"A homing missile, I think."
I ought not to have said that; but it seems to make no particular
impression, maybe he guessed as much.
* * * * *
I was wrong in wanting to shift the computer straight away, the
release of pressure might start a hemorrhage; I dig out ampoules of
blood-seal and inject them into the space between the suit and the
flesh, as close to the damage as I can.
M'Clare asks how the ship is lying and I explain, also how I got here.
I dig out the six-by-two-inch packet of expanding stretcher and read
the directions. He is quiet for a minute or two, gathering strength;
then he says sharply: "Lizzie. Stop that and listen.
"The fuse for the Andite is just under the antigrav. Go and find it.
Go now. There's a dial with twenty divisions. Marked in black--you see
it. Turn the pointer to the last division. Is that done?
"Now you see the switch under the pointer? Is your boat ready? I beg
your pardon, of course you left it that way. Then turn the switch and
get out."
I come back and see by my chrono that the blood-seal should be set; I
get my hands under the computer. M'Clare bangs his hand on the floor.
"Lizzie, you little idiot, don't you realize that even if you get me
out of this ship, which is next to impossible, you'll be delayed all
the way--and if the Incognitans find either of us the whole plan's
ruined? Much worse than ruined, once they see it's a hoax--"
I tell him I have two Andite sticks and they won't find us and on a
night like this any story of explosions will be put down to sudden
gusts or to lightning.
He is silent for a moment while I start lifting the computer,
carefully; its effective weight with the antigrav full on is only
about twenty pounds but is has all its inertia. Then he says quietly,
"Please, Lizzie--can't you understand that the worst nightmare in the
whole affair has been the fear that one of you might get injured? Or
even killed? When I realized that only one person was needed to pilot
_Gilgamesh_--it was the greatest relief I ever experienced. Now you
say...." His voice picks up suddenly. "Lizzie, you're beaten anyway.
The ... I'm losing all feeling. Even pain. I can't feel anything
behind my shoulders ... it's creeping up--"
I say that means the pain-killer I shot him with is acting as
advertised, and he makes a sound as much like an explosive chuckle as
anything and it's quiet again.
The curvature between floor and wall is not helpful, I am trying to
find a place to wedge the computer so it cannot fall back when I take
off the antigrav. Presently I get it pushed on to a sort of ledge
formed by a dent in the floor, which I think will hold it. I ease off
the antigrav and the computer stays put, I don't like the looks of it
so let's get out of here.
I push the packaged stretcher under his middle and pull the tape
before I turn the light on to his legs to see the damage. I cannot
make out very much; the joints of the suit are smashed some, but as
far as I can see the inner lining is not broken which means it is
still air-and-water-tight.
I put a hand under his chest to feel how the stretcher is going; it is
now expanded to eighteen inches by six and I can feel it pushing out,
but it is _slow_, what else have I to do--oh yes, get the helmet.
I am standing up to reach for it when M'Clare says, "What are you
doing? Yes ... well, don't put it on for a minute. There's something I
would like to tell you, and with all respect for your obstinacy I
doubt very much whether I shall have another chance. Keep that light
off me, will you? It hurts my eyes.
"You know, Lizzie, I dislike risking the lives of any of the students
for whom I am responsible, but as it happens I find the idea of
you--blowing yourself to atoms particularly objectionable because ... I
happen to be in love with you. You're also one of my best students, I
used to think that ... was why I'd been so insistent on your coming to
Russett, but I rather think ... my motives were mixed even then. I meant
to tell you this after you graduated, and to ask you to marry me, not
that ... I thought you would, I know quite well ... you never quite
forgave me, but I don't-want-to-have to remember ... I didn't ... have
the guts to--"
His voice trails off, I get a belated rush of sense to the head and
turn the light on his face. His head is turned sideways and his fist
is clenched against the side of his neck. When I touch it his hand
falls open and five discharged ampoules fall out.
Pain-killer.
Maximum dose, one ampoule.
All that talk was just to hold my attention while he fixed the needles
and--