Ron Carver's day was beginning strangely. For one thing, the legs he swung off the narrow bed wouldn't touch the floor. And his hands, whose ten strong fingers could manipulate the controls of any ship ever launched into space, were weak and clumsy. He looked at the hands first, looked at them for a long time. Then he screamed. He screamed until footsteps were loud in the corridor outside his room; shrill, piping screams that didn't stop even when the giant woman-face was bending over him, speak