"I think we're out of danger," Spartan's voice came through my helmet radio. "We penetrated a thin segment of the cloud." "Any leaks, Doctor?" Axel asked. "The air pressure gauges show no loss. But the motor will have to be repaired. Who's on duty now?" "Miss Loring follows me into the control room," said Axel, "but this has been a tough experience for her. I won't mind working overtime." "I can't permit it," said Spartan. "Everyone must do his share. Fetch her, Drake." "Yes, sir," I said. I went back to the main cabin where I found Joel slipping out of his spacesuit. I removed mine. "Where's Gail?" I asked him. He nodded to the rear of the ship. "She went to the machinery room," he said. "Morrie's in the kitchen." I shuffled back to the kitchen. Morrie's spacesuit lay in a heap on the floor, but there was no sign of him. He wasn't in the lavatory, either. I pushed open the door to the machinery room just in time to hear Gail scream. I stood there a moment, hardly believing what I saw. Morrie had forced her to the floor. He had almost torn her uniform from her body. She was trying to fight him off, but his arms held her tight. I pushed myself away from the bulkhead. In the center of the ship there is very little centrifugal force and I literally sailed across the room to drop lightly on my feet beside the struggling pair. I reached down, caught Morrie savagely around the neck with my arm, and pulled him back, away from Gail. He squirmed out of my grasp and threw a savage punch which struck me in the shoulder. But he hadn't been set to deliver the blow and I hardly felt it. I was angry now and I lunged forward, grabbing his arm with both hands. His feet left the floor and I literally hurled him across the cabin into the water purifier on the far side of the room. He hit with a crash. I turned to Gail. "Are you all right?" "I--I'm--fine," she choked. Then her eyes focused on Morrie across the room. "Look out, Bill!" she screamed. I turned. Morrie had wrenched a pipe from the water purifier and was getting set to dive at me. _Chapter 8_ Crouching, I awaited Morrie's onslaught. He held the aluminum pipe--about a three-foot length--biding his time, his mouth twisting in bitter frustration. I remember thinking how lucky I was that the improvised weapon was aluminum and not heavy iron. _Small consolation_, I thought. _He can certainly knock me out with it._ But Morrie's angry face showed more than a desire to make me unconscious. He had the wild eyes of a madman, and there was murder in his movements. He swung the pipe. I ducked and it passed so close to my skull that I could feel it brush through my hair. The force of the blow tore his feet from the floor and he sailed upward, glancing off the garden trays so that he turned a somersault and came down on his feet above my head.