"Just go away and let me sleep."
"Have a nice dream," said Farradyne. "Because your next one will be a wake-mare."
Farradyne waited until the eyelids closed heavily and Brenner's breathing became deep and regular. Then he left him to explain to the rest of the passengers that 'Hughes' was resting easily but that the lack of sunshine on Pluto would impair his recovery-time. Then Farradyne went aloft and into the landing pattern, one wary eye poised for danger.
The Lancaster came down easily, and while the landing was as good as any Farradyne had ever made, he was a jittering wreck from three hours in the chair worrying about a recurrence of the Semiramide affair.
He checked in; the spaceport bus snaked out to meet them as they came trooping down the landing ramp.
"All here?" called the driver.
"All that's coming," replied Farradyne.
"But the roster-count was—"
"Mr. Hughes has an attack of coryosis," offered Professor Martin. "He is going—"
"—to be a bit late, but here I am," said a voice behind them. They whirled to see Hughes-Brenner coming down the ramp, his bag packed, a smile on his face.