d. There was a machine that buzzed and white-clad
men who studied films and papers. There were scraps of conversation.

"Belly wounds are bad," Kinnison thought--he was never sure--that he
heard one of them say. "And such contusions and multiple and compound
fractures as those don't help a bit. Prognosis unfavorable--distinctly
so--but we'll soon see what we can do. Interesting case ... fascinating.
What would you do, Doctor, if you were doing it?"

"I'd let it alone!" A younger, stronger voice declared, fervently.
"Multiple perforations, infection, extravasation, oedema--uh-uh! I am
watching, Doctor, and learning!"

Another interlude, and another. Another. And others. Until finally,
orders were given which Kinnison did not hear at all.

"Adrenalin! Massage! Massage hell out of him!"

Kinnison again came to--partially to, rather--anguished in every fiber
of his being. Somebody was sticking barbed arrows into every square inch
of his skin; somebody else was pounding and mauling him all over, taking
particular pains to pummel and to wrench at all the places where he hurt
the worst. He yelled at the top of his voice; yelled and swore bitterly:
"QUIT IT!" being the expurgated gist of his luridly profane protests.
He did not make nearly as much noise as he supposed, but he made enough.

"Thank God!" Kinnison heard a lighter, softer voice. Surprised, he
stopped swearing and tried to stare. He couldn't see very well, either,
but he was pretty sure that there was a middle-aged woman there. There
was, and her eyes were not dry. "He is going to live, after all!"

As the days passed, he began really to sleep, naturally and deeply.

He grew hungrier and hungrier, and they would not give him enough to
eat. He was by turns sullen, angry, and morose.

In short, he was convalescent.

For Captain Ralph K. Kinnison, THE WAR was over.

CHAPTER 5

1941

Chubby, brownette Eunice Kinnison sat in a rocker, reading the Sunday
papers and listening to her radio. Her husband Ralph lay sprawled upon
the davenport, smoking a cigarette and reading the current issue of
EXTRAORDINARY STORIES against an unheard background of music. Mentally,
he was far from Tellus, flitting in his super-dreadnaught through parsec
after parsec of vacuous space.

The music broke off without warning and there blared out an announcement
which yanked Ralph Kinnison back to Earth with a violence almost
physical. He jumped up, jammed his hands into his