Duane was in the sickbay again, on the same bed. His head was spinning
agonizedly. He forced his eyes open--and the girl was there; the same
girl. She was watching him. A cloud on her face lifted as she saw his
lids flicker open; then it descended again. Her lips quivered.
"Darn you, Peter," she whispered. "Who are you now?"
"Why--why, I'm Peter Duane, of course," he said.
"Well, thank God you know that!" It was the captain. He'd changed since
the last time Peter had seen him. One arm was slung in bandages that
bore the yellow seeping tint of burn salve.
Peter shook his head to try to clear it. "Where--where am I?" he asked.
"Andrias--"
"Andrias is where he won't bother you," the captain said. "Locked up
below. So are two of his men. The other one's dead. How's your memory,
Peter?"
Duane touched it experimentally with a questing mental finger. It
seemed all right, though he felt still dazed.
"Coming along," he said. "But where am I? The controls--I blasted them."
The captain laughed. "I know," he said briefly. "Well--I guess you had
to, in a way. You didn't trust anyone; couldn't trust anyone. You had
to make sure the rifles wouldn't get back to Callisto too soon. But
they're working on installing duplicates now, Peter. In an hour we'll
be back on Callisto. We shut the jets off already; we're in an orbit."
Duane sank back. "Listen," he said. "I think--I think my memory's
clearing, somehow. But how--I mean, were you on my side? All along?"
The captain nodded soberly. "On your side, yes, Peter," he said. "The
League's side, that is. You and I, you know, both work for the League.
When they got word of Andrias' plans, they had to work fast. To move
in by force would have meant bloodshed, would have forced his hand.
That would have been utterly bad. It was too dangerous. Callisto is
politically a powder-keg already. The whole thing might have exploded."
Peter's eyes flared with sudden hope and enlightment. "And you and I--"
he began.
"You and I, and a couple of other undercover workers were put on the
job," the captain nodded. "We had to find out who Andrias' supporters
were--and to keep him from getting more electron rifles while the
commanders of the Callisto garrison were quietly checked, to see who
was on which side. They've found Andrias' Earth backers--a group of
wealthy malcontents who thought Callisto should be exploited for their
gain, had made secret deals with him for concessions. You, of course,
slowed down the delivery of the rifles as long as you could. They lay
in the Lunar warehouses a precious extra week while you haggled over
terms. That's what you were doing with Stevens, I think, when the
course change caught you both."
"You've had him long enough," the nurse broke in. "I have a few words
to say."
"No, wait--" Duane protested. But the captain was grinning broadly. He
moved toward the door.
"Later," he said over his shoulder. "There'll be plenty of time." The
door closed behind him. Duane turned to the girl.
* * * * *
He shook his head again. The cloud was lifting. He could almost
remember everything again; things were beginning to come into focus.
This girl, for instance--
She noticed his motion. "How's your head, Peter?" she asked
solicitously. "Andrias hit you with that awful old bullet-gun. I tried
to stop him, but all I could do was jar his arm. Oh, Peter, I was so
afraid when I saw you fall!"
"You probably saved my life," Peter said soberly. "Andrias struck me as
a pretty good shot." He tried to grin.
The girl frowned. "Peter," she said, "I'm sorry if I seemed rude,
before--the last time you were here. It was just that I.... Well, you
didn't remember me. I couldn't understand."