tros said, "can anyone really be so asthenic as you
seem, Mr. Wordsley?"

"No, sir," Mr. Wordsley said, uncertain of his meaning.

The captain winked. "Yet there was that ruffled shirt that I found in
the laundromat last week. It was not my shirt. There are only the two of
us aboard, Mr. Wordsley."

"It was my shirt," Mr. Wordsley said, turning crimson. "I bought it on
Vega Four. I--I didn't know--that is, they wear them like that on Vega
Four."

"Yes, they do," DeCastros said. "Well, well, perhaps you are only a
poet, Mr. Wordsley. But should you happen to be a little--well, maggoty,
you positively do not have to tell me. No doubt we both have our
secrets. Naturally."

"_I_ haven't," Mr. Wordsley said desperately.

"No? Then you certainly will not mind that I am recommending an Ab Test
for you when we get home."

Mr. Wordsley's heart stopped beating for several seconds. He searched
Captain DeCastros' face for a sign that he might be fooling. He was not.
He looked too pleasant. Mr. Wordsley had always managed to pass the
Aberrations Test by the skin of his teeth, but he was sure that, like
most spiritual geniuses, he was sensitively balanced, and that the power
and seniority of a man like DeCastros must influence the Board of
Examination.

"You might be decommed. Or even committed to an institution. We wouldn't
want _that_ to happen, would we, Mr. Wordsley?"

"Why are you doing this to me?" Mr. Wordsley asked strickenly.

"To tell the truth, I do not propose to have any more of my voyages
blighted with your moon-calfing, day-dreaming and letting the
ertholaters stink up the bridge. Besides--" Captain DeCastros patted his
shoulder almost affectionately. "--besides, I can't stand you, Mr.
Wordsley."

Mr. Wordsley nodded. He went over to the screen that was like a window
of blessed outer night and sank down on his knees before it.

_Have the wish I wish tonight._

"Ah, ha!" DeCastros exclaimed with sudden ice frozen around the rim of
his voice. "What have we here?"

"A new nova," Mr. Wordsley answered sullenly.

"It is common knowledge that no engineer can tell a nova from the D.R.
blast of an Iphonian freighter. Let me see it." He shoved Mr. Wordsley
out of the way and examined the screen intently.

"You fool," he said at last, "that's a planet. It is Avis Solis."

* * * * *

Now the name of Avis Solis tingled in Mr. Wordsley's unreliable memory,
but it would not adva