Locking a door and forgetting what's on the other side are two different things.
I went up to the control room and set a course for Titan. Maybe once we got out there, I'd be able to convince her.
It was a lousy hope. I didn't even understand her—she was like something I'd never seen before. How could she be like she was? How, goddam it, how?
VI
Titan lay ahead of me, pursuing its track around Saturn.
My ship drove toward it, flaming out fuel in reckless amounts as I poured on the acceleration. I had to get there fast. We'd already missed our rendezvous time with Thorsten by two days. He was going to figure out what happened—must have done so already—and would be hot behind us. I had to land, get the engines installed, load supplies, and take off into hyperspace before he hit.
It was a race against time. I built up velocity to a point no sane skipper would ever dream of, leaving just enough fuel to brake with, knowing I wouldn't need it to get back.
Part of me sat in the control room, plotting curves, charting fuel consumption figures on a graph, watching the black line rise hour by hour to the red crayon slash that meant I had done all I could.
And part of me was down in the cabin with Pat, but if I'd let the two parts mix....