"Unless Mr. Wade has met one—as I rather think he may have done," said Dewhurst.
"Hmm," said Belgeddes. "You never mentioned that to me, Dickie."
"That's because I've never seen such a creature," Wade said stiffly. He pursed his lips. "Unlike the beach walker, which I met—well, I can't tell you how long ago it was." He glanced at Reed. "Certainly before your time, dear fellow. They've probably gone the way of the dodo by now."
"Of the unicorn, I would have said," Dewhurst murmured into his drink, but he spoke in a low enough voice that Wade could pretend not to hear.
"Well, tell us about it, Wade," said Da Silva. "Or—would you care for a refill?"
Wade clinked the ice in his glass. Scotch whiskey was only a hint of amber in the meltwater. "Thank you, friend," he said as he slid the glass toward Da Silva. "Embarrassing situation, as you can imagine."
"Could have happened to any of us, Dickie," said Belgeddes.
"Tarek's Bay wasn't but a few fishing shacks and the warehouses, back then," Wade said. "Ain orbited its primary, and the storage bladders from the gas-mining dipper ships orbited Ain, like moons of the moon. That was before the place became primarily a trans-shipment point. I don't suppose any of the dipper ships still operate, eh?"
He cocked an eyebrow at Reed.
"There's still gas mining," the younger man said, "but now it's geosynchronous siphons and the storage is in primary orbit, not Ain's." He looked uneasily aware that by validating the background of Wade's story, he would seem to lend weight to the story itself—even in his own mind.
"Ah, that's a pity," Wade said. "On nights when the primary was illuminated, the gas bladders drifted across the face of her like soap bubbles, each of them reflecting a view of Ain itself down to the surface. I used to lie out on the beach at night, looking upward and imagining . . . well, I was young then. You know how young men are: romantics."
"Not a lot of romance about Tarek's Bay in the early days," Dewhurst interjected. "Not from the old-timers I've talked to."
"Also," said Reed, "the beach is gravel."
"No, not much romance at all," Wade agreed without dropping a stitch. "That's why I went out alone with nothing but an air mattress for company."
He took a sip from the refilled glass Da Silva brought him from the autobar. "And you can imagine how surprised I was when one night a young lady spoke to me."
"I'm not surprised," Dewhurst said into his drink, but he was listening too.
"Well, we talked," Wade continued. "You know how it is. I was young, and there was no doubt what I had in mind . . . but remember I'd been looking for romance.
"And there was something odd about the girl. I mean, there couldn't be much doubt what she wanted either, or she wouldn't have come up to me that way . . . but she didn't seem like a professional. She was quite young and quite beautiful, and, it seemed to me, quite innocent."
"How young?" Da Silva asked with a hard underlayer to his voice.
Wade met the other man's eyes. "Old enough," he said. "Not twenty standard years, though. You'll remember that I wasn't much older than that myself."
Da Silva dipped his head in curt approval.
Reed grimaced, interested despite himself. "What was she wearing?" he asked. He faced slightly away from the storyteller to keep from seeming too eager.
"Cast offs," Wade said crisply. "The light was poor—"
"I thought you said the primary was full?" Dewhurst said in a verbal pounce.
Belgeddes raised an eyebrow. "I don't recall you saying that, Dickie," he said.
"No?" said Wade. "No, I don't believe I did—"
He smiled at Dewhurst. "But it's true nonetheless. I don't suppose you've been on Ain, my friend? Reed—"
Wade clicked his gaze sideways, like a turret lathe moving from one setting to the next.
"—how would you describe the way Ain's lighted under the primary?"
Reed shrugged and said apologetically to Dewhurst, "There's quite a lot of light, actually, but Wade's right—it's blotchy, multicolored pastels from the gas bands in the primary's atmosphere. It conceals as much as it hides, to tell the truth."
"Quite," Wade said primly. "So while it appeared to me that the girl was dressed in little better than wiping rags, I couldn't be sure. And fashions differ, you know."
Dewhurst snorted.
"I had a miniflood clipped to my sleeve," Wade said. "But it didn't seem the time to switch it on."
"You have been out in the evening with young ladies, haven't you, Dewhurst?" Belgeddes asked.