things off to Valhalla, then get her on proper contraception? Then what? Split them up?
How?
)

“Tell me about it, dear. When you came aboard, you were virgin.”

“Oh, yes, certainly. They always kept me locked in that virgin’s basket. Except when they shut me up and Brother had to sleep in the barracks. You know. When I bleed.” She took a deep breath and smiled. “Now is ever so much nicer. Josie and I tried for the longest time to get around that awful steel basket. But we couldn’t. Hurt him to try, and some ways we tried hurt me, too. Finally we gave up and just did fun things we had always done. Brother said to be patient; it wouldn’t be forever. Because we knew we would be sold together, as a breeding pair.”

Estrellita looked radiant. “And so we were and now we
are,
and thank you, Captain!”

(No, it wasn’t going to be easy to split them up.) “Llita, have you ever thought of being bred by some other man than Joe?” (Sound her out, at least. It won’t be hard to find her a husband; she’s really quite attractive. That “Earth Mother” feeling.)

She looked puzzled. “Why, of course not. We knew what we were, way back when we were almost babies. Our mother told us, and so did the priest. I’ve always slept with Brother, all my life. Why would I want anyone else?”

“You seemed ready enough to sleep with
me
. You claimed you were eager to.”

“
Oh!
That’s different—that’s your right. But you didn’t
want
me,” she added, almost accusingly.

“That wasn’t quite it, Llita. There were reasons—that I won’t go into now—not to take you no matter if I wanted you and you were willing. Although it was Joe you really wanted, you said so.”

“Well…yes. But I was disappointed just the same. I had to tell Brother you wouldn’t have me—which hurt all over again. But he said to be patient. We waited three more days before he broached me. In case you changed your mind.”

(Nagging wife vertically—docile horizontally. Not too uncommon a pattern, Sheffield thought.)

He found that she was looking at him with sober interest. “Do you want me
now
, Captain? Joe told me, the very night he decided to go ahead, that it was still your right and always would be—and it is.”

(Beelzebub’s brass balls!—the only way to avoid a willing female was to go off-planet.) “Dear, I’m tired, and you are getting sleepy.”

She swallowed a yawn. “I’m not
that
tired—I never am. Captain, the night I first asked you, I was a tiny bit scared. But I’m not scared now. I
want
to. If you will.”

“You’re very sweet, but I am
very
tired.” (Why hasn’t that dose taken hold?) He changed the subject. “Aren’t those little bunks almost impossible for two people?”

She chuckled right through another yawn. “Almost. Once we fell out of Brother’s bunk. So now we use the deck.”

“‘The deck’? Why, Llita, that’s dreadful. We must do something about it.” (Put the kids in here? The only full-sized bed in the ship—A bride needed a proper workbench for her honeymoon…which this was; she was deeply in love and should make the most of it, no matter what. Sheffield had decided, centuries back, that the saddest thing about ephemerals was that their little lives rarely held time enough for love.)