Time slid away from him. The past and future disap- peared into an endless now, a forever of pain and struggle, with the heat of his toil welling up to drench him in his suit.
"Why don't you say something?" Kinsman panted at the priest. "You can't die. Understand me? You can't die! I've got to explain it to you. I didn't mean to kill her. I didn't even know she was a girl. You can't tell, can't see a face until you're too close. She must've been just as scared as I was. She tried to kill me. How'd I know their cosmonaut was just a scared kid? When I saw her face it was too late. But I didn't know. I didn't know . . ."
They reached the foot of the ringwall and Kinsman dropped to his knees. "Couple more klicks now. Straight- away. Only a couple more . . . kilometers."
His vision blurred and something in his head was buzzing angrily. Staggering to his feet, he lifted the line over his shoulder and slogged ahead. He could just make out the lighted top of the base's radio mast.
"Leave him, Kinsman!" Bok's voice pleaded from some- where. "You can't make it unless you leave him!"
"Shut . . . up."
One step after another. Don't think, don't count. Blank your mind. Be a mindless plow horse. Plod along. One step at 148 a time. Steer for the radio mast. Just a few . . . more . . . klicks.
"Don't die on me, priest! Don't you . . . die on me! You're my penance, priest. My ticket back. Don't die on me . . . don't die ..."
It all went dark. First in spots, then totally. Kinsman caught a glimpse of the barren landscape tilting weirdly, then the grave stars slid across his view, then darkness.
"I tried," he heard himself say in a far, far distant voice. "I tried."
For a moment or two he felt himself falling, dropping effortlessly into blackness. Then even that sensation died and he felt nothing at all.
A faint vibration buzzed at him.
The darkness started to shift, turn gray at the edges. Kinsman opened his eyes and saw the low curved ceiling of the underground base. The hum was the electrical generator that lit and warmed and brought good air into their tight little shelter.
"You okay?" Bok leaned over him. His chubby face was frowning worriedly.
Kinsman nodded weakly.
"Father Lemoyne's going to pull through," Bok said, stepping out of the cramped space between the two bunks. The priest was awake but unmoving, his eyes staring blankly upward. His canister suit had been removed and one arm was covered with a plastic cast.
Bok explained, "I've been getting instructions from the medics in Houston. They contacted the Russians. A paramed- ic's coming over from their base- Should be here in an hour. Lemoyne's in shock and his right arm's broken, but otherwise he seems pretty good. Exhausted, but no permanent dam- age."
Kinsman pulled himself up to a sitting position on the bunk and leaned his back against the curving wall. His helmets and boots were off, but he was still wearing the rest of his lunar suit.
"You went out and got us," he realized.
Bok nodded. "You were less than a kilometer away. I could hear you on the radio, babbling away. Then you 149 stopped talking. I had to go out."
