"I think that's one of your best traits."
She realized that she couldn't say anything she was thinking. And not just because it might be overheard by Uphanad's security system. "I hate it when you 'deal' with me."
"OK, what if I 'handle' you instead?" suggested John Paul, leering just a little.
"If you weren't carrying my bag for me," said Theresa, "I'd..."
"Tickle me?"
"You aren't in on this any more than I am," said Theresa. "But you act as if you know everything." Gravity had quickly faded, and now she was holding onto the side rail as she hooked her feet under the floor rail.
"I've guessed some things," said John Paul. "For the rest, all I can do is trust. He really is a very smart boy."
"Not as smart as he thinks," said Theresa.
"But a lot smarter than you think," said John Paul.
"I suppose your evaluation of his intelligence is just right."
"Such a Goldilocks line. Makes me feel so...ursine."
"Why can't you just say 'bearlike'?"
"Because I know the word 'ursine,' and so do you, and it's fun to say."
The elevator doors opened.
"Carry your bag for you, Ma'am?" said John Paul.
"If you want," she said, "but I'm not going to tip you."
"Oh, you really are upset," he murmured.
She pulled herself past him as he started tossing bags to the orderlies.
Peter was waiting at the shuttle entrance. "Cut it rather fine, didn't we?" he said.
"Is it eighteen hundred?" asked Theresa.
"A minute before," said Peter.
"Then we're early," said Theresa. She sailed past him, too, and on into the airlock.
Behind her, she could hear Peter saying, "What's got into her?" and John Paul answering, "Later."
It took a moment to reorient herself, once she was inside the shuttle. She couldn't shake the sensation that the floor was in the wrong place--down was left and in was out, or some such thing. But she pulled herself by the handholds on the seat backs until she had found a seat. An aisle seat, to invite other passengers to sit somewhere else.
But there were no other passengers. Not even John Paul and Peter.
After waiting a good five minutes, she became too impatient to sit there any longer.
She found them standing in midair near the airlock, laughing about something.
"Are you laughing at me?" she asked, daring them to say yes.
"No," said Peter at once.
"Only a little," said John Paul. "We can talk now. The pilot has cut all the links to the station, and...Peter's wearing a damper, too."