been
on the Moon, except when he had been in his own sealed room at the
sanatorium. And his post-nasal drip was unmistakably maturing into a
cold; he had been stifling sneezes for the last half hour.

He was roused by a commotion up ahead; someone was on the floor, and the
others were crowding around. "Help me carry her," said the guide's voice
sharply in his earphones. "We can't treat her here. What is she, a heart
case?... Good Lord. Clear the way there, will you?"

Weaver hurried up, struck by a sharp suspicion. Indeed, it was Harriet
who was being carried out--and a good thing, he thought, that they
didn't have to support her full weight. He wondered vaguely if she would
die before they got her to a doctor. He could not give the thought his
full attention, or feel as much fraternal anxiety as he ought, because--

He had ... he _had_ to sneeze.

* * * * *

The others had crowded out into the red-lit space of the control room,
where the airlock was. Weaver stopped and frantically tugged his arm
free of the rubberoid sleeve. The repressed spasm was an acute agony in
his nose and throat. He fumbled the handkerchief out of his pocket,
thrust his hand up under the helmet--and blissfully let go.

His eyes were watering. He wiped them hurriedly, put the handkerchief
away, worked his arm back into the sleeve, and looked around to see what
had become of the others.

The airlock door was closed, and there was no one in the room but the
hairy eggplant shape of the Aurigean, still puffing its cigar.

"Hey!" said Weaver, forgetting his manners. The Aurigean did not
turn--but then, which was its front, or back? The beady black eyes
regarded him without expression.

Weaver started forward. He got nearly to the airlock before a cluster of
hairy tentacles barred his way. He said indignantly, "Let me out, you
monster. Let me out, do you hear?"

The creature stood stock-still in an infuriating attitude until a little
light on the wall changed from orange to red-violet. Then it crossed to
the control board, did something there, and the inner door of the lock
swung open.

"Well, I should think so!" said Weaver. He stepped forward again--But
his eyes were beginning to water. There was an intolerable tickling far
back in his nostrils. He was going to--he was--

Eyes squeezed shut, his whole body contorted with effort, he raised his
arm to begin the desperate race once more. His hand brushed agai