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'It hurts, doesn't it?' Avon, lost in the music, was startled as Sarkoff spoke. He had not noticed the other man come in. and looked at him with a puzzled expression. 'To lose someone you love,' Sarkoff explained, as he sat down nearby.
'What makes you think that?' Avon managed, using all his self-control to retain his composure.
'I know little about you--my interests lie elsewhere,' Lindor and the period of the early space age on Earth, but not the computers thereof, 'but I…recognise the expression shall we say. Someone you cared for was lost untimely.' Avon didn't want anybody's sympathy, but as Sarkoff who barely knew him had noticed what Blake had not, and would be leaving shortly, he would accept what was being offered. 'Don't ask if it gets better--but you remember the good times more.' Offering sympathy--or wanting it? And he had waited for an opportunity when they were both alone.
'What happened?' Curiosity got the better of Avon.
'My wife--Tyce's mother,' Sarkoff added by way of explanation, and paused. Avon realised he was not the only person who found it difficult to talk about personal matters. 'I seem to attract people who…are willing shall we say, and I found it flattering to have their attention. Can you understand that?'
'Yes.' Avon recognised the man's easy charm and enjoyed his mordant wit, which meshed so readily with his own. Blake had a similar capacity to draw others, and was equally half-aware of it. It amused Avon to see the two politicals attempt to charm the other, though he judged himself impervious to Blake's attempts. The only reason he stayed on this ship was because his ends and Blake's overlapped sufficiently to justify it. And he could trust Blake to stick to his cause, or to his plans once he had decided upon them. This was the only thing he shared in common with Blake.
'I was not always…discrete about what I did, and my wife…could not accept it. And when she had gone, I continued regardless.' Sarkoff listened to the music for a few minutes. 'But you don't want to listen to my indiscretions do you? I loved my wife--still do, but I enjoyed what I did. And the past cannot be changed.' That, Avon reflected bitterly, was true.
'Only the way one sees it.' Sarkoff nodded in reply. Avon was no puritan, and enjoyed many things, but felt a sudden disapproval of what Sarkoff had done. But Sarkoff understood, to some extent, what Avon had been through, and would not condemn him for what he had done.
They drifted in thought on the music. This was a luxury Avon he had not allowed himself lately, relaxing thus and considering the past. He could see that perhaps what Sarkoff had said about selective remembering was true. He looked at Sarkoff and saw that he understood Avon's changing perceptions.
'I do not ask for your opinion, or whether I helped. Sometimes just knowing that there are others in the same position as you is worth having.'
Zen announced that they were approaching Lindor. Sarkoff rose.
'Feel free to stay on Lindor--at least while I have any say in the matter. Your skills would find you a ready home.'
'Not yet.' What Avon wanted though--the knowledge that such places existed.
'As you wish.' Avon acknowledged the offer and went to switch off the music, only to have the piece he had been listening to when Anna had first come to speak to him.
When it finished he looked up to see Sarkoff was regarding him with sympathy and a smile.
'Her name was Anna--and I cared for her.' Avon said, understanding that he could let his guard drop as much as Sarkoff had.
'Yes.'
#
Sarkoff, President again, looked round his new apartments. They would have to be redecorated entirely. One minor thing to be grateful to Blake for--he had become bored of Twentieth Century Earth and now could find a new time and place to research for relaxation. Perhaps he enjoyed the collecting rather than the possession thereof--so what would he do then?
A flash of inspiration--he would start his own museum--that way he would avoid the press campaign of his last period of office against his supposed personal extravagance. It would also be a good place to dump the ghastly rubbish that usually constituted "official gifts" without causing offence. He would make use of the benevolent billionaire who wished to resolve his disagreement with the tax authorities--and so everybody would be happy, including the tourist guidebook writers, architects and construction firms.
He started to make notes of what he planned. Then he would decide what to do in the unlikely event of Roj Blake or his group actually overthrowing the Federation--he would certainly get some popular benefit now from being associated with that group of rebels. How much could he--and Lindor--benefit from letting the planet be used, unofficially as a rebel base, if the course of events appeared to be moving their way? He would have to plan his strategy carefully.
Now there were other matters to be considered. He managed a genuine smile as his wife came in.
'I'm glad you're back,' she said, embracing him.
'I missed you, my love,' Sarkoff replied, and meant it. 'Thank you for forgiving me what was before.'
Still, he noticed his secretary in the antechamber to his office.
the end
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