or consideration. Well, there was the ejection
port. "Get sheets," Thompson said. With Fortune and Ross helping, he set
about doing what had to be done.

* * * * *

Later, in the lounge, they met to decide what had to be done. Neff,
leaving the drivers on automatic control, came up from the engine room.
Grant came forward from the control room. If any danger presented
itself, warning bells would call them back to their posts.

They were a silent and an uneasy group. Only Buster remained unaffected.

"There seems no doubt that we brought the infection back on board ship
with us," Thompson said.

He had stated the obvious. It got the answer it deserved. Silence.

"We also must consider the possibility that another of us, possibly all
of us, are infected."

No man stirred, no man spoke. Apparently they hoped they had not heard
correctly the words that had been spoken. In Thompson's lap Buster
grumbled as if he had understood and did not like what had been said.

"What are we going to do?"

"How can we find out what's causing this disease?"

Two voices came. Then came Fortune's voice. "And even if we find out,
what can we do about it? _They_ couldn't do anything about it."

"The fact that the race back there couldn't stop the disease, doesn't
mean we can't stop it. We're a different race with a different
metabolism and a different body structure--"

"Kurkil had the same metabolism and the same body structure," Ross said.

"We will do what we can," Thompson spoke flatly. In spite of the fact
that these men were supposed to be nerve proof, there was panic in the
air. He could sense it, knew that it had to be stopped before it got
started. Inwardly he cursed the fact that there was no doctor aboard,
but he knew only too well the line of reasoning that had led to the
omission of a physician.

"We have a medical library," Ross said, tentatively.

"Yes," Fortune spoke. "And it tells you exactly how to treat every
conceivable form of accident but it doesn't say a single damned word
about infections, and if it did we don't have any medicine to treat
them.

Again silence fell. In Thompson's lap, Buster squirmed, dropped to the
floor. Tail extended, body low, he moved across the plastic floor as if
he were stalking something that lay beyond the open door. "We'll
fumigate anyhow," Thompson said. "We'll scour the ship."

There was some relief in action. The clothing that had been worn