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left the door open a crack. It was plain that
it was up to him to use or ignore it.
    Some words finally came, but too late. She was walking away.
Maybe later, then.
    I want
returned to his mind, stimulated by the girl’s
invitation. Could a woman be his need? No. Not all of it, though
having one around might be oil on the seas of his mind.
    He had been hunting his Grail for a long time. Though he
believed himself a cripple when dealing with them, the occasional
woman had fallen his way. None of them had been panaceas.
Alyce’s ghost usually got in the way.
    The Bureau supported his quest, knowing he was searching. Psych
did not miss much. They might even know what he needed. Whatever,
his masters were certain they would show a return on their
investment.
    Few of the Bureau’s agents were sane in the accepted
sense. It recruited obsessives intentionally. BenRabi did not think
that sane men would make good operatives.
    It took a madman to want into Intelligence in the first
place.
    He smiled, mocking himself.
    The lighter shuddered, rocked, shoved against his back. He was
on his way to the orbiting Starfisher.
    He watched Mouse, who was three rows ahead of him. The small man
trembled as if suffering from a palsy. The getting off the ground
part of space travel seemed to be the only terror his universe
held. His reactions to everything else seemed as intense as those
of a stone.
    “So the Rat’s chicken.”
    The Sangaree woman was on the other side of the aisle, smiling.
He had not seen her sit down. Did he have to take this and the pain
too?
     
----

----

Four: 3047 AD
The Olden Days, The Broken
Wings
    Mouse was right. The outfit didn’t whisper for days.
Niven’s tension dissolved. He started living his cover.
    He began reviewing psychiatric statistics at Angel City’s
medical center. Bureau planners had calculated the cover mission
both to gather information of potential interest and to keep the
opposition undecided.
    On the surface there was no logical reason for a prime agent to
spend all his time developing a mental-illness profile for an
outpost city. And even less sense in it for the Starduster.
    He found the data intriguing. He began enjoying it.
    Then he met the woman.
    She materialized at the edge of his vision for an instant. She
was long, willowy, dark-haired. High, large, firm breasts locked a
stunning holographic picture into his mind forever.
    She vanished before he could get a better look.
    His papers hit the floor. He grabbed, wondering if wishful
thinking had bitten him. Those
knockers . . . 
    It was lust at first sight.
    Then she was peeking back around a grey metal cabinet in
open-mouthed curiosity. Niven looked up into dark eyes. He dropped
his notes again. Bewilderment danced across her features.
    “Is something wrong?”
    “Just clumsy. You startled me.” He had never been
comfortable with women. Especially those who attracted him so
strongly, so suddenly.
    It had been years since a woman had aroused him instantaneously.
He considered himself with amazement.
    The tough program did not keep his stomach from knotting, or his
hands from shivering. It was silly. Adolescent. And he could not
help himself.
    He knew that he would bitterly recriminate himself for his
weakness later. He always did.
    He fumbled with the papers again.
    She smiled. “Better let me do that.” She knelt,
shuffled his notes together.
    Mona Lisa
, he thought as he peered down her deeply cut blouse.
Her mouth is exactly the same. And her face has the same shape. But
freckled
.
    She wore no makeup. And didn’t use anything but shampoo on
her hair. She wore it brushed straight down. It hung wild and free,
and had a hint of natural curl.
    She’s turned me into gelatin
, he thought. He wanted to say
something. Anything. He could think of nothing that did not sound
juvenile, or insipid. But he wanted to know her. Wanted her.
    “You work here?” he gobbled. His throat was tight
and dry. He expected her to laugh.
    He knew