More people jammed into the party. Others left. For a long time Kinsman could see neither Jill nor Landau in the roaring, jammed, body-heated apartment. He spotted Kelly and Waterman talking solemnly together off in a corner, looking grimmer with each word. Then Jill and the Russian appeared. The apartment started to get a little less crowded, People were drifting homeward.

Kinsman threaded his way carefully through the living 381 room and back into the bedroom, marveling at how well and steadily he could walk. Colt lay sprawled on the bed now with a bosomy redhead alongside him, propped on a pair of pillows. She was wearing a wine-red party dress, low in front and slit-skirted. One of the newcomers, Kinsman realized,

Jill and Landau came into the bedroom, the Russian standing protectively beside her.

Colt gave them a long look. "Ain't gonna be easy for you two, y'know," he said. His drink was perched precariously on his stomach, his hands were clasped behind his head. Only someone who knew him as well as Kinsman did would realize how drunk he was.

"I was married once to a girl who looked kinda light. She wasn't white, but try telling that to some drunk Florida rednecks." Colt's voice was absolutely flat, no emotion detectable. Like a pathologist reciting the details of an autopsy.

"We are intelligent people here," Landau said. "Jill and I can live in Lunagrad without difficulties."

"You mean your security people will let her in? Without worrying that she might be a spy? I just don't believe it."

Jill said, "We can live here."

"Then / have to try to find out if he's spying on us," Colt shot back.

"Come on, Frank," Kinsman said, knowing that his speech was slightly slurred. "Don't piss on the wedding cake."

Colt looked over at Kinsman. "Hey, man, you still up and around?"

"Well, it is a lot easier if I hold on to a wall or something."

Landau said, "Wait, this is serious. Suppose my govern- ment makes it impossible for Jill to live at Lunagrad? Could I take up residence here in Moonbase?"

"'S'okay with me," Kinsman said, "but I don't think your own people would let you do it. Leonov had to break six hundred rules to let Baliagorev come over to have his goddamned life saved."

"But—"

"No buts," Colt said. "This is very serious. You guys 382 might have gotten along as friends up here so far, but things are changing very fast."

"Frank, old buddy," Kinsman said, holding himself as stiffly erect as he could manage, "I don't pull rank often, but I don't want this stupid crap to go any further." He turned to Landau, "Alex, husband-to-be of the woman who is virtually a sister to me, if you want to live here, you are welcome to. I am not going to permit this chickenshit from Earth to make a mess of things here. No way. Not now. Not ever. Not as long as I'm in command here."

Colt chuckled lazily. "That's a great way to make me commander of Moonbase, pal."

Kinsman found himself tottering down the corridor to- ward his own quarters with no idea of what time it was or how the well-built redhead got attached to his arm.

By concentrating so hard that it made his head hurt, he could remember the conversation with Colt and Jill and Landau. The tense silence that ended it. Going back to the bar in the living room and finding that all the scotch was gone. The girl popping up beside him . . .

With an effort, he focused his bleary eyes on her. Even in the unflattering overhead fluorescents of the chilly corridor she looked good. Young, soft, large of eye and full of lip. Big boobs. Her dress had slipped off one shoulder and her hair was disarrayed. She smelled of lost and forbidden memories; flower gardens and soft summer evenings.

She smiled up at him. "You got awfully quiet."

"I am old enough to be your father," he said, feeling stupid, "Just about."

"Oh, don't be silly," she said. "You're cute."

Cute? Holy shit. Cute! He scowled at her, but she only smiled all the more. Diane doesn't show up at the party and I'm dragging teenagers home with me.