"Not taking time," he stated simply and pointed to a dial. Gray shook her head and looked at the others.

"That isn't doing either of them any good!"

Rat nodded unhappily. "What's her matter—?" pointing.

"Appendix. Something about this atmosphere sends it haywire. The thing itself isn't diseased, but it starts manufacturing poison. Patient dies in a week unless it is taken out."

"Don't know it," he said briefly.

"Do you mean to say you don't have an appendix?" she demanded.

Rat folded his arms and considered this. "Don't know. Maybe yes, maybe no. Where's it hurt?"

Gray pointed out the location. The Centaurian considered this further and drifted into long contemplation. Watching him, Gray remembered his eyes that night ... only last night ... in the office. Peterson had refused to meet them. After awhile Rat came out of it.

"No," he waved. "No appendix. Never nowhere appendix."

"Then Mother Nature has finally woke up!" she exclaimed. "But why do Centaurians rate it exclusively?"

Rat ignored this and asked one of her. "What you and her doing up there?" He pointed back and up, to where Mars obliterated the stars.

"You might call it a pleasure jaunt. She's only seventeen. We came over in a cruiser belonging to her father; it was rather large and easy to handle. But the cruise ended when she lost control of the ship because of an attack of space-appendicitis. The rest you know."

"So you?"

"So I'm a combination nurse, governess, guard and what have you. Or will be until we get back. After this, I'll probably be looking for work." She shivered.

"Cold?" he inquired concernedly.

"On the contrary, I'm too warm." She started to remove the blanket. Rat threw up a hand to stop her.

"Leave on! Hot out here."

"But I'm too hot now. I want to take it off!"

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