He dared a look at his chronox.
Three hours and seventeen minutes!
Of a sudden he was giddy with exaltation. He wanted to shout, to laugh and leap.
From the corner, Eileen whispered, "Fred, have we made it?"
Wordless, he stumbled to her.
Her eyes were open, cool and steady. The last flushed traces of fever had vanished.
"Eileen—!" he choked, "Eileen...." and strained her to him.
Then, because he could not trust his own emotions further, he rose and took up the blaster. "I'll go take a look around, get you something to eat."
The corridor outside was thick with the alien atmosphere. But though it stung his eyes a little, his lungs now accepted it without protest.
Watchful, wary of monsters, he made his way to the galleys and gathered up a sack of food, wolfing down a whole can of meat synthetic in the process.