"What's ... the matter, Fred?"
"Nothing. Nothing." Futilely, Boone groped for some convincing fable. "It's just—you've been down with Titan fever—"
"Don't ... lie to me, Fred. Please tell me." And then: "Were there ... monsters—?"
Of a sudden Boone could no longer face her. "Yes, there were monsters." He pivoted; stuffed more clothing into the air vent. "All hands took off in carriers. Now the ship's crashed—on Hyperion, maybe; someplace with an ammonia-and-methane atmosphere, anyhow. The plates must have sprung when we hit. The smudge outside is leaking in."
"Then—what—?"
Boone finished with the vent. Sliding down to the bunk, he tore open the mekronal case with unsteady fingers; drew out an ampule.
"We'll try it on mekronal," he answered in a voice gone flat in spite of him. "If we can last three hours till it takes effect, we still may make it."
He readied the injector and sprayed the ampule's contents into Eileen's bloodstream, then shot a second into his own.
The girl's hand touched his; held it. "I'm ... so tired...." Her eyes closed.
She slept.