The humans in the cabin sat in frozen silence, watching and waiting for what felt like forever.

At last Liddy said, in a whisper, “If they’re going to do nothing, why did they come?”

“I have no idea,” Bony replied just as softly. “But I suspect we’re not going to find out tonight. Maybe they think that we’re asleep. Animals without technology follow the same schedule as the sun.”

“Do you really believe they’ll stay quiet until morning?” Indigo had sagged slowly back in his chair as the immediate danger seemed less.

“It looks like it. They’re not moving.”

“Then I’m going.” Indigo came to his feet, quietly but with determination. “To my own cabin. No, Liddy” — she had been sitting with her head bowed, but lifted it as he stood up — “not tonight. It’s been a tough day. Tonight I need peace and quiet, not company. You stay here with Rombelle and keep watch. And you, Rombelle, none of your damned banging and hammering. You won’t wake me, because I’m putting a wave feedback unit on as soon as I get up there. But if those Limbic things of yours are asleep outside, let’s keep it that way.”

Indigo went across to the ladder, carrying with him the tiny portable light that now provided the only illumination for the cabin. In the final glimmer before Indigo and the light disappeared, Liddy glared — not at Indigo, but at Bony. As soon as the captain was on the upper level and out of hearing, she whispered, “Why do you let him treat you like that?”

“Who?”

Bony realized it was not a very intelligent question, given that Indigo was probably the only human male within a hundred lightyears. But before he could say more, Liddy burst out, “You’re much smarter than he is. You do all his work, and all his thinking.”

“Not so loud!”

Her voice had been rising in pitch, and when she spoke again it was shriller than ever. “Who explored the seabed outside the ship, and the surface of the water, and the land? Who may have found the Link? Not Friday Indigo. You did it all. But he treats you like dirt — and you let him, with never a word of complaint. He tells you he had a hard day, he needs to rest — when he hasn’t done a thing. And you don’t utter one peep.”

The injustice of it had Bony speechless — almost. “Me!” He heard his voice squeak with outrage. “You think he treats me badly? What about you? It burns me up, the way he talks to you. How do you feel when he says, `I brought you along for your body, not your brains’? How dare he say that? The nerve of the man!”

“What’s wrong with my body?”

“Nothing.” Bony wished there were enough light to see her facial expression. Was that anger, or insecurity? “I think your body is perfect.”

“So you’re agreeing with what he did. He didn’t buy me for my brains. He bought me for my body.”

“That might be true , but it doesn’t make it right . You have a beautiful face and body, but you have a brain , too, a good brain. You’re a person , Liddy. More than just a body, more than just a b-brain. A whole person!” He was stammering in his excitement, and his voice grew louder. “How can you let him treat you like a b-b- bimbo?”

“And how can you let him order you to keep watch while he sleeps? Don’t you need sleep, too? Does he think you’re a machine, and not a human being? Do you know the only reason I didn’t scream when he said that to you?” Liddy was close to screaming now. “It’s because I wouldn’t feel safe if he was on watch, he’d do something stupid. But I feel safe with you. Indigo and I know we can rely on you to do anything that’s needed. Doesn’t that mean he bought you even more than he bought me?”

“The arrogant little bastard.” In his anger Bony brushed off her question. “He talks to you like you’re a moron. He makes you share his bed and he forces his body on you. When I think of you screwing with that mouse-brained idiot—”

“Mind your own business, Bony.” Liddy’s voice turned icy.

“It is my business.”

“Oh, is it? Since when? You think now you own me, instead of Friday Indigo? Well, let me tell you, he owns you a lot worse than he owns me. With me, it’s only an hour or two every few days. I can stand that, I was trained for it. Can you say as much? It’s twenty-four hours a day for you, every day, servant and slave. How do you stand it, Bony Rombelle?”

Any thought of whispering was long gone. Bony was drawing in his breath for another loud exchange when he stopped, frozen. He was facing Liddy, and over her shoulder at one of the ports he saw a faint, pale circle.

He reached forward and placed his hand over her mouth. He dropped his voice back to a whisper. “Don’t move. Don’t make a noise. There’s a Limbic behind you, right outside the ship.”

One of the bubble people was floating high above the sea floor, its round head level with the port. Green globe eyes pressed to the thick transparent plastic.

“I don’t think it can see us.” As Bony placed his mouth next to Liddy’s ear he could smell the faint fragrance of her hair. “There’s just enough glow outside for us to see it, but I doubt it can see much in here. I certainly can’t.”

He felt her breath on his cheek, and she murmured softly, “It was the noise, all the shouting and screaming. My fault.”

“No! Mine, I got carried away. When I think of Friday Indigo—”

“Shh!”

He felt her hand on his mouth, and her body shaking. Was she shivering? No. She was laughing.

As she took her hand away he muttered, “Aren’t you frightened?”

“No. Should I be?”

“I don’t know. With all this.” He made a gesture toward the outside, which he realized she could not see. “Uncertainty is enough to scare most people.”

“Are you scared?”

“I can’t say. This is almost too interesting to let me be frightened at the same time.”

“Well, Friday Indigo isn’t frightened, either. He’s sure you can handle anything that comes along. Do you want me to have less faith in you than he does?”

“He’s a fool and you’re not. He thinks if you have enough money, you can buy safety. He thinks you can buy anything. He thinks he owns you, and any time he wants to stick his—”

Her hand was on his mouth again. “I don’t want to hear what he sticks, and I don’t want to think about where.” He felt rather than saw her move to his side on the padded bench seat. She whispered, “Do we really want to start on Friday Indigo all over again? If we’re going to talk about anybody, shouldn’t it be you and me? But not yet!”

The pale face was still at the port. They waited, now in silence, for whatever might come next. Bony, with Liddy’s body warm against his, felt willing to wait forever. At last there was a stir outside the port, and the round head with its green bubble eyes sank away out of sight. Liddy said in his ear, “What now?”

“You sleep. I keep watch.”

“Would you like to trust me as much as I trust you?”

“Of course I would.”

“Right then.” She slid farther along the bench and pulled Bony down so that his head was pillowed on her lap. “Trust me. You did most of the work today, and you’ve looked exhausted for hours. You need sleep more than I do. I keep watch.”

“I can’t let you do that.”

“Because you own me, right, and you can order me around just like Friday Indigo does?”

“Of course not. But if he gets up and finds me asleep in this position, instead of being on watch—”

“You mean that you don’t own me, but he owns you twenty-four hours a day? Bony, answer me one question. Is anything going to happen before morning?”

“I don’t think so. I’d be very surprised if it does.”

“So lie quiet, and go to sleep. Trust me.”

He ought to sit up and argue, but Liddy was stroking his hair and cheek and he didn’t want that to stop. He decided that he would enjoy a few minutes of relaxation, then switch with her. After that he would watch and she could sleep.