upposed
to be under hibernene, but we're left to die, instead._

For a moment, Houston did not realize that the thought was not his own,
so well did it reflect his own bitterness. It was bad enough to have to
live out one's life under the influence of the hibernation drug, but it
was infinitely worse to be conscious. Under hibernene, he would have
known nothing; his sleeping mind in his comatose body would never have
realized what had happened to him. But this way, he would remain fully
awake while his body used up the air too fast and his stomach became
twisted with hunger pangs which no amount of intravenous feeding could
quell. Oh, he'd live, all right--for a few months--but it would be
absolute hell while he lasted. Insanity and catatonia would come long
before death.

* * * * *

_That's a nasty thought; I wish you hadn't brought it up._

That wasn't his own thought! There was someone else out here!

_Hell, yes, my friend; we're all out here._

"Where are you?" Houston asked aloud, just to hear his own voice. He
knew the other couldn't hear the words which echoed so hollowly inside
the bubble of the spacesuit helmet, but the thought behind them would
carry.

"You mean with relation to yourself?" came the answer. "I don't know. I
can see several rocks around me, but I can't tell which one you're on."

Houston could tell now that the other person was talking aloud, too. So
great was the illusion carried to his own brain that it almost seemed as
though he could hear the voice with his ears.

"Then there are others around us?" Houston asked.

"Sure. There were three of us: a Hawaiian named Jerry Matsukuo; a girl
from Bombay, Sonali Siddhartha; and myself, Juan Pedro de Cadiz. Jerry
and Sonali are taking a little nap. You're the first of your group to
wake up."

"My group?"

"Certainly, my friend. There are five of you; the other four must still
be unconscious."

Four? That would be Lasser, Sager, Pederson, and--_and Dorrine!_

Juan Pedro de Cadiz picked up the whole thought-process easily.

"The girl--I'm sorry," he said. "But the other three--of us all, I
think, they deserve this."

"Juan!" came another thought-voice. "Have our newcomers awakened?"

"Just one of them, my sweet," replied the Spaniard. "Sonali, may I
present Mr. David Houston. Mr. Houston, the lovely Sonali Siddhartha."

"Juano has a habit of jumping to conclusions, David," said the girl.
"He's never