Palm slick with sweat, Boone tried the handle. The door was unlocked. He opened it a fraction. A voice rose high and incoherent, ranting. The voice of delirium. Boone stepped inside; flicked on the light. Eileen lay in the bunk, held there by the broad straps of a safety pack. A flush-faced Eileen with wild, fever-blinded eyes. Her lips moved in ceaseless, garbled speech. Thin fingers tugged and twisted at the sheets as if it were not in them to be still. A knot drew tight in Boone's midriff. Grimly, he studied the chart on the stand, then glanced at his chronox. Time for more chandak extract. Stiff-fingered, he prepared the aerojet; sprayed the precious drops into Eileen's jugular vein. Then, barring the door against invading monsters, he settled down to wait and hope. The hours dragged by till he lost track, a blur of time broken only by the routine with the aerojet. Once he thought Eileen recognized him. Twice he fell asleep. A dozen times, in his mind's eye, the monsters came, only to fade away again as he fought his way up from the depths of his fatigue. Hunger, thirst--they were words only.... Then, the crash. It threw him clear across the cabin, to land with stunning force against the farthest wall. The whole room hung tilted at a thirty-degree angle. Dragging himself up, he clambered to the bunk. Eileen's eyes were closed, her tongue and fingers still at last. To Boone, it seemed as if her forehead were less feverish--as if she might even be asleep. But again, she might have slipped into a coma. In his own state, he couldn't be sure. As for the crash, the room--Blinking, he looked around. The cabin's angle was still the same. Thirty degrees, at least. Only the room couldn't stay this way, tilted. Not with the sphere floating free in space. That was what the orientational gyroscopes were designed to prevent. In the same instant, he caught the first faint whiff of ammonia. A chill ran through him. Scrambling erect, he snatched up the blaster, fumbled open the door, and peered out into the corridor. No monsters--but something worse. For here the ammonia-smell hung even stronger. * * * * * Dragging the door shut behind him, Boone half-ran, half-fell along the crazily-tilted passage to the administrative center at the ship's core. The door to the medical office was locked. Cursing savagely, Boone drew back and to one side and fired a glancing bolt. The door swung wide, the lock and half the panel shattered. Inside, Boone pawed the supply chest into chaos, then turned to the wall cabinets. A case of mekronal ampules stood on the first shelf. Coughing as a new eddy of ammonia fumes curled round him, Boone snatched down the carton and an extra aerojet injector, then ran from the room and back along the passage to Eileen's cabin.