When he tried to move, his body refused to respond, as if trying to prolong to the utmost its last precious moments of rest. A billion unblinking stars stared back without interest. His mental defenses could shield him from reality no longer. How much longer could he go on? What was the point? Would there be anyone left alive at Gorda anyway? Their release was final for him there was no release. It sounded loud in the close confines of his helmet. The gasping of his lungs had returned once more to a slow and even rhythm. The rivers of sweat that had drained with his strength from every hollow of his body were now turned cold. The hammer that had threatened to burst from his chest was now quiet. Instinctively his mind recoiled, as if by some effort of will he could arrest the relentless flow of seconds that separated nonawareness from awareness and return again to the timeless oblivion in which the agony of total exhaustion was unknown and unknowable. He became aware of consciousness returning. Inherit the Stars © 1978Īll rights reserved, including the right to reproduce this book or portions thereof in any form. All the characters and events portrayed in this book are fictional, and any resemblance to real people or incidents is purely coincidental.Ĭopyright ©2006 by James P.
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