He watched the engineer depart for the gravity generating chamber below the surface of the asteroid. The day had started badly and wasn't getting better. Docchi to Thorton to Vogel. All the shades of shortsightedness, the convalescent's, authority's, and finally the technician who refused to see beyond his dials. A fine progression, but somewhere the curve ought to turn upward. The post on Handicap Haven wasn't pleasant but there were advantages--advancement was proportional to the disagreeableness of the place. After shepherding accidentals for a year any other assignment would be a snap. Ten months to go before the year was over and if Cameron could survive with nothing to mar his administration he was in line for something better, definitely better. This was where the Medicouncil sent promising young doctors. Cameron flipped on the telecom. "Connect me with the rocket dome. Get the pilot." When the robot answered it wasn't encouraging. "There's no answer. I'm sorry. I'll notify you when he comes in." "Trace him," he snapped. "If he's not near the rocket he's somewhere in the main dome. I don't care how you do it, get him." A few seconds of silence followed. The answer was puzzling. "There's no record that the pilot has left the rocket dome." His heart skipped and his breathing was constricted. He spoke carefully. "Scan the whole area. Look every place, even if you think he can't be there. I've got to have the pilot." "Scanning isn't possible. The system is out of operation in that area. I'm trying to check why." That was bad. He could feel muscles tighten that he didn't know he had. "All right. Send out repair robots." They'd get the job done--they always did. But they were intolerably slow and just now he needed speed. "Mobile repair units were dispatched as soon as scanning failed to work. Is this an emergency? If so I can alert the staff." He thought about it. He needed help, plenty of it. But was there any one he could depend on? Vogel? He'd probably be ready for action. But to call on him would leave the gravity generating plant unprotected. And if he told the engineer what he suspected, Vogel would insist on mixing in with it. He was too vital where he was. Who else? The sour middle-aged nurse who'd signed up because she wanted quick credits toward retirement? She slept through most of her shift and considering her efficiency perhaps it was just as well she did. Or the sweet young trainee--her diploma said she'd completed her training, but you couldn't lie to a doctor--who had bravely volunteered because someone ought to help poor unfortunate men? Not a word about women of course. She always walked in when Cameron was examining a patient, male, but she had the deplorable habit of swooning when she saw blood. Fainting was too vulgar for her and, as Cameron had once told her, so was the profession of her choice.