"There are no sore spots," Waverill said. "I want to sleep a couple of hours, so go away. Then I'll want a steak and a baked potato."
"Surely, sir."
Murdoch went outside again and toured the grounds without seeing anything new. He went to the barrier and stared at the ship for a while. Then, to work off tension, he went into the gymnasium and took a workout. He had a shower, looked in on Waverill and found him still asleep, then went back to the library. The books and tapes were all Terran, with no clues about the aliens. The museum was no more helpful. It was a relief when he heard Waverill calling.
There were steaks in the larder, and potatoes. Waverill grumbled at the wait while Murdoch cooked. The older man still acted a little drowsy, but had a good appetite. After eating he wanted to rest again.
Murdoch wandered some more, then forced himself to sit down in the library and pretend to study. He went over his plans again and again.
They were tenuous enough. He had to get a drop of Waverill's blood sometime within the next day or two, and get it past the barrier. Then he had to get it into the ship and, once away from Ganymede, inoculate himself. The problem of Waverill didn't worry him. The drowsiness would have to be coped with, but based on the time-table Waverill's symptoms would give him, he should be able to set up a flight plan which would allow him to nap.
The time dragged agonizingly. He had two more drinks during the "afternoon", took another workout and a couple of turns around the building, and finally saw the sunlamps dimming. After that there was a time of lying on his bunk trying to force himself to relax. Finally he did sleep.
III
He was awake again with the first light; got up and wandered restlessly into the pantry. In a few minutes he heard Waverill stirring. "Murdoch!" came the older man's voice.