"Maybe," Kinnison replied, white and weak. "I'm all right yet, except once in a while—"
"I know," the captain frowned. "No cure?"
"Not a chance. Tried dozens. So—" and the Lensman spread out his hands in a hopeless gesture.
"Better tell me your name, anyway—your real name. That'll let your planet know that you aren't—"
"Better not," the sufferer shook his aching head. "Folks think I'm dead. Better let them keep on thinking so. Williams is the name, sir; William Williams, of Aldebaran II."
"As you say."
"How far are we from where I boarded you?"
"Close. Less than half a billion miles. This, the second, is our home planet: your asteroid belt is just outside the orbit of the fourth."
"I can hop it in an hour, easy. Guess I'll buzz off."
"As you say," the officer agreed, again. "But we'd like to—" and he extended a sheaf of currency.