His nostrils distended as he drank in the precious air. Arnsen watched, teeth bared in a mirthless grin. Good! Color came back to O'Brien's cheeks—a healthy flush under the deep tan. His eyes opened, looked into Arnsen's.
"Couldn't find her," he whispered, his voice hollow through the audiophone. "Deirdre—I couldn't find her, Steve."
Arnsen said, "What happened, Doug?"
O'Brien took a deep breath and shook his head. "I woke up—something warned me. This." He unclasped his gloved hand and showed the milky crystal. "It knew—she—was close. I felt it. I woke up, went to a port, and saw the—the lights. Hastings was out there. She'd called him, I guess. He was running after the lights.... I had sense enough to put on my suit. Then I followed. But Hastings was too fast for me. I followed till I lost him. Miles—hours. Then I saw my oxygen was low. I tried to get back to the ship—"
He tried to smile. "Why did she call Hastings, Steve? Why not me?"
Arnsen felt cold. "We're getting off this asteroid. Right away."
"Leaving Hastings?"
"We—I'll look for him myself. There's life here, malignant life. Plenty dangerous."
"Not evil. No. Beyond evil, beyond good. I'm not going, Steve."
"You're going if I have to hog-tie you."