Dragging the door shut behind him, Boone half-ran, half-fell along the crazily-tilted passage to the administrative center at the ship's core.
The door to the medical office was locked. Cursing savagely, Boone drew back and to one side and fired a glancing bolt.
The door swung wide, the lock and half the panel shattered.
Inside, Boone pawed the supply chest into chaos, then turned to the wall cabinets.
A case of mekronal ampules stood on the first shelf.
Coughing as a new eddy of ammonia fumes curled round him, Boone snatched down the carton and an extra aerojet injector, then ran from the room and back along the passage to Eileen's cabin.
The air inside was a little better. Slamming shut the door, he tossed down the ampules and began wadding the first of Eileen's garments to come to hand into the wall vent.
A faint voice whispered, "Fred...."
Boone spun around. "Eileen—!"
She smiled, the pale wraith of a smile. But her eyes had lost their fever-wildness. Her cheeks were no longer quite so flushed.