"Thanks for doing the rounds, El," said Tim. "That's about all. By the way, who was the one you described as 'just tired'?" "Oh, that was Wyckoff, Sam Wyckoff on the eighth floor." "Any idea what tired him so much he didn't want to go to the party? I thought we were being pretty careful about fatigue. He's not one of the crew, is he?" "No ... kitchen helper maybe. He didn't say it was anything in particular. He did seem sort of shot, but he perked up and we had a good talk," added Avery. "I see." "Well, if that's all, I'll get along and eat and shoot a couple of games of slotto before I turn in. It's relaxing after sitting over a hot calculator all evening." At the door he turned. "Can't you join me this once?" "Not tonight. Just a few more things to attend to, thanks." After Avery left, Daneshaw straightened a few papers aimlessly on the dull green alloid table top. "Tired," he mused, "sort of shot. Might be a case for Doc Keighley. Better see to it. Of course, he might be homesick." He stood up and glanced around the piles of papers. Nothing that couldn't wait till tomorrow. In three minutes, he was knocking briskly on Wyckoff's door. There was no answer. Surely the man hadn't gotten to sleep in the twenty minutes since Avery talked to him. He knocked again. Some sort of mumble came from inside. Tim turned the knob and walked in. The light in the cabin was off, but in the dim reflection from the corridor walls, Tim could see Wyckoff was lying in the bunk, which faced the door, on his back with the covers pulled up under his chin. "Asleep so soon, Sam?" asked Tim in a low voice. "Not quite. What is it?" "El Avery was just up. Said you looked exhausted and naturally I was a little worried. Had a check-up with the doctor recently?" "No ... no ... don't worry about me," faintly. "That's part of my job. We want everybody to get to Venus ready for a hard pull. Have you been studying too hard on the trip?" "No. My job's not very important. Please don't worry about me." "Mind if I turn on the light and have a little talk?" Tim reached for the switch of the reading lamp at the head of the bunk on his right. "If you want to," reluctantly. Tim clicked the switch and sat down on the foot of the bunk. "Finding the trip comfortable?" he smiled. "I ... I suppose." "Miss the pretty nurses back at the hospital?" "Oh no." Tim looked down at the edge of the bunk thoughtfully. "Been eating regularly? Sleeping ... say, did you spill something on the blanket?" he asked suddenly and reached forward to touch the small dark stain just above the edge of the bunk. The stain was wet. * * * * * Tim grabbed the blanket and stripped it back. Wyckoff was still wearing his undershirt and slacks and the red stain was bright on the white sheets above and below his left wrist.