"Maybe they have. Maybe that's the origin of Titan fever, and the monsters that appear aboard our sphere-ships." Boone hammered on the shell that caged them. "Or would you like to deny this bubble, too? Whether it came down from above or grew up from below, it's here—and I, for one, can't break it!"
Eileen's lips were quivering. Her face averted. Her shoulders shook. "Fred—oh, Fred...."
Then she was crumpling. Barely in time, Boone caught her; held her.
What was there in him that made him strike out so at her? Jealousy, as Krobis said? Frustration at their plight here? A projection of the rage he felt towards himself for having been fool enough to leave the security of the sphere-ship to come out here in the black night without decent reason?
Or was it as some forgotten poet had said in a line of verse that he remembered—"For each man kills the thing he loves...."
He cursed aloud.
The night dragged on, with Boone cradling the girl in his arms. There were no more words between them.
Then pale light came, filtered and dim within the grey translucence of the bubble. Eileen roused, suddenly wild-eyed and rigid. "Fred—"
"Easy, girl. We're still inside the bubble." And then, to soothe her: "Don't worry. They wouldn't have taken the trouble to make us prisoners if they'd planned to kill us right away."
She didn't answer.