"Sure." Jenkins moved closer. "Campora knifed a guy just before he skipped Earth. It was his second offense. Don't let on I told you." He looked anxious. "I was just trying to help, see?"
"Yes." Ray turned away disgustedly. "I'll talk to Lodar."
He was beginning to hate every man aboard the Vulcan. That wasn't good. It was a sign of space hysteria. He'd have to guard against such things.
Vigilance was the only safety factor.
Stay out in space too long and you begin to brood. Worse still if you are psychologically able to stick it out long enough, you become infected with the deadly space rays that burn you up with febrile energy. Or you go batty with claustrophobia.
And they had all been out too long. They were reckless and unstable. He must get Ellenor away safely if it was the last thing he ever did.
Before the day period was over he went to see the girl, dreading to face her with the news of the Mutes' slaying. But she already knew.
"You needn't tell me." Her brown eyes were dazed with pain. "I know. They are dead."
What was there to say? That he would have saved them if he could? That he was sorry? Furious at Lodar? They were only fine words. He turned silently to the bunk where McVane lay asleep, his gray head swathed in bandages.
"He's all right," Ellenor said. "He lost a lot of blood, but I got the cook to bring some food. He ate it."