er the crew of the _Mavis_ met its mysterious end, and the
Medical Corps thinks that whatever is causing the deaths could also
cause mental confusion. Therefore, I am remanding you to the custody of
the Medical Corps for observation. You'll be kept in close confinement
until this thing is cleared up."

Wayne frowned bitterly. "Yes, sir," he said.

* * * * *

Peter Wayne sat in his cell in the hospital sector and stared at the
wall in confusion. What in blazes was going on? What possible motive
would three enlisted men have to frame him in this way? It didn't make
any sense.

Was it possible that he really _had_ gone off his rocker? Had he
imagined the little beast under the sand?

He lifted his foot and looked again at the sole. There it was: a little
pit about an eighth of an inch deep.

The colonel had explained it away easily enough, saying that he might
possibly have stepped on a sharp rock. Wayne shook his head. He knew he
wasn't nuts. But what the hell was going on?

There were no answers. But he knew that the eventual answer, when it
came, would have something to do with the mystery of the _Mavis's_ eight
corpses.

It was late that afternoon when Sherri James came storming into the
hospital sector. She was wearing a spacesuit, and she was brandishing a
pass countersigned by Colonel Petersen himself. She was determined to
enter.

"The medics didn't want to let me in," she explained. "But I told them
I'd wear a spacesuit if it would make them any happier."

"Sherri! What the devil are you doing here?"

"I just wanted to check on you," she said. Her voice sounded oddly
distorted coming over the speaker in the helmet. "You're supposed to
have blown your wig or something. Did you?"

"No. Of course not."

"I didn't think so." She unscrewed her helmet quickly. "Listen, Peter,
there's something funny going on aboard this ship."

"I've known that a long time," he said.

"I think Boggs and those other two are trying to frame you," she said,
her voice low. "Do you know of anyone aboard named Masters?"

"Masters?" Wayne repeated. "Not that I know of--why?"

"Well, I overheard Boggs talking to one of the other men. I didn't hear
very clearly, but it sounded as though he said: 'We've got to get Moore
out and turn him over to Masters.' Bill Moore is one of my
computermen--tall, skinny fellow."

Wayne nodded, frowning. "Yeah, but who is Masters? This is the queerest
thing I