Gateway - Frederik Pohl Page 0,62

cigarette. "I've got pretty used to waking up next to you. On the other hand—"

"I'll pick up my stuff on the way back from the hospital," I said. I wasn't enjoying the conversation that much. I didn't want to prolong it. It is the sort of man-to-woman infight that I try whenever possible to ascribe to premenstrual tension. I like the theory, but unfortunately in this case I happened to know that it didn't account for Klara, and of course it leaves unresolved at any time the question of how to account for me.

At the hospital they kept me waiting for more than an hour, and then they hurt me a lot. I bled like a stuck pig, all over my shirt and pants, and while they were reeling out of my nose those endless yards of cotton gauze that Ham Tayeh had stuffed there to keep me from bleeding to death, it felt exactly as if they were pulling out huge gobbets of flesh. I yelled. The little old Japanese lady who was working as outpatient paramedic that day gave me scant patience. "Oh, shut up, please," she said. "You sound like that crazy returnee who killed himself. Screamed for an hour."

I waved her away, one hand to my nose to stop the blood. Alarm bells were going off. "What? I mean, what was his name?"

She pushed my hand away and dabbed at my nose. "I don't know — oh, wait a minute. You were from that same hard-luck ship, weren't you?"

"That's what I'm trying to find out. Was it Sam Kahane?"

She became suddenly more human. "I'm sorry, sweet," she said. "I guess that was the name. They went to give him a shot to keep him quiet, and he got the needle away from the doctor and — well, he stabbed himself to death."

It was a real bummer of a day, all right.

In the long run she got me cauterized. "I'm going to put in just a little packing," she said. "Tomorrow you can take it out yourself. Just be slow about it, and if you hemorrhage get your ass down here in a hurry."

She let me go, looking like an ax-murder victim. I skulked up to Klara's room to change my clothes, and the day went on being rotten. "Fucking Gemini," she snarled at me. "Next time I go out, it's going to be with a Taurean like that fellow Metchnikov."

"What's the matter, Klara?"

"They gave us a bonus. Twelve thousand five! Christ. I tip my maid more than that."

I was surprise for a split-second and in the same split-second wondered whether, under the circumstances, they wouldn't divide it by four instead.

A NOTE ON BLOWUPS

Dr. Asmenion. Naturally, if you can get good readings on a nova, or especially on a supernova, that's worth a lot. While it's happening, I mean. Later, not much good. And always look for our own sun, and if you can identify it take all the tape you can get, at all frequencies, around the immediate area — up to, oh, about five degrees each way, anyway. With maximum magnification.

Question. Why's that, Danny?

Dr. Asmenion. Well, maybe you'll be on the far side of the sun from something like Tycho's Star, or the Crab Nebula, which is what's left of the 1054 supernova in Taurus. And maybe you'll get a picture of what the star looked like before it blew. That ought to be worth, gee, I don't know, fifty or a hundred thousand right there.

"They called on the P-phone ten minutes ago. Jesus. The rottenest son-of-a-bitching trip I've ever been on, and I wind up with the price of one green chip at the casino out of it." Then she looked at my shirt and softened a little. "Well, it's not your fault, Rob, but Geminis never can make up their minds. I should've known that. Let me see if I can find you some clean clothes."

And I did let her do that, but I didn't stay, anyway. I picked up my stuff, headed for a dropshaft, cached my goods at the registry office where I signed up to get my room back, and borrowed the use of their phone. When she mentioned Metchnikov's name she had reminded me of something I wanted to do.

Metchnikov grumbled, but finally agreed to meet me in the schoolroom. I was there before him, of course. He loped in, stopped at the doorway, looked around, and said: "Where's what's-her-name?"

"Klara Moynlin. She's in her room." Neat, truthful, deceitful. A