She was standing behind the elder’s scooter, a length of wire in her hand. The senior lay slumped against his safety strap. “Ross!” she moaned. “Ross, what have I done? I turned him off!”
He stood up, coughing and retching. No one else was in sight, only the two of them and the silent, slack form of the old man. He grabbed her arm. “Come on,” he said fuzzily, and started toward the starship.
She hung back, mumbling to herself, her eyes saucers. She was in a state of grievous shock, it was clear.
Ross hesitated, rubbing his back. He knew that she might never pull out of it. Even if she did, she was certain to be a frightful handicap. But it was crystal-clear that she had declared herself on his side. Even if the elder could be revived, the punishment in store for Helena would be awful to contemplate....
Come what may, he was now responsible for Helena.
He towed her to the starship. She climbed in docilely enough, sat staring blankly as he sealed ship and sent it blasting off the face of the planet.
She didn’t speak until they were well into deep space. Then the blank stare abruptly clouded and she exploded in a fit of tears. Ross said ineffectually, “There, there.” It had no effect; until, in its own time, the storm ended.
Helena said hoarsely, “Wh-what do I do now?”
“Why, I guess you come right along with me,” Ross said heartily, cursing his luck.