"No. Leave on. Wool blanket. Keep in body heat, yes. Keep out cold, yes. Keep in, keep out, likewise. See?"

Gray stared at him. "I never thought of it that way before. Why of course! If it protects from one temperature, it will protect from another. Isn't it silly of me not to know that?" Heat pressing on her face accented the fact.

"What is your name?" she asked. "Your real one I mean."

He grinned. "Big. You couldn't say it. Sound like Christmas and bottlenose together real fast. Just say Rat. Everybody does." His eyes swept the panel and flashed back to her. "Your name Gray. Have a front name?"

"Patti."

"Pretty, Patti."

"No, just Patti. Say, what's the matter with the cooling system?"

"Damn punk," he said. "This crate for surface work. No space. Cooling system groan, damn punk. Won't keep cool here."

"And ..." she followed up, "it will get warmer as we go out?"

Rat turned back to his board in a brown study and carefully ignored her. Gray grasped an inkling of what the coming week could bring.

"But how about water?" she demanded next. "Is there enough?"

He faced about. "For her—" nodding to Judith, "and him—" to Gladney, "yes. Sparingly. Four hours every time, maybe." Back to Gray. "You, me ... twice a day. Too bad." His eyes drifted aft to the tank of water. She followed. "One tank water. All the rest fuel. Too bad, too bad. We get thirsty I think."

They did get thirsty, soon. A damnable hot thirst accented by the knowledge that water was precious, a thirst increased by a dried-up-in-the-mouth sensation. Their first drink was strangely bitter; tragically disappointing. Patti Gray suddenly swung upright in the hammock and kicked her legs. She massaged her throat with a nervous hand, wiped damp hair from about her face.

"I have to have a drink."

Rat stared at her without answer.

"I said, I have to have a drink!"

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