“Could be,” he said gruffly. “But never mind. Here, I found this lamp. I thought it would be useful for you. I could get you something to pass the time now you have light. Uh—maybe a book, if you like reading. Or a game from the recreation room. I dug into that and found a few things.”
But Andrew seemed not to be listening. He said, “Why in the galaxy are you driving yourself this way? Did you find a way to send a signal to a search party?”
“Uh . . .” Pavel licked his lips; they tasted of dust. “I found quite a lot of stuff already, but—”
“But it doesn’t work?”
“No, I’m afraid it’s all smashed up.”
“I thought it would be,” Andrew said. Now, by the bright clear light, Pavel could see that his cheeks had suddenly become sunken, and there was another lamp shining red on the medical gear enclosing his legs, which yesterday had been green. Red for danger. “Pavel, you ought at least to leave the EWO where I can get at it! Suppose—well, suppose you dig into somewhere and a girder falls on you? Suppose you’re hurt and can’t get back to wherever you put the thing?”
“I don’t want to use it,” Pavel said obstinately.
“And you won’t keep me free of pain all the time!”
“I can’t because—”
“Oh, save it!” Andrew sighed, and rolled his head to the side opposite the lamp, shutting his eyes again.
The ungrateful bastard, Pavel thought, and strode out.
That night, like the previous nights, he dropped off to sleep the moment he lay down on his couch of furs in the passageway outside Andrew’s door. He dreamed of far-off worlds where he had been happy and relaxed, where he had basked in warm sunlight and eaten luscious meals in the company of pretty women, where—
Has Andrew somehow got at the EWO and turned it on?
That thought blasted through the euphoria of his dreams and brought him bolt upright with a jerk. Standing up and waking were simultaneous. It was dark; he had turned off the lamp to conserve its powerpack, Andrew being asleep also. But he had left it on a shelf just inside the cabin door, and the door was ajar. He located it by touch and switched it on.
Andrew was lying, very pale, sweating again, with his fists clenched and his jaw set, and another red light had appeared at the foot of his bunk.
“Damn it, you’re in agony!” Pavel burst out.
“I didn’t want to—to—wake you,” Andrew forced between his tightly clamped teeth. “Thought you—you deserved your rest.”
What in the galaxy was happening to this spoiled young man? But Pavel wasted no time on wondering about that. He had, as usual, placed a selection of drug phials and other equipment by his couch. Seizing a painkiller injector, he gave Andrew a full shot.
“Thanks,” the younger man whispered, and the drawn expression faded from his face. “Sorry I disturbed you. I guess I cried out without meaning to.”
“That’s okay,” Pavel said awkwardly.
“You know something?” Andrew went on, staring at the ceiling. “I’ve been thinking. I guess I never had to think so long about the same thing, over and over, in my life before. When the crash happened, I was so scared. I didn’t realize. I kept telling myself it couldn’t possibly be happening to me—not to Andrew Alighieri Solichuk-Fehr! And . . . well, the way I see it now, I went on trying to hide the truth. Didn’t I? Don’t bother to answer. I know I’m right now. And here you’ve been working like a—like a robot, and knowing what can be done and what can’t, and . . . well, imagine it had been the other way around! Imagine that I’d been up and walking about, and you were stuck in a bunk like me, busted all to hell. I wouldn’t know what to do! I’d go crazy! I’d have just turned the cap of the EWO and given up.”
Pavel listened, hardly believing his ears.
“So I . . . well, I’d just like to say I’m obliged to you. I think it’s the most amazing luck that you were the other person who survived. It’s finally dawned on me that without you I’d be dead.”
His fists clenched again, but not—this time—from pain. “And you’re right! It’s stupid to die when you don’t have to! It’s stupid to quit just because you can’t take a little pain, just because you’re gambling on the chance of being rescued and you can’t figure the odds! Hell, I’ve gambled on a dozen planets, for things much less important than life—for mere money! And I swear I wouldn’t have bet on my chance of still being alive after that crash!”
“Nor would I,” Pavel said in a gravelly tone. From the corner of his eye he noted that the last red light had reverted to green, a sign that it had been the pain which was putting the dangerous stress on Andrew’s metabolism. Dilemma: whether to keep the pain damped down, in order to protect his life-functions, or to husband the supply of painkiller and make his life bearable, if not comfortable, for the greatest possible length of time. . . .
It was too much to think about right now, his mind still muzzy with sleep. Anyhow, Andrew hadn’t finished.
“You’re sure we’re on Quasimodo IV?”
“Ah. . .” Until this moment, Pavel hadn’t been certain that Andrew had taken in the information he’d been given about their situation. “Yes. At least, as sure as I can be without checking out some sort of data on the system we were bound for. I haven’t dug into a library section yet, but I think I’m coming fairly close.”
“Well, instead of wasting my time on games and
