"I know. But I don't
like it."
"You'll probably be uneasy most of your life then. C'mon, be like me.
Lie down, relax, take a nap. You've been rushing for days now,
especially the last couple when we were shooting through the void at
top speed. Give it up now, boy. You can't do anything more."
Zip didn't answer, but he walked into the lounge. Steve Cliff was
completely relaxed, with his feet propped on a table. His huge frame
was sunk into the sofa deeper than Zip would have thought possible. Zip
picked up a book that Mark had been reading, and lay down. In less than
a minute, he was asleep with the open book face down on his chest.
"Up you go, Zip, it's dinnertime." Steve's normally boisterous voice
was gentle and almost subdued. Zip took a deep breath and slowly opened
his eyes. He sat up, put the book aside and ran his hands through his
red hair.
"What's going on?"
"You've been out almost four hours. Figured I'd make myself useful so I
whipped up some food. Here you go." Steve set a tray down on the nearby
table. There were mashed potatoes, salad heavy on diced tomatoes just
the way Zip liked it, and a few pieces of very thinly sliced roast beef
in a luscious brown gravy.
"Looks delicious, Steve; thanks."
"Coffee's coming up in a minute, steaming hot with half a teaspoon of
sugar.
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