When the three convalescents returned from the hospital, pale and shaky, David summoned them to his office. At the door, Watchguard Jones looked them over.
"Say, that Blue Martian fever sure does take it out of you. You fellows look like you've been plenty sick!"
"They have been," said David. "Let them by so they can sit down and rest."
Jones moved aside, but he lounged in the doorway, listening.
David ignored him. "Glad to see you back, gentlemen. I'll make this brief. You have been the victims of a laboratory accident just as much as if you'd been contaminated with radiation. Our Leader Marley, who understands the problems of all Categories, has very generously consented to grant you a two weeks' convalescence, in addition to a Free Choice. Take a few minutes to think over your decision."
He strolled over to the window and looked out at the green of the trees just bursting into leaf. Then, as if on impulse, he turned back.
"While you're thinking it over, will you look at these protocols? We discussed them before you got sick, you remember—a plan to prevent an epidemic of Blue Martian. Do you approve of the final form? I'd like to carry on, and after all," he added with an ironic smile, "it's getting later than we might think."
He handed each man a sheet of paper whose contents were identical. They studied them. Karl Haslam was the first to speak.
"You think, then, that other cases of Blue Martian may develop?"