She nodded weakly. There was a large greenish bruise on the gleaming
flesh of her shoulder which Gavin hadn't noticed before. He said,
"You'd better go to your cabin. Patch yourself up." He raised a sandy
eyebrow. "That costume could stand a repair job, too."
Nadia glanced at herself, at the missing breast plate, the ripped
skirt, and wailed, "Oh, dear. It's ruined."
"You're lucky that you're not, too," drawled Gavin dryly.
"Ruined? Me?" She shot him a glance from her long black eyes. "Why Mr.
Murdock, I didn't know you were so impetuous," and fled up the ladder.
Gavin stared after her. He made an uncomplimentary but expressive
remark under his breath.
* * * * *
The jetman and master mechanic stood their regular four-hour watches,
but Gavin went unrelieved. He spent the first twelve hours examining
the _Nova's_ space drive. He could discover nothing extraordinary about
it. It was capable of driving the slave ship at an acceleration of five
G's, but several of the latest model Terran patrol spacers were able to
do as well. It left him completely mystified.
No great damage had been done the _Nova_, but, besides sundry fractured
arms, legs, and ribs, seven men had been killed outright. The chief
engineer was recovering from a light case of concussion. Gavin was the
only qualified engineer aboard able to stand watch.
He drank gallons of coffee during the next twelve hours, trying
desperately to stay awake. He brooded over the fact that with one dead
engineer and another laid up with a fractured leg, he and the chief
would have to stand four on and four off during the entire twelve
sidereal months, which was the minimum time required to make the
crossing between Venus and Jupiter.
At the conclusion of thirty-four hours, Gavin was groggy with fatigue.
His eye-lids felt like sandpaper. He was irritable as a bear. He cursed
the jetman and master mechanic whenever they failed to jump fast enough
at the rasp of his voice.
His chin dropped against his chest. He snapped his head up, realizing
he'd been asleep on his feet, and glanced at the chronometer. He had
been on watch for thirty-seven hours.
Someone tapped his shoulder.
Gavin swung around and rubbed his blood-shot eyes. A small wiry man
with his head swathed in bandages had descended the ladder without
Gavin's hearing him.
"I'm Villanowski," said the man in a cultured voice. "Chief engineer.
Sorry I couldn't relieve you sooner."
Gavin shook hands, feeling an almost uncontrollable urge to throw
himself on the deck and sleep. He repeated the course and their
acceleration mechanically.
"Go on to your cabin," the chief urged. "Get a good sleep. We'll have
to stand four hours on and four off the rest of the voyage, but it'll
only be two weeks."
"Two weeks!" Gavin echoed. "But that's impossible, sir." His fatigued
brain grasped at the puzzle confusedly and then came up with an answer.
"We're turning back to Venus?"
"No." Villanowski shook his head. "We're going on to Jupiter."
"But that's a twelve month voyage."
The chief patted his shoulder. "You haven't heard of the little death,"
he smiled.
"Little death?"
Villanowski nodded. "Never mind trying to understand now. You're out
on your feet, Murdock. I'll explain after you've had some rest. But
take my word for it. We'll be setting the _Nova_ down on Jupiter in two
weeks."
Gavin staggered to his cabin in bewilderment.
He threw himself on his bunk without even bothering to remove his
shoes. He thought, _Little death! Jupiter in two weeks! That crack on
the skull must have affected the chief engineer's mind!_ Then sleep
descended on him like a shroud.
V
When Gavin at length awakened, he rolled out of his bunk groggily,
showered and shaved and then made his way to the officer's mess. Nadia
Petrovna, dressed in practical coveralls of gray siliconex, was seated
at a table eating bacon and eggs.
Bacon and eggs! Gavin stared. Whoever heard of such grub aboard a
spacer bound on a year's voyage. And there had been showers, and the
cabins were not especially cramped.
Nadia waved a piece of toast at him. "Hello! The crew've been laying
bets on when you'd come out of your coma."
He sat down and rang for the messman.
"How long does this last?" he inquired pointing at the fresh food.
"When do we start on concentrates?"
"We don't."
"Don't use concentrates! But the bulk! And the water. Isn't it
rationed?"
Nadia laughed infectiously. Just then the messman, a huge negro,
appeared and took Gavin's order.