ed. There would be nothing to do on those
watches. There would be off-watch time for twenty-one out of every
twenty-four hours, and no purposeful activity to fill even half an hour
of it. In a matter of--probably--years, the _Warlock_ should receive
aid. She might be towed out of her orbit to space in which the Lawlor
drive could function, or the crew might simply be taken off. But
meanwhile, those on board were as completely frustrated as the colony.
They could not do anything at all to help themselves.

In one fashion the crewmen were worse off than the colonists. The
colonists had at least the colorful prospect of death before them. They
could prepare for it in their several ways. But the members of the
_Warlock_'s crew had nothing ahead but tedium.

The skipper faced the future with extreme, grim distaste.

* * * * *

The ride to the colony was torment. Aletha rode behind her cousin on the
saddle-blanket, and apparently suffered little if at all. But Bordman
could only ride in the ground-car's cargo space, along with the sack of
mail from the ship. The ground was unbelievably rough and the jolting
intolerable. The heat was literally murderous. In the metal cargo space,
the temperature reached a hundred and sixty degrees in the sunshine--and
given enough time, food will cook in no more heat than that. Of course a
man has been known to enter an oven and stay there while a roast was
cooked, and to come out alive. But the oven wasn't throwing him
violently about or bringing sun-heated--blue-white-sun heated--metal to
press his heat-suit against him.

The suit did make survival possible, but that was all. The contents of
its canteens gave out just before arrival, and for a short time Bordman
had only sweat for his suit to work with. It kept him alive by forced
ventilation, but he arrived in a state of collapse. He drank the iced
salt water they gave him and went to bed. He'd get back his strength
with a proper sodium level in his blood. But he slept for twelve hours
straight.

When he got up, he was physically normal again, but abysmally ashamed.
It did no good to remind himself that Xosa II was rated minimum-comfort
class D--a blue-white sun and a mean temperature of one hundred and ten
degrees. Africans could take such a climate--with night-relief quarters.
Amerinds could do steel construction work in the open, protected only by
insulated shoes and gloves. But Bordman could not vent