"Fifteen minutes," Larry Grange said. "In fifteen minutes the heat will have us all unconscious." Only it wasn't Larry alone who was talking. It was Larry and Johnny Mayhem. In a surprisingly short time the young Secret Serviceman had come to accept the dual occupation of his own mind. It was there: it was either dual occupation or insanity and if the voice which spoke inside his head said it was Johnny Mayhem, then it was Johnny Mayhem. Besides, Larry felt clear-headed in a way he had never felt before, despite the terrible, sapping heat. It was as if he had matured suddenly--the word matured came to him instinctively--in the space of minutes. Or, as if a maturing influence were at work on his mind. "What can we do?" Sheila said. "The crew has complete control of the ship." "Secret Service chief says we're on our own. There's no time for co-ordinated planning, but somehow, within a very few minutes, we've got to get inside the subspace room and throw the ship out of normal space or we'll all be roasted." "Some of your men are there now, aren't they?" "In the companionway outside the subspace room, yeah. But they'll never force their way in time. Not with blasters and not with N-guns, either. Not in ten minutes, they won't." "Larry, all of a sudden I--I'm scared. We're all going to die, Larry. I don't want--Larry, what are you going to do?" They had been walking in a deserted companionway which brought them to one of the aft escape hatches of the _Glory of the Galaxy_. Their clothing was plastered to their bodies with sweat and every breath was agonizing, furnace hot. "I'm going outside," Larry said quietly. "Outside? What do you mean?" "Spacesuit, outside. There's a hatch in the subspace room. If their attention is diverted to the companionway door, I may be able to get in. It's our only chance--ours, and everyone's." "But the spacesuit--" "I know," Larry said even as he was climbing into the inflatable vacuum garment. It was Larry--and it wasn't Larry. He felt a certain confidence, a certain sense of doing the right thing--a feeling which Larry Grange had never experienced before in his life. It was as if the boy had become a man in the final moments of his life--or, he thought all at once, it was as if Johnny Mayhem who shared his mind and his body with him was somehow transmitting some of his own skills and confidence even as he--Mayhem--had reached the decision to go outside. "I know," he said. "The spacesuit isn't insulated sufficiently. I'll have about three minutes out there. Three minutes to get inside. Otherwise, I'm finished." "But Larry--" "Don't you see, Sheila? What does it matter? Who wants the five or ten extra minutes if we're all going to die anyway? This way, there's a chance." He buckled the spacesuit and lifted the heavy fishbowl helmet, preparing to set it on his shoulders.