The Lifeship by Harry Harrison

Author:Harry Harrison
Language: eng
Format: mobi, epub
Published: 2011-02-07T00:00:00+00:00

Ill

10

Fifteenth day—16:19 hours

"Feeling any better?" Mara asked.

"I suppose so," said Giles—then reproved himself silently for giving such a grudging answer. "Nonsense. I'm a lot better. Fine,

in fact."

"Not fine," said Mara, looking at him keenly. "I know better than that. But you're going to live, anyway."

"Live? Of course I'll live. Why wouldn't I?" he said stiffly.

"Because you probably had a concussion," she said. "When metal and bone come together, it isn't the metal that gives."

"Well, never mind that." said Giles. He touched his hand to his bandaged head, pleased in spite of himself by the fact someone cared how he felt. "I have to admit things have been kind of hazy of late. How long was I..."

He fumbled for a suitable word.

"How long have you been like this?" she said. "Five days."

"Five days?" He stared at her. "Not five days?"

"Five," she said, grimly.

He was beginning to feel the effort of talking. He lay still for a second, while she did something or other down near the foot of the cot he was lying on.

"This isn't my cot!" he said suddenly, trying to sit up. She pushed him back down. He was in the rear section of the lifeship.

112

"Rest," she said. "Lie still. We brought you in here because we didn't want the Captain to see how helpless you were."

"Good," he said, staring at the lights overhead. "That was wise."

"Sensible."

"All right—sensible." He began to remember things. "How's Hem?"

"All right," she said.

"His arm wasn't broken? I was afraid."

"No. Just bruised. He's got bones like a horse."

Giles sighed with relief.

"Esteven—"

"Two broken ribs, I think. We had to tie him up for a day or two, while he went through withdrawal from the drug," Mara said. She came up near the head of his cot and handed him what seemed to be a small plastic envelope with a few tablespoonfuls of gray powder in it. "This is what's left of his tank. We thought you'd want to be the one to keep it."

He took the envelope in a hand that required a surprising amount of energy for him to lift, and tucked the drug remnant away into a chest pocket of his shipsuit.

"You had to tie him up?" Giles asked. "But how is he now?"

"Quiet," she said. "Too quiet. We have to watch him all the time. He's tried to kill himself several times. They go into that sort of depression during withdrawal after the pains quit, Biset says. She's seen other cases of addicts arrested by the police and having to quit cold, like this. The depression can last for weeks. She also said we'd all be better off if he killed himself."

Giles shook his head, feebly.

"Poor lad," he said.

"He's not a 'lad' and he's not 'poor'!" said Mara sharply. "He's a very unhappy, maybe psychotic, full-grown man, who in-dulged himself in drugs and nearly got us all killed."

He stared up at her, puzzled.

"I had the wrong choice of words, I guess," he said. "But I don't understand—"

113

"No," she said. "That's your trouble. You don't understandl"

She turned and went off.

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