Time Enough for Love

  “Well . . I knew you from long back, and so did Ira. And so did Minerva, though you have trouble believing it. Hamadryad had met you but did not get to know you until last night. Ishtar knew you only from your chart but is one of your strongest supporters. But the deciding factor is this: Tamara wants you in our family.”

  “ ‘Tamara!’ ”

  “You sound astonished.”

  “I am.”

  “I don’t see why. She arranged for someone to relieve her in order to be here last night. She loves you, Justin; don’t you know it?”

  “Uh—” My brain was fuddled. “Yes, I know it. But Tamara loves everyone.’

  “No, just those who need her love, and she always knows who they are. Incredible empathy, she’s going to be a great rejuvenator. In this family Tamara can have anything she wants . . and she happens to want you—to stay with us, live with us, join us.”

  “I’ll be . . damned.” (Tamara?)

  “Unlikely. If I believed in damnation, I wouldn’t believe that anyone picked by Tamara Sperling could be in danger of it.” Galahad smiled, a happy expression than was more his charm than was his extraordinary beauty. I tried to remember if he had been that beautiful a hundred years back. I am not indifferent to male beauty, but my sensuality is not perfectly balanced; in the presence of a homely female and a beautiful male, I tend to look at the female. So I’ll never be an esthete; I lack judgment in matters of beauty. I apologize in advance to any female who finds my primitive attitude offensive.

  But I’ll share bed with Galahad in preference to a self-centered female beauty; he’s warm and gentle and good company, with a roguish playfulness not unlike that of the twins. The thought ran through my mind that I would like to meet his sister—or mother or daughter—a female version of him in character and personality, as well as in appearance.

  Tamara! The above was froth at the top of my mind because I was unable to face at once the implications of Galahad’s announcement.

  He went on: “Close your mouth, dear; I was as startled as you are. But, even if we hadn’t been friends years back, on Tamara’s motion I would have voted for you sight unseen—so that I could study you. Tamara never makes a mistake. But were you so mind-ill that you needed that much from her? Or so superhuman that she wanted that much from you? But you are neither, or I failed to see it. You aren’t ill, I think, other than a touch of wild-goose fever. You may be superman, but none of us found it out last night. If you are a superstud, you restrained yourself. Hamadryad did say at breakfast that a woman is happy in your arms. But she did not imply that you are the Galaxy’s greatest lover.

  “Being one of Minerva’s parents is in your favor, none of them has any serious shortcomings; Ishtar made sure of that —Ishtar knows more about you than you do yourself; she can read a gene chart the way other people read print—and Minerva herself is proof that no mistakes were made. I mean, look at Minerva: sweet as the morning breeze and as beautiful as Hamadryad in her own fashion, and with an intelligence level so high you wouldn’t believe it—yet so modest she’s almost humble.

  “But still, it’s Tamara. Your fate was settled before you reached this house. Slow ride home, wasn’t it?”

  “Well . . one doesn’t expect speed from a nullboat. Though I was surprised to find one in a young colony. I expected muledrawn wagons.”

  “Lots of those, too. But Lazarus says that this time he traveled with ‘seven elephants’—we fetched a mammoth amount of equipment. That’s an overpowered nullboat, rebuilt to Lazarus’ specifications, and could have fetched you here in a fifth the time it did. But Ira let Lazarus know that he wanted time to make some calls. So Lazarus probably told whichever twin was in charge—or signaled her somehow; he is almost telepathic with them—to give you a long, slow ride. Which you got, and I bet that Laz and Lor never changed expression.”

  “They didn’t.”

  “Was sure of it. They are not children—you should see them handle a spaceship. Anyhow, Ira talked to Ishtar, then to Tamara; then we held a family conference and settled your fate. Lazarus confirmed it while you played with the twins—who were given a chance to veto it later. But they ratified it at once. They not only like you, but Aunt Tammy’s wishes are law.”

  I was still bemused. “Apparently much went on that I didn’t suspect.”

  “You weren’t supposed to. A better cook would have stayed to get your breakfast, had I not been deputized to tell you—old friends and all that—and to answer questions.”

  “I’m confused about that conference. I thought Tamara got home just before dinner.”

  “She did. Oh—Athene, are you listening, dear?”

  “Uncle Cuddly, you know I don’t listen to private conversations.”

  “The hell you don’t. It’ll be all right, Justin; Teena keeps secrets. Tell him how to call someone, Teena.”

  “Tell me to whom you wish to speak, Justin; I have radio links to every farm. Or anywhere. And I can always reach Ira and Lazarus.”

  “Thank you, Teena. Now if you must listen, pretend not to. The conference was here, Justin; Teena fetched in Tamara’s voice and Ira’s. Could have fetched voices from the nullboat—but you were the subject. By the way, Teena is one reason this family isn’t farming; instead we supply services that colonies usually don’t have so soon. Oh, you can farm if you want to; we’ve claimed quite a bit of land. Or there are other ways to make a living. All right, I’ve done my best. Want to quiz me?”

  “Galahad, I think I understand everything but why Tamara wants me in your family.”

  “You’ll have to ask her. I told you I was checking for your halo. Can’t see it.”

  “I don’t wear it in hot weather. Obadiah, don’t farce around; this is terribly important to me. Why do you keep saying that Tamara’s wishes settled it?”

  “You know her, man.”

  “I know how important her wishes are to me. But I’ve been in love with her for many years.” I told him things I had long kept to myself. “So that’s the way it went. A great hetaera never proposes a contract and usually won’t listen if a man is bold enough to propose one himself. But I—well, I made a nuisance of myself. Tamara finally convinced me that she married only to have children and did not intend to have more. I feel sure that money was not a factor—”

  “It wouldn’t be. Oh, I don’t mean that Tamara is silly that way; I’ve heard her say that since money is the universal symbol for value received, one should accept it proudly. But Tamara wouldn’t marry for money; she wouldn’t feel that—Or perhaps she would; I think I’ll ask her. Mm . . interesting. Our Tamara is a complex person. Sorry, dear; I interrupted.”

  “I say money was not the controlling factor, as she had suitors with ten to a hundred times my modest wealth, yet she married none of them. So I shut up and was content to have part of Tamara—spend nights with her when I was permitted to, share her company in happiness circles at other times, pay her as much as I could—as much as she would accept, I mean; she often set her fee by refusing part of a gift—she did with me; I don’t know what she did with wealthy clients.

  “Years and years of that, then she announced that she was retiring—and I was stunned. I had taken rejuvenation during this time but hadn’t noticed that she was any older. But she was firm about it and left New Rome.

  “Galahad, it left me impotent. Oh, not incapable, but what had been ecstasy turned out to be mere exercise not worth the trouble. Has this ever happened to you?”

  “No. Perhaps I should say, ‘Not yet,’ since I’m still working on my second century.”

  “Then you don’t know what I mean.”

  “Only vicariously. But may I quote something Lazarus once said? He was speaking to Ira, but privacy was not placed on it; you’ll come across it in his raw memoirs.

  “ ‘Ira,’ he said, ‘there were many years when I hardly bothered with women—not only unmarried but celibate. After all, how much variety can there be in the slippery friction of mucous membranes?
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  “ ‘Then I realized that there was infinite variety in women as people . . and that sex was the most direct route to knowing a woman . . a route they like, one that we like, and often the only route that can break down barriers and permit close acquaintance.

  “ ‘And in discovering this, I gained renewed interest in the friendly frolic itself, happy as a lad with his first bare tit warm in his hand. Happier—as never again was I merely a piston to her cylinder; each woman was a unique individual worth knowing, and, if we took time enough, we might find we loved each other. But at least we offered each other pleasure and a haven from cares; we weren’t simply masturbating, with the other just a sex doll.’

  “That’s close to what Lazarus said, Justin. You went through something like that?”

  “Yes. Somewhat. A long period when sex wasn’t worth the trouble. But I got over it . . with a woman as fine in her own way as Tamara is, although I didn’t fall in love with her nor she with me. She taught me something I had forgotten, that sex can be friendly and worthwhile without the intense love I felt for Tamara. You see, a friend of mine, wife of another friend and they were both close to me—as a special gift she introduced me to another hetaera, a great beauty, and arranged for me a holiday with her—paid for by my friends; they could afford it, she is wealthy. This beautiful hetaera, Magdalene—”

  Galahad looked delighted. “Maggie!”

  “Why, yes, she did use that pillow name. ‘Magdalene’ was her vocational name. But when she learned that I keep the Archives, she told me her registered name.”

  “Rebecca Sperling-Jones.”

  “Then you do know her.”

  “All my life, Justin darling; I nursed at those beautiful breasts. She’s my mother, dear—what a delightful coincidence!”

  I was delighted, too, but more interested in something else. “So that’s where you get your beauty.”

  “Yes, but also from my genetic father. Becky—Maggie—tells me I look more like him.”

  “Really? If you permit, I’ll look up your lineage when I get back to Secundus.” An archivist should not consult the Archives from personal curiosity; I was presuming on friendship to suggest it.

  “Dear, you’re not going back to Secundus. But you can get it from Athene clear back to the first push in the bush after Ira Howard’s death. But let’s talk about Mama. She’s a jolly one, isn’t she? As well as a beauty.”

  “Both. I told you how much she did for me. Your mother assumed that this holiday was going to be fun—fun for both of us—and it was indeed!—and I forgot about being uninterested in sex. I’m not speaking of technique; I suspect that any high-priced hetaera in New Rome is as skilled as any famous courtesan in history. I mean her attitude. Maggie is fun to be around, in bed or out. Laugh wrinkles but no frown wrinkles.”

  Galahad nodded agreement as he wiped egg from his platter. “Yes, that’s Mama. She gave me a most happy childhood, Justin, so much so that I was grumpy at being shoved out when my eighteenth rolled around. But she was sweet about it. After my adulthood party she reminded me that she was moving out, too, and going back to her profession. Her contract with Papa, my foster father, was a term contract, over when I became a legal adult . . so if I wanted to see Maggie again—and I wanted to!—it would be cash at the counterpane, no family discount. Since I was a poor-but-honest research assistant, paid only two or three times what I was worth, I couldn’t have afforded thirty seconds with her, much less a night; Mama’s fees were always sky-high.”

  Galahad looked thoughtfully happy. “Goodness, that seems long ago—more than a century and a half, Justin. I didn’t realize that Becky—Maggie—Mama—that Magdalene was being both wise and kind. I was grown up only legally and physically, and if she hadn’t cut the cord, I would have hung around, an overgrown infant, cluttering her life and interfering with her vocation. So I did grow up, and when I married, my first wife named our first daughter ‘Magdalene’ and asked Maggie to be godmother . . then I could hardly believe that this beautiful creature had borne me and I had no special urge to play Oedipus to her regal beauty; I was too much in love with my wife. Yes, Maggie is a fine girl— although she spoiled me as a kid. Was that holiday the only time you had her?”

  “No. But not often. As you say, she was expensive. She offered me a fifty-percent discount—”

  “Well! You did impress her.”

  “—as she knew I wasn’t wealthy. But even at that, I couldn’t afford her company often. But she got me over my emotional hump, and I’m grateful to her. A fine woman, Galahad; you have reason to be proud of her.”

  “I think so. But, Justin dear, your mention of that discount makes me certain that she remembers you just as fondly—”

  “Oh, I hardly think so. Years back, Galahad.”

  “Don’t trip in your modesty, dear; Maggie grabbed every crown the traffic would bear. But the ‘delightful coincidence’ is more than just the fact that you’ve had my mother—after all, high as her fees were, New Rome has many wealthy men attractive enough that Maggie would accept them. The ‘delightful’ aspect is that this very minute she is about forty kilometers south of here.”

  “No!”

  “Si, si, si! Ask Athene to call her. You can be talking with her in thirty seconds.”

  “Uh . . I still don’t think she would remember me.”

  “I do. But there’s no rush. If you are surprised, think how surprised I was. I had nothing to do with the migrants’ roster; I was arse-deep in getting together what Ishtar had ordered for the clinics. Justin, I didn’t know Maggie had married again. So we’re here a couple of weeks, the headquarters party, with a temporary setup and still eating and sleeping in the ‘Dora,’ when the first transport grounds—then we’re busy getting people and supplies out in a sequence worked out by Lazarus and bossed by Ira.

  “My assignment, once I had my shack up—by hand; Athene had no outside extensionals then—”

  “Poor Uncle Cuddly!”

  “Who doesn’t listen to private conversations?”

  “I have to keep you straight, dear. It was Minerva who had no outside hands then; I wasn’t even hatched.”

  “Well—You have her memories, Teena; it’s a mere technicality.”

  “Not to me, dearie. The chinchy little bitch took some memories with her that she didn’t want to share with her ever-lovin’ twin. And she locked one whole bank that she did leave behind so that I can’t touch it without an abracadabra either from her or from Grandpappy. Except that you can unlock it, Justin . . if both my twin and Lazarus are dead.”

  I managed to answer quickly, “In that case, Athene, I hope that it is a very long time before I am able to trigger it.”

  “Well . . when you put it that way, so do I. But I can’t help wondering what grim secrets and unspeakable crimes are locked in my theta-ninety-seven-B-dexter-aleph-prime? Will the stars tremble in their courses? But Uncle Cuddly did work hard a couple of days, Justin—probabty the only honest work he has ever done.”

  “I disdain to comment, Teena. Justin, my assignment was examining physician, for which I was qualified under an almost new diploma. So Ishtar and Hamadryad are unpacking migrants and giving them their antidotes and I’m checking them to make sure they’ve made the trip safely—rushing it as I haven’t yet snatched another medical doctor from that parade of flesh.

  “I glance up from my machine just long enough to note that the next victim is female and call out over my shoulder, ‘Strip down, please,’ and change the setting. Then I look twice—and say, ‘Hello, Mama, how did you get here?’.

  “This caused her to give me a second look. Then she smiled her big, happy smile and said, ‘I flew in on a broom, Obadiah. Give me a kiss and tell me where to put my clothes. Is the doctor around?’

  “Justin, I let the queue pile up while I gave Maggie a thorough examination—proper, as she was pregnant and I made certain that her unborn baby had come through all right—but also to gossip and get caught up. Married again, four c
hildren by today, a farm wife with a sunburned nose, and happy as can be.

  “Got married quite romantically. Mama heard the advertising about opening a virgin planet, went to the recruiting office Ira had in the Harriman Trust building to find out about it—that astonished me the most; Mama is the last person I would have suspected of yearnings to pioneer.”

  “Well . . I agree, Galahad. But I don’t suppose anyone would pick me as a likely pioneer, either.”

  “Perhaps not. Nor me. But Maggie puts in her application at once, and runs into one of her wealthy regulars doing the same. They go somewhere for a bite and discuss it . . and leave the restaurant and register an open-end contract, and go back to the recruiting office and withdraw their solo applications and submit a joint one as a married couple. I won’t say that got them accepted, but almost no singles were accepted for first wave.”

  “Did they know that?”

  “Oh, certainly! The recruiting clerk warned them before accepting their solo fees. That’s what they left to discuss. They already knew they suited each other in bed, but Maggie wanted to find out if he intended to farm—believe it or not, that’s what she wanted—and he wanted to know if she could cook and was she willing to have kids. And it was: ‘Fine, we agree; let’s get on with it!’ Maggie had her fertility restored, and they planted their first baby without waiting to see if they were accepted.”

  I said, “That probably clinched it.”

  “You think so? Why?”

  “If they changed their application to show that Magdalene had caught. If Lazarus passed on the applications. Galahad, our Ancestor favors people who take big bites.”

  “Mmm, yes. Justin, why are you hanging back?”

  “I’m not. I had to be certain that the invitation was serious. I still don’t know why. But I’m no fool, I’m staying.”

  “Wonderful!” Galahad jumped up, came around the table, kissed me again, roughed my hair, and hugged me. “I’m happy for all of us, darling, and we’ll try to make you happy.” He grinned—and I suddenly saw his mother in him. Hard to imagine the glamorous Magdalene with kids and calluses, a frontier farm wife—but I recalled the old proverb about best wives. Galahad went on: “The twins weren’t sure I could be trusted with so delicate a mission; they were afraid I would muff it.”