e had a pounding headache, and his legs felt as if they were turning to
jelly. He tried to figure out a course of action.

The crew's section seemed to offer him the best chance. Ship's personnel
might not be armed. Even if they were, they would be less ready for
trouble than the guards. Perhaps he could hold one of the officers at
gunpoint; perhaps he could take over the ship.

It was worth trying. It had to be tried.

At the end of the corridor he came to a staircase. He climbed past a
dozen deserted levels, and came at last to a stenciled sign on one of
the walls. It read CONTROL SECTION, and an arrow pointed the way.
Barrent took the plastic needlebeam out of his pocket and staggered
down the corridor. He was beginning to lose consciousness. Black shadows
formed and dissipated on the edges of his vision. He was experiencing
vague hallucinations, flashes of horror in which he felt the corridor
walls falling in on him. He found that he was on his hands and knees,
crawling toward a door marked CONTROL ROOM--_No Admittance except to
Ship's Officers._

* * * * *

The corridor seemed to be filled with gray fog. It cleared momentarily,
and Barrent realized that his eyes were not focusing properly. He pulled
himself to his feet and turned the door handle. It began to open. He
took a firm grip on the needlebeam and tried to prepare himself for
action.

But, as the door opened, darkness closed irrevocably around him. He
thought he could see startled faces, hear a voice shouting, "Watch out!
He's armed!" And then the blackness closed in completely, and he fell
endlessly forward.

Chapter Twenty-Two

Barrent's return to consciousness was sudden and complete. He sat up and
saw that he had fallen inside the control room. The metal door was
closed behind him, and he was breathing without difficulty. He could see
no sign of the crew. They must have gone after the guards, assuming he
would stay unconscious.

He scrambled to his feet, instinctively picking up his needlebeam. He
examined the weapon closely, then frowned and put it away. Why, he
wondered, would the crew leave him alone in the control room, the most
important part of the ship? Why would they leave him armed?

He tried to remember the faces he had seen just before he collapsed.
They were indistinct memories, vague and unfocused figures with hollow,
dreamlike voices. Had there really been people in here?

The more he th