A reporter should be objectiveeven about a hospital.It's his business to stir others'emotions and not let his own bestirred. But that was no good,Mel Hastings told himself. Nogood at all when it was Alice whowas here somewhere, balanceduncertainly between life anddeath.
Alice had been in Surgery fartoo long. Something had gonewrong. He was sure of it. Heglanced at his watch. It wouldsoon be dawn outside. To MelHastings this marked a significantand irrevocable passage oftime. If Alice were to emerge safeand whole from the white cavernof Surgery she would have doneso now.
Mel sank deeper in the heavychair, feeling a quietness withinhimself as if the slow creep ofdeath were touching him also.There was a sudden far distantroar and through the window hesaw a streak of brightness in thesky. That would be the touristship, the Martian Princess, he remembered.
That was the last thing Alicehad said before they took heraway from him. "As soon as I'mwell again we'll go to Mars for avacation again, and then you'llremember. It's so beautiful there.We had so much fun—"
Funny, wonderful little Alice—andher strange delusion thatshe still clung to, that they hadtaken a Martian vacation in thefirst year of their marriage. Ithad started about a year ago, andnothing he could say would shakeit. Neither of them had ever beento space.
He wished now he had takenher. It would have been worth it,no matter what its personal cost.He had never told her about thephobia that had plagued him allhis life, the fear of outer spacethat made him break out in a coldsweat just to think of it—nor ofthe nightmare that came againand again, ever since he was a littleboy.
There must have been someway to lick this thing—to giveher that vacation on Mars thatshe had wanted so much.
Now it was too late. He knewit was too late.
The white doors opened, andDr. Winters emerged slowly.He looked at Mel Hastings a longtime as if trying to rememberwho the reporter was. "I mustsee you—in my office," he saidfinally.
Mel stared back in numb recognition."She's dead," he said.
Dr. Winters nodded slowly asif in surprise and wonder thatMel had divined this fact. "I mustsee you in my office," he repeated.
Mel watched his retreating figure.There seemed no point in following.Dr. Winters had said allthat need be said. Far down thecorridor the Doctor turned andstood patiently as if understandingwhy Mel had not followed,but determined to wait until hedid. The reporter stirred and rosefrom the chair, his legs witheringbeneath him. The figure of Dr.Winters grew larger as he approached.The morning clatter ofthe hospital seemed an ear-torturingshrillness. The door of theoffice closed and shut it out.
"She is dead." Dr. Winters satbehind the desk and folded andunfolded his hands. He did notlook at Mel. "We did everythingwe could, Mr. Hastings. Her injuriesfrom the accident werecomparatively minor—" He hesitated,then went on. "In normalcircumstances there would havebeen no question—her injuriescould have been repaired."
"What do you mean, 'In normalcircumstances—'?"
Dr. Winters turned his faceaway from Mel for a moment as ifto avoid some pain beyond endurance.He passed a weary handacross his forehead and eyes andheld it t