Dr. Moray studied the sleeping man before him. He withdrew the prepared needle from inside his dress jacket. "Now, Captain Rogers," he said softly, "I'm going to give you a shot. All of your systems will shut down over the next hours from this poison, which should be put down to a worsening of your very convenient illness. I'm very sorry that it has come to this, but it can't be helped. You cannot be allowed to interfere with our plan. I'm afraid the drug will cause you significant pain as it enters your body, but the discomfort will be brief. Before tomorrow, you will be dead." He plunged the needle home.

BRBR

Wilma entered sick bay and stopped just inside the door, staring. Buck was on the floor with Paulton and Dr. Goodfellow on either side of him. Dr. Moray, both hands rubbing his throat, was slowly retreating along the wall to her right. "What's going on here?" she demanded.

Paulton went for practicality instead of explanations. "Help us get him back into bed," she urged.

Wilma hurried forward as Dr. Goodfellow repeated the request. She seized Buck under his left arm, and with Paulton on the right, they managed to pick him up and heave him back onto the bed. Buck was barely able to help at all, and his skin felt even hotter than it had before. Wilma picked up his legs and moved them onto the bed, and he tried weakly to position himself as Paulton began to reattach the IV.

The sheet was untangled and pulled up, and Wilma tucked it in over him. His head turned restlessly on the pillow, and his eyes opened. She had never seen them look like this, even in his hallucinations earlier. They were glazed, unfocused, fever bright, but now with an accusation mixed with horror in them. "Dr. Goodfellow," he managed. "You drugged me. Are you one of them?"

Goodfellow was stunned himself by the accusation and was silent. Buck's restless eyes found Wilma next. "Wilma," he said softly. "You, too? Is there anybody?"

She patted his chest, trying to soothe him. There was nothing she could say, nothing she could do. She would have given anything to help him, but it was beyond her power. "He stabbed me," Buck said, so softly that she almost couldn't make out the words. "Something's wrong." In the next moment, Buck seized her shoulders with a fierce, desperate strength. "Hawk," he said. "Get me Hawk."

Wilma, thoroughly frightened now, simply nodded. That demand took the last of his strength, and Buck's fingers went slack as his head turned back away from her. He had passed out, she realized. She turned to look at Dr. Goodfellow, seeking reassurance.

The doctor stepped forward, studying the monitors, then looked at Moray, who had retreated almost to the door by now. "Are you all right, Doctor?" he asked.

Moray nodded. He looked shaken up himself. "He tried to kill me," he said. "He was really trying to kill me. His delirium is getting worse."

"Yes. I assure you, he didn't mean it," Goodfellow said. "This virus is to blame. He's actually a very good-natured man."

At that moment, an alarm went off on the monitors simultaneously with Paulton's voice. "Doctor." Goodfellow turned back to Buck, and Wilma heard the door swish behind them as Moray left.

"His heart beat is suddenly getting a little more irregular," Paulton stated.

Goodfellow studied the flashing instruments. "Yes, it is," he mused. "That's odd. The records on Cygnus fever are a few hundred years old and probably just a summary at this point, but none of them mentioned that as a symptom." He put the puzzle aside for the moment. "I'll get him something to stabilize it." He headed for his lab, and Wilma moved up closer to Buck. He was sweating, and even aside from the unconsciousness, he looked somehow worse than before to her.

"He said Moray stabbed him," she recalled.

Paulton shook her head. "He also said that Dr. Goodfellow was 'one of them.' Dr. Moray was going to get a blood sample from him to try to help us; he said he'd seen a similar case once. Captain Rogers must have reacted to the needle. That's odd, though; he really was sedated. I don't know how he managed to find the strength to attack Moray. He really was trying to kill him when we came in; both of us couldn't drag him off. Then all at once, he collapsed."

When we came in. "You two weren't here when Moray was getting the blood sample?" Wilma asked.

"No. Moray wanted a hemofractionizer, and Dr. Goodfellow went to find one. I met him in medical supply."

So Moray had been alone with Buck, Wilma realized. Had maybe even designed it that way.

She didn't like the ambassador and his assistant. That impression had been growing for quite a while, strengthened but not entirely started by their obvious magnanimity toward Buck at the scene back in the hallway. It was that that had led her to pull her hand away from the ambassador. She had nothing concrete to base the feeling on, but she simply didn't like them.

Picking up Buck's left arm, she looked for and found the trickle of blood at his elbow. Moray had indeed stabbed him with a needle.

Dr. Goodfellow returned at that moment with a shot himself for Buck, and Wilma moved away slightly to give him access. He studied Buck after delivering the medication. "Oxygen level just went down a few points, too," Paulton said.

Goodfellow shook his head. "Strange. I know our records aren't complete this much later on this virus, but that wasn't mentioned, either."

Wilma seized a guess. If she was wrong, all that would happen is that she would look foolish in front of these two, but it wouldn't go any further. "Dr. Goodfellow, can you humor me with something? Take a blood sample from him right now and run it for toxins. I think he might have been given a drug a few minutes ago, not just had blood taken."

Goodfellow looked at her in surprise, as did Paulton. "You think Dr. Moray . . ."

"It's a wild guess. I might be totally wrong. But he was with Buck alone. I've never known Buck to attack anybody unprovoked. And it's odd that he's developing new symptoms right after Moray left." She turned to Paulton. "You're a woman. Do you completely trust that man?"

Paulton considered, sorting through the layers. "He is a little polished," she admitted. She countered immediately. "But that doesn't mean . . ."

"Just take the sample, run the tests," Wilma urged. "If I'm wrong, no harm done."

Dr. Goodfellow finally shrugged and nodded, and Paulton retrieved a needle. Wilma watched as the medical assistant stuck it into Buck's arm, withdrawing a sample of blood. Buck shifted restlessly, his eyes opening for just a second, finding Paulton, then falling shut again, but he definitely didn't attack anyone. Paulton handed the syringe to Dr. Goodfellow, and the two of them headed for the lab.

Wilma ran a hand across Buck's forehead. His fever definitely was even higher than before, but he was also shifting slightly, restless even in sleep. He looked in pain at the moment, not just sick. "Buck," she asked him softly, "what is going on here?"