"This could be what you've been wanting," he said at last to Cole and Abner. "Wanting?" "Something's happening, isn't it? Something we didn't look for. Maybe there's reason for patrols after all, eh?" Cole frowned. "You mean...." He didn't finish it. He got up quickly, and strode to the scanner. "Everything's all right outside," he said, after a moment. "Everything outside the screen is just as it was at sundown." MacMartree shrugged. "Nothing from out there could do this to Phillips anyway. Nothing gets through the screen." Cole returned and squatted down with the others. He picked up a handful of pebbles and began flicking them, one at a time, at the force-screen, watching them bounce back into the area. "There's an explanation for this, of course," MacMartree said, with a tone of confidence he did not feel. The others nodded. After a time, Phillips' breathing grew more regular and he slept. As they watched, the rest of them saw the color creep back into his face, and sensed that he was better now. But still, it was a puzzling thing. Phillips had been ... what was the word?... Sick. According to MacMartree's histories, no man had been sick for the last thousand years. They decided to return to their sleep-kits for the remaining hour of darkness, but they never got there. Rising from his position beside the sleeping Phillips, Abner's long frame lurched suddenly forward. He sprawled at the feet of MacMartree and Cole ... and both men heard the dull snap as Abner hit the ground, his left arm caught beneath his body. MacMartree cursed. "Blast it, Abner, pick up your feet!" Then to Cole: "Is the bone-mending stuff here, or in the ship?" Cole started to say that he had brought it along, all right, but he was interrupted by Abner's scream. The sound of it rasped across their nerves. They stared down at the writhing Abner, their brains numbed by that horrible, entirely unfamiliar sound. "What is it?" Cole questioned, finding his voice after a moment. MacMartree ignored him, kneeling beside Abner. Abner's wind sucked into his lungs, and was expelled in another fearful scream. In spite of himself, MacMartree felt a prickling along the back of his neck.... "Abner," he said intensely, "Abner, listen to me!" But the younger man was doubled in a knot of agony, screaming and screaming and screaming. * * * * * MacMartree struck him in the face, with his open palm at first, but when that did no good, with doubled fists, hard. Finally Abner's screams stopped. Then MacMartree tried again. "Listen, Abner ... can you hear me now?" Abner's voice came twisting up, thin and quavery. "I--hear you ... yes, I hear you...." "Your arm, is that what makes you scream? Your arm?" "Yes, yes," moaning now ... "yes, my arm ... I want to die ... let me die, please Mac, please...."