Power Play - Anne McCaffrey [27]
“Ah! Still?”
“The family motto is ‘We Shall Contrive,’ ” he replied, and his deep blue eyes danced down at her.
“I’d say you’re a practiced hand at that,” she said, wanting to laugh because she couldn’t believe she was playing this sort of game. Then she realized that it was a game, and even if he was a much more versatile and accomplished player than she’d ever be, it could be fun!
“I do my possible.” And he laughed with her.
“Oh, dear Macci, we won’t detain you further,” Pleasaunce said archly, and importunately drew both Yana and Marmion away from his enchanted circle. “There are so many other people who’re dying to meet you.”
They might have been dying to meet her, but she damned near died of the boredom of repeating herself: Yes, she came from Petaybee; yes, the planet was sentient; no, the planet did not ask or answer questions; no, she hadn’t had vile nightmares and been visited by strange thoughts; yes, the planet was cold and had very little in the way of technology because the cold banjaxed equipment; yes, everyone was healthy there and lived long lives; yes, it was possible it was the healthy diet; and no, she wouldn’t recommend it as a holiday resort—in the summer the insects ate you alive and in the winter you could easily freeze to death. No, that didn’t sound like a friendly place but it was, and yes, the planet really was friendly, too, despite its weather, which wasn’t precisely the planet’s fault. No, the Planetary Terraform B process was not at fault. Petaybee was unique as far as planets went.
It went on all night, until the smile on her face felt pasted on and she was glad when Marmion signaled that they could leave.
7
The next morning Yana couldn’t remember the names of any of the people she had met, with the exception of the flirtatious and flamboyant Macci: they had all blended into such an identical blur. Their faces, their voices, their apparel had had a sameness that made identifying one from the other very difficult. Yana did remember the things she had eaten and the wines she had drunk, but the people? And those had been the ones who were important on Gal Three? It seemed strange to her that no one had appeared to want to talk about anything remotely “significant,” considering they were persons whom Marmion had said were important for her to meet. When not avidly questioning her, they had gossiped about the people who hadn’t been invited. Yana hoped that she’d never hear what was said about her or anyone else in Marmion’s group. Petaybee was coming up more and more golden and real!
She was not the only one silent this morning. Bunny was slouched over her morning meal, and the measure of her discomfort was registered by the fact that she was wearing one of the outfits that Marmion had originally provided for her, rather than some of the Gal Three finery Charmion had urged her to purchase. She was moodily staring out the lounge window at the comings and goings of station vehicles, tugs, and the incoming traffic of all kinds.
Yana decided not to show Bunny the comm message from Sean, which asked Yana to see if Marmion could check out a firm trading as PTS, Petaybee Tourist Service, which was so busily landing new problems in his lap. People were being dumped back of beyond, wanting hotel facilities, of all things, and he was running out of places to stash them and food to feed them. Could this influx of unwanted and generally useless self-seekers please be stopped, he wanted to know. To which Johnny Greene, who had sent the message from the space station on Whit Fiske’s credit, had added a devout “amen.”
“Can we find out about these yabos, Millard?” Yana asked as soon as she had read the message. But she took the tone of the message as 1) amused, 2) coping, and 3) asking why she was staying away so long.
Millard glanced at the message, made a note on his wrist pad, and smiled down at her. “Sure thing.”
“Hey, looka that,” Diego said suddenly, pointing