screen the crew of the U triple S _Endore_.
The _Endore_ had arrived during the night. Usually crews that had towait hours before passing through psych raised a big fuss. Quarantinewasn't exactly designed for comfort. A man couldn't be expected to enjoysitting on a bench and reading a worn-out magazine after looking forwardto visiting his old haunts on Earth after months or years in space. Hisonly thought was to get through the red tape and step through the dooron the other side of which lay freedom of expression and freedom fromspace discipline--and girls.
That was the usual result of forced delay in quarantine. The crew of the_Endore_ hadn't let a peep out of them.
Martha Ryan, the receptionist, glanced knowingly at the closed door. Sheknew that Nale was sitting at his desk, his legs crossed carelessly, hislong fingers holding the report on the _Endore_ and the report of thepsych observer. He was probably frowning slightly over the unusualbehavior of the crew.
She had her own list of names of the crew on the desk before her.Heading the list was the name, Comdr. Hugh Dunnam. Dr. Nale wouldordinarily call him first. Next would come any of the crew that thecommander reported unbalanced, followed by the rest of the crew.
Sometimes when the psych observer's report was unfavorable to the wholecrew he called some crew member at random before calling the top name.
It didn't surprise her, therefore, when the intercom came to life andDr. Nale's voice pleasantly asked for a name two-thirds of the way downon the list of forty names--Ren Gravenard, spaceman/2d cls.
Martha's pencil followed the list down, making a light check after thename while she dialed quarantine to send in the man.
In her mind's eye she could visualize the lifted eyebrows of the dayshift guards as they glanced over the huddled crew. She could see theirsuddenly changed attitude toward the crew, their new caution as theyopened the heavy wire door and led the man out. She could see, too, theworried frown of Comdr. Dunnam, whoever he was, as he realized what thatmeant--to have a crew member precede him.
She could see, too, Dunnam's probable warning look to spaceman Gravenardto keep mum and play his cards close.
That was the trouble with crews of ships when they thought they might beheld up by psych over something. They invariably overplayed theirinnocence right from the start.
The side door from quarantine opened. Two guards entered, preceding andfollowing the first victim warily. Martha sized Ren Gravenard up closelywhile her face assumed the careful, welcoming smile that often broughtattempts at dating.
Ren Gravenard was no different in appearance than a million like him. Hewas average in everything including his type of character.
"You are Ren Gravenard?" she asked.
He nodded without speaking.
Martha pressed the button that told Doctor Nale the first one hadarrived, got his O.K. signal, and motioned Gravenard and the guardstoward the inner door with a sweep of long yellow pencil in perfectlymanicured fingers.
As the three passed into the private office she made a slow dash afterthe spaceman's name preparatory to writing his destination when he cameout. It would be "obs" or "O.K."
Then she glanced at her wrist watch. Its hands pointed to six afternine. Two hours and fifty-four minutes later Ren Gravenard had still notcome out. And in her two years as receptionist for Dr. Nale Hargrave,Martha Ryan had never known him to spend more than twenty minutes withany subject....
Her manicured nail pressed the buzzer three times to signal she wasgoing to lunch. Giving Dr. Nale a full minute to make any request,without receiving any, she opened the door to the corridor and left.
* * * * *
When she returned an hour later she was surprised to see the door to Dr.Hargrave's inner office open and Dr. John Bemis, the chief of the psychstaff, at the desk.
"Come in, Miss Ryan," Dr. Bemis said, accenting his invitation with awave of his hand.
He waited until she had come in and closed the door behind her beforecontinuing.
"There's something's happened," he said gravely. "I don't know justwhat, and maybe I don't exactly WANT to know."
Dr. Bemis spread his hands in an all inclusive gesture.
"The universe is a big place," he said. "I suppose we should haveexpected that sooner or later we'd run into something a little outsidenormal experience."
He shook his head slowly, looking up at the ceiling as though trying topierce it and see beyond. When he continued, his voice was sharp andbusinesslike.
"Tell me exactly what you saw, thought, and felt this morning. Everydetail, however unimportant you might think it."
"There's really very little to tell," Martha said, surprised andalarmed. "There was this crew of the _Endore_ in quarantine when I cameto work this morning. They were unusual in that they didn't complainabout having to wait, indicating a guilt feeling in the crew. Dr.Hargrave asked to see a common spaceman first. That proved he recognizedthis. The name of the spaceman he saw is Ren Gravenard, who was broughtin at a little after nine and was still in there when I left at twelve."
She looked keenly at Dr. Bemis. Something was so radically wrongsomewhere that she didn't have the courage to even ask him. She justwaited.
"Dr. Hargrave has been taken to observation," he said without warning."So has the crew of the _Endore_. I--ah--believe you may take anindefinite leave from the office until further notice. With full pay, ofcourse."
"Dr. Hargrave?" Martha asked, not hearing the last.
"Yes!" Dr. Bemis's voice changed from harsh tenseness to contriteness."I'm sorry, Miss Ryan, but I feel it inadvisable to discuss it just now.All I can say is that full quarantine measures are now in force as offifteen minutes ago. There will be no landing or taking off from Earthuntil it is lifted; and within this area the same quarantineapplies."[1]
Martha Ryan hesitated, then turned and left. Dr. Bemis watched her go.After the door closed behind her he did a very peculiar thing. He took agun out of his coat pocket and shot himself through the head. After thathe went to a mirror on the wall, dressed the wounds carefully, wincingat the bite of the alcohol in the raw flesh, and, after drinking severalglasses of water, returned to Dr. Hargrave's desk.
* * * * *
He sat there, drumming his fingers on the walnut surface, his eyesclosed as if he were listening to something very far away. A buzzerunder his desk gave three short buzzes. He reached over and deflectedthe toggle on the intercom.
"Back already, Martha?" he said cheerily. "Any more left on your listfor the _Endore_?"
Martha checked her list. There had been two left when she went to lunch.They had been checked off, too, while she was gone.
"That's all, Dr. Nale," she said.
"Good," came his voice through the intercom. "Think I'll go out and havesomething to eat myself."
The click of the intercom was followed at once by the opening of theinner office door. Martha's eyes watched Dr. Nale Hargrave as he walkedthrough the office and out into the corridor.
Her eyes remained on the exit after he had gone, a faint frown creasingthe smooth skin above her eyes. She had an IRRATIONAL impression thatshe had seen Dr. Bemis, the super, instead of Dr. Nale, and with hishead bandaged clumsily.
She dismissed this with a pout and took a book out of a drawer to do herafternoon reading.
The buzzer on her desk buzzed a warning. She laid the book flat as theinner office door opened and Dr. Nale escorted Ren Gravenard out intothe waiting room.
Martha glanced at her watch. It was ten after nine. Four minutes! Sheexpected the nod from Dr. Nale. Her pencil wrote an O.K. after the dashshe had drawn four minutes ago.
"Thank you doctor," Ren Gravenard was saying heartily. The two guardsleft by the side door back to quarantine.
Dr. Nale went over and bent close to Martha's ear.
"As your psychiatrist," he said pseudo-seriously, "I can advise you thatunless you kiss me I am going to feel quite frustrated."
"Oh, that would never do!" Martha
laughed, and kissed him.
She jerked back, startled. There was the sound of a shot from the inneroffice. The door was still open. Martha and Dr. Nale looked through thedoor, horrified.
Ren Gravenard was standing in the middle of the inner office dropping aflat automatic into his side pocket. There was an ugly wound on eitherside of his head from a bullet that had passed directly through hisbrain.
He smiled at them disarmingly, "It's quite all right. You see, itcouldn't possibly do me any harm because I'm waiting for the elevator."
"Oh," they said, relieved. They bent and kissed each other again whileRen Gravenard went over to the mirror on the wall and dressed thewounds, wincing from the raw touch of the alcohol on wounded bone andflesh.
The outer door opened and two men came in with a wicker