"Sure," nodded Correy.
Kincaide glanced sharply at Hendricks, but said nothing. I knew,
however, that he was thinking just what I was: that my young third
officer was in for a bad, bad time of it.
Just how bad, I think neither of us guessed.
* * * * *
Liane became a member of the officers' mess on the _Ertak_. She
occupied Hendricks' stateroom, and, I must confess, with uncommon good
judgment for a woman, remained there most of the time.
She knew the reason for our mission, but this was one subject we never
discussed. Nor did we mention the sect of which, according to the
Chief of Command, she was the head. We did talk freely, when brought
together at the table, on every other general topic.
Liane was an exceedingly intelligent conversationalist. Her voice was
fascinating, and her remarks were always to the point. And she was a
very good listener; she paid flattering attention to the most casual
remark.
It seemed to me she was particularly gracious to Hendricks. Her
strangely arresting blue eyes seldom left his face when he was
speaking, and the greater portion of her remarks seemed addressed to
him. Naturally, Hendricks responded as a flower responds to the
warming rays of the sun.
"We'll do well, sir, to keep a weather eye on the youngster," opined
Correy one morning. (I think I have previously explained that even in
the unchanging darkness of space, we divided time arbitrarily into
days and nights). "Unless I'm badly mistaken, Hendricks is falling
victim to a pair of blue eyes."
"He's young," I shrugged. "We'll be there in two more days, and then
we'll be rid of her."
"Yes," nodded Correy, "we'll be there in a couple of days. And we'll
be rid of her, I hope. But--suppose it should be serious, sir?"
"What do you mean?" I asked sharply. I had been thinking, rather
vaguely, along much the same lines, but to hear it put into words came
as rather a shock.
"I hope I'm wrong," said Correy very gravely. "But this Liane is an
unusual woman. When I was his age, I could have slipped rather badly
myself. Her eyes--that slow smile--they do things to a man.
"At the same time, Liane is supposed to be the head of the thing we're
to stamp out; you might say the enemy's leader. And it wouldn't be a
good thing, sir, to have a--a friend of the enemy on board the
_Ertak_, would it?"
A rebuke rose to my lips, but I checked it. After all, Correy had no
more than put into words some fears which had been harassing me.
* * * * *
A traitor--in the Service? Perhaps you won't be able to understand
just what that thought meant to those of us who wore the Blue and
Silver in those days. But a traitor was something we had never had. It
was almost unbelievable that such a thing would ever happen; that it
could ever happen. And yet older men than Hendricks had thrown honor
aside at the insistence of women less fascinating than Liane.
Public-domain text, read in full here on John Shaqi.
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