"No," said Arden. "I have the key to the vault. If one of us is
infected, I'll open it and treat him. But Joe Wilding deserves to die.
It wasn't his fault that we are still uninfected. He was willing to
destroy the Earth in order to be here. That threat is gone now, but he
must suffer."
"Arlie," Bairn said softly. "Would Mary want you to let Joe Wilding
die?"
Arden spoke coldly: "Did Wilding care about Mary when he stowed away on
this ship?"
Bairn had no answer.
* * * * *
Joe Wilding was restless. Even the fiery fever that racked him could
not quiet him. He paced the long water compartment, legs weary but
restless. He couldn't stand it here much longer; he had to get out into
the light, out where he could move and see and feel something besides
the dampness dripping upon him, the quick mutter of the pumps as they
drove the catalyst to the firing chambers.
He walked to the cubbyhole, looked down into the power room.
Whitey Burnet was there, alone.
Impulsively, Joe Wilding climbed out of the cubbyhole and down the
ladder.
"Paul," he said softly. "I'm hungry."
Paul Burnet turned slowly.
"Hello, Joe."
They stood there, the two of them. Whitey Burnet, immaculate in his
white work clothes; Joe Wilding, a heavy growth of beard on his face,
his tunic dirtied, his hair mussed.
"I gave you your chance, Joe. Just as you gave me mine. We're even."
Burnet turned to the communications phone, then turned back suddenly.
"Now you know, Joe. Now you know how I felt. You know how it is to be
hunted, to be afraid of your own shadow, to know what a despicable
creature you are. To be followed by a fear that freezes your guts--"
"But I'm not afraid, Paul. I'm just hungry, and tired of being alone."
"I was alone, Joe."
"No, Paul, you weren't alone, ever. Carol's thoughts were ever of you.
I hunted you the world over; but you always ran away. You never would
give me a chance. And Carol's letters always came back marked: 'No such
person at this address'."
Paul's voice was almost mocking: "Even now you act the gentleman,
pretending. I hate your guts, Joe Wilding. But for you, Carol and I
would have been married long ago. I liked you once, Joe Wilding, I even
thought what a wonderful brother-in-law you'd make. Even now, I find
myself liking you a little bit--but God knows I don't know why."
"You'd better call them, Whitey," Joe said.
"No, not yet. You saved my life when you dragged me away that day my
kidnap plan failed. You carried me, fractured skull and all, away from
the greatest chance a man ever had to make this a real world. If we had
got the president we could have forced the wildwood doctrine down the
people's throats."
Joe shook his head. "The people won't take forced medicine. They must
have sugar-coated pills to cure them and lead them right."
Whitey cut in: "Then you made me promise I'd quit. And you told Carol
of my plot, and she wouldn't look me in the face when I came."
"She cried her eyes out when you left. She asked me to find you and
bring you back. But you wouldn't listen." Then, softly, "She's still
waiting, Paul. Waiting for you."
Paul stood tensely, his eyes searching Joe's bearded face. The atomic
motor thrummed quietly.
"You'd better call them, Paul."
Whitey jumped unexpectedly, as the shrill keening of the danger siren
suddenly keened into the power room. Bairn's voice cracked through the
speaker:
"Grab something, guys. A meteor, and we can't dodge!"
Like an exclamation point to his words came the heeling crash.
* * * * *
Joe and Paul were flung to the floor as the ship rocked and heaved. The
lights went out, the motors suddenly cut off. There was a shuddering
scream as metal tore; the air turned hot and dry.
[Illustration: _Hell burst in the engine room._]
The ship kept rocking as if caught in a great stormy sea. Rolling on
the floor, Joe heard a deep roar that was beginning to grow shrill.
A warning bell was ringing in his head; then he realized it was the
bell signaling escaping air. Then he was on his feet, holding himself
against the heeling motion of the ship, crying out:
"Paul, where are you? Paul, Paul, Paul...."
"Here," Whitey's voice was weak, but Joe followed it. He found Paul,
heaved him to his shoulders and staggered away toward a wall. It was
the wall to the passageway he decided dully and felt along it until
he found the door. It opened easily as if pushed by a giant hand. He
struggled hard to get across the threshold against the pushing air.
He made it, dropped Paul to the passageway. Then he tugged desperately
against the pull of the air against the door as he dragged it shut.
Somehow, he got it closed, twisted the locking lever.
He sat down against the wall of the passage and breathed in long,
shallow breaths.
In the darkness, he heard Paul's voice:
"Did you mean that about Carol," Paul asked, and his heart was in it.
"Yes," said Joe. "She's still waiting for you to come back to her."
It was quiet there for a moment, with only the muted ringing of the
bell from the power room seeping through the wall.