"You bet your sweet ass I am!" Harriman concurred.
"All right," Kinsman said. "So it's my frail heart that's the problem. I'll only be Earthside for a few days . . ."
Jill gave him a tight-lipped scowl. "How did you feel when you were aboard the space station the week before last?"
"Huh? Fine! No problems." As long as I stayed in the low-gee sections, he remembered. But that wasn't my heart. I just felt tired, heavy, and some trouble breathing . . .
"Your chest didn't fee! heavy?" Jill probed. "You didn't feel any aches or sharp pains anywhere?"
"Nothing much."
"How much time did you spend on Level One, where there's full Earth gravity?"
"Urn, well, I didn't get down there at all. But I was on Level Three a lot—it's about half an Earth gee, a lot more than we have here."
"And how did you feel?"
"Kind of tired—achy. But my heart was okay."
Jill shook her head. "When you got back here your EKG looked like a Richter point-eight seismograph reading. Do you have any idea of how much your heart function had deteriorated from Earth normal? And your entire body's muscle tone? You wouldn't be able to stand up under normal Earth gravity for more than a few minutes' You'd—"
"Shut up!" Kinsman snapped.
Jill looked shocked. But she fell silent.
"Now listen to me," he said more softly. "We live in an age of medical miracles and high technology. There's no reason why I can't wear a powered suit down there. The exoskeleton will hold me up and the servomotors will help my flabby muscles move my arms and legs."
"But your heart—"
"Do something about it! You've got pressure cuffs and booster pumps and God knows what the hell else. Pump me full of adrenalin or whatever it takes."
Harriman shook his head furiously. "No drugs, dammit! We can't have you high or dopey during these meetings, for Chrissakes."
Already Kinsman was feeling weary. He ran a hand across his eyes. "Yeah, you're right." Turning back to Jill, "Okay, you're going to have to prop me up with whatever mechanical aids you can produce. I guess I'll need a doctor with me, then."
"But I can't go back," Jill said, almost apologetically.
And that's why you're resisting the idea of me going back, Kinsman realized. He looked at Jill with new under- standing, and the residue of angry frustration inside him melted away. Reaching out to touch her arm, he said, "I know that, Jill. I don't expect you to . . ." To risk your life, he thought, the way I'm risking mine. But aloud, he finished, ". . . to go back with me. Nobody expects that of you."
