ed. At the time, he felt only the dimness.

It wore off abruptly. He was in a civilized cot, stretching luxuriously,
aware of warmth and comfort and a cheerful voice that seemed familiar.

He opened his eyes. A fat young corpsman had been watching.

"How do you feel, sir?" the boy said. "Ready for coffee?"

"Sure," Chet answered. And grinned lazily as he sat up to sip the
proffered cup. "You've taken good care of me."

"Used to be a barber in civilian life," the boy said smugly. And Chet
found with an exploratory hand that he'd been shaven and shorn, bathed,
bandaged where necessary--even, he saw, clad in a pair of fancy red
broadcloth pajamas.

"You've got me cleaned up, all right," he said. "Whose p.j.'s have I got
on?"

"Dr. Pine's, sir. You'll see him in a couple of minutes--he and the Old
Man been waiting to question you. There's a robe and slippers, if you
want me to help you get up...."

"I'm not helpless," Chet said, boasting in his turn. He proved it by
climbing--gingerly--out of the cot. The boy helped him into the robe,
found the slippers, pushed the small room's one chair an inch closer to
the open porthole, and left, closing the door behind him.

* * * * *

Vaguely Chet found he knew the two men who soon entered the room--they'd
been there before. But this was his first fully conscious look at them.
Commander Seymour, the C.O., looked surprisingly young for his job. He
_was_ young, Chet decided--not over thirty-five--and his short slight
figure made him seem younger still.

He had few words. "You're looking fine, Barfield," he said, and sat on
the edge of the cot, thin face impassive, gray eyes alert.

Dr. Pine--tall, balding, affable--was associated in Chet's mind with
hypodermic needles, bitter medicines, restrictions. Today, the doctor
gave him a firm and friendly handshake, but yesterday, Chet felt, that
same hand had inflicted pain.

"Glad to see you looking so well," the doctor said, taking a stance
against the wall by the porthole. He sounded sincere enough, but Chet,
resuming his chair, wondered how much of the gladness was based on the
doctor's pride in professional handiwork.

There was an awkward pause. Chet remembered to murmur polite replies to
the men who were so obviously sizing him up. Then he asked, "When do you
think I'll be ready for duty?"

His visitors exchanged a glance. "Later," Commander Seymour said. "Take
it easy while you can, Barfi