to her key — and a nightmare of the «meat wagon» wheeling out some night, with a sheet concealing that it carried not one cadaver, but two.
As this rushed through her mind, it carried fear, awareness of peril through having stumbled onto this secret.
Smith got clumsily up from his chair, held out both hands and said, «Water brother!»
«Hello. Uh … how are you?»
«I am well. I am happy.» He added something in a strange, choking speech, corrected himself and said carefully, «You are here, my brother. You were away. Now you are here. I drink deep of you.»
Jill felt herself helplessly split between emotions, one that melted her heart — and icy fear of being caught. Smith did not notice. Instead he said, «See? I walk! I grow strong.» He took a few steps, then stopped, triumphant, breathless, and smiling.
She forced herself to smile. «We are making progress, aren't we? You keep growing stronger, that's the spirit! But I must go — I just stopped to say hello.»
His expression changed to distress. «Do not go!»
«Oh, I must!»
He looked woebegone, then added with tragic certainty, «I have hurted you. I did not know.»
«Hurt me? Oh, no, not at all! But I must go — and quickly!»
His face was without expression. He stated rather than asked. «Take me with you, my brother.»
«What? Oh, I
«Not tell that my water brother was here?»
«Yes. Don't tell
Smith digested this, looked serene. «I will wait. I will not tell.»
«Good!» Jill wondered how she could keep her promise. She realized now that the «broken» lock had not been broken and her eye went to the corridor door — and saw why she had not been able to get in. A hand bolt had been screwed to the door. As was always the case, bathroom doors and other doors that could be bolted were arranged to open also by pass key, so that patients could not lock themselves in. Here the lock kept Smith in and a bolt of the sort not permitted in hospitals kept out even those with pass keys.
Jill opened the bolt. «You wait. I'll come back.»
«I shall waiting.»
When she got back to the watch room she heard the
He burst in, saying savagely, «Where were you, Nurse? I knocked three times.» He glanced suspiciously at the inner door.
«I saw your patient turn over,» she lied quickly. «I was arranging her collar pillow.»
«Damn it, I told you simply to sit at my desk!»
Jill knew suddenly that the man was frightened; she coun terattacked. «Doctor,» she said coldly, «your patient is not my responsibility. But since you entrusted her to me, I did what seemed necessary. Since you questioned it, let's get the wing superintendent.»
«Huh? No, no — forget it.»
«No, sir. A patient that old can smother in a water bed. Some nurses will take any blame from a doctor — but not me. Let's call the superintendent.»
«What? Look, Miss Boardman, I popped off without thinking. I apologize.»
«Very well, Doctor,» Jill answered stiffly. «Is there anything more?»
«Uh? No, thank you. Thanks for standing by for me. Just… well, be sure not to mention it, will you?»
«I won't mention it.» You bet your sweet life I won't! But what do I do now? Oh, I wish Ben were in town! She went to her desk and pretended to look over papers. Finally she remembered to phone for the powered bed she had been after. Then she sent her assistant on an errand and tried to think.
Where was Ben? If he were in touch, she would take ten minutes relief, call him, and shift the worry onto his broad shoulders. But Ben, damn him, was off skyoodling and letting her carry the ball.
Or was he? A fret that had been burrowing in her subconscious finally surfaced. Ben would not have left town without letting her know the outcome of his attempt to see the Man from Mars. As a fellow conspirator it was her right — and Ben
She could hear in her head something he had said: « —
She had not thought about it at the time, as she had not believed that anything could happen to Ben. Now she thought about it. There comes a time in the life of every human when he or she must decide to risk «his life, his fortune, and his sacred honor» on an outcome dubious. Jill Boardman encountered her challenge and accepted it at 3:47 that afternoon.
The Man from Mars sat down when Jill left. He did not pick up the picture book but simply waited in a fashion which may be described as «patient» only because human language does not embrace Martian attitudes. He held still with quiet happiness because his brother had said that he would return. He was prepared to wait, without moving, without doing anything, for several years.
He had no clear idea how long it had been since he had shared water with this brother; not only was this place curiously distorted in time and shape, with sequences of sights and sounds not yet grokked, but also the culture of his nest took a different grasp of time from that which is human. The difference lay not in longer lifetimes as counted in Earth years, but in basic attitude. «It is later than you think» could not be expressed in Martian — nor could «Haste makes waste,» though for a different reason: the first notion was inconceivable while the latter was an unexpressed Martian basic, as unnecessary as telling a fish to bathe. But «As it was in the Beginning, is now and ever shall be» was so Martian in mood that it could be translated more easily than «two plus two makes four» — which was not a truism on Mars.
Smith waited.
Brush came in and looked at him; Smith did not move and Brush went away.
When Smith heard a key in the outer door, he recalled that he had heard this sound somewhat before the last visit of his water brother, so he shifted his metabolism in preparation, in case the sequence occurred again. He was astonished when the outer door opened and Jill slipped in, as he had not been aware that it was a door. But he grokked it at once and gave himself over to the joyful fullness which comes only in the presence of one's nestlings, one's water brothers, and (under certain circumstances) in the presence of the Old Ones.
His joy was muted by awareness that his brother did not share it — he seemed more distressed than was possible save in one about to discorporate because of shameful lack or failure. But Smith had learned that these creatures could endure emotions dreadful to contemplate and not die. His Brother Mahmoud underwent a spiritual agony five times daily and not only did not die but had urged the agony on him as a needful thing. His Brother Captain van Tromp suffered terrifying spasms unpredictably, any one of which should have, by Smith's standards, produced immediate discorporation to end the conflict — yet that brother was still corporate so far as he knew.
So he ignored Jill's agitation.
Jill handed him a bundle. «Here, put these on. Hurry!»
Smith accepted the bundle and waited. Jill looked at him and said, «Oh, dear! All right, get your clothes off. I'll help.»
She was forced both to undress and dress him. He was wearing hospital gown, bathrobe, and slippers, not because he wanted to but because he had been told to. He could handle them by now, but not fast enough to suit Jill; she skinned him quickly. She being a nurse and he never having heard of the modesty taboo — nor would he have grasped it — they were not slowed by irrelevancies. He was delighted by false skins Jill drew over his legs. She gave him no time to cherish them, but taped the stockings to his thighs in lieu of garter belt. The nurse's uniform she dressed him in she had borrowed from a larger woman on the excuse that a cousin needed one for a masquerade. Jill hooked a nurse's cape around his neck and reflected that it covered most sex differences — at least she hoped so. Shoes were difficult; they did not fit well and Smith found walking in this gravity field an effort
