right that you're a girl. It's just that... All that dirt..."
Channa couldn't risk continuing in that vein and
switched abruptly "... is an effective disguise."
"Good disguise," Joat said proudly. "Bad idea to let
people know when you're a girl. Can cause you
trouble. But, since you say I gotta go to a medic," she
paused to look questioningly at Channa who nodded,
"best you don't look surprised then." She grinned slyly
and then looked over at Simeon's column. "You really
didn't know?"
"Not a clue," he said wonderingly, and Joat giggled
with pleasure. "Hmm. According to the biological
studies I had, it's not easy to tell with the pre-pubescent
... dressed or in disguise."
7 can always tell," Joat said with some contempt for
his ignorance.
"You're a softshell."
"You sure you're not a computer?"
"Yes, lam N stop teasing!"
Joat grinned unrepentently. Simeon felt an
unfamiliar sensation and tried to identify it. A flutter in
the ribcage? he thought wonderingly.
"Why haven't they answered the tight-beam?"
Simeon asked nervously a week later. "I sent every-
thing. The forms were all correct"
"It's a bureaucracy," Channa said soothingly.
"Oh? That's supposed to reassure me?" Simeon said.
A moment later: "Why is Joat's room always a mess?
THE Crrv WHO FOUGHT
53
I send in the servos twice a day and it's still in a
maximum-entropy state."
"It's called 'adolescence,' Simeon," Channa said. "At
least she seems to be settling in at school"
Simeon's image winced. Joat had unexpectedly
cleaned up as pretty, though she had wrinkled her
nose when he'd mentioned that. She seemed to trust
him N Channa as well N to a limited extent- Any fur-
ther social interfacing was... lacking.
"She gets in too many fights," he said. She also
fought very, very dirty. He winced again when he
thought of the places some blows, kicks and punches
had landed.
"She's not used to interacting except as a potential
victim," Channa replied. "I don't think she's ever been
with anyone in her own age group. She certainly
doesn't know the local rituals. She's an outsider N
practically a feral child. We're lucky she can respond to
other human beings at all."
An awkward silence fell for a moment Unspoken:
and she didn 't think you were human when she met you.
"She's learned about daily showers," Simeon
pointed out helpfully.
"Oh, there's good stuff in Joat," and Channa
grimaced. "Even if her brand of ethics is unusual, at
least she's consistent in applying it. All she needs is
some security and a chance."
"Isn't that all anybody needs?"
Several hours later, Simeon still glowed with satisfac-
tion in their accomplishments with Joat. This, being a
father thing, is great, he thought, and warmed measur-
ably towards Channa. Tvegot to thank her.
For the first time since she had arrived, Simeon looked
into her quarters and was surprised at how, in that short
time N under two weeks, although it seemed like more
N it had changed from the Spartan chamber Tell Radon
had occupied. She had tinted the walls a soft, off-pink
54
Anne McCaffny fc? SM. Stating
and had put "paint-chips" into the permanently installed
frame-projectors. The jewel-bright colors and romantic
images of the pre-RaphaeEtes, Alma-Tadema and Max-
field Parish glowed from the walls, along with some
modern Mintoro reproductions. The bedspread was an
icy gray satin on which were scattered embroidered pil-
lows of peach and gray and blue.
"Say, Channa," he said in tones of pleased approval,
"I like what you've done with the room."
Channa emerged from the bathroom dad in a blue
silk robe trimmed with lace, a brush in her hand and
swept out of her quarters into the main lounge without
saying a word. She stopped in front of Simeon's
column and crossed her arms, her eyes blazing. All
Simeon's warm feelings fell into cold ash as he looked
out at her. Maybe if he didn't say anything, she'd go
away and not say whatever it was that was burning
inside her eyes. Nah, when have 1 euer been that lucky ivhere
she's concerned
Her body was rigid, though her shoulders twitched
and her ftps opened several time. He'd better say some-
thing to stem the acid eruption.
Using as casual and complimentary tone as he could
manage, he said, "You have very romantic tastes,
Channa," which seemed to reduce her blazing eyes a
degree or two. He'd never know why he continued:
perhaps sheer mischief to get a little of his own back.
"Though your bed looks amazingly like an ice cube."
She blinked in astonishment and he thought, A hit! A
very palpable hU! But then she took a deep breath.
"I did not think," she said, every word precise and
polished, "that it would be necessary to actually say this,
but since I must, I shall. Because we got off on the wrong
foot and I did not trust you, I swept my quarters for active
scanners.'1 She crossed her arms. "You will please," she
went on with careful emphasis, "not ever enter my
quarters without knocking and requesting admittance,
THE CITY WHO FOUGHT
55
and waiting for my express permission to enter. Is that
clear, Simeon?"
"I apologize, Channa. Of course you're right. I got
careless, all those years with Tell."
"As to the quality of my taste ..." she said in a voice
even more brittle than before.
Ohplease, hethought/orone^just once, skutupandletitgo.
"... it's none of your business." She glared at him.
"Given your own preference for interior decoration,"
she said indicating his sword and dagger collection, "I'd
say you have titanium gall to make snarky remarks
about mine."
"But I like it. I said I liked it!"
"And what," she continued unheeding, "would
someone with such a morbid fascination with
humanity's lapses into ritualized slaughter know about
romance anyway?"
Simeon was dumbstruck. "I've never... thought of
my interest in military history as a 'morbid fascination.'
I am genuinely fascinated by strategy and military tac-
tics. But to call it morbid, well, romance and morbidity
have a long and interesting relationship."
She sighed with exasperation. "Let's just say that while
both can be morbid, romance and militarism make
uncomfortable..." and she winced "... bedfellows."
"Channa, some of the most romantic people in his-
tory have been military personnel. Doesn't the very
word 'warrior' conjure up romantic images?"
She shook her head discouragingly. "Not to me!"
"Not even 'knights in shining armor'?"
She groaned. "Look, Simeon, it's late and I'm tired.
Let's just say that I don't like my privacy invaded at any
time, by anyone." Her lips curled in a slight rueful grin.
"But I think I overreacted a tad. Especially when you
made fun of my decor."
"Well, you might wait till you're actually being made
fun of before you start clawing pieces out of people."
56
Anne McCaffny 67 SM. Sttrting
"Sorry."
"Romance has its place," he murmured.
She smiled sardonically and raised one eyebrow.
"With all due respect, Simeon, I doubt that romance
has crossed your mind. Real, genuine romance, with its
aspects of tenderness and sentiment are, if you'll
excuse me, beyond your ken."
TTiere was more challenge than honest regret in her
voice, and he took offense. "Because I'm a shellper-
son?" he asked, fairly purring with suppressed anger.
Channa's jaw dropped. "N-no, of course not!" she
said, stammering slightly. Then she caught herself and
shook her hairbrush at him. "What a nasty, evil, slimy
debater's trick! You know perfectly well that I never
even thought of that! What I meant was that so far in
our acquaintance, you have yet to demonstrate that
you are sensitive, or idealistic or ... well, tender,
ftission, now N I think you've very effectively concep-
tualized raw, basic, animal passion. Which does not
exist in the same universe as romance."
"Let me tell you something, Ms. Hap. I'm well aware
that romance happens in the mind and the soul and
the heart. I know that it isn't necessarily a physical
thing. Remember Heloise and Abelard.. .
"Great warrior couple, were they?" she asked smiling.
He sighed to himself. What do they teach them in univer-
sity these days? "Not they, milady. I see I must persuade
you beyond any measure of doubt You've put me on
my mettle." She cocked her head at him. "I shall court
you, belle dame sans merri, and win your heart."
She laughed aloud in astonishment. "You've got
your work cut out for you. I may like the romanticalN
as decor N but I'm no dewy-eyed sentimentalist and
not at all susceptible."
"Oh, so you're seduction-proof, are you?"
"I'm not even going to dignify that with an answer.
Goodnight, Simeon."
THE Crry WHO FOUGHT
57
"Goodnight, Channa," he said quietly as she left
without another word.
Not susceptible, eh, Happy baby1? Well, get ready for it,
sweetheart N you're in for the time of your life.1 You want
romance? FU give you romance, little lady, in such subtle and
clever portions, you won't realize that you're being wooed by a
very personal phantom lover.
He settled down to consider his strategy. Softshells
could rely on physical attraction for starters; that was
impossible for him, of course.
How to begin, he wondered. Well, with Channa, I sup-
pose I could start with deft cooperation and nineteenth-century
manners. I'd better look into the mores of Hawking Alpha
Proxima Station and see what their courting customs are.
Nothing so blatant as gifts right off, hmmm. Ah-ha! Music!
After all, it hath charms to soothe the savage beast, or breast.
Both apply in this case. Now, fit just access her musical reper-
toire N which doesn't invade her privacy, merely her overt
records...
"Hey, Simeon, what's going on?" Joat said, turning
from her breakfast to stare at his column.
"Going on, my dear?" Simeon said.
"Yeah, going on. All of a sudden you're so smooth
you'd make a wombat puke, and Channa looks as if
she'd just found a dead body, a long-time dead body."
Channa snorted suddenly. Since she was in the mid-
dle of a mouthful of coffee, the results were spectacular.
Joat silendy offered her a napkin as she coughed and
sputtered.
"You're imagining things," Simeon replied, with a
touch of asperity. He shifted into a mellow tone: "Are
you all right, Channa?"
"What's wrong with Simeon?" Patsy asked, sotto
voce. They were in the shadow of an impeller pump,
and the vibration would make voice-pickup difficult
58
Arme McCaffrcy &? SJW. Stirling
"Wrong?" Channa said, frowning.
"Yeah, he'sagreem' all the time.
"Now that you mention it..."
The woman from Larabie shrugged. "Don't look a
gift horse in the mouth, Chan. But, if you do, check the
teeth fer file-marks."
Chief Administrator Claren gave a final keystroke.
"That's the projections matched against the past five
years," he said. "You'll note turnover is a little high, but
on a transit station, it's difficult to keep people."
Channa frowned. "I'd think it would be easier here,"
she said. "More big-city facilities."
"Also easier to leave," Claren pointed out, nodding
towards the large passenger terminal.
"We should do more in the way of social and cultural
activities," Channa said. "The contingency fund would
cover it, and in the long run, such amenities pay for
themselves and then some. There are a lot of mining
and exploration sectors around here " N which was
exactly why SSS-900-C had been established in the
middle of the cluster of mineral-rich fifth-generation
suns N "and their people need leisure activities just as
much as their equipment and ships need servicing.
The Perimeter's a gold mine for its owners and for the
station, to name your only real star attraction. If the
outposters could get entertainment and commissary
supplies in a range from cheap to expensive, they
wouldn't need to travel further in towards Center. This
whole area would take a big step further toward being
part of the Central Worlds and not just a primitive
frontier zone,"
"Exactly, Ms. Hap," Claren said. He was a mousy-
looking little man, with thinning black hair combed
back over his head. He dressed like a humorist's carica-
ture of a bureaucrat, down to the keypad holder on his
belt. "It's what I've been saying for years."
THE CITY WHO FOUGHT
59
"What do you think, Simeon?" Channa asked.
"Sounds good to me," the affable city manager
replied.
Claren coughed violently; one of his hovering assis-
tants scurried forward with a glass of water.
Channa waited until he had recovered. "Surprise
you, did he?"
"Surprise me? Me? No, no, something caught in my
throat. Air's dry, I think." He hastily swallowed another
sip of water to reinforce that interpretation. "Now, here,"
and his fingers flew over the key of his terminal, "are
some plans we've had pending, with the projected N"
"Answer the question, please, Administrator
Claren," she said firmly but quietly. She might be new,
but she could recognize "sign now, please," when she
heard it
"Well, ah, this isn't the first time these specific
projects have been put forward," Claren said. "But, ah,
there has never been a sufficiently positive reaction to
implement the schemes. Until now, that is. It's a
pleasure to work with someone who can appreciate
planning ahead and is so naturally decisive. Ahhhhh,
oh dear." His voice trailed off.
Channa's took on a steely note. "Changed our mind,
have we, Simeon?"
"This station wasn't in a position to plunge into such
an ambitious project. Much less have the incentive,"
Simeon replied smoothly. "Tell was a roughneck like
me. Neither of us had the background for coordinating
such enterprises. Here, anyway."
Channa turned, subliminally aware of something
moving through the air behind her. It was a message
tray, floating at elbow height. The domed top folded
back, revealing chilled glasses and a frosted, un-
corked bottle of a fine vintage. A single red rose lay on
the white napery. Her lips grew thin but, as she saw
Claren watching her closely and knew that she must
60
Ame McCaffrey &? SM. Stating
be flushing, she controlled her impulse to sling the
bottle at the sensor that linked Simeon to this office.
"Yes, by all means let us drink to the success of this
undertaking, Claren," she said and began to pour.
Facetiously, she lifted her glass towards the sensor
and sipped, mildly surprised at the dry crisp taste.
"Hmm. Not a bad white! Didn't know you had it in you,
Simeon."
"I'm not without a few talents of mine own," he
replied, wishing there was an imager in Claren's office
so he could project the suave smile he was feeling.
She downed the rest of the glass, replacing it on the
float. "If you'd just transfer the plans to my terminal,
Administrator Claren, I can peruse them at my
leisure." Then she strode purposefully out of the
office.
She was storming by the time she got to their lounge.
"I bet you think you were being subtlel Subtle like collid-
ing with an asteroid, you N" She swung around to the
screen which he had prudently left blank, giving her
anger no focus. Then she began to hear the sounds fill-
ing the room.
Simeon delightedly watched her expression
gradually alter from livid to astonished and finally to
enchanted as the lilting sounds of the Reticulaii mating
croon filled the lounge. The sounds were long, low,
dreamy. There was no formal melody, but somehow
the theme suggested the stillness of deep forest and
dew felling like liquid diamond in streaks of sunlight
dazzling through die leaves.
Channa stood still for a moment. She winced slightly as
the door dosed with an audible swoosh, annoyed that
any other sound marred the perfection of what she was
hearing. Then, stepping carefully, as though fearful that
doth brushing against doth or shoe against carpet might
cause her to lose a precious second of the complex musk
THE CTTY WHO FOUGHT
61
that surrounded her, she walked to a chair. She sat down
so slowly she seemed to float down to it, scarcely seemed
to breathe as she absorbed the music.
My first impression of her was correct, Simeon thought,
watching Channa. She is a fox! Then, peering more
dosely, he wasn't so sure, for her eyes were half-dosed,
starred with tears, and his acute vision let him see the
skin of her face relaxing, smoothing out Shedoesn't look
that foxy now! In feet, she looks kinda... sweet
When the croon had drifted offinto a serene silence,
she sat without moving. Then she dosed her eyes and
slowly leaned back, clasping her hands before her.
When she opened her eyes, they shone and her voice
was husky.
"Oh, Simeon ... I can forgive you a lot of tricks for
thatl I might even kiss you. In appreciation, of course.
That was so beautiful. Thank you," and she smiled.
Simeon modulated his voice so that there was a "smile"
in his tones when he answered her. "You're welcome. Do
you happen to know what that was?" He didn't think she
was likely to, but he kept that out of his tone.
She wiped an eye and said, "I've never had the
opportunity to hear one, but that has to be a Reticulan
croon."
"You're right about that," Simeon said with satisfac-
tion. "But 111 bet you'll never guess who performed it"
He tried hard to keep any smugness out of his voice.
"Now, how would I know tufe? sang, much less who
could, beside Reticulans, and they're on the other side
of this galaxy. Oh! It couldn't be ..." Her eyes went
round in awed surprise. "Not Helva? She's supposed to
be able to sing them. But... you ... and Helva, the
ship who sings?"
"None other." Simeon was gratified by her reaction.
"You know her?"
"Indeed I do," and Simeon allowed himself to speak
with considerable pride. "She drops by every now and
62
Anne McCaffrey fcf S M. Stating
then to visit N" he couldn't resist a little pause for effect
"N me. We discuss and exchange contemporary music
from all parts of the galaxy. Since there are so few record-
ings of Reticulan croons N which we shellpeople enjoy
so much N she herself made me a gift of this one." The
memory of his thrill at receiving such a prize colored his
tone.
Channa smiled in response. "Finally read my per-
sonnel tape, did you?"
"Well, I'd love to say that I'm just terribly perceptive,
but music's mentioned as a significant interest. I just
thought this particular recording might please, too."
"Oooh," she said with a quaver in her laugh, "music
hath charms department? As you said not long ago," and
there was an edge of combined sarcasm and chagrin,
"you have a few talents." Then she added brightly, "Do
you sing, too? That's not mentioned in your personals."
Simeon made a throat-clearing, clearly self-
deprecating sound. "I am not like Helva and make no
claims to musical discrimination. I listen to what I like,
but I don't know if I'll like something until I hear it."
"So what else have you heard and liked?" she asked,
relaxed in the afterglow of the beautiful croon.
"Besides rockjack, that is?"
His tone was embarrassed. "I really don't tike Rant
much. I just got used to it, you know. The guys on those
early mining belt assignments I had didn't play anything
else. Most ofwhat I like turns out to be classical or operatic."
"Me, too," she said, smiling towards his column with
a kindliness he had not seen in her before. "Well, if
Helva liked you enough to give you that superb
Reticulan recording, and you actually admit to a
preference for classical and operatic, perhaps we
should call a truce?"
"A truce? Do we need one?"
She narrowed her eyes. "In a manner of speaking,
we do. We have struck a few sparks." She grinned. "A
THE Crrv WHO FOUGHT
63
mutual appreciation of music is so far probably the
firmest common ground between us. Halfway through
secondary school, I realized that my best friends were
also my choirmates." She leaned toward the column,
with the first intimacy she had so far shown him. "We
used to produce and cast ghost operas."
"You did what?"
"We'd choose a subject or theme, and a composer, then
select a cast The rules said that composer and cast have
to be dead,"
"Really? How bizarre!" Simeon paused to consider
the notion. "Do go on."
"We'd start with ... the name of this opera. Say,
'Rasputin.' Have you heard of him?" The merry tone
of her voice was subtly teasing, challenging him.
"Of course, I have. He's often credited with being
the indirect cause of a successful revolution."
She regarded his column with a wry expression.
"You would know about him if he caused a war,
wouldn't you?"
"Do we, or don't we have a truce?"
"We do," she said, holding up both hands in surrender.
"Who writes this 'Rasputin' opera?"
"Oh, Verdi," she said instantly. "Sucha grand theme as
well as that particular time would appeal to him. Don't
you think? Now, you tell me who should play the lead."
Simeon accessed the necessary historical information
from his files. "In the available likenesses of him,
Rasputin has enormous eyes and a riveting gaze, so we
want a singer who's physically powerful and dramatically
able to do justice to such a role. How about fllac Sue, the
Sondee tenor?"
"Eh... he does have a compelling gaze, I grant you,
and his eyes are large. But don't you think he has a few
too many of them? Besides he's only retired, not dead,"
Simeon flipped back a massive leap in the research
file. "Um, Placido Domingo?"
64
Amu McCaffrey 6f SM. Stirling
"I know of him! He lived in a time blessed with great
tenors. He's perfect! Tall, lean, big brown eyes and
what a voice. Nice choice, Simeon."
"And he's dead, too."
"I can see it now," she said, standing suddenly and
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