And then the meaning of the spaceman’s mumbled words came to him. Pills? Locker box?
He grabbed the unconscious man’s right hand and shoved his right thumb up against the sensor plate in the front of the metal box next to the bed. He could have gotten the master key from Colonel Fennister, but he hadn’t the time.
The box door dilated open, and Dr. Smathers looked inside.
When he came across the bottles, he swore under his breath, then flung the spaceman’s arm down and ran from the room.
“That’s where he was getting his vitamins, then,” said Dr. Pilar as he looked over the assortment of bottles that he and Smathers had taken from the locker box. “Look at ’em. He’s got almost as many pills as you have.” He looked up at the physician. “Do you suppose it was just vitamins that kept him going?”
“I don’t know,” said Smathers. “I’ve given him massive doses of every one of the vitamins—from my own supplies, naturally. He may rally round, if that’s what it was. But why would he suddenly be affected by the stuff now?”
“Maybe he quit taking them?” Pilar made it half a question.
“It’s possible,” agreed Smathers. “A hypochondriac will sometimes leave off dosing himself if there’s a doctor around to do it for him. As long as the subconscious need is filled, he’s happy.” But he was shaking his head.
“What’s the matter?” Pilar asked.