kind of silly trinkets that men would drag along with them on their trips through the universe, souvenirs of their childhood or their homes. At this moment, Rohan seemed to understand why Horpach owned nothing of the kind, why there were no old photos hanging on the walls, showing the faces of those close to him who had remained behind on Earth. Horpach did not need this sort of thing, for Earth was not what he called home. Perhaps he regretted this fact now for the first time in his life? The powerful shoulders, his strong arms, his solid neck did not reveal his age. Only the skin of his hands was old; it was thick and lay in chapped wrinkles around the joints. The skin there turned white as he spread out his fingers, observing the slight trembling with apparently tranquil, tired interest, as if he were noticing something that previously had been unknown to him. Rohan could not continue to watch. But Horpach bent his head, looked in his eyes and murmured with an embarrassed smile: “Seems I overdid things a bit.”
It was not so much the words that startled Rohan as the tone the astrogator used and his general behavior. Rohan did not reply. He stood there as Horpach rubbed his hairy chest with his big hand and added: “It’s probably better this way.” And a few seconds later he spoke with surprising frankness. “I didn’t know what to do.”
This was shocking. Rohan thought he had known for days that Horpach was just as helpless as the rest. However, now he came to realize that he had known nothing, and had in fact believed that the astrogator was always several steps ahead of the others, because that was the way things were supposed to be. And now the commander’s true nature was demonstrated to him doubly: on the one hand he saw Horpach’s half-naked body, this tired body with the trembling hands that he had never seen before, and at the same time he heard the words that confirmed his discovery.
“Have a seat, son,” said the commander. Rohan sat down. Horpach got up, stepped over to the wash basin, splashed water over his head and neck, dried himself quickly and with vigor. Then he put on a jacket, buttoned it and pulled up a chair at the table across from Rohan. He regarded Rohan with his colorless eyes that perpetually watered as if in a strong wind, and asked casually: “How about your… immunity? Have you been examined?”
So that’s what he’s after, Rohan realized in a flash. He cleared his throat. “Naturally I’ve been examined, but the physicians couldn’t find anything. Sax was probably right. He thought it was probably due to stupor.”
“Well, well. Didn’t they have anything else to say?”
“Not to me directly. But I heard them talking among themselves about why the cloud would attack a man only once and then leave him to his fate.”
“Interesting. And?”
“Lauda suspects that the cloud can distinguish the normal from the injured on the basis of the electrical activity of the brain. The brain of an injured person, according to Lauda, shows the same activity as that of a newborn baby. Approximately, at least. Apparently I presented a very similar picture while I was in a state of shock. Sax thinks you could make a fine metal net that could be hidden under the hair, and have it emit weak impulses, like those in a brain injury case. That way it would be possible to elude the cloud. But that’s just a theory. No one knows whether it could really be done. They would like to conduct some experiments but they don’t have enough crystals for it. The Cyclops let us down too…”
“All right, then.” The astrogator sighed. “I really wanted to discuss something else with you. But this is strictly between the two of us. Is that clear?”
“Yes,” Rohan answered slowly, and the tension returned.
The astrogator averted his eyes. It seemed difficult to make a start.
“I am still undecided,” he began suddenly. “Some people in my place would simply flip a coin: leave or remain. But I don’t want to resort to that. I know you don’t always agree with me.”
Rohan was just about to answer but Horpach cut him off with a wave of his hand.
“No, no… This is your chance. I’ll leave the decision up to you. I’ll do whatever you decide.”
Horpach looked him straight in the face, then quickly hid his eyes again under his heavy eyelids.
“What… me?” Rohan stammered. He had expected anything but this.
“Quite right, son. You. This is confidential, of course. It’s a deal, then. You make the decision and I will execute your orders. I’ll justify everything before the executive board at the space station. It’s a good deal, isn’t it?”
“Are you serious?” asked Rohan, trying to stall for time, for he knew what the answer would be.
“Of course I am. If I didn’t know you, I would give you more time to make up your mind. But I know that you have your own thoughts about things and that you’ve already come to a decision. Since I can’t wheedle it out of you, I insist that you tell me what it is, now, on the spot. That’s an order. At this moment,
Horpach got up, walked over to the wash basin, rubbed his palm across his cheeks so that his stubbly beard rustled under his fingers, and without further ado started shaving with his electric razor. He looked into the mirror.
Rohan’s first reaction was to feel furious at Horpach for being so ruthlessly inconsiderate, for giving him the right — no, rather forcing the obligation on him — to make a decision, but at the same time tying his tongue and relieving him of all responsibility right from the start. He knew Horpach well enough to realize that everything had been thoroughly planned in advance and that nothing could be changed now. The seconds passed, and he had to speak up, now, at once, but nothing came to mind. All the arguments he would liked to have flung in the commander’s face, all the objections he had prepared like so many brick-bats during his nocturnal ruminations, had suddenly vanished into thin air. The four men were no longer alive — that was almost a certainty. If only that “almost” did not exist, then they need not consider anything, need not deliberate back and forth. They simply could fly away at dawn. But now this “almost” assumed ever larger proportions in his mind. As long as he had been on a par with Horpach, he had felt they should leave immediately. Now he felt incapable of forcing from his lips the order to take off. He knew that would not mean the end of the affair with Regis III, but really just the beginning. It had nothing to do with justification before the executive board at the space station. These four men would haunt the spaceship and things could never be the same again. The crew wanted to go back. But then he remembered his nocturnal roamings through the
“I’m listening,” said Horpach as he put away his electric razor and sat down across the table from Rohan.
Rohan moistened his lips. “We ought to try…”
“What?”
“To find them.”
Finally it was out. He knew the astrogator would not contradict him. Rohan was now actually firmly convinced that Horpach must have counted on this, that he had even arranged it this way. In order not to have to bear the risk all by himself.
“The four men. I understand. Good.”
“But we need some plan. Something sensible.”
“We’ve been sensible all along,” countered Horpach. “And you are well aware with what result.”
“May I say something?”
“Go ahead.”
“A little earlier tonight I listened in to the deliberations of the strategists. I heard — no, never mind, it doesn’t matter. They’re figuring out various ways to annihilate the cloud, but it isn’t our task to destroy the cloud. We should rather concentrate on searching for the men. If we go ahead with an antiproton massacre, not one can possibly live through such a hell, if any of them are still alive. Not one. It isn’t possible.”
“That’s what I think, too,” the astrogator said with emphasis.
“You too? That’s good… Well, then?”
Horpach was silent. Then he asked, “Have they found some other solution?”
“The strategists? No.”
