Helen felt gooseflesh spring out over her arms as it truly, finally hit her that she was getting into an honest-to-God spaceship, one that could have flown straight out of any of the science fiction movies of the past seventy or eighty years. For a moment, she thought she could almost hear theme music playing.
A.J. took her hand in his. The clasp was easy and relaxed, almost unthinking—as was the little squeeze she gave him in return. After a year and a half together—the last six months of it no longer bothering to maintain separate apartments—their relationship had settled into something quite comfortable. Amazingly comfortable, Helen sometimes thought.
She chuckled softly. A.J. glanced at her.
"What's so funny?"
"I was just . . . oh, marveling, I guess, at how well we get along.
Most of the time, anyway."
True love of his life or not—as A.J. insisted she was—his eyes were drawn back to Nike within two seconds.
Naturally. Helen didn't even sigh.
"Still pissed at me?" he asked.
By way of answer, she squeezed his hand again. "No. Not really. But I am glad we're not going to have to deal with paparazzi for a while."
Even as absorbed as he was in studying the Nike, A.J. had enough grace to flush. "Hey, look. I'm sorry I lost my temper, but even for paparazzi that guy—"
"I don't care. You should not have thrown him through a plate glass window. Especially that window."
A.J. winced. "Well, true enough. I still think the restaurant stiffed me on the cost of replacing it. But—ah—"
"But you weren't going to argue the point, seeing as how you were busy enough trying to keep criminal charges from being filed. Two days before takeoff."
A.J. would never flush for long. His grin was back. "Don't be silly." He jerked his chin forward, pointing to the Nike. "I knew I had a getaway. Talk about a fast horse out of Dodge!"
The surface-to-space shuttle Hurricane closed slowly with Nike. Very slowly, and very carefully. There'd be no slapdash or show-off approaches to what might be the most expensive object ever built by the hand of man, and was undoubtedly the most powerful vessel ever made. A.J. seemed constantly ready to jump out of his seat with impatience—a maneuver most strongly ill-advised in microgravity. But, finally, they could hear the transfer tunnel lock onto the external lock collar.
"We are docked with Nike," came the pilot's voice. "All you passengers can unstrap now. Just be careful making your way out. One person at a time through the lock."
A.J. let Helen go first, even though his first impulse was quite clearly to launch himself in a single leap through the connecting lock. She found his attempts to be courteous at once gratifying and amusing. A.J.'s single-mindedness generally made him semioblivious to other people, even Helen. But when he did focus that capacity for concentration on her, he was just as intense as he always was. If nothing else, she thought wryly as she went through the lock, it made for great sex.
Ahead she saw the other airlock door open, and someone visible on the other side. As she passed through that lock, she saw that it was Ken Hathaway, upside-down and hanging from the floor. Realizing that the captain of a ship probably knew the orientation better than she did, she used the convenient handholds to rotate around and match him.
"Permission to come aboard?" she asked, grinning, in imitation of who knew how many scenes in movies.
He grinned back. "Permission granted. Welcome aboard Nike, Dr. Sutter! And A.J.," he added, as the sensor specialist squeezed in behind her.
"So how do you feel about being called Captain?" A.J. immediately demanded. "I know that in the Air Force that's pretty far down the totem pole compared to brigadier general."
"Well, it was a concession to the Navy. My training twinges occasionally, but . . ." Ken's eyes flicked back and forth, as if searching for hidden spies. "Don't tell anyone," he half-whispered, "but the truth is I agree with the squids. Here, anyway. Someone commanding a spaceship just has to be called Captain."
"It's not customary for the captain to be present whenever crew arrives, though, is it?" Helen asked.
"When they're important civilian crew, of course. Politics, you know. And when they're good friends, you show up anyway. Besides, I want to be the one to show off my ship. No one else except Jackie and Gupta get to do tour guide duty. They're the only others that can really call it their ship."
"Most of the others are already here, right?"
"Almost all. The Japanese astrogeological specialist, Dr. Ryu Sakai, is coming in tomorrow. Madeline Fathom will be coming up with him."