She jerked her head toward a port which let in the frigid colony-world's white daylight. Her face worked.
Massy was aware of an extreme unhappiness on her account. For himself, of course, the tragedy was less. He had no family. He had very few friends. But he could see something that had not occurred to them as yet.
"Of course," he said, "it's not only their trouble. If the solar constant is really dropping like that ... why things out here will be pretty bad too. A lot worse than they are now. We'll have to get to work to save ourselves!"
Riki did not look at him. Herndon bit his lips. It was plain that their own fate did not concern them immediately. But when one's home world is doomed, one's personal safety seems a very trivial matter.
There was silence save for the crackling, tumultuous noises that came out of the speaker on Herndon's desk. In the midst of that confused sound there was a wavering, whining, high-pitched note which swelled and faded and grew distinct again.
"We," said Massy without confidence, "are right now in the conditions they'll face a good long time from now."
Herndon said dully:
"But we couldn't live here without supplies from home. Or even without the equipment we brought. But they can't get supplies from anywhere, and they can't make such equipment for everybody! They'll die!" He swallowed, and there was a clicking noise in his throat. "They ... they know it, too. So they ... warn us to try to save ourselves because ... they can't help us any more."
There are many reasons why a man can feel shame that he belongs to a race which can do the things that some men do. But sometimes there are reasons to be proud, as well. The home world of this colony was doomed, but it sent a warning to the tiny group on the colony-world, to allow them to try to save themselves.
"I ... wish we were there to ... share what they have to face," said Riki. Her voice sounded as if her throat hurt. "I ... don't want to keep on living if ... everybody who ... ever cared about us is going to die!"