"Send me again," said Jerry. "I know the score pretty well, now. I know
what to watch out for. I'm sure that with one more try I can get Mawson
out of there."
"Sorry," Burgess said, shaking his head. "As a medical man, I cannot
permit it. You've had a bad shock. We'll try someone else, if your
outfit will send someone, and see what happens. If he fails, or if they
won't supply us with any more men, then--well, you can try again in a
few weeks, if you're still game. But not now."
"Doctor, in a few weeks, Mawson will be so well in control of that
universe that he may find a way to block the entrance. Have you thought
of that?"
"His universe is not a real one--" Burgess began.
"But that duplicator is real enough. It can make anything he decides he
needs. And at any time he may get the bright idea of simply mounting
his machine right at the entrance, so anyone stepping into that gray
field will be powdered into atoms, instantly."
"That's true enough," admitted Burgess. "But my diagnosis still
stands. For now, you are off this assignment. When I feel you're
ready--assuming nothing else has succeeded meantime--I'll contact you
at the base."
"How do you know I won't be off on some other planet by then?" asked
Jerry bitterly.
"I don't," said Burgess. "I hope you are not, but there isn't anything
further I can do about it. I'm sorry."
"And what do I do in the meantime?"