"I can't ignore it," said Bean. "I can barely understand what you're saying, and you're about to drip snot on your desk."
"It's not snot!" Petra shouted at him, then touched her nose and discovered that it was. She sniffed and then laughed and ran into the bathroom and blew her nose and finished crying by herself.
When she came out, Bean was lying on the bed, his eyes closed.
"I'm sorry," said Petra.
"I'm sorrier," said Bean softly.
"I know you have to go alone. I know I have to stay here. I know all of that, but I hate it, that's all."
Bean nodded.
"So why aren't you searching the nets?"
"Because the message just came."
She walked over to his desk and looked into the display. Bean had connected to an auction site, and there it was:
Wanted: A good womb.
Five human embryos ready for implantation. Battle-School-graduate parents, died in tragic accident. Estate needs to dispose of them immediately. Likely to be extraordinarily brilliant children. Trust fund will be set up for each child successfully implanted and brought to term. Applicants must prove they do not need the money. Top five bidders will have their funds held in escrow by certified accounting firm, pending evaluation.
"Did you reply?" asked Petra. "Or bid?"
"I sent an inquiry in which I suggested that I'd like to have all five, and I'll pick them up in person. I told him to reply to one of my dead drop sites."
"And you're not checking your mail to see if your dead drop has forwarded anything yet?"
"Petra, I'm scared."
"That's a relief. It suggests you aren't insane."
"He's the best survivor I've ever known. He'll have a way out of this."
"No," said Petra. "You're a survivor. He's a killer."
"He's not dead," said Bean. "That makes him a survivor."
"Nobody's been trying to kill him for half his life," said Petra. "His survival is no big deal. You've had a pathological killer on your trail for years, and yet here y
ou are."
"It's not so much that I'm afraid of him killing me," said Bean, "though I don't find it an appealing way to go. I still plan to die by growing so tall I'm hit by a low-flying plane."
"I'm not playing your macabre little how-I'd-like-to-die game."
"But if he does kill me, and then gets out of there alive somehow, what will happen to you?"
"He won't get out of there alive."
"So maybe not. But what if I'm dead, and all the babies are dead?"
"I'll have this one."
"You'll wish you hadn't loved me. I still haven't figured out why you do."
"I'll never wish I hadn't loved you, and I'll always be glad that after I pestered you long enough, you finally decided you loved me too."