"All right."
"Uh ... am I still invited to the party?"
"You'll behave yourself?" She was starting to grin again.
"I'll be the model of decorum."
"No politics?"
"I'll just sit in a corner and won't even open my mouth—except to sip a little medicinal brandy."
"Then you can come."
"Thank you, ma'am." He bowed. "I'll just run to my quarters and change into my best coveralls."
She sniffed at him, then suddenly threw her arms around his neck and squeezed mightily. She had to stand on tiptoe to manage it.
"Oh, Chet, I'm so damned happy! Don't spoil it for me."
"I won't," he said. But he was already wondering. Will Pete Leonov be at the party?
He was not. A few Russian medics were there, crammed in among the crowd that bulged Jill's two-room quarters. But Leonov and all the other Soviet military and administrative personnel were conspicuously absent.
The place was impossibly jammed. The party was al- ready overflowing out into the corridor by the time Kinsman got there. He had brought a bottle of Earthside scotch with him. Everyone brought their own bottles to these parties. When Kinsman had taken the scotch from his kitchenette cabinet he saw that it was the last one and he told himself, Got to get the guys to bring me reinforcements on the next grocery run. Then he realized that there might not be another replenishment mission; the shuttle flights from Earth might stop at any moment. No, he told himself, trying to calm the fear burning inside him. They'll take a few weeks to bring things to a boil. Ten days, at least.
Kinsman wormed his way through the crowd, holding his bottle over his head. He realized he could never spot tiny Jill in this mob, so he looked for Landau. He found him in the bedroom, standing to one side of a slightly smaller knot of people who were standing, sitting on the bed, slouching 377 on other pieces of furniture, squatting cross-legged on the floor.
Jill was beside Landau, Kinsman saw as he made his way through the noisy conversations and laughter. Her back was to the doorway, so she could not see him approaching. He wrapped his free arm around her, pulled her to him, and kissed her mightily,
"Congratulations," he said at last. "I didn't get to say that before." Releasing her, he put his hand out to Landau. "And congratulations to you. You're getting the best girl there is."
"I know," the Russian said seriously. "Thank you."
Within minutes Kinsman was sitting on the floor, a plastic cup full of scotch in one hand, his back propped against somebody's knees, listening to a discussion that was getting steadily drunker and less coherent. Diane was no- where in sight. He wondered if she had been invited to the party. Maybe she's on duty at the comm center?
Then Frank Colt pushed his way into the bedroom. For a moment he stood in the doorway, looking uncertain. At least he's wearing fatigues. Kinsman thought. Landau started to extend his hand. Jill reached up and put a hand on Colt's shoulder.
"Kiss me, I'm the bride-to-be."
