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!”
“Heard you.”
“Well...?”
“Well, nothing. Stall. Keep water longer.”
She swung a vicious boot and missed by inches. Rat grinned, and made his way aft, hand over hand. He treaded cautiously along the deck. “Do like this,” he called over his shoulder. “Gravity punk too. Back and under, gravity.” He waited until she joined him
