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had to bring myself back up from the depths.
Nick had removed my helmet, and he was kneeling in the corridor, his body
half supported by the wall, with my head in his lap, batting my face. "Stop
it," I said
"There's no time," he told me. His voice was thin and high pitched. His
throat was dry.
"Stim-shot," I said. "In the control room."
He got the message. He helped me get up. I'm not sure whether he was carrying
me or whether we were propping one another up. Somehow we made it to the
control room. I was consummately grateful for the lateral gee-field in the
body of the ship. If it had been vertical I think we might have never made it
We could have been stuck at the bottom of the ladder for good and all.
With my veins full of up-time and my gut full of anti-queasy I felt a hundred
percent better and ready to face the world. It was strictly borrowed time but
there was nowhere else I was going to get time except on high interest loan,
and you can't choose your terms. Nick didn't look in shape to take too much
artificial stimulation, so I gave him a modest dose of liquid moral support
and hoped it would get him by.
"I don't think there's any of me left," I murmured.
"I thought for a moment you were dying," he said.
"You weren't the only one."
I sat up, and looked around me. The control room was dimly lit. The air was
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slightly over-warm and I could taste the fact that it was no longer perfect
mixture. The Sister Swan was straining her resources. Nick and I were both on
the floor, supported by the acceleration couches. I tried to haul myself up,
but I couldn't. There was something missing, but for the moment I couldn't put
my finger on it.
"Keep still," advised Nick.
"There's no time," I said.
"It's running out," he agreed, "but take a rest. Minutes."
Suddenly, I remembered the wind. I couldn't sense the wind. He wasn't dead-I
was sure of that-but I couldn't feel him. I wasn't aware of his presence. He
was hurt.
Hey? I said, trying to elicit a response. None came. For the first time, he
didn't respond. I felt suddenly alone, suddenly cut off. But I was sure he
wasn't dead.
Nick was smiling. He was looking at me with big bug eyes, staring out of a
hollow face, and he was beaming like a kid with a lollipop. I could see,
welling up inside him, all the exultancy and the sheer sense of victory. It
was breaking out of him in that vast smile.
"Did it ever occur to you," I whispered, trying to sound friendly, "how
bloody useless you are?"
He thought I didn't mean it. Perhaps I didn't. The grin stayed and I couldn't
help smiling back, just a little.
"I thought you'd come," he said.
"You presume one hell of a lot," I said, "on the basis of a short, slight
friendship. One hell of a lot."
"It was in the cards," he said.
"Some bastard's dealing out of a crooked deck," I told him. "Do you reckon to
spend the rest of your life sitting on your fat rump in the middle of sick
space waiting for me to come and pull you out?"
"These things happen," he said. The smile was fading. There was some bite in
what I said.
"Too bloody often," I said, "And always to us."
"Twice," he said.
"Too bloody often," I repeated.
"How long were you out there?" he asked.
"I don't know."
"You felt it?"
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"Felt it? Man, you have no idea."
"It gets into you," he said. "It gets into you and you can't get it out. It's
worse, out there?"
"Much worse," I confirmed.
"But you made it."
"Halfway."
He nodded. "I rigged a sled," he said. "I knew you'd come. Time on my hands.
I rigged a sled to carry her."
I remembered what was missing then.
"Where is she?" I asked, my voice suddenly turning harsh. I felt about ready
to stand up now. The drugs had settled down. I was almost back to human shape.
"Right over there," he said, pointing to the cradle. I didn't follow the
direction with his finger. I was looking into his face. His eyes had a cold
intensity I didn't like. His jaw was set hard. Dilute though my feelings were,
they were stirring again. [ Pobierz całość w formacie PDF ]