"You have one--and hang onto it." Doc Keighley gathered up his bag and left the cabin. Outside the door he almost bumped into Jack White, Second Astrogator, and Steward Loomis. "Loo, get El Avery up here right away before the hypo hits him. Jack, you go in and sit with him till Avery gets here. He's all right, boys. Just worn out. Let everybody know he'll be back on deck after turnover--_if_ you all stay out of his way till then. Don't let anybody but Avery or the nurse in, Jack," and the little doctor bustled off and out of sight around the curve of the corridor. * * * * * To Jack White, entering the tiny cabin lit only by the desk lamp, Tim Daneshaw looked near gone. He went over and sat silent on the chair the doctor had turned to the bunk. Tim's eyes were shut, but he spoke weakly. "El? El Avery?" "No Captain, it's Jack White. Avery will be here as soon as he can." A long silence. Daneshaw spoke again. "Got to shift command, Jack." "Yes, sir." "What about Avery, Jack. Can he do it?" "I think so. You remember how he handled that gyroscope record the first two weeks out." "How was that, Jack?" White was startled, but gave no sign. If Tim Daneshaw's memory was slipping, he really was in bad shape. "You remember, Captain. We were only a few thousand miles out when the gyro appeared to be recording a constant correction, and how Mister Avery," (a term of deference would show Tim how respected Avery was) "was so thorough and kept the crew so busy they didn't have time to worry about the real danger of being off course. He got the engineers doing radionic soundings of the walls of the big tube in action and some of the crew went practically into the dead tubes looking for flare action. He had everybody else who knew about it testing all over the inner skin for an air leak that might be producing a tiny jet. It was wonderful the way he got the passengers thinking it was a routine check for the early stages of any space trip. And he never let down--sat at the calculators eighteen hours a day until he found out that the recording pen on the gyro must have got bent in blast-off. We were proud of him, Captain." "I recall it now. You think he'll make a good executive?" Tim seemed pitifully eager for assurance. "Make an executive, Captain? He is an executive. He's the Old Fox of Avery, Inc. again, since those two weeks. He's taken to coming into the pilot-room when he's off duty--just coming in and standing and watching as if he wanted to keep an eye on everything and everybody. And nobody seems to resent it. And he never needles the rest of us button-pushers when he finds an error in calculations. We all make them, El too, but we've quit deviling each other about them since then. He's your man." "Thanks, Jack. I ... hoped ... you'd ... feel...." Tim's voice trailed off. "Tired ... get Avery ... tell him Sam Wyckoff...." Another silence. "Captain Daneshaw?" No answer. "Tim!" White was more insistent.