He looked at his opponents. Burford had a black eye and several assorted contrusions, Hale a puffed and bleeding cheek. He couldn’t see Daveis’ face, but the pants-leg stretched out beside his own was ripped and hanging down over the boot, revealing a hairy thigh. Shoemaker felt pretty good.
“Whuff,” said Burford, gazing at him with a new respect. He got up carefully, walked over to the sick-box and came back with a box of powders and a glass of water.
He knelt. Shoemaker glared at him. Burford said, “Okay, baby, open your mouth or we’ll pry it open. Hold his head, Lou.” Davies’ big hand clasped Shoemaker’s skull, and Burford pried at his lower jaw. The instant his lips parted, Burford tilted the powder into his mouth, then pushed it shut again. Shoemaker’s eyes bulged. “Swallow,” said Burford remorselessly, and grabbed Shoemaker’s nose between a horny finger and thumb.
Shoemaker swallowed. “Now you get the water,” Burford said, and held the glass to his lips. Shoemaker drank, meekly.
Burford stood up. “Well,” he said uncertainly, “that’s that.” Davies let go of Shoemaker and eased out from under him. Then he stood beside Burford and Hale, and all three looked down at Shoemaker.
There were real tears in Shoemaker’s eyes-from having his nose pinched in Burford’s vise-like grip-and his face looked drawn. Slowly, like an old man, he got to his feet, walked to the table and sat down.
“Now, Jim,” Davies began hesitantly, “don’t take on. It isn’t so bad. You’ll be a better man for it, you know. You’ll prob’ly gain weight and everything. Now, Jim-”
Shoemaker wasn’t listening. His eyes were rigid and glassy, his jaw lax. Slowly he began to tremble. He slumped over and hit the deck with a thud, still jerking.
“Good Lord!” exploded Burford.
“What is it?” Hale demanded.
“Mitchel’s reaction,” said Burford. “Hasn’t happened twice in thirty years. I never thought-”
“Is it dangerous, Charley?”
“Lord, yes. Wait till I get the handbook.” Shoemaker heard his quick steps, then pages being riffled.
When he thought it was safe, Shoemaker sneaked a look out of one eye. The other two men were pressed close to Burford, staring over his shoulders. Their backs were to him, but he kept jerking his body occasionally anyway, just to be on the safe side.
“Treatment,” said Bur ford hoarsely, “extended rest on soft diet, diathermy, u. v. irradiation, hourly injection of-Hell, we can’t do that. We haven’t got half the stuff.”
“What happens if he don’t get it, Charley?” said Davies nervously. “I mean to say, how long-”
Burford flipped pages. “General debility, progressing rapidly, followed by heart stoppage and death after four to ten weeks.”
“Oh, my,” said Davies. “What’ll we do, Charley? I mean-”
“Wait a minute, here. Are you sure he’s got what you think?” asked Hale skeptically. “How do you know he’s not faking?”
“Faking!” said Burford. “Well-he’s got all the symptoms.” He riffled pages. “Immediate unconsciousness, violent tremors-oh-oh. Look at this.”
The two heads craned forward eagerly. There was a moment of silence, and then Hale giggled. “Well, if he does that, I’ll believe you!”
“Yes,” said Davies seriously, “but, if he’s unconscious, how can he-”
Burford glanced at the handbook again. “He should be coming to any time now,” he said loudly. “When he does, we’ll know for sure.”
Shoemaker grinned to himself. He knew that section of the Medical Handbook by heart. Patient remains unconscious and cannot be roused for twenty minutes to one-half hour … He kept his eyes closed and waited, jerking occasionally, for what he judged was a good twenty minutes, then another five for good measure. When he opened them again, he saw Davies’ anxious face a few inches away, flanked by Burford’s and Hale’s.
“He’s coming out of it!” said Burford. “How do you feel, old man?”
“Wha-?” said Shoemaker.
“You’ve had a little stroke,” said Burford mendaciously. “Help me get him up … You’ll be all right, Jim, but you’ve got to do just as we tell you.”
“Poisoned me,” Shoemaker gasped, suffering himself to be hoisted limply erect.
“No, no,” Davies protested. “We’re trying to help you, Jimmy boy. Just go with Charley, that’s right. Here, take this bottle, Charley.”
Even Shoemaker was a little startled by what followed.
When they returned, Burford nodded solemnly. “It was blue, all right,” he said.
“Poisoned me!” said Shoemaker, allowing himself to speak a little more emphatically.
“Oh, hell!” said Burford, lifting Shoemaker’s quaking body into a chair. “So we poisoned you. We didn’t mean to do it. Question is now, what’s to be done?”
“Why, we’ve got to get him to a hospital,” said Davies. “Got to start back to Earth immediately. Uh-but, Charley, will he be well enough to work on the trip?”
“It might not kill him,” said Burford grimly. “But what about us? Are we going to go back empty-handed?”
“Oh, my,” said Davies. “I forgot for a minute. No, we can’t do that. But look here, Charley-if he dies while we’re still here, how’re we going to get back without him?”
“We’ll have to, that’s all,” said Burford.
“Check,” said Hale.
“Well, I got to admit you boys are right,” said Davies promptly, with a long face. “Never had to make a more difficult decision in my life. Poor old Jim! When I think-”
He stopped with a gasp as Shoemaker rose to his feet, swelling visibly with rage. “When I think,” said Shoemaker loudly, “of the chances I’ve had-” he found himself encumbered by the broken halves of the capsule under his tongue, and spat them out violently-“to strangle the whole murdering crew of you quietly in your sleep-” His fingers curled. He started toward Davies slowly, on stiff legs.
Burford was staring at the capsule-halves on the deck. Suddenly he bent and picked them up, saw the faint blue stain that still clung to their edges. Light broke over his face. “Methylene blue!” he said. “You knew-you hid this in your mouth and swallowed it. Why, you old-”
“I did,” said Shoemaker, “and now I’m going to make you swallow it.” He stepped forward and swung a vigorous right that knocked Burford through the open door.
Hale had picked up a chair. Shoemaker ducked aside as it whooshed down, meanwhile kicking Hale in the stomach. Then he looked around for Davies, but the latter, it seemed, was behind him. Something tapped Shoemaker on the back of the skull, and then everything faded away in gray mist …
The mist lifted once, while, with a throbbing head, he listened to Burford explaining that everything on the ship that could possibly be a weapon was locked up; that if he attempted any more reactionary violence they would as soon leave him dead on Venus as not; and that if he knew what was good for him, he would behave himself both before the takeoff-which would occur when they pleased-and after it.
He tried to tell Burford what he could do with himself, but he fell asleep again before he was half through.
When he woke, finally, it was evening, and low voices from the galley forward told him that the other three had returned from another day of hunting. He got up, feeling stiff and heavy, and prowled disconsolately down the passageway as far as his shop door, which was, indeed, locked. He was hungry, but he had a feeling that the sight of any one of the other three human faces on Venus would take away his appetite. For lack of anything better to do, he stepped into the airlock, closed the inner door quietly behind him, and sat down morosely in the sallyport.
Sky and sea were dull blue-green, without star or horizon. There was a stink of sulphur, and then a stink of fish, and then another stink of sulphur … He sat and sweated, thinking his gloomy thoughts.