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. The air inside was a little better. Slamming shut the door, he tossed down the ampules and began wadding the first of Eileen's garments to come to hand into the wall vent. A faint voice whispered, "Fred...." Boone spun around. "Eileen--!" She smiled, the pale wraith of a smile. But her eyes had lost their fever-wildness. Her cheeks were no longer quite so flushed."What's ... the matter, Fred?"

"Nothing. Nothing." Futilely, Boone groped for some convincing fable.

"It's just--you've been down with Titan fever--"

"Don't ... lie to me, Fred. Please tell me." And then: "Were there ... monsters--?"

Of a sudden Boone could no 

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