The little party came through the air lock bearing a limp figure on an improvised litter. "Who was it this time?" Fenner asked. Gorsline pulled off the transparent hood that covered his head and face, and unzipped his suit. He dug his fingers wearily into his eyes. "Bodkin," he said. "Same as the others." He turned back to the group. "Get him right to the infirmary. Not that it'll do much good," he added, in an undertone, to Fenner. Fenner sighed, glancing at Bodkin on the litter. Behind the pla