“Larry—you’re a little drunk.”
“I know it. I know I am. I want to be a lot drunker. What the hell can a guy do?”
“What do you know, Larry? What have you heard?”
“I know they have the President of the Galactic Federation aboard this ship and that he ought to be told the truth.”
“No. I mean—”
“They sent out an SOS, kid. Controls are locked. Lifeboats don’t have enough power to get us out of the sun’s gravitational pull. We’re all going to roast, I tell you!”
Sheila felt her heart throb wildly. Even though he was well on the way to being thoroughly drunk, Larry was telling the truth. Instinctively, she knew that—was certain of it. “What are you going to do?” she said.
He shrugged. “I guess because I can’t do a damned thing I’m going to get good and drunk. That’s what I’m going to do. Or maybe—who the hell knows?—maybe in one minute I’m going to jump up on this table and tell everyone what I overheard. Maybe I ought to do that, huh?”
“Larry, Larry—if it’s as bad as you say, maybe you ought to think before you do anything.”
“Who am I to think? I’m one of the muscle men. That’s what they pay me for, isn’t it?”