by E. C. Tubb
“Don’t speak to me like that again!” Her eyes seemed twice their normal size, her lips nothing like the soft bows he had kissed so ardently; she seemed to have grown taller, too. Bellini backed off.
“No need to…,” he muttered, “I’m sorry.” He began rubbing his face with one hand and gesturing at the open cupboards with the other, “But I can’t find them. I have looked.”
“Have you looked there?” Miriam pointed to the cupboard above head height at the back of the surgery.
“Not yet.”
“Well, do so.” She disappeared back into the ward leaving him to open the cupboard and extract the special blankets he found. Angrily he took out all there were, carried them into the ward, and dumped them at the foot of the bed. Perspiration was glistening on McPrince’s forehead; her eyes were closed.
“Look, she’s hot,” said Bellini truculently.
“She’s not. She’s frozen—shivering,” hissed Miriam. Carefully she covered McPrince with blankets while Bellini wandered round the small dimly lit room wondering what to do. He couldn’t believe that they were the only people alive on the Mayburg, but neither could he account for the absence of traffic in the corridor outside.
There remained a cold fantasy in his mind that he, Miriam and McPrince were speeding towards Mars in a giant coffin without food and with air slowly bleeding away until eventually they would join the rest of the ghosts patrolling the ship. Bellini was a great believer in ghosts. In his short life he had seen them, heard them and experienced them. He was an imaginative youth, very romantic, very emotional, and a believer in everything he read. He was religious, he believed in the existence of evil spirits and ghosts; in free love and also in the beauty of one and only true love; he was a fervent Marxist, a democrat, and a Royalist; anything that could be presented to him persuasively he was.
Bellini was young, and full to the brim with the thrust of life and he went wherever it pushed him. His imagination began to give him pictures of Captain Able sitting at the ship’s control desk his dead finger pressed on the ‘drive’ button and his dead eyes staring blindly at the ever enlarging sphere of Mars on the screen. He saw, too, the passenger lounge full of decoratively sprawled young ladies all dead. His young spirit insisted he do something, and yet he was afraid of the death that waited outside the door.
He struck the wall nearest him a blow with the ball of his hand (not his fist) and then rushed back into the surgery, found some more steel rods, and began hammering again at the door.
The noise roused McPrince and she groaned at the pain her involuntary movement caused. She looked into Miriam’s face hovering above her,
“My arm,” she said, “You must set it.”
Miriam drew away in horror. “Oh, no.” she breathed, “I couldn’t. It would hurt you.”
McPrince screwed her face up to fight a scream of pain and exasperation, “Don’t be foolish, girl. I’ll tell you how to do it,” She panted a little and then carefully moved her good arm across until she touched the broken arm. Slowly, with several winces she felt her way up the limb. “It’s the humerus. That’s easy. A light local. Some splints. I’ll do it myself.”
Miriam did not move.
“Get the splints,” repeated McPrince tiredly. “You’ll find them in cupboard number three.” And when Miriam slowly turned towards the door, “And bring me the hypogun…and the box of ampoules with it.” She was so exhausted she could not have said more even if Miriam had refused to go. She had completely forgotten her plan to fake an accident to herself. The irony was lost on her.
Her thoughts wavered like mirages, fading in and out of her control. How had her arm broken? What was the hole in the ward wall? Who was this steward? Why was he here? It was too much for her bruised head to hold and she lost hold of reasoning until a voice penetrated her awareness: “Are these them?” She opened her eyes. Miriam was holding up three very bent splint rods. McPrince gaped.
“They’re bent!” she whispered.
“Yes. Tony used them to hit the door.”
“Hit.…” Once again the strength to follow a line of thought failed her.
Miriam held up the hypogun. “Is this it?”
“Yes.” Miriam slanted a box of plastic bullets. “And these?” McPrince roused.
“Let me see.” She forced her head off the pillow and examined the lines of tubes. Slowly her good hand came up and she pointed to one tube. “This one, Load the gun.” She subsided; she looked asleep.
Miriam extracted the little tube and then took up the gun. Fearfully she Examined it, her first reaction being to ask Bellini to load it, but then recollection of his sulky-boy’s face stopped her and determinedly she turned the thing round and round pressing and pulling its parts. A panel above the trigger popped open and disclosed a cut-away section of tube that obviously fitted the bullet. Carefully she slipped the bullet in and closed the panel. Now what? The splints. She took them into the surgery and showed them to Bellini.
“These are no good. You’ve bent them—”
“No good for what?”
“As splints. They should be straight—you’ll have to bend them straight again.”
“They’re steel!” he expostulated. “I can’t bend steel.”
“You bent them once—now unbend them!”
He laughed caustically. “That’s different. It’s one thing to put a random bend in rods like these, it’s another to get it out again unless you’ve got a vice and tools. Women don’t understand things like that.” He laughed again.
“I understand that she’s got a broken arm and unless we set it and splint it for her she’s going to be in agony and finish up with a useless arm. Well, if you can’t straighten those we’ll have to find something else,”
“What?” asked Bellini unhelpfully. He stood looking at her with a slight smile, almost a sneer, on his lips.
“Anything straight,” she said,
He took something from his pocket and held it up. “Like this pencil?”
Instant rage hit her. She struck the pencil from his hand with one swinger and followed it up with a swinger from the opposite direction, He staggered and sat down with a thump.
“Get up you useless weed,” she screamed at him, “Get up and do something.” She assisted him with a kick to his left thigh. “Make a splint or I’ll bend this straight over your head.” She held one of the steel rods high over him, murder in her eyes.
“Don’t!” he gasped. He scrambled away from her like a crab and then ran to the other end of the room, “You’ve gone mad!” he shouted back. “How did I know what they were? You’re bloody mad!”
She ran two steps towards him with the steel rod back behind her head ready to smash his brains.
“All right. All right!” he shouted. “I’ll find something, Put that thing down.”
Satisfied, she turned back but she was panting with the effort she had expended. In the ward she bent over McPrince. “Are you warmer?”
McPrince nodded.
“Tell me what I have to do.”
McPrince’s shapely face was haggard. She breathed rapidly and shallowly, making a great effort to rally her thoughts.
“When you have the splints ready shoot me with the gun. I will show you where. Then I will position the bones. Then you must bind the splints to the arm and then to my body. That is all.”
“Will it hurt you?”
“Not much.”
Miriam studied the tired face and softly wiped away perspiration. “Is there anything I can give you for the shock?” she murmured. “Something to make you sleep?”
“Afterwards,” answered McPrince. She lifted her head slightly. “What is he doing? Where are the splints? What is happening?”
In one determined, sinuous movement Miriam was off the side of the bed and at the ward door. Bellini had taken a sliding door from one of the cupboards and was trying to break it into strips. His teeth were bared in manic frustration at the toughness of the plastic. He threw it on th
e floor and stamped on it, and when he saw her looking at him he gave a gurgle close to tears, picked up the door and hurled it across the room. Bottles and beakers crashed and bounced on the floor.
“Hell, hell, hell!” he shouted in a falsetto. “Why did she have to break her bloody arm? Get your own bloody splints!” He kicked hard at a chair and then had to retrieve it and sit down as his heart was pounding so hard. The air pressure was definitely low now. They both felt dizzy with the high emotions they were suffering.
“Tony,” she said, close to tears. “Please help. Once we have her fixed up we can both try to get attention, but she needs us now.”
He shook his head violently, almost like a dog, and turned away from her, “No. No. She’s the doctor; let her cure herself. If it hadn’t been for her we’d have been in my cabin by now. To hell with her—and you too!” He began crying.
She was shocked. She saw that Bellini was scared, so scared that his reason was leaving him. She went back to McPrince who stared back up at her.
“Give me the case,” murmured McPrince nodding towards the case of ampoules on the table by the bed. Miriam tilted the case for her and laboriously McPrince extracted one of the tubes.
“After you have injected me put this in the gun. If he gets uncontrollable, shoot him with it. It will make him sleep.” Her face grew firmer as she rallied her low forces to deal with the problem on hand. “In the drawer to the left of the door are some heavy scissors. The shelves in the soap store are plastic…you can cut them. Get four.…”
Miriam ran into the surgery. Bellini sat with his head in his hands and did not stir as she went by. She found the drawer open and the instruments scattered on the floor. She took the scissors and ran back. In the soap store it was dark but there were bits of shelf everywhere. She dragged out some pieces and using both hands on the scissors cut them to equal lengths. She returned to the bed and showed them to McPrince, who nodded.
“Inject me now.” A finger came across her body and pointed to a spot on her damaged upper arm, “Here and here,” And as Miriam hesitated: “It won’t hurt me.”
Miriam picked up the hateful gun and placed it where indicated. She pulled the trigger and there was an almost imperceptible psst.
“Now here,” breathed McPrince. More confidently Miriam fired the second shot.
“I shall set the bones in line,” said McPrince. “Get the bandages ready to bind the splints on when I tell you. Put some cloth round the splints so they don’t dig in as you bind them.”
While Miriam wrapped the strips, McPrince’s good hand began to explore, exerting more and more pressure as she steeled herself. A faint dry sound sickened Miriam. “Crepitus,” hissed McPrince through clenched teeth.
“Get ready. Don’t worry about me. Just do your job.” She suddenly pushed and twisted at her arm, arching her back at the pain and turning her head away to conceal it from Miriam. “Do it,” came her husky whisper. She kept a grip on her arm.
Miriam knew only that she must be quick and gentle, no flinching, no tears, cool, an ally to this brave woman. She pushed away every thought of herself. She positioned the strips around the limb, holding them loosely in place by quick twists of narrow bandage, then starting near the shoulder began winding the wider bandage round and round.
“Tighter,” murmured McPrince. She looked into Miriam’s intent face and smiled. “All over. Thank you, Miriam. I don’t know what I could have done without you.” Miriam smiled back as she worked,
“How does your back feel?” she asked professionally.
“Fine,” said McPrince. “What did you use?”
When she had finished Miriam held up the jar of ointment. “Can I get you something for the shock now?” she asked.
McPrince nodded and gave directions. “Keep the gun with you,” she reminded Miriam. “Load it with the tube I showed you.”
Miriam looked apprehensive. “Do you really think he would attack me? He saved my life when the water escaped.”
“He might not mean it but he might come to believe you are the cause of his predicament and then he might want to hurt you. Take the gun. Keep it in your pocket.”
Miriam marched into the surgery like soldiers used to march into battle: head up, face grim, muscles taut, waiting for death. Bellini watched her silently from where he sat. She searched amongst the bottles for the one McPrince wanted, but she kept one eye on Bellini.
“I’m hungry,” he said suddenly. “I want my breakfast.” His beautiful face was belligerently set against her. “Where is the food?”
She snatched at the bottle. “Don’t be silly,” she said. “There’s no food here.” She turned to the ward door.
“What’s that you’ve got there?” he demanded, and stood up.
“It’s for the shock,” said Miriam, and took a step towards the door.
“Show me,” he said, and with a quick step of his own was in front of her holding out his hand.
“Tony, don’t be ridiculous.”
His hand darted forward and seized her wrist. He pulled her to him. She held the bottle wide from him but he took no notice of it. His face dominated her no more than six inches away. There was perspiration on his forehead.
“Bitch! We’re going to die in here. Suffocate. Don’t you understand that? We’re the only ones left on the ship. In a day we shall be dead. And you play about with her. Before we die, I must have you. I love you. Give me this before we die.” His arms had encircled her and his lips strained towards her as she strained away.
There was a look of desperation on the edge of panic in his eyes and she could feel his body trembling against her.
This wasn’t an upwelling of love for her, it was a child trying to forget a nightmare in its parent’s arms. She recovered a little from his attack.
“No. Not now, Tony,” she managed to gasp. “Perhaps when we are sure.”
He wasn’t listening to her. One leg crooked behind her and with the weight of his body he bore her backwards so that they crumpled to the floor, she underneath. Before she could get her breath his mouth pressed against hers and his hands began to tear her clothes apart. The panic that had triggered off this attack took away his last trace of humanity. He snarled into her face while his hands shredded the light blouse she was wearing. His fingers came to the top of her skirt, and it was then she remembered the hypogun in the skirt pocket.
She let his hand go where it willed while she groped in the pocket and drew out the gun. She pressed it against his back and pulled the trigger. For a second the animal lust remained on his face, then a look of bewilderment swept all else away. He raised himself slightly from her and then rolled to one side and began to snore. Shaken, Miriam scrambled to her feet and ran into the ward. McPrince was half up in bed on her good elbow trying to swing her legs from under the blankets.
“No, no,” gasped Miriam. “Get back. I’m all right.” She helped McPrince to lie flat again. “I shot him with the gun. He’s asleep.” When McPrince was settled she asked: “How long will he sleep?”
“Two or three hours. What are you going to do about him?”
Miriam sat on the bed and thought, shaking from time to time. She was not averse to love making with Bellini, had adored it in his cabin, but this Bellini was halfway to being mad and that chilled her, If she had succumbed to him that would not have appeased his fear of dying no more than one boulder stops a flood stream, After rape would come other violence, and as the end got nearer nothing less than killing would relieve his tension. He had to be locked up. She looked around the small ward and then walked to the sagging door connecting with the surgery. She stood looking down at the sprawled figure of Tony Bellini and marveled at how quickly she had recovered from his assault. She was thinking as coolly about him as if he had been an item of furniture to be moved from one side of the room to the other,
The surgery was so much larger and brighter than the ward that she knew that if there must be a separation between them she and McPrince had to be i
n the surgery and Bellini in the ward. Also the water supply was in the surgery and all the drugs that McPrince might need. She turned back, made sure that the bed was narrow enough to go through the doorway, then wheeled the bed through avoiding Bellini’s spread-eagled limbs. Next she dragged Bellini into the ward and spread the spare blankets over him.
She took a jug of water and his torch and placed them by his body, then dragged the section of storeroom wall into the surgery and closed the door after her. It hung by one hinge but it closed properly and she was able to turn the key in the lock. Finally, she put the section of wall across the doorway and jammed the bed against it. McPrince watched her all the time with a thoughtful expression.
“I heard him say we would be dead in a day,” she said. “What did he mean? Tell me all that has happened. I can’t make head or tail of it.”
“It must have been the Perseids that Captain Able spoke about on the intercom. I suppose Tony came to steal me from the ward but just as he blew the wall down the ship was hit and the air is escaping. There doesn’t seem to be anybody left alive on the ship.”
“Oh…,” said McPrince, and looked far away.
* * * *
Over the rest of the day the air pressure slowly bled away to 8 p.s.i. Miriam suffered dizziness and panted like a dog. Bellini woke up, made a lot of noise on the connecting door and then fell silent. McPrince administered medicines to herself and slept sporadically. Miriam thought a lot about life and stared at the sleeping face of her companion. She was soon to die, and at nineteen that is a terrible realization.
Once she went as Bellini had done and pressed her ear to the surgery door, but she detected nothing. Most of the time her thoughts went back to her childhood and her mother, then an awful pang would go through her as she remembered that soon all these lovely memories would be blotted out; she would think no more; her mother would cease to be; her home would vanish in agony.