Sverdlovтs tone grew heavy with skepticism: уAnd that bal
loon head Maclaren means to find a planet? And mine the stuff?ф
уI donтt knowўф Ryerson wet his lips. уI donтt know what else we can do.ф
уBut this star went supernova!ф
уIt was a big star. It would have had many planets. Some of the outermost ones . . . if they were large to start with .
may have survived.ф
уHa! And youтd hunt around on a lump of fused nickel-iron, without even a sun in the sky, for germanium ore?ф
уWe have an isotope separator. It could be adapted to . . . I havenтt figured it out yet, butўFor Godтs sake!ф Ryerson found himself screaming. уWhat else can we do?ф
уShut up!ф rapped Sverdlov. уWhen I want my earphones broken Iтll use a hammer.ф
He stood in a swirl of golden fog, and the gray-rimmed black eye of the dead star marched behind him. Ryerson crouched back, hooked into the framework and waiting. At last Sverdlov said: уItтs one long string of ifs. But a transistor doesnтt do anything a vacuum tube canтt.ф He barked a laugh. уAnd weтve got all the vacuum weтll ever want. Why not design and make the equivalent electronic elements? Ought to be a lot easier thanўrepairing the accelerators, and scouring space for a planet.ф
у ESIGN them?ф cried Ryerson уAnd test them, and redesign them, andўDo you realize that on half rations we
have not quite six monthsт food supply?ф
уI do,ф said Sverdlov. уI feel it in my belly right now.ф He muttered a few obscenities. уAll right, then. Iтll go along with the plan. Though if that clotbrain of a Nakamura hadnтtўф
уHe did the only thing possible! Did you want to crash us?ф
уThere are worse chances to take,ф said Sverdlov. уNow what have we got, but six months of beating our hearts out and then another month or two to die?ф He made a harsh noise in the radiophone, as if wanting to spit. уIтve met Sarai settlers before. Theyтre worse than Earthlings for cowardice, and nearly as stupid.ф
уNow, waitўф began Ryerson. уWait, letтs not quarrelўф
уAfraid of what might happen?ф jeered Sverdlov. уYou donтt know your friend Maclarenтs dirty-fighting tricks, do you?ф
The ship whirled through a darkness that grew noisy with Ryersonтs uneven breathing. He raised his hands against the bulky robot shape confronting him. уPlease,ф he stammered. уNow wait, wait, Engineer Sverdlov.ф Tears stung his eyes. уWeтre all in this together, you know.ф
уI wondered just when youтd be coming up with that clichО,ф snorted the Krasnan. уHaving decided it would be oh, so amusing to tell your society friends, how you spent maybe a whole month in deep space, you got me yanked off the job I really want to do, and tossed me into a situation youтd never once stopped to think about, and wrecked us allўand now you tell me, Weтre all in this together!т уSuddenly he roared his words:
уYou mangy son of a muckeating cockroach, Iтll get you backў not for your sake, nor for your wifeтsўfor my own planet, dтyou hear? They need me there!ф
It grew very still. Ryerson felt how his heartbeat dropped down to normal, and then still further, until he could no longer hear his own pulse. His hands felt chilly and his face numb. A far and terrified part of him thought, So this is how it feels, when the God of Hosts lays His hand upon a man, but he stared past Sverdlov, into the relentless white blaze of the stars, and said in a flat voice:
уThat will do. Iтve heard the story of the poor oppressed colonies before now. I think you yourself are proof that the Protectorate is better than you deserve. As for me, I never saw a milli of this supposed extortion from other planets: my father worked his way up from midshipman to captain, my brothers and I went through the Academy on merit, as citizens of the poorest and most overcrowded world in the universe. Do you imagine you know what competition is? Why, you blowhard clodhopper, you wouldnтt last a week on Earth. As a matter of fact, I myself had grown tired of the struggle. If it werenтt for this wretched expedition, my wife and I would have started for a new colony next week. Now you make me wonder if itтs wise. Are all colonials like youўjust barely brave enough to slander an old man when theyтre a safe hundred light-years away?ф
Sverdlov did not move. The slow spin of the Cross brought the black star into Ryersonтs view again. It seemed bigger, as
the ship swooped toward periastron. He had a horrible sense of falling into it. Thou, God, watchest me, with the cold ashen eye of wrath. The silence was like a membrane stretched close to ripping.
Finally, very slow, the bass voice came. уAre you prepared to back up those words, Earthling?ф
уRight after we finish here!ф shouted Ryerson.
уOh.ф A moment longer. Then: уForget it. Maybe I did speak out of turn. Iтve never known an Earthman who wasnтt .
an enemy of some kind.ф
уDid you ever try to know them?ф
уForget it, I said. Iтll get you home. I might even come around one day and say hello, on your new planet. Now letтs get busy here. Our first job is to start the accelerators operating again.ф
The weakness which poured through David Ryerson was such that he wondered if he would have fallen under gravity. Oh, Tamara, he thought, be with me now. He remembered how they had camped on a California beach . . . had it all to themselves, no one lived in the deserts eastward . . . and the gulls had swarmed around begging bread until both of them were helpless with laughter. Now why should he suddenly remember that, out of all the times they had had?
X.
WHEN the mind gave up and the mathematics became a blur, there was work for Maclarenтs hands. Sverdlov,
and Ryerson under him, did the machine-tool jobs; Nakamuraтs small fingers showed such delicacy that he was set to drawing wire and polishing control-ring surfaces. Maclaren was left with the least skilled assignment, least urgent because he was always far ahead of the consumption of his product: melting, separating, and re-alloying the fused salvage from ion accelerators and transceiver web.
But it was tricky in null-gee. There could not be any significant spin on the ship or assembly, out on the lattice, it would have become too complicated for so small a gang of workers. Coriolis force would have created serious problems even for the inboard jobs. On the other hand, weightless melt had foul
habits. Maclarenтs left arm was still bandaged, the burn on his forehead still a crimson gouge.
It didnтt seem to matter. When he looked in a mirror, he hardly recognized his face. There hadnтt been much physical change yet, but the expression was a strangerтs. And his life had narrowed to these past weeks, behind them lay only a dream. In moments when there was nothing else to do he might still play a quick chess game with Sverdlov, argue the merits of No versus Kabuki with Nakamura, or shock young Ryerson by a well-chosen dirty limerick. But thinking back, he saw how such times had become more and more sparse. He had quit trying to make iron rations palatable, when his turn in the galley came up; he had not sung a ballad for hundreds of the Crossт black-sun years. He shaved by the clock and hung onto fastidiousness of dress as pure ritual, the way Nakamura contemplated his paradoxes or Ryerson quoted his Bible or Sverdlov thumbed through his nude photographs of past mistresses. It was a way of telling yourself, I am still alive.
There came a moment when Maclaren asked what he was doing other than going through the motions of survival. That was a bad question.
уYou see,ф he told his mirror twin, уit suggests a further inquiry: Why? And thatтs the problem weтve been dodging all our mutual days.ф
He stowed his electric razor, adjusted his tunic, and pushed out of the tiny bathroom. The living section was deserted, as it had been most of the time. Not only were they all too busy to sit around, but it was too narrow.
Outside its wall, he moved through the comfort of his instruments. He admitted frankly that his project of learning as much as possible of the star was three-quarters selfish. It was not really very probable that exact knowledge of its atmospheric composition would be of any use to their escape. But it offered him a chance, for minutes at a time, to forget where he was. Of course, he did not admit the fact to anyone but himself. And he wondered a little what reticences the other men had.
THIS time he was not alone. Nakamura hovered at an observation port. The pilotтs body was outlined with unwavering diamond stars. But as the dead sun swung by, Mac-
laren saw him grow tense and bring a hand toward his eyes, as if to cover them.
He drifted soundlessly behind Nakamura. уBoo,ф he said.
The other whirled around in air, gasping. As the thresh of arms and legs died away, Maclaren looked upon terror.
уIтm sorry!ф he exclaimed. уI didnтt think Iтd startle you.ф
