When the pumping had slowed down he turned his attention back to the battered pipes. He straightened one of them out--being careful not to over-exert himself--and used it to suck the water through. The water was clear and cold but tasted a little of metal. It refreshed him and he began to think of something to go with it. Whether he felt like eating or not, it was obviously going to be necessary. _It wasn't--too bad--so far. He could take the headaches and the nausea if he had to. There were--other things, though. Fear of what might happen. Meteorites, for one thing. Chances of his ship colliding with a speck of dust were ten million to one against it. But still...._ He went to the food locker and broke out a small electric hot-plate, a skillet, and a dozen eggs. The skillet was a little flatter than an ordinary one with a hinged cover to keep the contents in. _It wasn't pleasant to think about.... The ship a drifting derelict, riddled and airless, with his body frozen as hard as stone floating on the inside. What rubbish! Let's see, a one kilogram meteorite with a velocity of ten miles a second hitting the hull ... probably fuse a section of it. Ten miles ... sixteen kilometers a second, approximately...._ Five minutes later, he was trying to coax an egg, floating sedately in mid-air, into it. He'd have the affair around it, hurriedly close the lid, and watch the air forced out from between the skillet and the lid push the egg away. _A one kilogram meteorite at that speed could fuse about fifteen kilograms of hull ... about thirty-three pounds, enough to...._ The trick was to close the lid slowly. With that accomplished he discovered that grease wouldn't stay in the bottom of the skillet. Finally he filled the skillet with water and poached the egg. ... _vaporize a section of the hull big enough so he could poke his fist through it ... with a velocity of a hundred miles a second there probably wouldn't be enough left of the ship to identify...._ He dumped the egg into the disposal chute. He had lost his appetite. * * * * * Read the meters, list the readings in the log book. Note any changes between consecutive readings. Test the air, note the humidity. Read the meters, list the readings in the log book. Note the--oh hell, he knew the order by heart as it was. Under _Personal Reaction_ he wrote: _damn sick and tired of it. Ten days to go before halfway mark._ * * * * * He flipped the switch that cut the light circuit and floated lazily in the dark. It was peaceful and quiet and his eyes closed in sleep. _Tick ... tick ... tick...._ He jerked awake. What the hell! _Tick ... tick ... tick ... tick!_ It sounded a little faster now. _Tick-tick-tick-tick!_ The ticking swelled to a roar and then subsided to a gentle, purring _tick ... tick ... tick_!