I said nothing. Snow’s swaying increased. Tears were streaming down his cheeks and onto his clothes. He went on:
“Who is responsible? Who is responsible for this situation? Gibarian? Giese? Einstein? Plato? All criminals… Just you think, in a rocket a man takes the risk of bursting like a balloon, or freezing, or roasting, or sweating all his blood out in a single gush, before he can even cry out, and all that remains is bits of bone floating inside armored hulls, in accordance with the laws of Newton as corrected by Einstein, those two milestones in our progress. Down the road we go, all in good faith, and see where it gets us. Think about our success, Kelvin; think about our cabins, the unbreakable plates, the immortal sinks, legions of faithful wardrobes, devoted cupboards… I wouldn’t be talking this way if I weren’t drunk, but sooner or later somebody was bound to say it, weren’t they? You sit there like a baby in a slaughterhouse, and you let your beard grow… Who’s to blame? Find out for yourself.”
He turned slowly and went out, putting an arm out against the doorpost to steady himself. Then his footsteps died away along the corridor.
I tried not to look at Rheya, but my eyes were drawn to hers in spite of myself. I wanted to get up, take her in my arms and stroke her hair. I did not move.
13 VICTORY
Another three weeks. The shutters rose and fell on time. I was still a prisoner in my nightmares, and every morning the play began again. But was it a play? I put on a feigned composure, and Rheya played the same game. The deception was mutual and deliberate, and our agreement only contributed to our ultimate evasion. We talked about the future, and our life on Earth on the outskirts of some great city. We would spend the rest of our lives among green trees and under a blue sky, and never leave Earth again. Together we planned the lay-out of our house and garden and argued over details like the location of a hedge or a bench.
I do not believe that I was sincere for a single instant. Our plans were impossible, and I knew it, for even if Rheya could leave the Station and survive the voyage, how could I have got through the immigration checks with my clandestine passenger? Earth admits only human beings, and even then only when they carry the necessary papers. Rheya would be detained for an identity check at the first barrier, we would be separated, and she would give herself away at once. The Station was the one place where we could live together. Rheya must have known that, or found it out.
One night I heard Rheya get out of bed silently. I wanted to stop her; in the darkness and silence we occasionally managed to throw off our despair for a while by making each other forget. Rheya did not notice that I had woken up. When I stretched my hand out, she was already out of bed, and walking bare-foot towards the door. Without daring to raise my voice, I whispered her name, but she was outside, and a narrow shaft of light shone through the doorway from the corridor.
There was a sound of whispering. Rheya was talking to somebody… but whom? Panic overtook me when I tried to stand up, and my legs would not move. I listened, but heard nothing. The blood hammered through my temples. I started counting, and was approaching a thousand when there was a movement in the doorway and Rheya returned. She stood there for a second without moving, and I made myself breathe evenly.
“Kris?” she whispered.
I did not answer.
She slid quickly into bed and lay down, taking care not to disturb me. Questions buzzed in my mind, but I would not let myself be the first to speak, and made no move. The silent questioning went on for an hour, maybe more. Then I fell asleep.
The morning was like any other. I watched Rheya furtively, but could not see any change in her behavior. After breakfast, we sat at the big panoramic window. The Station was hovering among purple clouds. Rheya was reading, and as I stared out I suddenly noticed that by holding my head at a certain angle I could see us both reflected in the window. I took my hand off the rail. Rheya had no idea that I was watching her. She glanced at me, obviously decided from my posture that I was looking at the ocean, then bent to kiss the place where my hand had rested. In a moment she was reading her book again.
“Rheya,” I asked gently, “where did you go last night?”
“Last night?”
“Yes.”
“You… you must have been dreaming, Kris. I didn’t go anywhere.”
“You didn’t leave the cabin?”
“No. It must have been a dream.”
“Perhaps… yes, perhaps I dreamt it.”
The same evening, I started talking about our return to Earth again, but Rheya stopped me:
“Don’t talk to me about the journey again, Kris. I don’t want to hear any more about it, you know very well…”
“What?”
“No, nothing.”
After we went to bed, she said that she was thirsty:
“There’s a glass of fruit-juice on the table over there. Could you give it to me?” She drank half of it then handed it to me.
“I’m not thirsty.”
“Drink to my health then,” she smiled.
It tasted slightly bitter, but my mind was on other things. She switched the light off.
“Rheya… If you won’t talk about the voyage, let’s talk about something else.”
“If I did not exist, would you marry?”
“No.”
“Never?”
“Never.”
“Why not?”
“I don’t know. I was by myself for ten years and I didn’t marry again. Let’s not talk about that…” My head was spinning as if I had been drinking too much.
“No, let’s talk about it. What if I begged you to?”
“To marry again? Don’t be silly, Rheya. I don’t need anybody except you.”
I felt her breath on my face and her arms holding me:
“Say it another way.”
“I love you.”
Her head fell to my shoulder, and I felt tears.
“Rheya, what’s the matter?”
“Nothing… nothing… nothing…” Her voice echoed into silence, and my eyes closed.
The red dawn woke me with a splitting head and a neck so stiff that I felt as if the bones were welded together. My tongue was swollen, and my mouth felt foul. Then I reached out for Rheya, and my hand touched a cold sheet.
I sat up with a start.
I was alone — alone in bed and in the cabin. The concave window reflected a row of red suns. I dragged myself out of bed and staggered over to the bathroom, reeling like a drunkard and propping myself up on the furniture. It was empty. So was the workshop.
“Rheya!”
Calling, running up and down the corridor.
“Rheya!” I screamed, one last time, then my voice gave out. I already knew the truth…
I do not remember the exact sequence of events after that, as I stumbled half naked through all the length and breadth of the Station. It seems to me that I even went into the refrigeration section, searched through the storage rooms, hammered with my fists on bolted doors, then came back again to throw myself against doors which had already resisted me. I half-fell down flights of steps, picked myself up and hurried onwards. When I reached the double armoured doors which opened onto the ocean I was still calling, still hoping that it was a dream. Somebody was standing by me. Hands took hold of me and pulled me away.
I came to my senses again lying on a metal table in the little workshop and gasping for breath. My throat and nostrils were burning with some alcoholic vapor, my shirt was soaked in water, and my hair plastered over my skull.