"Maybe he caught the bug on the planet," Thompson said. He tried to put conviction into his voice. The effort failed. "Get sheets," he said. * * * * * There was no prayer. There was no burial ceremony. The body went through the ejection port and disappeared in the vast depths of space. Thompson returned to his cabin, slumped down at his desk, Fortune and Neff following. Buster meowed. "Okay, pal." The cat jumped into Thompson's lap. "I guess there's not much point in trying to kid ourselves any longer," Fortune said. His voice was dull and flat, without tone and without spirit. A muscle in Neff's cheek was twitching. "I don't understand you," Thompson said. "Hell, you understand me well enough. The facts are obvious. We've either all got the virus, or it's here in the ship, and we will get it. All we're doing is waiting to see who goes next. What I want to know is--Who'll shove the last man through the ejection port?" "I don't know," Thompson answered. "Isn't there anything else we can do?" The tic in Neff's cheek was becoming more pronounced. "If there is, I don't know--What the hell, Buster?" The cat which had been lying in his lap, suddenly leaped to the floor. Tail extended, crouched, eyes alert, the cat seemed to be trying to follow the flight of something through the air above him. Very vaguely, very dimly, Thompson caught the rustle of wings. The actions of the cat, and the sound, sent a wave of utter cold washing over his body. Before he could move, the cat leaped upward, caught something in snapping jaws. In the same split second Thompson moved. Before Buster had had time to swallow, Thompson had caught him behind the jaws, forcing them shut. On his desk was a bell jar. He lifted it, thrust the cat's head under it, forced his thumb and forefinger against the jaws of the cat. The outraged Buster disgorged something. Thompson jerked the cat's head from under the jar, slammed down the rim. The angry cat snarled at him. Neff and Fortune were staring at him from eyes that indicated they thought he had lost his senses. Thompson paid them no attention. He was too busy watching something inside the bell jar even to notice that they existed. He could not see the creature under the jar. He knew it could fly but he did not know its shape or size. He could hear it hitting the falls of the jar. And each time it hit the wall, a tiny greenish smudge appeared at the point of impact. "What--what the hell have you got there?" Neff whispered. "I don't know for sure. But I think I've got the carrier of the virus." "What?" "Watch." "I can't see anything." "Nor can I yet, but I can hear it and I can see the places where it hits the wall of the jar. There's something under the jar. Something that Buster has been seeing all along." "What?"