Shocked, the memory of the little girl's hysteria strong in him,
Winthrop spun toward Rabin, and found the man's dark face suddenly
vacuous. Rabin's hands were spread out, clutching the table's edge. His
eyes were blank, blind.
"_Rabin!_" Winthrop yelled. He slapped the man's face stingingly. The
dark head rocked, but the expression did not change.
A doctor administered a sedative and took Rabin away, silent, stumbling
in a trance provoked, it seemed, by concentrated study of pictures too
vividly drawn in some extra-solar abyss of depravity.
Benton Allan returned to the computers. Winthrop followed. There was
much in Winthrop's mind then that he had still to rationalize.
At length he whispered, "_Al_--" and it was urgent then. "There's more
to the ship than we suspect. To the books, too. I'm not sure about
Rabin. He may have been on the verge of a breakdown. The book may have
simply contributed. I don't know. It's hard to be sure.
"I'm just getting over a breakdown myself. I studied the book, and I
haven't had a decent moment's rest since the ship came. But I haven't
cracked. Be that as it may, there's something wrong in all this, Al.
Whatever you find from this point on, let me know about it first,
_please_!"
Allan turned quickly from the computer, peering owlishly over his
glasses. "Why, George?" He searched Winthrop's tense face.
"A crazy hunch, Al. Just let me know."
"I will," Allan promised. "But, damn it, man, stop giving me the
creeps!"
V
It was nearly midnight but no one moved toward his cot. Most of those
who had witnessed Rabin's collapse could not sleep. Winthrop himself
felt he would never sleep again.
General Hill came from the telephone. "Rabin's resting comfortably,"
he said. "His personal physician confirms Doctor Vigderman's suspicion
that he'd been receiving psychiatric treatment. The casualty, then,
is a normal one. It might have happened anywhere, any time. We can't
attribute it to some baleful, alien influence."
_What about the little girl?_ Winthrop was tempted to ask. _Surely
there was no imbalance there?_
"Now," the general said, dismissing the tragedy of Rabin from his mind,
"let's sum up. We've progressed beautifully. We have anti-gravity here,
and proof that the speed of light _can_ be exceeded. Standards fully
verifies Allan's findings.
"Tomorrow, those most eminently qualified should try to determine how
the bulkhead door may be opened. The General Staff has just ordered
that it must be opened within forty-eight hours. All precautions will
of course be taken to obviate damage to the ship."
"How about to _us_?" Winthrop asked sharply.
The general ignored him. "Now let's call it a day. You all must be as
tired as I am."
"Stick with me, Al," Winthrop whispered urgently. Aloud he said,
"Doctor Allan and I would like to go over the data now. We believe
we've found the key to the door and that--"
The general laughed. "If you're that close, George, it can wait until
morning."
"I disagree," Winthrop cut in sharply. "Time may be of the essence. How
do we know whether the occupants are of the pastoral race or the other
race depicted in that ghastly comic book? If they've anti-gravity and
fission bombs, what else may they have up forward?"
"Let's not be pessimistic," General Hill said. "If they had come
meaning harm, they'd have set their awakening apparatus properly.
They'd not have erred if they'd come with evil intent. Let's not drag
in a monstrous hint of invasion. If you wish to keep on, well and
good. I'm for the cot. Goodnight, gentlemen!"