They found the door was torn off the storeroom. It hadn't even been
secured. Someone had just been in a terrific hurry. There wasn't a
single weapon left. MacFarland studied the disarray, then thoughtfully
hefted a broad-bladed pick axe.
"I'm of the opinion," he said quietly, "that in a short time things are
going to get a little rough around here."
"Now wait a minute, Mac," Gallifa protested.
"Sorry, boy," MacFarland said grimly. "If I knew everyone else was
barehanded, I would go along with you. I may not be the next victim--or
the tenth. I'll more than likely have to protect myself against someone
who has come down with it, however, and I've got an overwhelming desire
to stay alive."
Gallifa let his hands drop helplessly to his sides. MacFarland was
right, of course. They hadn't acted soon enough. Was this how panic was
born?
"Mac," Gallifa tried huskily. "We've got to keep our heads. If we don't,
we'll destroy ourselves."
"I'm open to any suggestions," MacFarland said steadily. "But until I'm
satisfied that the danger is past, I'll just hang on to this axe."
"Let's go back over to the hospital," Gallifa said wearily. "We'll use
Thorndyke's projector and go over every inch of micro-film we have. We
may be too close to the problem. There must be something we've
overlooked."
Outside the rain had slackened into a fine mist. Overhead the clouds
still held, but they were somewhat lighter. In a short while, it would
be dawn. Every light in the compound was burning fiercely. Gallifa
suddenly remembered the generator in the shack behind the Administration
Building. If anyone smashed or damaged the generator beyond repair, the
camp would be without power of any kind. And they might be forced to
warn the colonists to stay away from the planet.
He stopped MacFarland. "I think we better secure the door to the
generator shack," he said thoughtfully. "We can put a robot control on
the radio, but we have to insure power."
MacFarland understood the reason immediately. But before he could answer
angry voices rang out somewhere across the compound.
Gallifa hesitated. "You better see what that is," he told MacFarland.
"And I'll check the generator."
MacFarland nodded and slipped away. Gallifa detoured around the hospital
and carefully approached the Administration Building. Once he saw
something moving in the half-light and halted abruptly. It was only a
few of the little gnomes moving through the camp.
Gallifa quickly rummaged through the spare parts cache in the shack and
drove stout pegs into the door jamb and the door. Then he expertly wove
a short length of wire around the pegs and drew them tight with a pair
of wire nippers. He leaned a shoulder against the door until he was
satisfied it would hold. Then he returned to the hospital.
MacFarland met him at the back entrance. The five corpses still lay
shackled to the bunks in a mute and grisly reminder of how quickly
deterioration had spread through the embryonic colony. Gallifa felt his
jaw muscles tighten.
"The bio team stole all the weapons," MacFarland said without preamble.
"They've barricaded themselves in the mess hall and threaten to shoot
anyone who comes within ten feet of the door."
Gallifa waited, his expression somber.
"The other teams are mad clear through," MacFarland continued. "I
convinced them to go back to their own shacks, but I don't know how long
they will stay there."
Gallifa nodded. "If the other teams decide to rush the mess hall--" He
let the sentence trail off and grimly began to sort the micro-film.
A few hours later he had uncovered a series of very surprising--and
confusing--facts. He was amazed by the extent and completeness of the
data the teams and machines had assembled during their brief stay on the
planet. Gallifa closed his eyes and began to sift through the data with
the queer, persistent sixth sense of all true research men.
The field of biology isn't limited. It begins just under the crust of a
planet, encompasses the surface, and extends ... as far as needs be.
Gallifa was a good biologist. And now he had a series of incredible
facts at his command. He thought he had the answer to the epidemic. Only
if he was on the right track--and he was almost sure of it--the cure
might be so simple that it would be no cure at all.
How did you cure fear?
MacFarland was dozing across the room. Gallifa suddenly realized how
tired he really was. Perhaps the doctor could give him a stimulant. In
any case, he wanted to discuss an idea with Dr. Thorndyke. He stood up
and gathered together the papers lying scattered on the desk.
MacFarland was immediately awake. He held the axe loosely in one big
hand, but a slight tensing of the muscles in his forearm denoted his
readiness to use the weapon.
Gallifa noticed only that MacFarland was awake. He gestured vaguely and
walked through the room to the doctor's office.
"Dr. Thorndyke!" Gallifa called.
"Eh!" The doctor was startled. He walked quickly over to a wall cabinet
and busied himself with an electronic sterilizer. When he turned he was
holding a short-barreled, hair-thin hypodermic jet.
"I've been hoping you'd come by," he said. "That cut in your cheek. You
should have had a tetanus shot."
Gallifa automatically bared an arm and leaned on the table. The doctor
held the needle up to the light and exerted a minute pressure on the
plunger. He reached for Gallifa's arm.
MacFarland was across the room in five quick strides. He hit the doctor
across the side of the head with the broad blade of the axe. Dr.
Thorndyke sighed and collapsed loosely on the floor. The point of the
dropped hypodermic shattered and a milky fluid oozed from the splintered
end.
Gallifa's reflexes were slow. For a long moment he stood as though
stunned. Then shock caught at him. But the slow-motion time which
gripped him wouldn't allow him to take more than two steps before the
axe in MacFarland's big hand would come crashing down. He wished he
could have activated the transmitter before it happened. Dazed, he
wondered who would warn the colonists?
Gallifa suddenly realized he had placed the portable operating table
between himself and the other man. He drew his first breath, and it
caught in his throat. Then he was through the door and running across
the compound. He stumbled towards the equipment shack and threw himself
in the back of a truck.
MacFarland didn't follow.