Outside the rain had slackened into a fine mist. Overhead the clouds still held, but they were somewhat lighter. In a short while, it would be dawn. Every light in the compound was burning fiercely. Gallifa suddenly remembered the generator in the shack behind the Administration Building. If anyone smashed or damaged the generator beyond repair, the camp would be without power of any kind. And they might be forced to warn the colonists to stay away from the planet. He stopped MacFarland. "I think we better secure the door to the generator shack," he said thoughtfully. "We can put a robot control on the radio, but we have to insure power." MacFarland understood the reason immediately. But before he could answer angry voices rang out somewhere across the compound. Gallifa hesitated. "You better see what that is," he told MacFarland. "And I'll check the generator." MacFarland nodded and slipped away. Gallifa detoured around the hospital and carefully approached the Administration Building. Once he saw something moving in the half-light and halted abruptly. It was only a few of the little gnomes moving through the camp. Gallifa quickly rummaged through the spare parts cache in the shack and drove stout pegs into the door jamb and the door. Then he expertly wove a short length of wire around the pegs and drew them tight with a pair of wire nippers. He leaned a shoulder against the door until he was satisfied it would hold. Then he returned to the hospital. MacFarland met him at the back entrance. The five corpses still lay shackled to the bunks in a mute and grisly reminder of how quickly deterioration had spread through the embryonic colony. Gallifa felt his jaw muscles tighten. "The bio team stole all the weapons," MacFarland said without preamble. "They've barricaded themselves in the mess hall and threaten to shoot anyone who comes within ten feet of the door." Gallifa waited, his expression somber. "The other teams are mad clear through," MacFarland continued. "I convinced them to go back to their own shacks, but I don't know how long they will stay there." Gallifa nodded. "If the other teams decide to rush the mess hall--" He let the sentence trail off and grimly began to sort the micro-film. A few hours later he had uncovered a series of very surprising--and confusing--facts. He was amazed by the extent and completeness of the data the teams and machines had assembled during their brief stay on the planet. Gallifa closed his eyes and began to sift through the data with the queer, persistent sixth sense of all true research men. The field of biology isn't limited. It begins just under the crust of a planet, encompasses the surface, and extends ... as far as needs be. Gallifa was a good biologist. And now he had a series of incredible facts at his command. He thought he had the answer to the epidemic. Only if he was on the right track--and he was almost sure of it--the cure might be so simple that it would be no cure at all.