She said, "Well, one way or another he got me here."
"And do we need you!" Willis led the way toward a pharmabar.
"Thank you, sir." Lynne turned on the charm, enjoying the inner growls of resentment from Rolf. Well, he'd played a game with her, she thought. He had no right to resent her playing a few herself.
But I wasn't playing for fun! The message was sharp and resentful. I was playing for the safety of my planet.
You mean one little girl like me can save a great big world like this? It must be the oxygen, she decided, that was making her behave so giddily. Or perhaps she couldn't help tormenting him a little—a very little.
"Hey, cut it out!" Tony Willis looked aggrieved. "It's bad enough having one of you telepaths around—but with two of you together anyone else is out in the cold. What do you want for breakfast?"
They apologized and kept their special talents under wraps. Lynne felt a certain disappointment at the prosaic familiarity of the food and drink they were served. She didn't know exactly what she had been expecting but there was no trace of the exotic.
Nor was the aircar in which Willis drove them from the spaceport to New Samarkand any different from similar vehicles on Earth—save that it seemed somewhat battered and in need of a refinish. She and Rolf rode in silence, letting Tony do the talking.
They traveled at about five hundred meters altitude toward a low range of reddish hills, sprinkled here and there with green. The sky was cloudless, the ground beneath them innocent of roads, of cultivation, of homes. For the first time Lynne began to appreciate the immensity of the task these emigrées from Earth had undertaken, the rehabilitation of a near-dead planet.
And then, when they crested the hill, there were rectangular patches of vegetation on its lee side. But she gave this man-made miracle only the briefest of glances—for beyond lay the vast bank of the canal, stretching as far as the eye could see, in a straight line from horizon to horizon. And beyond the canal lay the city.