he. Man, I never felt anything like it. Better go to
my cabin and lie down. Maybe I'll wake up and find out all this was a
dream, huh?"

"Do you need any help?" Sheila demanded, real concern in her voice.

"No. 'Sall right. Man, this headache really snuck up on me. Pow! Without
any warning."

"Let me help you."

"No. Just leave me alone, will you?" Larry staggered off across the
crowded dance floor. He drew angry glances and muttered comments as he
disturbed the dancers waltzing to Carlotti's _Danube in Space_.

Why don't you admit it, Grange, Larry thought as he staggered through
the companionway toward his cabin. That's what you always wanted, isn't
it--a place of importance?

A place in the sun, they call it.

"You're going to get a place in the sun, all right," he mumbled aloud.
"Right smack in the middle of the sun with everyone else aboard this
ship!"

The humor of it amused him perversely. He smiled--but it was closer to a
leer--and lunged into his cabin. What he said to Sheila was no joke. He
really did have a splitting headache. It had come on suddenly and it was
like no headache he had ever known. It pulsed and throbbed and beat
against his temples and held red hot needles to the backs of his
eyeballs, almost blinding him. It sapped all his strength, leaving him
physically weak. He was barely able to close the door behind him and
stagger to the shower.

An ice cold shower, he thought would help. He stripped quickly and got
under the needle spray. By that time he was so weak he could barely
stand.

A place in the sun, he thought....

Something grabbed his mind and wrenched it.

* * * * *

Johnny Mayhem awoke.

Awakening came slowly, as it always did. It was a rising through
infinite gulfs, a rebirth for a man who had died a hundred times and
might die a thousand times more as the years piled up and became
centuries. It was a spinning, whirling, flashing ascent from blackness
to coruscating colors, brightness, giddiness.

And suddenly, it was over.

A needle spray of ice-cold water beat down upon him. He shuddered and
reached for the water-taps, shutting them. Dripping, he climbed from the
shower.

And floated up--quite weightless--toward the ceiling.

Frowning with his new and as yet unseen face, Johnny Mayhem propelled
himself to the floor. He looked at his arms. He was naked--at least that
much was right.

But obviously, since he was weightless, he was