"Yes, yes! They will pay anything — anything — to get him back safely."
The doctor grinned with satisfaction.
M emory returned to Quirl with the realization that he was lying on a metal bunk in an outside stateroom, where he could see the orderly procession of the stars through the floor ports as the ship rotated. His body was racked with pain, and his head seemed enormous. His sensation, he discovered, was due to a thick swathing of bandages.
As he stirred something moved in an adjoining bunk, and Dr. Stoddard's peaked face came into view.
"How do you feel?" he asked professionally.
"Rotten!"
"We'll fix that." He left, returning a few minutes later with a portable apparatus somewhat resembling its progenitor, the diathermy generator. He disposed a number of insulated loops about Quirl's body and head, connecting them through flexible cables to his machine. As a gentle humming began, Quirl was conscious of an agreeable warmth, of a quickening all over his body. A great lassitude followed, and he slept.
When he awoke again Captain Strom was standing beside him. He had taken off his coat, and his powerful body filled the blouse he was wearing. He had evidently just come off duty, for he still had on his blue trousers, with the stripes of gold braid down the sides.
"It may interest you, Mr. Finner, that I have selected you as one of the chosen," he remarked casually.
"One of the chosen what?"