The crewman with the bat said, “Is this little gumboil telling the truth, mister?”
Sheffield held on to the railing with two perspiring hands. The crewman’s face seemed to waver. The face had thick lips on it and small eyes buried under bristly eyebrows. It wavered very badly.
Then the ramp came up and whirled about his head. There was ground gripped in his hands suddenly and a cold ache on his cheekbone. He gave up the light and let go of consciousness again.
He came awake less painfully the second time. He was in bed now and two misty faces leaned over him, A long, thin object passed across his line of vision and a voice, just heard above the humming in his ears, said, “He’ll come to, now, Cimon.”
Sheffield closed his eyes. Somehow he seemed to be aware of the fact that his skull was thoroughly bandaged.
He lay quietly for a minute, breathing deeply. When he opened his eyes again, the faces above him were clear. There was Novee’s round face, a small, professionally-serious line between his eyes that cleared away when Sheffield said, “Hello, Novee.”
The other man was Cimon, jaws set and angry, yet with a look of something like satisfaction in his eyes.
Sheffield said, “Where are we?”
Cimon said, coldly, “In space, Dr. Sheffield. Two days out in space.”
“Two days out—” Sheffield’s eyes widened and he tried to rise.