“Glory be!” Margaret fairly beamed. “There is balm in Gilead, after all! Just watch, next time Perkins threatens to cut my heart out with his knife . . . and we’d better go make those sandwiches, don’t you think? And call me Peggy, please.”
“Will do, Peggy my dear—we’re going to be great friends. And I’m Dot or Dottie to you.”
In the galley the girls set about making dainty sandwiches, but the going was very hard indeed. Margaret was particularly inept. Slices of bread went one way, bits of butter another, ham and sausage in several others. She seized two trays and tried to trap the escaping food between them—but in the attempt she released her hold and floated helplessly into the air.
“Oh, Dot, what’ll we do anyway?” she wailed. “Everything wants to fly all over the place!”
“I don’t quite know—I wish we had a bird-cage, so we could reach in and grab anything before it could escape. We’d better tie everything down, I guess, and let everybody come in and cut off a chunk of anything they want. But what I’m wondering about is drinking. I’m simply dying of thirst and I’m afraid to open this bottle.” She had a bottle of ginger ale clutched in her left hand, an opener in her right; one leg was hooked around a vertical rail. “I’m afraid it’ll go into a million drops and Dick says if you breathe them in you’re apt to choke to death.”
“Seaton was right—as usual.” Dorothy whirled around. DuQuesne was surveying the room, a glint of amusement in his one sound eye. “I wouldn’t recommend playing with charged drinks while weightless. Just a minute—I’ll get the net.”
He got it; and while he was deftly clearing the air of floating items of food he went on. “Charged stuff could be murderous unless you’re wearing a mask. Plain liquids you can drink through a straw after you learn how. Your swallowing has got to be conscious, and all muscular with no gravity. But what I came here for was to tell you I’m ready to put on one G of acceleration so we’ll have normal gravity. I’ll put it on easy, but watch it”
“What a heavenly relief!” Margaret cried, when everything again stayed put. “I never thought I’d ever be grateful for just being able to stand still in one place, did you?”
Preparing the meal was now of course simple enough. As the four ate, Dorothy noticed that DuQuesne’s left arm was almost useless and that he ate with difficulty because of his terribly bruised face. After the meal was done she went to the medicine chest and selected containers, swabs, and gauze.
“Come over here, doctor. First aid is indicated.”
“I’m all right . . .” he began, but at her imperious gesture he got up carefully and came toward her.
“Your arm is lame. Where’s the damage?”
“The shoulder is the worst. I rammed it through the board.”
“Take off your shirt and lie down here.”
He did so and Dorothy gasped at the extent and severity of the man’s injuries.
“Will you get me some towels and hot water, please, Peggy?” She worked busily for minutes, bathing away clotted blood, applying antiseptics, and bandaging. “Now for those bruises—I never saw anything like them before. I’m not really a nurse. What would you use? Tripidiagen or . . .”
“Amylophene. Massage it in as I move the arm.”
He did not wince and his expression did not change; but he began to sweat and his face turned white. She paused.
“Keep it up, nurse,” he directed, coolly. “That stuff’s murder in the first degree, but it does the job and it’s fast.”
When she had finished and he was putting his shirt back on: “Thanks, Miss Vaneman—thanks a lot. It feels a hundred per cent better already. But why did you do it? I’d think you’d want to bash me with that basin instead.”
“Efficiency.” She smiled. “As our chief engineer it won’t do to have you laid up.”
“Logical enough, in a way . . . but . . . I wonder . . .”
She did not reply, but turned to Perkins.
“How are you, Mr. Perkins? Do you require medical attention?”
“No,” Perkins growled. “Keep away from me or I’ll cut your heart out.”
“Shut up!” DuQuesne snapped.
“I haven’t done anything!”
“Maybe it didn’t quite constitute making a break, so I’ll broaden the definition. If you can’t talk like a man, keep still. Lay off Miss Vaneman—thoughts, words, and actions. I’m in charge of her and I will have no interference whatever. This is your last warning.”
“How about Spencer, then?”
“She’s your responsibility, not mine.”
An evil light appeared in Perkins’ eyes. He took out a wicked-looking knife and began to strop it carefully on the leather of the seat, glaring at his victim the while.
Dorothy started to protest, but was silenced by a gesture from Margaret, who calmly took the pistol out of her pocket. She jerked the slide and held the weapon up on one finger.
“Don’t worry about his knife. He’s been sharpening it for my benefit for the last month. It doesn’t mean a thing. But you shouldn’t play with it so much, Perkins, you might be tempted to try to throw it. So drop it on the floor and kick it over here to me. Before I count three. One.” The heavy pistol steadied into line with his chest and her finger tightened on the trigger.
“Two.” Perkins obeyed and Margaret picked up the knife.
“Doctor!” Perkins appealed to DuQuesne, who had watched the scene unmoved, a faint smile upon his saturnine face. “Why don’t you shoot her? You won’t sit there and see me murdered!”
“Won’t I? It makes no difference to me which of you kills the other, or if you both do, or neither. You brought this on yourself. Anyone with any fraction of a brain doesn’t leave guns lying around loose. You should have seen Miss Vaneman take them—I did.”
“You saw her take them and didn’t warn me?” Perkins croaked.
“Certainly. If you can’t take care of yourself I’m not going to take care of you. Especially after the way you bungled the job. I could have recovered the stuff she stole from that ass Brookings inside an hour.”
“How?” Perkins sneered. “If you’re so good, why did you have to come to me about Seaton and Crane?”
“Because my methods wouldn’t work and yours would. It isn’t on planning that you’re weak, as I told Brookings—it’s on execution.”
“Well, what are you going to do about her? Are you going to sit there and lecture all day?”
“I am going to do nothing whatever. Fight your own battles.”
Dorothy broke the silence that followed. “You did see me take the guns, doctor?”
“I did. You have one in your right breeches pocket now.”
“Then why didn’t you, or don’t you, try to take it away from me?” she asked, wonderingly.
” ‘Try’ is the wrong word. If I had not wanted you to take them you wouldn’t have. If I didn’t want you to have a gun now I would take it away from you,” and his black eyes stared into her violet ones with such calm certainty that she felt her heart sink.
“Has Perkins got any more knives or guns or things in his room?” Dorothy demanded.
“I don’t know,” indifferently. Then, as both girls started for Perkins’ room DuQuesne rapped out, “Sit down, Miss Vaneman. Let them fight it out. Perkins has his orders about you; I’m giving you orders about him. If he oversteps, shoot him. Otherwise, hands off completely—in every respect.”
Dorothy threw up her head in defiance; but, meeting his cold stare, she paused irresolutely and sat down, while the other girl went on.
“That’s better,” DuQuesne said. “Besides, it would be my guess that she doesn’t need any help.”
Margaret returned from the search and thrust her pistol back into her pocket. “That ends that,” she declared. “Are you going to behave yourself or do I chain you by the neck to a post?”
“I suppose I’ll have to, if the doc’s gone back on me,” Perkins snarled. “But I’ll get you when we get back, you—”
“Stop it!” Margaret snapped. “Now listen. Call me names any more and I’ll start shooting. One name, one shot; two names, two shots; and so on. Each shot in a carefully selected place. Go ahead.”
DuQuesne broke the silence that followed. “Well, now that the battle’s over and we’re fed and rested, I’ll put on some power. Everybody into seats.”
For sixty hours he drove through space, reducing the acceleration only at mealtimes, when they ate and exercised their stiffened, tormented bodies. The power was not cut down for sleep; everyone slept as best he could.
Dorothy and Margaret were together constantly and a real intimacy grew up between them. Perkins was for the most part sullenly quiet. DuQuesne worked steadily during all his waking hours, except at mealtimes when he talked easily and well. There was no animosity in his bearing or in his words; but his discipline was strict and his reproofs merciless.