George Hanlon stirred and sat up, flashing a smile. "You didn't need to whisper, Curt," he said. "I wasn't asleep. Just been helping dad get well."
The major stared at him in amazement. "What d'you mean?"
"You're half a doctor, Curt. Take a look at dad's wound."
Doubtfully, not fully understanding even yet what his companion meant, Hooper removed the bandage. He stared unbelievingly at the wounded shoulder. The deeper portions of that terrible burn were completely regenerated with healthy tissue. There was no sign of inflammation, no scarred tissue or fused flesh as usually shows in a fresh flamegun burn. The upper parts of the injury, too, were already beginning to heal toward the center.
"Why ... why," he was astounded. "That should've taken weeks. I never knew a wound to heal that fast."
"I found out how to speed up the cells and things," Hanlon said simply.
Admiral Newton roused as they talked, perhaps at the touch of Hooper's gentle hands removing the bandage. Now he opened his eyes, and after a moment to realize his surroundings and recall the events of his injuries, smiled at his co-workers.
"Hi, fellows. Everything under control?"
"Yes, sir, all O K," Hooper answered. "I think the Ruler is about ready to sign up."
"Good. Good work. Say, I feel fine. No pain—yet I seem to have a memory of being blasted ... of fainting." He frowned, then shrugged. "Couldn't have been much after all."