Godspeed by Charles Sheffield Page B

and I was not strong enough to lift him.
    I crouched forward myself, my head down close to his. He was breathing, but in shallow, rasping breaths like troubled snoring.
    I peered ahead of us, across the lake. We were less than a quarter of the way to Muldoon Port. The wind was with us, the lights of the port were plainly visible, and we could certainly keep going as we were. But what would I do when we arrived? I felt sure that Paddy Enderton had made his plans, but I had no idea what they were. With Muldoon Port almost deserted, it was not even certain that there would be anyone around to lift him out of the boat.
    On the other hand, what would he do if I turned back, and then he recovered consciousness and learned that I had disobeyed his orders?
    The weather made my mind up for me. As I sat hesitating, it began to snow again. Within a few minutes the lights of Muldoon Port blurred, then disappeared behind a veil of white.
    I reached forward and groped around in Enderton's jacket pockets until I found the knife. I threw it overboard. Only then did I turn the boat around, reset the sail, and head back for the western shore of the lake.
    The lights of Toltoona had also vanished into the falling snow, so I could not tell just where I was heading. It was luck, not skill, that brought me to shore no more than a couple of hundred yards south of the pier that led up to our house.
    I eased us along to the jetty and tied up the boat, but even in the best of weather I could not have carried the weight of Paddy Enderton up the path. He had to stay there face down, the snow falling to cover his broad back and exposed head, while I ran all the way up to the house, praying that Mother had not gone off looking for me and that somebody would be there to give me a hand.
    She was in the kitchen. So was Uncle Duncan.
    "There, Molly," he said, as I blundered in. "I told you he'd be safe enough."
    "Jay!" began Mother. "I've told you a thousand times—" Then she saw my face.
    "Mr. Enderton," I gasped. "He's really sick. Down by the shore. I can't lift him."
    When spacer visitors were around, Mother liked to act weak and helpless. She was neither, of course, and now she proved it.
    "Unconscious?" she snapped.
    "He was, when I left."
    "Right," she said. And then, without another word to me, "Duncan, we'll need a blanket, and maybe something to carry him on. I'll find those. You get the flashlight and our coats. Hurry."
    Mother had taken over. And with that, I became empty and deflated. All I wanted to do was sink down on the floor of the warm kitchen and go to sleep. But I couldn't, because Mother was hustling me out of the door so I could lead them to the pier.
    Paddy Enderton had not moved since I left, and I thought for a horrible moment that he was dead. He groaned, though, when Uncle Duncan straightened him, and he was muttering something under his breath as they heaved him up onto the pier and wrapped him in a blanket. I stood by ready to help, but all I was allowed to do was hold the flashlight. Mother and Uncle Duncan between them carried him up to the house, where they laid him on a couch dragged close to the stove.
    His color was awful, a uniform grey pallor except for isolated spots of purple-red flaming on his cheekbones. Mother lowered her head to his chest and remained stooped over him for a long time. Finally she straightened and came to where I was sitting slumped in a chair at the kitchen table.
    "I'm sorry, Jay," she said quietly, "But you have to go out again. We'll do what we can, but without a physician's help he's probably going to die. Whatever persuaded him to go out on the lake in weather like this, with his chest and lungs?"
    She was not looking for an answer from me, although I could have given one, and she went right on, "You know where Doctor Eileen lives. I want you to go to her house. Tell her what happened here. Tell her that your mother says it's urgent, and bring her back with you. Go now, as fast as you