"No," said Arden. "I have the key to the vault. If one of us is infected, I'll open it and treat him. But Joe Wilding deserves to die. It wasn't his fault that we are still uninfected. He was willing to destroy the Earth in order to be here. That threat is gone now, but he must suffer."
"Arlie," Bairn said softly. "Would Mary want you to let Joe Wilding die?"
Arden spoke coldly: "Did Wilding care about Mary when he stowed away on this ship?"
Bairn had no answer.
Joe Wilding was restless. Even the fiery fever that racked him could not quiet him. He paced the long water compartment, legs weary but restless. He couldn't stand it here much longer; he had to get out into the light, out where he could move and see and feel something besides the dampness dripping upon him, the quick mutter of the pumps as they drove the catalyst to the firing chambers.
He walked to the cubbyhole, looked down into the power room.
Whitey Burnet was there, alone.
Impulsively, Joe Wilding climbed out of the cubbyhole and down the ladder.
"Paul," he said softly. "I'm hungry."