Franklin glanced at the anonymous figures around him, wondering who they might be and whether he knew any of them. Only a halfhearted effort had been made to hide the powerful big-game guns piled on the other bunk. Just where was the captain taking his customers, and what were they after? In the circumstances, he had better keep his eyes shut and learn as little as possible.
Captain Darryl had already come to the same conclusion.
“You realize, mate,” he said over his shoulder as he carefully blocked Franklin’s view of the course settings, “that your presence aboard is just a little bit embarrassing. Still, we couldn’t let you drown, even though you deserved it for a silly stunt like that. The point is—what are we going to do with you now?”
“You could put me ashore on Heron. We can’t be very far away.” Franklin smiled as he spoke, to show how seriously he intended the suggestion to be taken. It was strange how cheerful and lighthearted he now felt; perhaps it was a merely physical reaction—and perhaps he was really glad at having been given a second chance, a new lease on life.
“What a hope!” snorted the captain. “These gentlemen have paid for their day’s sport, and they don’t want you boy scouts spoiling it.”
“They can take off those handkerchiefs, anyway. They don’t look very comfortable—and if I recognize someone, I won’t give him away.”
Rather reluctantly, the disguises were removed. As he had expected—and hoped—there was no one here whom he knew, either from photographs or direct contact.
“Only one thing for it,” said the captain. “We’ll have to dump you somewhere before we go into action.” He scratched his head as he reviewed his marvelously detailed mental image of the Capricorn Group, then came to a decision. “Anyway, we’re stuck with you for tonight, and I guess we’ll have to sleep in shifts. If you’d like to make yourself useful, you can get to work in the galley.”
“Aye, aye, sir,” said Franklin. The dawn was just breaking when he hit the sandy beach, staggered to his feet, and removed his flippers. (“They’re my second-best pair, so mind you post them back to me,” Captain Bert had said as he pushed him through the air lock.) Out there beyond the reef, the Sea Lion was departing on her dubious business, and the hunters were getting ready for their sortie. Though it was against his principles and his duties, Franklin could not help wishing them luck.
Captain Bert had promised to radio Brisbane in four hours’ time, and the message would be passed on to Heron Island immediately. Presumably that four hours would give the captain and his clients the time they needed to make their assault and to get clear of W.F.O. waters.
Franklin walked up the beach, stripped off his wet equipment and clothes, and lay down to watch the sunrise he had never dreamed he would see. He had four hours to wait, to wrestle with his thoughts and to face life once more. But he did not need the time, for he had made the decision hours ago.
His life was no longer his to throw away if he chose; not when it had been given back to him, at the risk of their own, by men he had never met before and would never see again.
Ten
“YOU REALIZE, of course,” said Myers, “that I’m only the station doctor, not a high-powered psychiatrist. So I’ll have to send you back to Professor Stevens and his merry men.”
“Is that really necessary?” asked Franklin.
“I don’t think it is, but I can’t accept the responsibility. If I was a gambler like Don, I’d take very long odds that you’ll never play this trick again. But doctors can’t afford to gamble, and anyway I think it would be a good idea to get you off Heron for a few days.”
“I’ll finish the course in a couple of weeks. Can’t it wait until then?”
“Don’t argue with doctors, Walt—you can’t win. And if my arithmetic is correct, a month and a half is not a couple of weeks. The course can wait for a few days; I don’t think Prof Stevens will keep you very long. He’ll probably give you a good dressing-down and will send you straight back. Meanwhile, if you’re interested in my views, I’d like to get ‘em off my chest.” “Go ahead.”
“First of all, we know why you had that attack when you did. Smell is the most evocative of all the senses, and now that you’ve told me that a spaceship air lock always smells of synthene the whole business makes sense. It was hard luck that you got a whiff of the stuff just when you were looking at the Space Station: the damn thing’s nearly hypnotized me sometimes when I’ve watched it scuttling across the sky like some mad meteor.
“But that isn’t the whole explanation, Walter. You had to be, let’s say, emotionally sensitized to make you susceptible. Tell me—have you got a photograph of your wife here?”
Franklin seemed more puzzled than disturbed by the unexpected, indeed apparently incongruous, question. “Yes,” he said. “Why do you ask?”
“Never mind. May I have a look at it?” After a good deal of searching, which Myers was quite sure was unnecessary, Franklin produced a leather wallet and handed it over. He did not look at Myers as the doctor studied the woman who was now parted from her husband by laws more inviolable than any that man could make.
She was small and dark, with lustrous brown eyes. A single glance told Myers all that he wanted to know, yet he continued to gaze at the photograph with an unanalyzable mixture of compassion and curiosity. How, he wondered, was Franklin’s wife meeting her problem? Was she, too, rebuilding her life on that far world to which she was forever bound by genetics and gravity? No, forever was not quite accurate. She could safely journey to the Moon, which had only the gravity of her native world. But there would be no purpose in doing so, for Franklin could never face even the trifling voyage from Earth to Moon.
With a sigh, Dr. Myers closed the wallet. Even in the most perfect of social systems, the most peaceful and contented of worlds, there would still be heartbreak and tragedy. And as man extended his powers over the universe, he would inevitably create new evils and new problems to plague him. Yet, apart from its details, there was nothing really novel about this case. All down the ages, men had been separated —often forever—from those they loved by the accident of geography or the malice of their fellows.
“Listen, Walt,” said Myers as he handed back the wallet. “I know a few things about you that even Prof Stevens doesn’t, so here’s my contribution.
“Whether you realize it consciously or not, Indra is like your wife. That, of course, is why you were attracted to her in the first place. At the same time, that attraction has set up a conflict in your mind. You don’t want to be unfaithful even to someone—please excuse me for speaking so bluntly— who might as well be dead as far as you are concerned. Well —do you agree with my analysis?”
Franklin took a long time to answer. Then he said at last: “I think there may be something in that. But what am I to do?”
“This may sound cynical, but there is an old saying which applies in this case. ‘Co-operate with the inevitable.’ Once you admit that certain aspects of your life are fixed and have to be accepted, you will stop fighting against them. It won’t be a surrender; it will give you the energy you need for the battles that still have to be won.”
“What does Indra really think about me?”
“The silly girl’s in love with you, if that’s what you want to know. So the least you can do is to make it up to her for all the trouble you’ve caused.”
“Then do you think I should marry again?”
“The fact that you can ask that question is a good sign, but I can’t answer it with a simple ‘yes’ or ‘no.’ We’ve done our best to rebuild your professional life; we can’t give you so much help with your emotional one. Obviously, it’s highly desirable for you to establish a firm and stable relationship to replace the one you have lost. As for Indra—well, she’s a charming and intelligent girl, but no one can say how much of her present feelings are due to sympathy. So don’t rush matters; let them take their time. You can’t afford to make any mistakes.
“Well, that finishes the sermon—except for one item. Part of the trouble with you, Walter Franklin, is that you’ve always been too independent and self-reliant. You refused to admit that you had limitations, that you needed help from anyone else. So when you came up against something that was too big for you, you really went to pieces, and you’ve been hating yourself for it ever since.