Bill Adams became the first human to walk on Mars. He returned a hero. Then the itching started. A mysterious rash spreads across his body during the long journey home, and the fear is immediate and absolute: alien disease. Earth authorities make the only rational decision quarantine him on the Moon, trapping the first interplanetary explorer in solitary confinement while bureaucrats debate his fate. A young, overmatched doctor is dispatched to monitor his deterioration, and Adams watches helplessly as humanity prepares to write him off as a cosmic casualty. The twist is glorious in its absurdity: the great space explorer is allergic to cat fur. What Adams feared was a terminal alien affliction turns out to be the most mundane household nuisance imaginable. The hero's welcome becomes a scramble to bury the embarrassing truth before it destroys his reputation. Del Rey's 1951 novel is a sharp, unexpectedly funny portrait of human ego and the stories we tell ourselves about heroism. It captures the golden age of SF's breathless optimism about space travel while quietly mocking the fragile vanity beneath the mission patches. For readers who want their vintage science fiction with a wry smile.
