"Parts of the two ships fell together, the rest were scattered. There was some interchange of passengers in the wreckage, but since you were found in the control compartment of the Mars liner, they assumed you were the pilot. They never let me see you until yesterday and then it was just a glimpse. I took their word when they said you were Dan Merrol." At least he knew who or what Dan Merrol was--the pilot of the Mars liner. They had assumed he was the pilot because of where he was found, but he might have been tossed there--impact did strange things. Dan Merrol was a spaceship pilot and he hadn't included it among his skills. It was strange that she had believed him at all. But now that it was out in the open, he did remember some facts about spaceships. He felt he could manage a takeoff at this instant. But why hadn't he told her? Shock? Perhaps--but where had those other identities come from--lepidopterist, musician, actor, mathematician and wrestler? And where had he got memories of wives, slender and passionate, petite and wild, casual and complaisant, nagging and insecure? Erica he didn't remember at all, save from last night, and what was that due to? "What are you going to do?" he asked, deliberately toying with the last bite of breakfast. It gave him time to think. "They said they'd identified everyone, living or dead, and I supposed they had. After seeing you, I can believe they made any number of similar mistakes. Dan Merrol may be alive under another name. It will be hard to do, but I must try to find him. Some of the accident victims went to other hospitals, you know, the ones located nearest where they fell." Even if he was sure, he didn't know whether he could tell her--and he wasn't sure any longer, although he had been. On the physical side of marriage, how could he ask her to share a body she'd have to laugh at? Later, he might tell her, if there was to be a 'later.' He pushed back his chair and looked at her uncertainly. "Let me call a 'copter," she said. "I hate to see you go." "Wysocki's theorem," he told her. "The patient has decided to walk." He weaved toward the door and twisted the knob. He turned in time to catch her in his arms. "I know this is wrong," she said, pressing against him. It might be wrong, but it was very pleasant, though he did guess her motives. She was a warmhearted girl and couldn't help pitying him. "Don't be so damned considerate," he mumbled. "You'll have to put me down," she said, averting her eyes. "Otherwise.... You're an intolerable funny man." He knew it--he could see himself in the mirror. He was something to laugh at when anyone got tired of pretending sympathy. He put her down and stumbled out. He thought he could hear the bed creak as she threw herself on it. II