"
MacFife nodded. "So be it. I'll send men to the asteroid to bring back
the prisoners and your Planeteers." He smiled. "We'll let yon rock go by
itself while hot showers and a good meal are had by all. Ye've earned it,
lad."
Rip started to thank the Scot, but his stomach suddenly turned over, and
black dizziness flooded in on him. He heard MacFife's sudden exclamation,
felt hands on him.
White light blinded him. He shook his head and tried to keep his stomach
from acting up. A voice asked, "Were you shielded from those nuclear
blasts?"
"No," he said past a constricted throat. "Not from the last. We got some
prompt radiation."
"When was that? The exact time?"
Rip tried to remember. He felt horrible. "It was twenty-three-oh-five."
"Bad," the voice said. "He must have taken enough roentgens of gamma and
neutrons to reach or exceed the median-lethal dose."
Rip found his voice again. "Santos," he said urgently. "On the asteroid.
He got it, too. The rest were shielded."
MacFife snapped orders. The ball-bat would have Santos in the ship within
minutes. Being sick in a space suit was about the most unpleasant thing
that could happen.
A hypospray tingled against Rip's arm. The drug penetrated, caught
a quick lift to all parts of his body through the bloodstream.
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