"She's not dead--she may live. Dr. Frank and her brother are with her. They're doing all they can." He told us what had happened. Anita and George Prince had both been asleep, each in their respective rooms. Someone unknown had opened Anita's corridor door. "Wasn't it sealed?" I demanded. "Yes. But the intruder opened it." "Burst it? I didn't think it was broken." "It wasn't broken. The assailant opened it somehow, and assaulted Miss Prince--shot her in the chest with a heat-ray. Her left lung." "She is conscious?" Balch demanded. "Yes. But she did not see who did it. Nor did Prince. Her scream awakened him, but the intruder evidently fled out the corridor door of A 22, the way he entered." I stood weak and shaken at the chart-room entrance. "A little son, cast in the gentle image of his mother. But with the strength of his father...." But Anita--dying, perhaps; and all my dreams were fading into a memory of what might have been. "You go to bed, Gregg--we don't need you." I was glad enough to get away. I would lie down for an hour, and then go to Anita's stateroom. I'd demand that Dr. Frank let me see her, if only for a moment. * * * * * I went to the stern deck-space where my cubby was located. My mind was confused, but some instinct within me made me verify the seals of my door and window. They were intact. I entered cautiously, switched on the dimmer of the tube-lights, and searched the room. It had only a bunk, my tiny desk, a chair and clothes robe. There was no evidence of any intruder here. I set my door and window alarm. Then I audiphoned to the helio-room. "Snap?" "Yes." I told him about Anita. Carter cut in on us from the chart-room. "Stop that, you fools!" We cut off. Fully dressed, I flung myself on my bed. Anita might die.... I must have fallen into a tortured sleep. I was awakened by the sound of my alarm buzzer. Someone was tampering with my door! Then the buzzer ceased; the marauder outside must have found a way of silencing it. But it had done its work--awakened me. I had switched off the light; my cubby was Stygian dark. A heat-cylinder was in the bunk-bracket over my head; I searched for it, pried it loose softly. I was fully awake. Alert. I could hear a faint sizzling--someone outside trying to unseal the door. In the darkness, cylinder in hand, I crept from the bunk. Crouched at the door. This time I would capture or kill this night prowler. * * * * * The sizzling was faintly audible. My door-seal was breaking. Upon impulse I reached for the door, jerked it open. No one there! The starlit segment of deck was empty. But I had leaped, and I struck a solid body, crouching in the doorway. A giant man. Miko! His electronized metallic robe burned my hands. I lunged against him--I was almost as surprised as he. I shot, but the stab of heat evidently missed him.