“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.
Snow was busy at a medicine cupboard, shifting instruments and glass vessels which clattered with an unbearable din. Then his face appeared, looking gravely down into my eyes.
“Where is she?”
“She is not here.”
“But . . . Rheya . . .”
He bent over me, brought his face closer, and spoke very slowly and clearly:
“Rheya is dead.”
“She will come back,” I whispered.
Instead of dreading her return, I wanted it. I did not attempt to remind myself why I myself had once tried to drive her away, and why I had been so afraid of her return.
“Drink this.”
Snow held out a glass, and I threw it in his face. He staggered back, rubbing his eyes, and by the time he opened them again I was on my feet and standing over him. How small he was . . .
“It was you.”
“What do you mean?”
“Come on Snow, you know what I mean. It was you who met her the other night. You told her to give me a sleeping pill . . . What has happened to her? Tell me!”
He felt in his shirt-pocket and took out an envelope. I snatched it out of his hand. It was sealed, and there was no inscription. Inside was a sheet of paper folded twice, and I recognized the sprawling, rather childish handwriting:
_”My darling, I was the one who asked him. He is a good man. I am sorry I had to lie to you. I beg you to give me this one wish – hear him out, and do nothing to harm yourself. You have been marvellous.”_
There was one more word, which she had crossed out, but I could see that she had signed “Rheya.”
My mind was now absolutely clear. Even if I had wanted to scream hysterically, my voice had gone, and I did not even have the strength to groan.
“How . . . ?”
“Later, Kelvin. You’ve got to calm down.”
“I’m calm now. Tell me how.”
“Disintegration.”
“But . . . what did you use?”
“The Roche apparatus was unsuitable. Sartorius built something else, a new destabilizer. A miniature instrument, with a range of a few yards.”
“And she . . .”
“She disappeared. A pop, and a puff of air. That’s all.”
“A short-range instrument . . .”
“Yes, we didn’t have the resources for anything bigger.”
The walls loomed over me, and I shut my eyes.
“She will come back.”
“No.”
“What do you know about it?”
“You remember the wings of foam? Since that day, they do not come back.”
“You killed her,” I whispered.
“Yes . . . In my place, what else would you have done?”
I turned away from him and began pacing up and down the room. Nine steps to the corner. About turn. Nine more rapid steps, and I was facing Snow again.
“Listen, we’ll write a report. We’ll ask for an immediate link with the Council. It’s feasible, and they’ll accept – they must. The planet will no longer be subject to the four-power convention. We’ll be authorized to use any means at our disposal. We can send for anti-matter generators. Nothing can stand up against them, nothing . . .” I was shouting now, and blinded with tears.
“You want to destroy it? Why?”
“Get out, leave me alone!”
“No, I won’t get out.”
“Snow!” I glared at him, and he shook his head. “What do you want? What am I supposed to do?” He walked back to the table.
“Fine, we’ll draw up a report.”
I started pacing again.
“Sit down!”
“I’ll do what I like!”
“There are two distinct questions. One, the facts. Two, our recommendations.”
“Do we have to talk about it now?”
“Yes, now.”
“I won’t listen, you hear? I’m not interested in your distinctions.”
“We sent our last message about two months ago, before Gibarian’s death. We’ll have to establish exactly how the ‘visitor’ phenomena function . . .”
I grabbed his arm:
“Will you shut up!”
“Hit me if you like, but I will not shut up.”
“Oh, talk away, if it gives you pleasure . . .” I let him go.
“Good, listen. Sartorius will want to conceal certain facts. I’m almost certain of it.”
“And what about you? Won’t you conceal anything?”
“No. Not now. This business goes further than individual responsibilities. You know that as well as I do.
‘It’ has given a demonstration of considered activity. It is capable of carrying out organic synthesis on the most complex level, a synthesis we ourselves have never managed to achieve. It knows the structure, micro-structure and metabolism of our bodies . . .”
“All right . . . But why stop there? It has performed a series of . . . experiments on us. Psychic vivisection. It has used knowledge which it stole from our minds without our consent.”
“Those are not facts, Kelvin. They are not even propositions. They are theories. You could say that it has taken account of desires locked into secret recesses of our brains. Perhaps it was sending us . . . presents.”
“Presents! My God!” I shook with a fit of uncontrollable laughter.
“Take it easy!” Snow took hold of my hand, and I tightened my grip until I heard bones cracking. He went on looking at me without any change of expression. I let go, and walked over to a corner of the workshop:
“I’ll try to get hold of myself.”
“Yes, of course. I understand. What do we ask them?”
“I leave it to you . . . I can’t think straight right now. Did she say anything – before?”
“No, nothing. If you want my opinion, from now on we stand a chance.”
“A chance? What chance?” I stared at him, and light suddenly dawned. “Contact? Still Contact? Haven’t you had enough of this madhouse? What more do you need? No, it’s out of the question. Count me out!”