When Jock Norton came in, she knew. He was mopping his face with a towel. He looked clean and bright, freshly shaved.
She looked at him and wished she could have a hot shower herself, and a change of clothing. She wanted a ten-hour sleep in a nice soft bed with clean sheets, too, and wearing a silk-soft nightgown.
"Awake, Alice?" Norton asked brightly.
"Awake again," she said unhappily. "For.... What is it? The ninth day?"
"Eighth," he said. "Can't go on much longer."
"I hope not."
"You look all in," he said softly. He sat down on the edge of the divan, beside her, and put a gentle hand on her shoulder. "Take it easy, m'lady. They're really scouring space for us. We'll be all right. You'll see."
Unexpectedly he bent and kissed her chastely on the forehead. Alice tensed at first, but relaxed almost immediately because the warmth of that honest affection made her feel less alone and cold, in the depths of uncharted space. Some of the worry and concern was erased, at least. She stretched warmly as he rubbed her forehead with his cheek.
Then he sat up and looked down at her. He put his hand on her cheek gently and said, "We'll be all right, kid."