For an instant, Markov did not answer. Then, one hand stroking his beard, he said very seriously, “Yes, you are. I am certain of it.”
The two men looked at each other, eye to eye, for a long wordless moment.
“I think I would like some of that tea,” Jo said, breaking their wordless moment.
“Allow me.” Markov was instantly heading for the kitchen. “I will make you a glass of tea that will soothe your nerves and invigorate your spirit. Not like that dreadful sludge they call coffee. Phah! How can anyone drink that stuff regularly?”
Stoner laughed as Markov went through the kitchen door. He’s leaving the two of us alone, he realized. Jo sat on the couch next to the shuttered window. The Russian technician stayed at his chair in the corner. Stoner went over and sat next to Jo.
“My last night on Earth,” he said. Then he added, “For a week or so.”
“Aren’t you nervous?”
“Hell yes.”
“You don’t look it. You look perfectly calm.”
“On the outside. Inside, everything’s twitching. If you took an x-ray picture of me, it’d come out blurred, unless you used a stop-action shutter on the camera lens.”
Jo laughed softly.
“I always get nervous before a flight, especially the last few minutes before lift-off. My heart rate goes way up.”
“That’s understandable,” she said. Her face grew somber. “You can still back out of it, you know. The Russians have cosmonauts in reserve who…”
“I know,” he said.
“You’re not afraid of them trying to—to stop you?”
“Kirill’s been watching over me like a St. Bernard.”
“That’s not enough…”
“And so have you,” he added. “I’ve been watching you poking around, getting mosquito bites while you’re checking out everybody around here.”
She looked surprised. “I haven’t…well, the two of us aren’t enough of a bodyguard for you.”
He reached out and clasped the back of her neck. “I appreciate it, Jo. I understand what you’re doing and I appreciate it, really I do.”
“Sure you do.”
“I do. I hope you understand why I’m being so stubborn about all this.”
Nodding, she answered, “Yes, I do understand, Keith. That’s what frightens me. I’d be doing exactly the same thing, in your place. But I hate the fact that you’re doing it, you’re taking the chances with your life.”
“That’s the way it is,” he said softly.
“And there’s no changing it,” she replied. “I know.”
Markov came back into the room, holding a steaming glass of tea in each hand. The glasses were set into silvered holders. He hiked his eyebrows at the sight of Stoner and Jo side by side on the couch.
“Star-crossed lovers,” he sighed. “How I envy you.”
Stoner pulled his hand away from Jo and she reached for the handle of the glass that Markov offered her.
“Thank you, Kirill.”
“For you, beautiful one, I would conquer China so that you would be assured of the best tea whenever you desired it.”
She grinned at his flattery.
As Stoner sipped at his cooling coffee, the medical technician studied his wristwatch, hauled himself out of his chair and clicked off the little radio. The three of them watched him lumber back into the tiny office on the other side of the common room. Through the office window they could see him unlocking a medicine cabinet.
“Your hour has come,” Markov said solemnly.
Stoner glanced at Jo. She was watching the technician as he removed a black plastic case from the cabinet.
“Nobody’s been able to substitute poison for the tranquilizer they’re going to give me,” Stoner heard himself say.
Jo flicked her dark, anxious eyes to him. “I’ve been checking the cabinet all day. They’ve kept it locked.”
Markov frowned but said nothing.
The four of them went up to Stoner’s room, the technician in the lead. Stoner sat in his creaking desk chair and rolled up his shirt sleeve while Markov and Jo hovered beside him.
With elaborate care the technician fitted the syringe together and tested it. Stoner stared down at the unfinished letter to his son. Hastily, he scrawled:
I’ve got to go now. You’ll probably see the flight on TV. I hope to see you and Elly soon. Please write, and ask your sister to write, too. I love you both very much.
He signed his name, folded the letter and stuffed it into the envelope he had already addressed. Handing it to Markov, he asked, “Would you mail this for me, Kirill?”
Markov nodded.
The technician came up, swabbed Stoner’s bare arm just above the elbow. Markov turned his head. So did Stoner. He felt the faintest prick of the needle, and then the technician was pressing a cotton swab on his arm.
“It’s all finished,” Jo said.
“Christ, I hate needles,” Stoner muttered.
The technician smiled at them, his smile growing especially big for Jo, and then left. Stoner got to his feet, tested his legs.
“Nothing. No effect at all.”
“It will hit you soon enough,” Markov said. “You had better get into bed.”
“Yeah, I guess so.”
Markov toyed with his beard. “Keith…tomorrow you will be surrounded by others, technicians, doctors…you know.”
Stoner nodded. Markov grabbed him by the shoulders and embraced him. Stoner pounded the Russian’s back with both hands and got the same treatment in return.
“Good night,” Markov said, pulling himself away. “Good luck, my friend.”
“Good night, Kirill.”
Markov hurriedly left the room. Stoner turned. Jo was still standing there, between him and the bed.
Stoner put out a hand to push the door shut, missed it, staggered a few steps.
“Whoa…!” The room swayed.
“Here, let me help you,” Jo said.
“I can manage.” He gripped the open door, clung to it for a moment to steady himself, then pushed against it. It swung shut and he swung around to face her.
“That must’ve been some shot he gave you,” Jo said. Her voice sounded far, far away.
“Kid stuff,” Stoner said. He tried to snap his fingers, but it didn’t work.
Somehow she was holding him, propping him up, walking him toward the bed. An infinite distance. Endless.
“My last night on Earth,” Stoner mumbled. “I want to spend it with you.”
“Sure you do,” she said.
He was falling, gliding slowly, effortlessly, weightlessly toward the bed that stretched out so invitingly, so far below him.
“My last night on Earth,” he repeated as he bounced on the squeaking, sagging mattress.
“Yes, I know.”
She was beside him and he held her close. She felt warm and the scent of springtime flowers buzzed through his brain.
“We are stardust,” he told her.
Her voice was a distant purr in his ear. “You told me that our last night on Kwajalein.”
“A million years ago. Yes, I remember.”
“Close your eyes, Keith. Sleep.”
“I want to make love with you, Jo. I want you to make love with me.”
Her soft laughter was like windchimes. He couldn’t hear the sadness in it. “Keith, you’re going to be unconscious in another minute.”
“No, I’m not. I’m going to…” The words faded away as his eyes closed.
Jo sat next to him for long moments, watching his face relax into deep, untroubled sleep. She kissed him lightly, and he smiled.
“Say you love me, Keith,” she whispered to his sleeping form. “Tell me just once that you love me.”
But he lay there sound asleep, smiling.
Jo got to her feet, straightened her clothes, and went to the door. With one final look at him sleeping peacefully on the bed, she opened the door and left his room.