To Prime the Pump - A. Bertram Chandler [9]
"Very well, Your Highness," said Grimes stiffly. "It may interest Your Highness to know that I intend to register a strong complaint with Spaceport Control. Your Highness's lack of ordinary commonsense put Your Highness's life as well as ours in hazard and resulted in the probable total loss of a piece of valuable Survey Service equipment."
"Commonsense?" she sneered. "And what about your own lack of that quality, to say nothing of your appalling spacemanship? You saw me. You must have seen me. And yet you, you . . . offworlder, assumed that you had the right to disturb my afternoon's recreation!" She made an explosive, spitting noise.
"Let us be reasonable, Your Highness," persisted Grimes. It cost nothing to play along. "No doubt there was some misunderstanding . . ."
"Misunderstanding?" Her fine eyebrows arced in incredulity. "Misunderstanding? I'll say there was. You come blundering in here like . . . like . . ."
"Like snotty-nosed ragamuffins from the wrong side of the tracks?" asked Grimes sardonically.
Surprisingly, she laughed, tinkling merriment that was not altogether malicious. "How well you put it, my man."
Now was the time to take advantage of her change of mood. "Do you think, Your Highness, that you could call to your friend in the boat so that he can pick us up?"
She laughed again. "My friend in the boat? But I am by myself." She turned her head toward the bright scarlet craft. She called softly, "Ilse! To me, Ilse!"
There was a sudden turbulence at the thing's stern. It turned until it was stem on to the astronauts and the princess. It came in slowly and steadily, turned again until it was broadside on to the girl, brought itself to a smooth halt by an exact application of stern power. A short ladder with handrails extruded itself with a muted click. The Princess Marlene let go of Grimes' chair; two graceful strokes took her to her mechanical servitor. As she climbed on board Grimes saw that she was one of those rare women whose nudity is even more beautiful out of the water than in it; the surprisingly full breasts, deprived of their fluid support, did not sag, and there were no minor blemishes to have been veiled by ripples. He felt a stab of disappointment as she reached down for a robe of spotless white towelling and threw it about her. Still watching her, he made to unsnap his seat belt.
"Not so fast, my man!" she called coldly. "Not so fast. You are not riding in with me. But I shall tow you in." Expertly, she threw the end of a nylon line to Grimes. Not so expertly he caught it in his gloved hand.
"Thank you, Your Highness," he said as nastily as he dared.
* * *
The Port Control building, into which the girl finally led them, was deserted. She did not seem to be surprised. "After all," she condescended to explain, "Henri set up the beacon for you and gave you preliminary instructions. He assumed, wrongly, as it turned out, that you were good enough spacemen to find your way in by yourselves. After all, he has better things to do than to sit in this office all day."
"Such as?" asked Grimes. He added hastily, "Your Highness."
"Polo, of course."
"But, damn it all, we have to see somebody. We have to arrange for the landing and reception of the ship. We lost our uniforms when the boat went down, so we'd like a change of clothing. Spacesuits aren't very comfortable wear. Your Highness."
"Then take them off. I don't mind."
You wouldn't, thought Grimes. The aristocrat naked before the serfs, the serfs naked before the aristocrat, what does it matter to the aristocrat? He said, "The sun is down and it's getting chilly."
"Then keep them on."
"Please, Your Highness . . ." Grimes hated having to beg. He would far sooner have shaken some sense into this infuriating minx. But he was in enough trouble already. He was not looking forward explaining to Captain Daintree the loss of the re-entry vehicle. "Please, Your Highness, can't you help us?"
"Oh, all right. Although why you outworlders have to be so helpless is beyond me. Aren't you used to servants on your