Then there was a crash that shook the whole ship. I shot into the air. I remember falling ... terribly. A blinding flash of light that emanated from the very center of my brain, a sickening sense of utter catastrophe, and ... blackness. * * * * * I think I was conscious several seconds before I finally opened my eyes. My mind was still wandering; my thoughts kept flying around in huge circles that kept closing in. We had hit the meteorite. I remembered the crash. I remembered falling. I remembered striking my head. But I was still alive. There was air to breathe and there was firm material under me. I opened my eyes. For the first instant, it seemed I was in an utterly strange room. Nothing was familiar. Everything was--was _inverted_. Then I glanced upward, and I saw what had happened. I was lying on the ceiling of the navigating room. Over my head were the charts, still glowing, the chronometers in their gimballed beds, and the television disc. Beside me, sprawled out limply, was Correy, a trickle of dried blood on his cheek. A litter of papers, chairs, framed licenses and other movable objects were strewn on and around us. My first instinctive, foolish thought was that the ship was upside down. Man has a ground-trained mind, no matter how many years he may travel space. Then, of course, I realized that in the open void there is not top nor bottom; the illusion is supplied, in space ships, by the gravity pads. Somehow, the shock of impact had reversed the polarity of the leads to the pads, and they had become repulsion pads. That was why I had dropped from the floor to the ceiling. All this flashed through my mind in an instant as I dragged myself toward Correy. Dragged myself because my head was throbbing so that I dared not stand up, and one shoulder, my left, was numb. * * * * * For an instant I thought that Correy was dead. Then, as I bent over him, I saw a pulse leaping just under the angle of his jaw. "Correy, old man!" I whispered. "Do you hear me?" All the formality of the Service was forgotten for the time. "Are you hurt badly?" His eyelids flickered, and he sighed; then, suddenly, he looked up at me--and smiled! "We're still here, sir?" "After a fashion. Look around; see what's happened?" He glanced about curiously, frowning. His wits were not all with him yet. "We're in a mess, aren't we?" he grinned. "What's the matter?" I told him what I thought, and he nodded slowly, feeling his head tenderly. "How long ago did it happen?" he asked. "The blooming clock's upside down; can you read it?" I could--with an effort. "Over twenty minutes," I said. "I wonder how the rest of the men are?" With an effort, I got to my feet and peered into the operating room. Several of the men were moving about, dazedly, and as I signalled to them, reassuringly, a voice hailed us from the doorway: "Any orders, sir?"