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diff --git a/.gitattributes b/.gitattributes new file mode 100644 index 0000000..6833f05 --- /dev/null +++ b/.gitattributes @@ -0,0 +1,3 @@ +* text=auto +*.txt text +*.md text diff --git a/18172-8.txt b/18172-8.txt new file mode 100644 index 0000000..9696289 --- /dev/null +++ b/18172-8.txt @@ -0,0 +1,5090 @@ +The Project Gutenberg EBook of This World Is Taboo, by Murray Leinster + +This eBook is for the use of anyone anywhere at no cost and with +almost no restrictions whatsoever. You may copy it, give it away or +re-use it under the terms of the Project Gutenberg License included +with this eBook or online at www.gutenberg.org + + +Title: This World Is Taboo + +Author: Murray Leinster + +Release Date: April 14, 2006 [EBook #18172] + +Language: English + +Character set encoding: ISO-8859-1 + +*** START OF THIS PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK THIS WORLD IS TABOO *** + + + + +Produced by Greg Weeks, Sankar Viswanathan, and the Online +Distributed Proofreading Team at http://www.pgdp.net + + + + + + + + + + Transcriber's note: + Extensive research did not uncover any evidence that the copyright + on this publication was renewed. + + + THIS WORLD + IS TABOO + + + by + MURRAY LEINSTER + + + + + ACE BOOKS, INC. + 23 West 47th Street, New York 36, N. Y. + + * * * * * + + + + +THIS WORLD IS TABOO + +1 + + +The little Med Ship came out of overdrive and the stars were strange +and the Milky Way seemed unfamiliar. Which, of course, was because the +Milky Way and the local Cepheid marker-stars were seen from an +unaccustomed angle and a not-yet-commonplace pattern of varying +magnitudes. + +But Calhoun grunted in satisfaction. There was a banded sun off to +port, which was good. A breakout at no more than sixty light-hours +from one's destination wasn't bad, in a strange sector of the galaxy +and after three light-years of journeying blind. + +"Arise and shine, Murgatroyd," said Calhoun. "Comb your whiskers. Get +set to astonish the natives!" + +A sleepy, small, shrill voice said: "_Chee!_" + +Murgatroyd the _tormal_ came crawling out of the small cubbyhole which +was his own. He blinked at Calhoun. + +"We're due to land shortly," Calhoun observed. "You will impress the +local inhabitants. I will get unpopular. According to the records, +there's been no Med Ship inspection here for twelve standard years. +And that was practically no inspection, to judge by the report." + +Murgatroyd said: "_Chee-chee!_" + +He began to make his toilet, first licking his right-hand whiskers and +then his left. Then he stood up and shook himself and looked +interestedly at Calhoun. _Tormals_ are companionable small animals. +They are charmed when somebody speaks to them. They find great, deep +satisfaction in imitating the actions of humans, as parrots and +mynahs and parakeets imitate human speech. But _tormals_ have certain +valuable, genetically transmitted talents which make them much more +valuable than mere companions or pets. + +Calhoun got a light-reading for the banded sun. It could hardly be an +accurate measure of distance, but it was a guide. + +"Hold on to something, Murgatroyd!" he said. + +Murgatroyd watched. He saw Calhoun make certain gestures which +presaged discomfort. He popped back into his cubbyhole. Calhoun threw +the overdrive switch and the Med Ship flicked back into that +questionable state of being in which velocities of hundreds of times +that of light are possible. The sensation of going into overdrive was +unpleasant. A moment later, the sensation of coming out was no less +so. Calhoun had experienced it often enough, and still didn't like it. + +The sun Weald burned huge and terrible in space. It was close, now. +Its disk covered half a degree of arc. + +"Very neat," observed Calhoun. "Weald Three is our port, Murgatroyd. +The plane of the ecliptic would be ... Hm...." + +He swung the outside electron telescope, picked up a nearby bright +object, enlarged its image to show details, and checked it against the +local star-pilot. He calculated a moment. The distance was too short +for even the briefest of overdrive hops, but it would take time to get +there on solar-system drive. + +He thumbed down the communicator button and spoke into a microphone. + +"Med Ship _Aesclipus Twenty_ reporting arrival and asking coordinates +for landing," he said matter-of-factly. "Purpose of landing is +planetary health inspection. Our mass is fifty tons, standard. We +should arrive at a landing position in something under four hours. +Repeat. Med Ship _Aesclipus Twenty_...." + +He finished the regular second transmission and made coffee for +himself while he waited for an answer. Murgatroyd came out for a cup +of coffee for himself. Murgatroyd adored coffee. In minutes he held a +tiny cup in a furry small paw and sipped gingerly at the hot liquid. + +A voice came out of the communicator: + +"_Aesclipus Twenty_, repeat your identification." + +Calhoun went to the control board. + +"_Aesclipus Twenty_," he said patiently, "is a Med Ship, sent by the +Interstellar Medical Service to make a planetary health inspection on +Weald. Check with your public health authorities. This is the first +Med Ship visit in twelve standard years, I believe--which is +inexcusable. But your health authorities will know all about it. Check +with them." + +The voice said truculently: + +"What was your last port?" + +Calhoun named it. This was not his home sector, but Sector Twelve had +gotten into a very bad situation. Some of its planets had gone +unvisited for as long as twenty years, and twelve between inspections +was almost commonplace. Other sectors had been called on to help it +catch up. + +Calhoun was one of the loaned Med Ship men, and because of the +emergency he'd been given a list of half a dozen planets to be +inspected one after another, instead of reporting back to sector +headquarters after each visit. He'd had minor troubles before with +landing-grid operators in Sector Twelve. + +So he was very patient. He named the planet last inspected, the one +from which he'd set out for Weald Three. The voice from the +communicator said sharply: + +"What port before that?" + +Calhoun named the one before the last. + +"Don't drive any closer," said the voice harshly, "or you'll be +destroyed!" + +Calhoun said coldly, "Listen, my fine feathered friend! I'm from the +Interstellar Medical Service. You get in touch with planetary health +services immediately! Remind them of the Interstellar Medical +Inspection Agreement, signed on Tralee two hundred and forty standard +years ago. Remind them that if they do not cooperate in medical +inspection that I can put your planet under quarantine and your space +commerce will be cut off like that! + +"No ship will be cleared for Weald from any other planet in the galaxy +until there has been a health inspection! Things have pretty well gone +to pot so far as the Med Service in this sector is concerned, but it's +being straightened up. I'm helping straighten it! I give you twenty +minutes to clear this! Then I am coming in, and if I'm not landed a +quarantine goes on! Tell your health authorities that!" + +Silence. Calhoun clicked off and poured himself another cup of coffee. +Murgatroyd held out his cup for a refill. Calhoun gave it to him. + +"I hate to put on an official hat, Murgatroyd," he said, annoyed, "but +there are some people who demand it. The rule is, never get official +if you can help it, but when you must, out-official the official who's +officialing you." + +Murgatroyd said "_Chee!_" and sipped at his cup. + +Calhoun checked the course of the Med Ship. It bore on through space. +There were tiny noises from the communicator. There were whisperings +and rustlings and the occasional strange and sometimes beautiful +musical notes whose origin is yet obscure, but which, since they are +carried by electromagnetic radiation of wildly varying wave lengths, +are not likely to be the fabled music of the spheres. + +In fifteen minutes a different voice came from the speaker. + +"Med Ship _Aesclipus_! Med Ship _Aesclipus_!" + +Calhoun answered and the voice said anxiously: + +"Sorry about the challenge, but we have the blueskin problem always +with us. We have to be extremely careful! Will you come in, please?" + +"I'm on my way," said Calhoun. + +"The planetary health authorities," said the voice, more anxiously +still, "are very anxious to be cooperative. We need Med Service help! +We lose a lot of sleep over the blueskin! Could you tell us the name +of the last Med Ship to land here, and its inspector, and when that +inspection was made? We want to look up the record of the event to be +able to assist you in every possible way." + +"He's lying," Calhoun told Murgatroyd, "but he's more scared than +hostile." + +He picked up the order folio on Weald Three. He gave the information +about the last Med Ship visit. + +"What?" he asked, "is a blueskin?" + +He'd read the folio on Weald, of course, but as the ship swam onward +through emptiness he went through it again. The last medical +inspection had been only perfunctory. Twelve years earlier--instead of +three--a Med Ship had landed on Weald. There had been official +conferences with health officials. There was a report on the birth +rate, the death rate, the anomaly rate, and a breakdown of all +reported communicable diseases. But that was all. There were no +special comments and no overall picture. + +Presently Calhoun found the word in a Sector dictionary, where words +of only local usage were to be found: + + "_Blueskin: Colloquial term for a person recovered from a plague + which left large patches of blue pigment irregularly distributed + over the body. Especially, inhabitants of Dara. The condition is + said to be caused by a chronic, nonfatal form of Dara plague and + has been said to be noninfectious, though this is not certain. The + etiology of Dara plague has not been worked out. The blueskin + condition is hereditary but not a genetic modification, as markings + appear in non-Mendelian distributions_." + +Calhoun puzzled over it. Nobody could have read the entire Sector +directory, even with unlimited leisure during travel between solar +systems. Calhoun hadn't tried. But now he went laboriously through +indices and cross-references while the ship continued to travel +onward. + +He found no other reference to blueskins. He looked up Dara. It was +listed as an inhabited planet, some four hundred years colonized, with +a landing-grid and, at the time the main notice was written out, a +flourishing interstellar commerce. But there was a memo, evidently +added to the entry in some change of editions: "_Since plague, special +license from Med Service is required for landing._" + +That was all. Absolutely all. + +The communicator said suavely: + +"Med Ship _Aesclipus Twenty_! Come in on vision, please!" + +Calhoun went to the control board and threw on vision. + +"Well, what now?" he demanded. + +His screen lighted. A bland face looked out at him. + +"We have--ah--verified your statements," said the third voice from +Weald. "Just one more item. Are you alone in your ship?" + +"Of course," said Calhoun, frowning. + +"Quite alone?" insisted the voice. + +"Obviously!" said Calhoun. + +"No other living creature?" insisted the voice again. "Of--oh!" said +Calhoun, annoyed. He called over his shoulder. "Murgatroyd! Come +here!" + +Murgatroyd hopped to his lap and gazed interestedly at the screen. The +bland face changed remarkably. The voice changed even more. + +"Very good!" it said. "Very, very good! Blueskins do not have +_tormals_! You are Med Service! By all means come in! Your coordinates +will be...." + +Calhoun wrote them down. He clicked off the communicator again and +growled to Murgatroyd, "So I might have been a blueskin, eh? And +you're my passport, because only Med Ships have members of your tribe +aboard! What the hell's the matter, Murgatroyd? They act like they +think somebody's trying to get down on their planet with a load of +plague germs!" + +He grumbled to himself for minutes. The life of a Med Ship man is not +exactly a sinecure, at best. It means long periods in empty space in +overdrive, which is absolute and deadly tedium. Then two or three days +aground, checking official documents and statistics, and asking +questions to see how many of the newest medical techniques have +reached this planet or that, and the supplying of information about +such as have not arrived. + +Then the lifting out to space for long periods of tedium, to repeat +the process somewhere else. Med Ships carry only one man because two +could not stand the close contact without quarreling with each other. +But Med Ships do carry _tormals_, like Murgatroyd, and a _tormal_ and +a man can get along indefinitely, like a man and a dog. It is a highly +unequal friendship, but it seems to be satisfactory to both. + +Calhoun was very much annoyed with the way the Med Service had been +operated in Sector Twelve. He was one of many men at work to correct +the results of incompetence in directing Med Service in this sector. +But it is always disheartening to have to labor at making up for +somebody else's blundering, when there is so much new work that needs +to be done. + +The condition shown by the landing-grid suspicions was a case in +point. Blueskins were people who inherited a splotchy skin +pigmentation from other people who'd survived a plague. Weald plainly +maintained a one-planet quarantine against them. But a quarantine is +normally an emergency measure. The Med Service should have taken over, +wiped out the need for a quarantine, and then lifted it. It hadn't +been done. + +Calhoun fumed to himself. + +The world of Weald Three grew brighter and brighter and became a disk. +The disk had icecaps and a reasonable proportion of land and water +surface. The ship decelerated, voices notifying observation from the +surface, and the little ship came to a stop some five planetary +diameters out from solidity. The landing field's force-field locked on +to it, and its descent began. + +The business of landing was all very familiar, from the blue rim which +appeared at the limb of the planet from one diameter out, to the +singular flowing-apart of the surface features as the ship sank still +lower. There was the circular landing-grid, rearing skyward for nearly +a mile. It could let down interstellar liners from emptiness and lift +them out to emptiness again, with great convenience and economy for +everyone. + +It landed the Med Ship in its center, and there were officials to +greet Calhoun, and he knew in advance the routine part of his visit. +There would be an interview with the planet's chief executive, by +whatever title he was called. There would be a banquet. Murgatroyd +would be petted by everybody. There would be painful efforts to +impress Calhoun with the splendid conduct of public health matters on +Weald. He would be told much scandal. + +He might find one man, somewhere, who passionately labored to advance +the welfare of his fellow humans by finding out how to keep them well +or, failing that, how to make them well when they got sick. And in two +days, or three, Calhoun would be escorted back to the landing-grid, +and lifted out to space, and he'd spend long empty days in overdrive +and land somewhere else to do the whole thing all over again. + +It all happened exactly as he expected, with one exception. Every +human being he met on Weald wanted to talk about blueskins. Blueskins +and the idea of blueskins obsessed everyone. Calhoun listened without +asking questions until he had the picture of what blueskins meant to +the people who talked of them. Then he knew there would be no use +asking questions at random. + +Nobody mentioned ever having seen a blueskin. Nobody mentioned a +specific event in which a blueskin had at any named time taken part. +But everybody was afraid of blueskins. It was a patterned, an +inculcated, a stage-directed fixed idea. And it found expression in +shocked references to the vileness, the depravity, the monstrousness +of the blueskin inhabitants of Dara, from whom Weald must at all costs +be protected. + +It did not make sense. So Calhoun listened politely until he found an +undistinguished medical man who wanted some special information about +gene selection as practised halfway across the galaxy. He invited that +man to the Med Ship, where he supplied the information not hitherto +available. He saw his guest's eyes shine a little with that joyous awe +a man feels when he finds out something he has wanted long and badly +to know. + +"Now," said Calhoun, "tell me something? Why does everybody on this +planet hate the inhabitants of Dara? It's light-years away. Nobody +claims to have suffered in person from them. Why make a point of +hating them?" + +The Wealdian doctor grimaced. + +"They've blue patches on their skins. They're different from us. So +they can be pictured as a danger and our political parties can make an +election issue out of competing for the privilege of defending us from +them. They had a plague on Dara, once. They're accused of still having +it ready for export." + +"Hm," said Calhoun. "The story is that they want to spread contagion +here, eh? Doesn't anybody"--his tone was sardonic--"doesn't anybody +urge that they be massacred as an act of piety?" + +"Yes-s-s-s," admitted the doctor reluctantly. "It's mentioned in +political speeches." + +"But how's it rationalized?" demanded Calhoun. "What's the argument to +make pigment-patches involve moral and physical degradation, as I'm +assured is the case?" + +"In the public schools," said the doctor, "the children are taught +that blueskins are now carriers of the disease they survived--three +generations ago! That they hate everybody who isn't a blueskin. That +they are constantly scheming to introduce their plague here so most of +us will die and the rest will become blueskins. That's beyond +rationalizing. It can't be true, but it's not safe to doubt it." + +"Bad business," said Calhoun coldly. "That sort of thing usually costs +lives in the end. It could lead to massacre!" + +"Perhaps it has, in a way," said the doctor unhappily. "One doesn't +like to think about it." He paused. "Twenty years ago there was a +famine on Dara. There were crop failures. The situation must have been +very bad: They built a spaceship. + +"They've no use for such things normally, because no nearby planet +will deal with them or let them land. But they built a spaceship and +came here. They went in orbit around Weald. They asked to trade for +shiploads of food. They offered any price in heavy metals--gold, +platinum, irridium, and so on. They talked from orbit by vision +communicators. They could be seen to be blueskins. You can guess what +happened!" + +"Tell me," said Calhoun. + +"We armed ships in a hurry," admitted the doctor. "We chased their +spaceship back to Dara. We hung in space off the planet. We told them +we'd blast their world from pole to pole if they ever dared take to +space again. We made them destroy their one ship, and we watched on +visionscreens as it was done." + +"But you gave them food?" + +"No," said the doctor ashamedly. "They were blueskins." + +"How bad was the famine?" + +"Who knows? Any number may have starved! And we kept a squadron of +armed ships in their skies for years--to keep them from spreading the +plague, we said. And some of us believed it!" + +The doctor's tone was purest irony. + +"Lately," he said, "there's been a move for economy in our government. +Simultaneously, we began to have a series of overabundant crops. The +government had to buy the excess grain to keep the price up. Retired +patrol ships, built to watch over Dara, were available for storage +space. We filled them up with grain and sent them out into orbit. +They're there now, hundreds of thousands or millions of tons of +grain!" + +"And Dara?" + +The doctor shrugged. He stood up. + +"Our hatred of Dara," he said, again ironically, "has produced one +thing. Roughly halfway between here and Dara there's a two-planet +solar system, Orede. There's a usable planet there. It was proposed to +build an outpost of Weald there, against blueskins. Cattle were landed +to run wild and multiply and make a reason for colonists to settle +there. + +"They did, but nobody wants to move near to blueskins! So Orede stayed +uninhabited until a hunting party, shooting wild cattle, found an +outcropping of heavy-metal ore. So now there's a mine there. And +that's all. A few hundred men work the mine at fabulous wages. You may +be asked to check on their health. But not Dara's!" + +"I see," said Calhoun, frowning. + +The doctor moved toward the Med Ship's exit port. + +"I answered your questions," he said grimly. "But if I talked to +anyone else as I've done to you, I'd be lucky only to be driven into +exile!" + +"I shan't give you away," said Calhoun. He did not smile. + + * * * * * + +When the doctor had gone, Calhoun said deliberately, "Murgatroyd, you +should be grateful that you're a _tormal_ and not a man. There's +nothing about being a _tormal_ to make you ashamed!" + +Then he grimly changed his garments for the full-dress uniform of the +Med Service. There was to be a banquet at which he would sit next to +the planet's chief executive and hear innumerable speeches about the +splendor of Weald. Calhoun had his own, strictly Med Service opinion +of the planet's latest and most boasted-of achievement. It was a domed +city in the polar regions, where nobody ever had to go outdoors. + +He was less than professionally enthusiastic about the moving streets, +and much less than approving of the dream broadcasts which supplied +hypnotic, sleep-inducing rhythms to anybody who chose to listen to +them. The price was that while asleep one would hear high praise of +commercial products, and might believe them when awake. + +But it was not Calhoun's function to criticize when it could be +avoided. Med Service had been badly managed in Sector Twelve. So at +the banquet Calhoun made a brief and diplomatic address in which he +temperately praised what could be praised, and did not mention +anything else. + +The chief executive followed him. As head of the government he paid +some tribute to the Med Service. But then he reminded his hearers +proudly of the high culture, splendid health, and remarkable +prosperity of the planet since his political party took office. This, +he said, despite the need to be perpetually on guard against the +greatest and most immediate danger to which any world in all the +galaxy was exposed. + +He referred to the blueskins, of course. He did not need to tell the +people of Weald what vigilance, what constant watchfulness was +necessary against that race of deprived and malevolent deviants from +the norm of humanity. But Weald, he said with emotion, held aloft the +torch of all that humanity held most dear, and defended not alone the +lives of its people against blueskin contagion, but their noble +heritage of ideals against blueskin pollution. + +When he sat down, Calhoun said very politely, "It looks as if some day +it should be practical politics to urge the massacre of all blueskins. +Have you thought of that?" + +The chief executive said comfortably, "The idea's been proposed. It's +good politics to urge it, but it would be foolish to carry it out. +People vote against blueskins. Wipe them out, and where'd you be?" + +Calhoun ground his teeth--quietly. + +There were more speeches. Then a messenger, white-faced, arrived with +a written note for the chief executive. He read it and passed it to +Calhoun. It was from the Ministry of Health. The spaceport reported +that a ship had just broken out from overdrive within the Wealdian +solar system. Its tape-transmitter had automatically signaled its +arrival from the mining planet Orede. + +But, having sent off its automatic signal, the ship lay dead in space. +It did not drive toward Weald. It did not respond to signals. It +drifted like a derelict upon no course at all. It seemed ominous, and +since it came from Orede, the planet nearest to Dara of the blueskins, +the health ministry informed the planet's chief executive. + +"It'll be blueskins," said that astute person firmly. "They're next +door to Orede. That's who's done this. It wouldn't surprise me if +they'd seeded Orede with their plague, and this ship came from there +to give us warning!" + +"There's no evidence for anything of the sort," protested Calhoun. "A +ship simply came out of overdrive and didn't signal further. That's +all!" + +"We'll see," said the chief executive ominously. "We'll go to the +spaceport. There we'll get the news as it comes in, and can frame +orders on the latest information." + +He took Calhoun by the arm. Calhoun said sharply, "Murgatroyd!" + +During the banquet, Murgatroyd had been visiting with the wives of the +higher-up officials. They had enough of their husbands normally, +without listening to their official speeches. Murgatroyd was brought, +his small paunch distended with cakes and coffee and such delicacies +as he'd been plied with. He was half comatose from overfeeding and +overpetting, but he was glad to see Calhoun. + +Calhoun held the little creature in his arms as the official groundcar +raced through traffic with screaming sirens claiming the right of way. +It reached the spaceport, where enormous metal girders formed a +monster frame of metal lace against a star-filled sky. The chief +executive strode magnificently into the spaceport offices. There was +no news; the situation remained unchanged. + +A ship from Orede had come out of overdrive and lay dead in emptiness. +It did not answer calls. It did not move in space. It floated eerily +in no orbit, going nowhere, doing nothing. And panic was the +consequence. + +It seemed to Calhoun that the official handling of the matter +accounted for the terror that he could feel building up. The +unexplained bit of news was on the air all over the planet Weald. +There was nobody awake of all the world's population who did not +believe that there was a new danger in the sky. Nobody doubted that it +came from blueskins. The treatment of the news was precisely +calculated to keep alive the hatred of Weald for the inhabitants of +the world Dara. + +Calhoun put Murgatroyd into the Med Ship and went back to the +spaceport office. A small spaceboat, designed to inspect the circling +grain ships from time to time, was already aloft. The landing-grid had +thrust it swiftly out most of the way. Now it droned and drove on +sturdily toward the enigmatic ship. + +Calhoun took no part in the agitated conferences among the officials +and news reporters at the spaceport. But he listened to the talk about +him. As the investigating small ship drew nearer to the deathly-still +cargo vessel, the guesses about the meaning of its breakout and +following silence grew more and more wild. + +But, singularly, there was no single suggestion that the mystery might +not be the work of blueskins. Blueskins were scape-goats for all the +fears and all the uneasiness a perhaps over-civilized world developed. + +Presently the investigating spaceboat reached the mystery ship and +circled it, beaming queries. No answer. It reported the cargo ship +dark. No lights anywhere on or in it. There were no induction-surges +from even pulsing, idling engines. Delicately, the messenger craft +maneuvered until it touched the silent vessel. It reported that +microphones detected no motion whatever inside. + +"Let a volunteer go aboard," commanded the chief executive. "Let him +report what he finds." + +A pause. Then the solemn announcement of an intrepid volunteer's name, +from far, far away. Calhoun listened, frowning darkly. This pompous +heroism wouldn't be noticed in the Med Service. It would be routine +behavior. + +Suspenseful, second-by-second reports. The volunteer had rocketed +himself across the emptiness between the two again separated ships. He +had opened the airlock from outside. He'd gone in. He'd closed the +outer airlock door. He'd opened the inner. He reported-- + +The relayed report was almost incoherent, what with horror and +incredulity and the feeling of doom that came upon the volunteer. The +ship was a bulk-cargo ore-carrier, designed to run between Orede and +Weald with cargos of heavy-metal ores and a crew of no more than five +men. There was no cargo in her holds now, though. + +Instead, there were men. They packed the ship. They filled the +corridors. They had crawled into every space where a man could find +room to push himself. There were hundreds of them. It was insanity. +And it had been greater insanity still for the ship to have taken off +with so preposterous a load of living creatures. + +But they weren't living any longer. The air apparatus had been +designed for a crew of five. It would purify the air for possibly +twenty or more. But there were hundreds of men in hiding as well as in +plain view in the cargo ship from Orede. There were many, many times +more than her air apparatus and reserve tanks could possibly have +taken care of. They couldn't even have been fed during the journey +from Orede to Weald. + +But they hadn't starved. Air-scarcity killed them before the ship came +out of overdrive. + +A remarkable thing was that there was no written message in the ship's +log which referred to its takeoff. There was no memorandum of the +taking on of such an impossible number of passengers. + +"The blueskins did it," said the chief executive of Weald. He was +pale. All about Calhoun men looked sick and shocked and terrified. "It +was the blueskins! We'll have to teach them a lesson!" Then he turned +to Calhoun. "The volunteer who went on that ship--he'll have to stay +there, won't he? He can't be brought back to Weald without bringing +contagion." + +Calhoun raged at him. + + * * * * * + + + + +2 + + +There was a certain coldness in the manner of those at the Weald +spaceport when the Med Ship left next morning. Calhoun was not popular +because Weald was scared. It had been conditioned to scare easily, +where blueskins might be involved. Its children were trained to react +explosively when the word _blueskin_ was uttered in their hearing, and +its adults tended to say it when anything causing uneasiness entered +their minds. So a planet-wide habit of irrational response had formed +and was not seen to be irrational because almost everybody had it. + +The volunteer who'd discovered the tragedy on the ship from Orede was +safe, though. He'd made a completely conscientious survey of the ship +he'd volunteered to enter and examine. For his courage, he'd have been +doomed but for Calhoun. + +The reaction of his fellow citizens was that by entering the ship he +might have become contaminated by blueskin infectious material of the +plague still existed, and _if_ the men in the ship had caught it (but +they certainly hadn't died of it), and _if_ there had been blueskins +on Orede to communicate it (for which there was no evidence), and _if_ +blueskins were responsible for the tragedy. Which was at the moment +pure supposition. But Weald feared he might bring death back to Weald +if he were allowed to return. + +Calhoun saved his life. He ordered that the guardship admit him to its +airlock, which then was to be filled with steam and chlorine. The +combination would sterilize and even partly eat away his spacesuit, +after which the chlorine and steam should be bled out to space, and +air from the ship let into the lock. + +If he stripped off the spacesuit without touching its outer surface, +and reentered the investigating ship while the suit was flung outside +by a man in another spacesuit, handling it with a pole he'd fling +after it, there could be no possible contamination brought back. + +Calhoun was quite right, but Weald in general considered that he'd +persuaded the government to take an unreasonable risk. + +There were other reasons for disapproving of him. Calhoun had been +unpleasantly frank. The coming of the death-ship stirred to frenzy +those people who believed that all blueskins should be exterminated as +a pious act. They'd appeared on every vision screen, citing not only +the ship from Orede but other incidents which they interpreted as +crimes against Weald. + +They demanded that all Wealdian atomic reactors be modified to turn +out fusion-bomb materials while a space fleet was made ready for an +anti-blueskin crusade. They confidently demanded such a rain of fusion +bombs on Dara that no blueskin, no animal, no shred of vegetation, no +fish in the deepest ocean, not even a living virus particle of the +blueskin plague could remain alive on the blueskin world. + +One of these vehement orators even asserted that Calhoun agreed that +no other course was possible, speaking for the Interstellar Medical +Service. And Calhoun furiously demanded a chance to deny it by +broadcast, and he made a bitter and indiscreet speech from which a +planet-wide audience inferred that he thought them fools. + +He did. + +So he was definitely unpopular when his ship lifted from Weald. He'd +curtly given his destination as Orede, from which the death-ship had +come. The landing-grid locked on, raised the small spacecraft until +Weald was a great shining ball below it, and then somehow scornfully +cast him off. The Med Ship was free, in clear space where there was +not enough of a gravitational field to hinder overdrive. + +He aimed for his destination, his face very grim. He said savagely, +"Get set, Murgatroyd! Overdrive coming!" + +He thumbed down the overdrive button. The universe of stars went out, +while everything living in the ship felt the customary sensations of +dizziness, of nausea, and of a spiraling fall to nothingness. Then +there was silence. + +The Med Ship actually moved at a rate which was a preposterous number +of times the speed of light, but it felt absolutely solid, absolutely +firm and fixed. A ship in overdrive feels exactly as if it were buried +deep in the core of a planet. There is no vibration. There is no sign +of anything but solidity and, if one looks out a port, there is only +utter blackness plus an absence of sound fit to make one's eardrums +crack. + +But within seconds random tiny noises began. There was a reel and +there were sound-speakers to keep the ship from sounding like a grave. +The reel played and the speakers gave off minute creakings, and +meaningless hums, and very tiny noises of every imaginable sort, all +of which were just above the threshold of the inaudible. + +Calhoun fretted. Sector Twelve was in very bad shape. A conscientious +Med Service man would never have let the anti-blueskin obsession go +unmentioned in a report on Weald. Health is not only a physical +affair. There is mental health, also. When mental health goes a +civilization can be destroyed more surely and more terribly than by +any imaginable war or plague germs. A plague kills off those who are +susceptible to it, leaving immunes to build up a world again. But +immunes are the first to be killed when a mass neurosis sweeps a +population. + +Weald was definitely a Med Service problem world. Dara was another. +And when hundreds of men jammed themselves into a cargo spaceship +which could not furnish them with air to breathe, and took off and +went into overdrive before the air could fail.... Orede called for no +less of worry. + +"I think," said Calhoun dourly, "that I'll have some coffee." + +_Coffee_ was one of the words that Murgatroyd recognized. Ordinarily +he stirred immediately on hearing it, and watched the coffeemaker with +bright, interested eyes. He'd even tried to imitate Calhoun's motions +with it, once, and had scorched his paws in the attempt. But this time +he did not move. + +Calhoun turned his head. Murgatroyd sat on the floor, his long tail +coiled reflectively about a chair leg. He watched the door of the Med +Ship's sleeping cabin. + +"Murgatroyd," said Calhoun. "I mentioned coffee!" + +"_Chee!_" shrilled Murgatroyd. + +But he continued to look at the door. The temperature was kept lower +in the other cabin, and the look of things was different than the +control compartment. The difference was part of the means by which a +man was able to be alone for weeks on end--alone save for his +_tormal_--without becoming ship-happy. + +There were other carefully thought out items in the ship with the same +purpose. But none of them should cause Murgatroyd to stare fixedly and +fascinatedly at the sleeping cabin door. Not when coffee was in the +making! + +Calhoun considered. He became angry at the immediate suspicion that +occurred to him. As a Med Service man, he was duty-bound to be +impartial. To be impartial might mean not to side absolutely with +Weald in its enmity to blueskins. + +And the people of Weald had refused to help Dara in a time of famine, +and had blockaded that pariah world for years afterward. And they had +other reasons for hating the people they'd treated badly. It was +entirely reasonable for some fanatic on Weald to consider that Calhoun +must be killed lest he be of help to the blueskins Weald abhorred. + +In fact, it was quite possible that somebody had stowed away on the +Med Ship to murder Calhoun, so that there would be no danger of any +report favorable to Dara ever being presented anywhere. If so, such a +stowaway would be in the sleeping cabin now, waiting for Calhoun to +walk in unsuspiciously, only to be shot dead. + +So Calhoun made coffee. He slipped a blaster into a pocket where it +would be handy. He filled a small cup for Murgatroyd and a large one +for himself, and then a second large one. + +He tapped on the sleeping cabin door, standing aside lest a +blaster-bolt come through it. + +"Coffee's ready," he said sardonically. "Come out and join us." + +There was a long pause. Calhoun rapped again. + +"You've a seat at the captain's table," he said more sardonically +still. "It's not polite to keep me waiting!" + +He listened, alert for a rush which would be a fanatic's desperate +attempt to do murder despite premature discovery. He was prepared to +shoot quite ruthlessly, because he was on duty and the Med Service did +not approve of the extermination of populations, however justified +another population might consider it. + +But there was no rush. Instead, there came hesitant foot-falls whose +sound made Calhoun start. The door of the cabin slid slowly aside. A +girl appeared in the opening, desperately white and desperately +composed. + +"H-how did you know I was there?" she asked shakily. She moistened her +lips. "You didn't see me! I was in a closet, and you didn't even enter +the room!" + +Calhoun said grimly, "I've sources of information. Murgatroyd told me +this time. May I present him? Murgatroyd, our passenger. Shake hands." + +Murgatroyd moved forward, stood on his hind legs and offered a skinny, +furry paw. She did not move. She stared at Calhoun. + +"Better shake hands," said Calhoun, as grimly as before. "It might +relax the tension a little. And do you want to tell me your story? You +have one ready, I'm sure." + +The girl swallowed. Murgatroyd shook hands gravely. He said, +"_Chee-chee!_" in the shrillest of trebles and went back to his former +position. + +"The story?" said Calhoun insistently. + +"There--there isn't any," said the girl unsteadily. "Just that I--I +need to get to Orede, and you're going there. There's no other way to +go, now." + +"To the contrary," said Calhoun. "There'll undoubtedly be a fleet +heading for Orede as soon as it can be assembled and armed. But I'm +afraid that as a story yours isn't good enough. Try another." + +She shivered a little. + +"I'm running away...." + +"Ah!" said Calhoun. "In that case I'll take you back." + +"No!" she said fiercely. "I'll--I'll die first! I'll wreck this ship +first!" + +Her hand came from behind her. There was a tiny blaster in it. But it +shook visibly as she tried to aim it. + +"I'll shoot out the controls!" + +Calhoun blinked. He'd had to make a drastic change in his estimate of +the situation the instant he saw that the stowaway was a girl. Now he +had to make another when her threat was not to kill him but to disable +the ship. Women are rarely assassins, and when they are they don't use +energy weapons. Daggers and poisons are more typical. But this girl +threatened to destroy the ship rather than its owner, so she was not +actually an assassin at all. + +"I'd rather you didn't do that," said Calhoun dryly. "Besides, you'd +get deadly bored if we were stuck in a derelict waiting for our air +and food to give out." + +Murgatroyd, for no reason whatever, felt it necessary to enter the +conversation: + +"_Chee-chee-chee!_" + +"A very sensible suggestion," observed Calhoun. "We'll sit down and +have a cup of coffee." To the girl he said, "I'll take you to Orede, +since that's where you say you want to go." + +"I have a sweetheart there...." + +Calhoun shook his head. + +"No," he said reprovingly. "Nearly all the mining colony had packed +itself into the ship that came into Weald with everybody dead. But not +all. And there's been no check of what men were in the ship and what +men weren't. You wouldn't go to Orede if it were likely your +sweetheart had died on the way to you. Here's your coffee. Sugar or +saccho, and do you take cream?" + +She trembled a little, but she took the cup. + +"I don't understand." + +"Murgatroyd and I," explained Calhoun--and he did not know whether he +spoke out of anger or something else--"we are do-gooders. We go around +trying to keep people from getting sick or dying. Sometimes we even +try to keep them from getting killed. It's our profession. We practise +it even on our own behalf. We want to stay alive. So since you make +such drastic threats, we will take you where you want to go. +Especially since we're going there anyhow." + +"You don't believe anything I've said!" It was a statement. + +"Not a word," admitted Calhoun. "But you'll probably tell us something +more believable presently. When did you eat last?" + +"Yesterday." + +"Would you rather do your own cooking?" asked Calhoun politely. "Or +would you permit me to ready a snack?" + +"I--I'll do it," she said. + +She drank her coffee first, however, and then Calhoun showed her how +to punch the readier for such-and-such dishes, to be extracted from +storage and warmed or chilled, as the case might be, and served at +dialed-for intervals. There was also equipment for preparing food for +oneself, in one's own chosen manner--again an item to help make +solitude not unendurable. + +Calhoun deliberately immersed himself in the Galactic Directory, +looking up the planet Orede. He was headed there, but he'd had no +reason to inform himself about it before. Now he read with every +appearance of absorption. + +The girl ate daintily. Murgatroyd watched with highly amiable +interest. But she looked acutely uncomfortable. + +Calhoun finished with the Directory. He got out the micro-film reels +which contained more information. He was specifically after the Med +Service history of all the planets in this sector. He went through the +filmed record of every inspection ever made on Weald and on Dara. + +But Sector Twelve had not been run well. There was no adequate account +of a plague which had wiped out three-quarters of the population of an +inhabited planet! It had happened shortly after one Med Ship visit, +and was over before another Med Ship came by. + +There should have been a painstaking investigation, even after the +fact. There should have been a collection of infectious material and a +reasonably complete identification and study of the agent. It hadn't +been made. There was probably some other emergency at the time, and it +slipped by. Calhoun, whose career was not to be spent in this sector, +resolved on a blistering report about this negligence and its +consequences. + +He kept himself casually busy, ignoring the girl. A Med Ship man has +resources of study and meditation with which to occupy himself during +overdrive travel from one planet to another. Calhoun made use of those +resources. He acted as if he were completely unconscious of the +stowaway. But Murgatroyd watched her with charmed attention. + +Hours after her discovery, she said uneasily, "Please?" + +Calhoun looked up. + +"Yes?" + +"I don't know exactly how things stand." + +"You are a stowaway," said Calhoun. "Legally, I have the right to put +you out the airlock. It doesn't seem necessary. There's a cabin. When +you're sleepy, use it. Murgatroyd and I can make out quite well out +here. When you're hungry, you now know how to get something to eat. +When we land on Orede, you'll probably go about whatever business you +have there. That's all." + +She stared at him. + +"But you don't believe what I've told you!" + +"No," agreed Calhoun, but didn't add to the statement. + +"But--I will tell you," she offered. "The police were after me. I had +to get away from Weald! I had to! I'd stolen--" + +He shook his head. + +"No," he said. "If you were a thief, you'd say anything in the world +except that you were a thief. You're not ready to tell the truth yet. +You don't have to, so why tell me anything? I suggest that you get +some sleep. Incidentally, there's no lock on the cabin door because +there's only supposed to be one person on this ship at a time. But you +can brace a chair to fasten it somehow or other. Good night." + +She rose slowly. Twice her lips parted as if to speak again, but then +she went into the other cabin and closed herself in. There was the +sound of a chair being wedged against the door. + +Murgatroyd blinked at the place where she'd disappeared and then +climbed up into Calhoun's lap, with complete assurance of welcome. He +settled himself and was silent for moments. Then he said, "_Chee!_" + +"I believe you're right," said Calhoun. "She doesn't belong on Weald, +or with the conditioning she'd have had, there'd be only one place +she'd dread worse than Orede, which would be Dara. But I doubt she'd +be afraid to land even on Dara." + +Murgatroyd liked to be talked to. He liked to pretend that he carried +on a conversation, like humans. + +"_Chee-chee!_" he said with conviction. + +"Definitely," agreed Calhoun. "She's not doing this for her personal +advantage. Whatever she thinks she'd doing, it's more important to her +than her own life. Murgatroyd...." + +"_Chee?_" said Murgatroyd in an inquiring tone. + +"There are wild cattle on Orede," said Calhoun. "Herds and herds of +them. I have a suspicion that somebody's been shooting them. Lots of +them. Do you agree? Don't you think that a lot of cattle have been +slaughtered on Orede lately?" + +Murgatroyd yawned. He settled himself still more comfortably in +Calhoun's lap. + +"_Chee_," he said drowsily. + +He went to sleep, while Calhoun continued the examination of highly +condensed information. Presently he looked up the normal rate of +increase, with other data, among herds of _bovis domesticus_ in a wild +state, on planets where there are no natural enemies. + +It wasn't unheard-of for a world to be stocked with useful types of +Terran fauna and flora before it was attempted to be colonized. Terran +life-forms could play the devil with alien ecological systems--very +much to humanity's benefit. Familiar microorganisms and a standard +vegetation added to the practicality of human settlements on otherwise +alien worlds. But sometimes the results were strange. + +They weren't often so strange, however, as to cause some hundreds of +men to pack themselves frantically aboard a cargo ship which couldn't +possibly sustain them, so that every man must die while the ship was +in overdrive. + +Still, by the time Calhoun turned in on a spare pneumatic mattress, he +had calculated that as few as a dozen head of cattle, turned loose on +a suitable planet, would have increased to herds of thousands or tens +or even hundreds of thousands in much less time than had probably +elapsed. + +The Med Ship drove on in seemingly absolute solidity, with no sound +from without, with no sight to be seen outside, with no evidence at +all that it was not buried in the heart of a planet instead of +flashing through emptiness at a speed so great as to have no meaning. + +Next ship-day the girl looked oddly at Calhoun when she appeared in +the control room. Murgatroyd regarded her with great interest. Calhoun +nodded politely and went back to what he'd been doing before she +appeared. + +"Shall I have breakfast?" she asked uncertainly. + +"Murgatroyd and I have," he told her. "Why not?" + +Silently, she operated the food-readier. She ate. Calhoun gave a very +good portrayal of a man who will respond politely when spoken to, but +who was busy with activities remote from stowaways. + +About noon, ship-time, she asked, "When will we get to Orede?" + +Calhoun told her absently, as if he were thinking of something else. + +"What--what do you think happened there? I mean, to make that tragedy +in the ship." + +"I don't know," said Calhoun. "But I disagree with the authorities on +Weald. I don't think it was a planned atrocity of the blueskins." + +"Wh-what are blueskins?" asked the girl. + +Calhoun turned around and looked at her directly. + +"When lying," he said mildly, "you tell as much by what you pretend +isn't, as by what you pretend is. You know what blueskins are!" + +"But what do you think they are?" she asked. + +"There used to be a human disease called smallpox," said Calhoun. +"When people recovered from it, they were usually marked. Their skin +had little scar pits here and there. At one time, back on Earth, it +was expected that everybody would catch smallpox sooner or later, and +a large percentage would die of it. + +"And it was so much a matter of course that if they printed a picture +of a criminal they never mentioned it if he were pock-marked. It was +no distinction. But if he didn't have the markings, they'd mention +that!" He paused. "Those pock-marks weren't hereditary, but otherwise +a blueskin is like a man who had them. He can't be anything else!" + +"Then you think they're human?" + +"There's never yet been a case of reverse evolution," said Calhoun. +"Maybe Pithecanthropus had a monkey uncle, but no Pithecanthropus ever +went monkey." + +She turned abruptly away. But she glanced at him often during that +day. He continued to busy himself with those activities which make Med +Ship life consistent with retained sanity. + +Next day she asked without preliminary, "Don't you believe the +blueskins planned for the ship with the dead men to arrive at Weald +and spread plague there?" + +"No," said Calhoun. + +"Why?" + +"It couldn't possibly work," Calhoun told her. "With only dead men on +board, the ship wouldn't arrive at a place where the landing-grid +could bring it down. So that would be no good. And plague-stricken +living men wouldn't try to conceal that they had the plague. They +might ask for help, but they'd know they'd instantly be killed on +Weald if they were found to be plague victims. So that would be no +good, either! No, the ship wasn't intended to land plague on Weald." + +"Are you friendly to blueskins?" she asked uncertainly. + +"Within reason," said Calhoun, "I am a well-wisher to all the human +race. You're slipping, though. When using the word _blueskin_ you +should say it uncomfortably, as if it were a word no refined person +liked to pronounce. You don't. We'll land on Orede tomorrow, by the +way. If you ever intend to tell me the truth, there's not much time +left." + +She bit her lips. Twice, during the remainder of the day, she faced +him and opened her mouth as if to speak, and then turned away again. +Calhoun shrugged. He had fairly definite ideas about her, by now. He +carefully kept them tentative, but no girl born and raised on Weald +would willingly go to Orede, with all of Weald believing that a +shipload of miners preferred death to remaining there. It tied in, +like everything else that was unpleasant, to blueskins. Nobody from +Weald would dream of landing on Orede! Not now! + +A little before the Med Ship was due to break out from overdrive, the +girl said very carefully, "You've been very kind. I'd like to thank +you. I--I didn't really believe I would live to get to Orede." + +Calhoun raised his eyebrows. + +"I wish I could tell you everything you want to know," she added +regretfully. "I think you're ... really decent. But some thing...." + +Calhoun said caustically, "You've told me a great deal. You weren't +born on Weald. You weren't raised there. The people of Dara--notice +that I don't say blueskins, though they are--the people of Dara have +made at least one space ship since Weald threatened them with +extermination. There is probably a new food shortage on Dara now, +leading to pure desperation. Most likely it's bad enough to make them +risk landing on Orede to kill cattle and freeze beef to help. They've +worked out--" + +She gasped and sprang to her feet. She snatched out the tiny blaster +in her pocket. She pointed it waveringly at him. + +"I have to kill you!" she cried desperately. "I--I have to!" + +Calhoun reached out. She tugged despairingly at the blaster's trigger. +Nothing happened. Before she could realize that she hadn't turned off +the safety, Calhoun twisted the weapon from her fingers. He stepped +back. + +"Good girl!" he said approvingly. "I'll give this back to you when we +land. And thanks. Thanks very much!" + +She wrung her hands. Then she stared at him. + +"Thanks? When I tried to kill you?" + +"Of course!" said Calhoun. "I'd made guesses. I couldn't know that +they were right. When you tried to kill me, you confirmed every one. +Now, when we land on Orede I'm going to get you to try to put me in +touch with your friends. It's going to be tricky, because they must be +pretty well scared about that ship. But it's a highly desirable thing +to get done!" + +He went to the ships' control board and sat down before it. + +"Twenty minutes to breakhour," he observed. + +Murgatroyd peered out of his little cubbyhole. His eyes were anxious. +_Tormals_ are amiable little creatures. During the days in overdrive, +Calhoun had paid less than the usual amount of attention to +Murgatroyd, while the girl was fascinating. + +They'd made friends, awkwardly on the girl's part, very pleasantly on +Murgatroyd's. But only moments ago there had been bitter emotion in +the air. Murgatroyd had fled to his cubbyhole to escape it. He was +distressed. Now that there was silence again, he peered out unhappily. + +"_Chee?_" he queried plaintively. "_Chee-chee-chee?_" + +Calhoun said matter-of-factly, "It's all right, Murgatroyd. If we +aren't blasted as we try to land, we should be able to make friends +with everybody and get something accomplished." + +The statement was hopelessly inaccurate. + + * * * * * + + + + +3 + + +There was no answer from the ground when breakout came and Calhoun +drove the Med Ship to a favourable position for a call. He patiently +repeated, over and over again, that the Med Ship _Aesclipus Twenty_ +notified its arrival and requested coordinates for landing. He added +that its mass was fifty standard tons and that the purpose of its +visit was a planetary health inspection. + +But there was no reply. There should have been a crisp description of +the direction from the planet's center at which, a certain time so +many hours or minutes later, the force-fields of the grid would find +it convenient to lock onto and lower the Med Ship. But the +communicator remained silent. + +"There is a landing-grid," said Calhoun, frowning, "and if they're +using it to load fresh meat for Dara, from the herds I'm told about, +it should be manned. But they don't seem to intend to answer. Maybe +they think that if they pretend I'm not here I'll go away." + +He reflected, and his frown deepened. + +"If I didn't know what I know, I might. So if I land on emergency +rockets the blueskins down below may decide that I come from Weald. +And in that case it would be reasonable to blast me before I could +land and unload some fighting men. On the other hand, no ship from +Weald would conceivably land without impassioned assurance that it +was safe. It would drop bombs." He turned to the girl. "How many +Darians down below?" + +She shook her head. + +"You don't know," said Calhoun, "or won't tell, yet. But they ought to +be told about the arrival of that ship at Weald, and what Weald thinks +about it! My guess is that you came to tell them. It isn't likely that +Dara gets news directly from Weald. Where were you put ashore from +Dara, when you set out to be a spy?" + +Her lips parted to speak, but she compressed them tightly. She shook +her head again. + +"It must have been plenty far away," said Calhoun restlessly. "Your +people would have built a ship, and made fine forged papers for it, +and they'd travel so far from this part of space that when they landed +nobody would think of Dara. They'd use make-up to cover the blue +spots, but maybe it was so far away that blueskins had never been +heard of!" + +Her face looked pinched, but she did not reply. + +"Then they'd land half a dozen of you, with a supply of make-up for +the blue patches. And you'd separate, and take ships that went various +roundabout ways, and arrive on Weald one by one, to see what could be +done there to--" He stopped. "When did you find out positively that +there wasn't any plague any more?" + +She began to grow pale. + +"I'm not a mind reader," said Calhoun. "But it adds up. You're from +Dara. You've been on Weald. It's practically certain that there are +other ... agents, if you like that word better, on Weald. And there +hasn't been a plague on Weald so you people aren't carriers of it. But +you knew it in advance, I think. How'd you learn? Did a ship in some +sort of trouble land there, on Dara?" + +"Y--yes," said the girl. "We wouldn't let it go again. But the people +didn't catch--they didn't die. They lived--" + +She stopped short. + +"It's not fair to trap me!" she cried passionately. "It's not fair!" + +"I'll stop," said Calhoun. + +He turned to the control board. The Med Ship was only planetary +diameters from Orede, now, and the electron telescope showed shining +stars in leisurely motion across its screen. Then a huge, gibbous +shining shape appeared, and there were irregular patches of that muddy +color which is seabottom, and varicolored areas which were plains and +forests. Also there were mountains. Calhoun steadied the image, and +squinted at it. + +"The mine," he observed, "was found by members of a hunting party, +killing wild cattle for sport." + +Even a small planet has many millions of square miles of surface, and +a single human installation on a whole world will not be easy to find +by random search. But there were clues to this one. Men hunting for +sport would not choose a tropic nor an arctic climate to hunt in. So +if they found a mineral deposit, it would have been in a temperate +zone. + +Cattle would not be found deep in a mountainous terrain. The mine +would not be on a prairie. The settlement on Orede, then, would be +near the edge of mountains, not far from a prairie such as wild cattle +would frequent, and it would be in a temperate climate. + +Forested areas could be ruled out. And there would be a landing-grid. +Handling only one ship at a time, it might be a very small grid. It +could be only hundreds of yards across and less than half a mile high. +But its shadow would be distinctive. + +Calhoun searched among low mountains near unforested prairie in a +temperate zone. He found a speck. He enlarged it manyfold. It was the +mine on Orede. There were heaps of tailings. There was something which +cast a long, lacy shadow: the landing-grid. + +"But they don't answer our call," observed Calhoun, "so we go down +unwelcomed." + +He inverted the Med Ship and the emergency rockets boomed. The ship +plunged planetward. + +A long time later it was deep in the planet's atmosphere. The noise of +its rockets had become thunderous, with air to carry and to reinforce +the sound. + +"Hold on to something, Murgatroyd," commanded Calhoun. "We may have to +dodge some ack." + +But nothing came up from below. The Med Ship again inverted itself, +and its rockets pointed toward the planet and poured out pencil-thin, +blue-white, high-velocity flames. It checked slightly, but continued +to descend. It was not directly above the grid. + +It swept downward until almost level with the peaks of the mountains +in which the mine lay. It tilted again, and swept onward over the +mountaintops, and then tilted once more and went racing up the valley +in which the landing-grid was plainly visible. Calhoun swung it on an +erratic course, lest there be opposition. + +But there was no sign. Then the rockets bellowed, and the ship slowed +its forward motion, hovered momentarily, and settled to solidity +outside the framework of the grid. The grid was small, as Calhoun +reasoned. But it reached interminably toward the sky. + +The rockets cut off. Slender as the flames had been, they'd melted and +bored thin drill-holes deep into the soil. Molten rock boiled and +bubbled down below. But there seemed no other sound. There was no +other motion. There was absolute stillness all around. But when +Calhoun switched on the outside microphones a faint, sweet melange of +high-pitched chirpings came from tiny creatures hidden under the +vegetation of the mountainsides. + +Calhoun put a blaster in his pocket and stood up. + +"We'll see what it looks like outside," he said with a certain +grimness. "I don't quite believe what the vision screens show." + +Minutes later he stepped down to the ground from the Med Ship's exit +port. The ship had landed perhaps a hundred feet from what once had +been a wooden building. In it, ore from the mines was concentrated and +the useless tailings carried away by a conveyer belt to make a +monstrous pile of broken stone. But there was no longer a building. + +Next to it there had been a structure containing an ore-crusher. The +massive machinery could still be seen, but the structure was in +fragments. Next to that, again, had been the shaft-head shelters of +the mine. They also were shattered practically to matchsticks. + +The look of the ground about the building sites was simply and purely +impossible. It was a mass of hoofprints. Cattle by thousands and tens +of thousands had trampled everything. Cattle had burst in the wooden +sides of the buildings. Cattle had piled themselves up against the +beams upholding roofs until the buildings collapsed. + +Then cattle had gone plunging over the wrecked buildings until there +was nothing left but indescribable chaos. Many, many cattle had died +in the crush. There were heaps of dead beasts about the metal girders +which were the foundation of the landing-grid. The air was tainted by +the smell of carrion. + +The settlement had been destroyed, positively by stampeded cattle in +tens or hundreds of thousands charging blindly through and over and +upon it. Senselessly, they'd trampled each other to horrible +shapelessness. The mine shaft was not choked, because enormously +strong timbers had fallen across and blocked it. But everything else +was pure destruction. + +Calhoun said evenly, "Clever! Very clever! You can't blame men when +beasts stampede. We should accept the evidence that some monstrous +herd, making its way through a mountain pass, somehow went crazy and +bolted for the plains. This settlement got in the way and it was too +bad for the settlement! Everything's explained, except the ship that +went to Weald. + +"A cattle stampede, yes. Anybody can believe that! But there was a man +stampede. Men stampeded into the ship as blindly as the cattle +trampled down this little town. The ship stampeded off into space as +insanely as the cattle. But a stampede of men and cattle, in the same +place? That's a little too much!" + +"But what--" + +"How," asked Calhoun directly, "do you intend to get in touch with +your friends here?" + +"I--I don't know," she said, distressed. "But if the ship stays here, +they're bound to come and see why. Won't they? Or will they?" + +"If they're sane, they won't," said Calhoun. "The one undesirable +thing, here, would be human footprints on top of cattle tracks. If +your friends are a meat-getting party from Dara, as I believe, they +should cover up their tracks, get off-planet as fast as possible, and +pray that no signs of their former presence are ever discovered. That +would be their best first move, certainly!" + +"What should I do?" she asked helplessly. + +"I'm far from sure. At a guess, and for the moment, probably nothing. +I'll work something out. I've got the devil of a job before me, +though. I can't spend but so much time here." + +"You can leave me here...." + +He grunted and turned away. It was naturally unthinkable that he +should leave another human being on a supposedly uninhabited planet, +with the knowledge that it might actually be uninhabited, and the +future knowledge that any visitors would have the strongest of +possible reasons to hide themselves away. + +He believed that there were Darians here, and the girl in the Med +ship, so he also believed, was also a Darian. But any who might be +hiding had so much to lose if they were discovered that they might be +hundreds or even thousands of miles from anywhere a space ship would +normally land--if they hadn't fled after the incident of the +spaceship's departure with its load of doomed passengers. + +Considered detachedly, the odds were that there was again a food +shortage on Dara; that blueskins, in desperation, had raided or were +raiding or would raid the cattle herds of Orede for food to carry back +to their home planet; that somehow the miners on Orede had found that +they had blueskin neighbors, and died of the consequences of their +terror. It was a risky guess to make on such evidence as Calhoun +considered he had, but no other guess was possible. + +If his guess were right, he was under some obligation to do exactly +what he believed the girl considered her mission--to warn all +blueskins that Weald would presently try to find them on Orede, when +all hell must break loose upon Dara for punishment. But if there were +men here, he couldn't leave a written warning for them in default of +friendly contact. + +They might not find it, and a search party of Wealdians might. All he +could possibly do was try to make contact and give warning by such +means as would leave no evidence behind that he'd done so. Weald +would consider a warning sure proof of blueskin guilt. + +It was not satisfactory to be limited to broadcasts which might or +might not be picked up, and were unlikely to be acknowledged. But he +settled down with the communicator to make the attempt. + +He called first on a GC wave length and form. It was unlikely that +blueskins would use general communication bands to keep in touch with +each other, but it had to be tried. He broadcast, tuned as broadly as +possible, and went up and down the GC spectrum, repeating his warning +painstakingly and listening without hope for a reply. + +He did find one spot on the dial where there was re-radiation of his +message, as if from a tuned receiver. But he could not get a fix on +it: nobody might be listening. He exhausted the normal communication +pattern. Then he broadcast on old-fashioned amplitude modulation which +a modern communicator would not pick up at all, and which therefore +might be used by men in hiding. + +He worked for a long time. Then he shrugged and gave it up. He'd +repeated to absolute tedium the facts that any Darians--blueskins--on +Orede ought to know. There'd been no answer. And it was all too likely +that if he'd been received, that those who heard him took his message +for a trick to discover if there were any hearers. + +He clicked off at last and stood up, shaking his head. Suddenly the +Med Ship seemed empty. Then he saw Murgatroyd staring vexedly at the +exit port. The inner door of that small airlock was closed. The +telltale light said the outer door was not locked. Someone had gone +out quietly. The girl. Of course. + +Calhoun said angrily, "How long ago, Murgatroyd?" + +"_Chee!_" said Murgatroyd indignantly. + +It wasn't an answer, but it showed that Murgatroyd was vexed that he'd +been left behind. He and the girl were close friends, now. If she'd +left Murgatroyd in the ship when he wanted to go with her, then she +wasn't coming back. + +Calhoun swore. He made certain she was not in the ship. He flipped the +outside-speaker switch and said curtly into the microphone, "Coffee! +Murgatroyd and I are having coffee. Will you come back, please?" + +He repeated the call, and repeated it again. Multiplied as his voice +was by the speakers, she should hear him within a mile. She did not +appear. He went to a small and inconspicuous closet and armed himself. +A Med Ship man was not ever expected to fight, but there were +blast-rifles available for extreme emergency. + +When he'd slung a power-pack over his shoulder and reached the +airlock, there was still no sign of his late stowaway. He stood in the +airlock door for long minutes, staring angrily about. Almost certainly +she wouldn't be looking in the mountains for men of Dara come here for +cattle. He used a pair of binoculars, first at low-magnification to +search as wide an area down-valley as possible, and then at highest +power to search the most likely routes. + +He found a small, bobbing speck beyond a faraway hill crest. It was +her head. It went down below the hilltop. + +He snapped a command to Murgatroyd, and when the _tormal_ was on the +ground outside, he locked the port with that combination that nobody +but a Med Ship man was at all likely to discover or use. + +"She's an idiot!" he told Murgatroyd sourly. "Come along! We've got to +be idiots too!" + +He set out in pursuit. + +There was blue sky overhead, as was inevitable on any +oxygen-atmosphere planet of a Sol-type yellow sun. There were +mountains, as is universal in planets whose surface rises and falls +and folds and bends from the effects of weather or vulcanism. There +were plants, as has come about wherever microorganisms have broken +down rock to a state where it can nourish vegetation. And naturally +there were animals. + +There were even trees of severely practical design, and underbrush and +ground-cover equivalent to grass. There was, in short, a perfectly +predictable ecological system on Orede. The organic molecules involved +in life here would be made up of the same elements in the same +combinations as elsewhere where the same conditions of temperature and +moisture and sunshine obtained. + +It was a distinctly Earthlike world, as it could not help but be, and +it was reasonable for cattle to thrive and increase here. Only men's +minds kept it from being a place where humans would thrive, too. + +But only Calhoun would have considered the splintered settlement a +proof of that last. + +The girl had a long start. Twice Calhoun came to places where she +could have chosen either of two ways onward. Each time he had to +determine which she'd followed. That cost time. Then the mountains +abruptly ended and a vast undulating plain stretched away to the +horizon. There were at least two large masses and many smaller clumps +of what could only be animals gathered together. Cattle. + +But here the girl was plainly in view. Calhoun increased his stride. +He began to gain on her. She did not look behind. + +Murgatroyd said "_Chee!_" in a complaining tone. + +"I should have left you behind," agreed Calhoun dourly, "but there was +and is a chance I won't get back. You'll have to keep on hiking." + +He plodded on. His memory of the terrain around the mining settlement +told him that there was no definite destination in the girl's mind. +But she was in no such despair as to want deliberately to be lost. +She'd guessed, Calhoun believed, that if there were Darians on the +planet, they'd keep the landing-grid under observation. + +If they saw her leave that area and could see that she was alone, they +should intercept her to find out the meaning of the Med Ship's +landing. Then she could identify herself as one of them and give them +the terribly necessary warning of Weald's suspicions. + +"But," said Calhoun sourly, "if she's right, they'll have seen me +marching after her now, which spoils her scheme. And I'd like to help +it, but the way she's going is too dangerous!" + +He went down into one of the hollows of the uneven plain. He saw a +clump of a dozen or so cattle a little distance away. The bull looked +up and snorted. The cows regarded him truculently. Their air was not +one of bovine tranquility. + +He was up the farther hillside and out of sight before the bull worked +himself up to a charge. Then Calhoun suddenly remembered one of the +items in the data about cattle he'd looked into just the other day. He +felt himself grow pale. + +"Murgatroyd!" he said sharply. "We've got to catch up! Fast! Stay with +me if you can, but--" he was jog-trotting as he spoke--"even if you +get lost I have to hurry!" + +He ran fifty paces and walked fifty paces. He ran fifty and walked +fifty. He saw her, atop a rolling of the ground. She came to a full +stop. He ran. He saw her turn to retrace her steps. He flung off the +safety of the blast-rifle and let off a roaring blast at the ground +for her to hear. + +Suddenly she was fleeing desperately, toward him. He plunged on. She +vanished down into a hollow. Horns appeared over the hillcrest she'd +just left. Cattle appeared. Four, a dozen fifteen, twenty! They moved +ominously in her wake. + +He saw her again, running frantically over another upward swell of +the prairie. He let off another blast to guide her. He ran on at top +speed with Murgatroyd trailing anxiously behind. From time to time +Murgatroyd called "_Chee-chee-chee!_" in frightened pleading not to be +abandoned. + +More cattle appeared against the horizon. Fifty or a hundred. They +came after the first clump. The first group of a bull and his harem +were moving faster, now. The girl fled from them, but it is the +instinct of beef-cattle on the open range--Calhoun had learned it only +two days before--to charge any human they find on foot. A mounted man +to their dim minds is a creature to be tolerated or fled from, but a +human on foot is to be crushed and stamped and gored. + +Those in the lead were definitely charging now, with heads bent low. +The bull charged furiously with shut eyes, as bulls do, but the cows, +many times more deadly, charged with their eyes wide open and wickedly +alert, and with a lumbering speed much greater than the girl could +manage. + +She came up over the last rise, chalky-white and gasping, her hair +flying, in the last extremity of terror. The nearest of the pursuing +cattle were within ten yards when Calhoun fired from twenty yards +beyond. One creature bellowed as the blast-bolt struck. + +It went down and others crashed into it and swept over it, and more +came on. The girl saw Calhoun now, and ran toward him, panting. He +knelt very deliberately and began to check the charge by shooting the +leading animals. + +He did not succeed. There were more cattle following the first, and +more and more behind them. It appeared that all the cattle on the +plain joined in the blind and senseless charge. The thudding of hoofs +became a mutter and then a rumble and then a growl. + +Plunging, clumsy figures rushed past on either side. But horns and +heads heaved up over the mound of animals Calhoun had shot. He shot +them too. More and more cattle came pounding past the rampart of his +victims, but always, it seemed, some elected to climb the heap of +their dead and dying fellows, and Calhoun shot and shot.... + +But he split the herd. The foremost animals had been charging a +sighted human enemy. Others had followed because it is the instinct of +cattle to join their running fellows in whatever crazed urgency they +feel. There was a dense, pounding, wailing, grunting, puffing, raising +thick and impenetrable clouds of dust which hid everything but +galloping beasts going past on either side. + +It lasted for minutes. Then the thunder of hoofs diminished. It ended +abruptly, and Calhoun and the girl were left alone with the gruesome +pile of animals which had divided the charging herd into two parts. +They could see the rears of innumerable running animals, stupidly +continuing the charge, hardly different, now, from a stampede, whose +original objective none now remembered. + +Calhoun thoughtfully touched the barrel of his blast-rifle and winced +at its scorching heat. + +"I just realized," he said coldly, "that I don't know your name. What +is it?" + +"Maril," said the girl. She swallowed. "Th--thank you." + +"Maril," said Calhoun, "you are an idiot! It was half-witted at best +to go off by yourself! You could have been lost! You could have cost +me days of hunting for you, days badly needed for more important +matters!" + +He stopped and took breath. "You may have spoiled what little chance +I've got to do something about the plans Weald's already making! You +have just acted with the most concentrated folly, and the most +magnificent imbecility that you or anybody else could manage!" + +He said more bitterly still, "And I had to leave Murgatroyd behind to +get to you in time! He was right in the path of that charge!" + +He turned away from her and said dourly, "All right! Come on back to +the ship. We'll go to Dara. We'd have to, anyhow. But Murgatroyd--" + +Then he heard a very small sneeze. Out of a rolling wall of +still-roiling dust, Murgatroyd appeared forlornly. He was +dust-covered, and draggled, and his tail dropped, and he sneezed +again. He moved as if he could barely put one paw before another, but +at sight of Calhoun he sneezed yet again and said "_Chee!_" in a +disconsolate voice. Then he sat down and waited for Calhoun to come +and pick him up. + +When Calhoun did so, Murgatroyd clung to him pathetically and said +"_Chee-chee!_" and again "_Chee-chee!_" with the intonation of one +telling of incredible horrors and disasters endured. And as a matter +of fact the escape of a small animal like Murgatroyd was remarkable. +He'd escaped the trampling hoofs of at least hundreds of charging +animals. Luck must have played a great part in it, but an hysterical +agility in dodging must have been required, too. + +Calhoun headed back for the valley where the settlement had been, and +the Med Ship was. Murgatroyd clung to his neck. The girl Maril +followed discouragedly. She was at that age when girls--and men of +corresponding type--can grow most passionately devoted to ideals or +causes in default of a promising personal romance. When concerned with +such causes they become splendidly confident that whatever they decide +to do is sensible if only it is dramatic. But Maril was shaken, now. + +Calhoun did not speak to her again. He led the way. A mile back toward +the mountains, they began to see stragglers from the now-vanished +herd. A little farther, those stragglers began to notice them. It +would have been a matter of no moment if they'd been domesticated +dairy cattle, but these were range cattle gone wild. Twice, Calhoun +had to use his blast-rifle to discourage incipient charges by +irritated bulls or even more irritated cows. Those with calves darkly +suspected Calhoun of designs upon their offspring. + +It was a relief to enter the valley again. But it was two miles more +to the landing-grid with the Med Ship beside it and the reek of +carrion in the air. + +They were perhaps two hundred feet from the ship when a blast-rifle +crashed and its bolt whined past Calhoun so close that he felt the +monstrous heat. There had been no challenge. There was no warning. +There was simply a shot which came horribly close to ending Calhoun's +career in a completely arbitrary fashion. + + * * * * * + + + + +4 + + +Five minutes later Calhoun had located one would-be killer behind a +mass of splintered planking that once had been a wall. He set the wood +afire by a blaster-bolt and then viciously sent other bolts all around +the man it had sheltered when he fled from the flames. He could have +killed him ten times over, but it was more desirable to open +communication. So he missed intentionally. + +Maril had cried out that she came from Dara and had word for them, but +they did not answer. There were three men with heavy-duty +blast-rifles. One was the one Calhoun had burned out of his hiding +place. That man's rifle exploded when the flames hit it. Two remained. + +One, so Calhoun presently discovered--was working his way behind +underbrush to a shelf from which he could shoot down at Calhoun. +Calhoun had dropped into a hollow and pulled Maril to cover at the +first shot. The second man happily planned to get to a point where he +could shoot him like a fish in a barrel. + +The third man had fired half a dozen times and then disappeared. +Calhoun estimated that he intended to get around to the rear, hoping +there was no protection from that direction for Calhoun. It would take +some time for him to manage it. + +So Calhoun industriously concentrated his fire on the man trying to +get above him. He was behind a boulder, not too dissimilar to +Calhoun's breastwork. Calhoun set fire to the brush at the point at +which the other man aimed. That, then, made his effort useless. + +Then Calhoun sent a dozen bolts at the other man's rocky shield. It +heated up. Steam rose in a whitish mass and blew directly away from +Calhoun. He saw that antagonist flee. He saw him so clearly that he +was positive that there was a patch of blue pigment on the right-hand +side of the back of his neck. + +He grunted and swung to find the third. That man moved through thick +undergrowth, and Calhoun set it on fire in a neat pattern of spreading +flames. Evidently, these men had had no training in battle tactics +with blast-rifles. The third man also had to get away. He did. But +something from him arched through the smoke. It fell to the ground +directly upwind from Calhoun. White smoke puffed up violently. + +It was instinct that made Calhoun react as he did. He jerked the girl +Maril to her feet and rushed her toward the Med Ship. Smoke from the +flung bomb upwind barely swirled around him and missed Maril +altogether. Calhoun, though, got a whiff of something strange, not +scorched or burning vegetation at all. He ceased to breathe and +plunged onward. In clear air he emptied his lungs and refilled them. +They were then halfway to the ship, with Murgatroyd prancing on ahead. + +But then Calhoun's heart began to pound furiously. His muscles +twitched and tensed. He felt extraordinary symptoms like an extreme of +agitation. He swore, but a Med Ship man would not react to such +symptoms as a non-medically-trained man would have done. Calhoun was +familiar enough with tear gas, used by police on some planets. + +But this was different and worse. Even as he helped and urged Maril +onward, he automatically considered his sensations, and had it--panic +gas. Police did not use it because panic is worse than rioting. +Calhoun felt all the physical symptoms of fear and of gibbering +terror. + +A man whose mind yields to terror experiences certain physical +sensations: wildly beating heart, tensed and twitching muscles, and a +frantic impulse to convulsive action. A man in whom those physical +sensations are induced by other means will, ordinarily, find his mind +yielding to terror. + +Calhoun couldn't combat his feelings, but his clinical attitude +enabled him to act despite them. The three from Weald reached the base +of the Med Ship. One of their enemies had lost his rifle and need not +be counted. Another had fled from flames and might be ignored for some +moments, anyhow. But a blast-bolt struck the ship's metal hull only +feet from Calhoun, and he whipped around to the other side and let +loose a staccato rat-tat-tat of fire which emptied the rifle of all +its charges. + +Then he opened the airlock door, hating the fact that he shook and +trembled. He urged the girl and Murgatroyd in. He slammed the outer +airlock door just as another blast-bolt hit. + +"They--they don't realize," said Maril desperately. "If they only +knew...." + +"Talk to them, if you like," said Calhoun. His teeth chattered and he +raged, because the symptom was of terror he denied. + +He pushed a button on the control board. He pointed to a microphone. +He got at an oxygen bottle and inhaled deeply. Oxygen, obviously, +should be an antidote for panic, since the symptoms of terror act to +increase the oxygenation of the bloodstream and muscles, and to make +superhuman exertion possible if necessary. + +Breathing ninety-five percent oxygen produced the effect the +terror-inspiring gas strove for, so his heart slowed nearly to normal +and his body relaxed. He held out his hand and it did not tremble. +He'd been affronted to see it shake uncontrollably when he pushed the +microphone button for Maril. + +He turned to her. She hadn't spoken into the mike. + +"They may not be from Dara!" she said shakily. "I just thought! They +could be somebody else, maybe criminals who planned to raid the mine +for a shipload of its ore." + +"Nonsense," said Calhoun. "I saw one of them clearly enough to be +sure. But they're skeptical characters. I'm afraid there may be more +on the way here from wherever they keep themselves. Anyhow, now we +know some of them are in hearing! I'll take advantage of that and +we'll go on." + +He took the microphone. An instant later his voice boomed in the +stillness outside the ship, cutting through the thin shrill whirring +of invisible small creatures. + +"This is the Med Ship _Aesclipus Twenty_," said Calhoun's voice, +amplified to a shout. "I left Weald four days ago, one day after the +cargo ship from here arrived with everybody on board dead. On Weald +they don't know how it happened, but they suspect blueskins. Sooner or +later they'll search here. + +"Get away! Cover up your tracks! Hide all signs that you've ever been +here! Get the hell away, fast! One more warning! There's talk of +fusion-bombing Dara. They're scared! If they find your traces, they'll +be still more scared! So cover up your tracks and get away from here!" + +The many-times-multiplied voice rolled and echoed among the hills. But +it was very clear. Where it could be heard it could be understood, and +it could be heard for miles. + +But there was no response to it. Calhoun waited a reasonable time. +Then he shrugged and seated himself at the control board. + +"It isn't easy," he observed, "to persuade desperate men that they've +outsmarted themselves! Hold hard, Murgatroyd!" + +The rockets bellowed. Then there was a tremendous noise to end all +noises, and the ship began to climb. It sped up and up and up. By the +time it was out of atmosphere it had velocity enough to coast to clear +space and Calhoun cut the rockets altogether. + +He busied himself with those astrogational chores which began with +orienting oneself to galactic directions after leaving a planet which +rotates at its own individual speed. Then one computes the overdrive +course to another planet, from the respecting coordinates of the world +one is leaving and the one one aims for. + +Then, in this case at any rate, there was the very finicky task of +picking out a fourth-magnitude star of whose planets one was his +destination. He aimed for it with ultra-fine precision. + +"Overdrive coming," he said presently. "Hold on!" + +Space reeled. There was nausea and giddiness and a horrible sensation +of falling in a wildly unlikely spiral. Then stillness, and solidity, +and the blackness outside the Med Ship. The little craft was in +overdrive again. + +After a long while, the girl Maril said uneasily, "I don't know what +you plan now--" + +"I'm going to Dara," said Calhoun. "On Orede I tried to get the +blueskins there to get going, fast. Maybe I succeeded. I don't know. +But this thing's been mishandled! Even if there's a famine people +shouldn't do things out of desperation! Being desperate jogs the brain +off-center. One doesn't think straight!" + +"I know now that I was ... very foolish." + +"Forget it," commanded Calhoun. "I wasn't talking about you. Here I +run into a situation that the Med Service should have caught and +cleaned up generations ago! But it's not only a Med Service +obligation; it's a current mess! Before I could begin to get at the +basic problem, those idiots on Orede--It'd happened before I reached +Weald! An emotional explosion triggered by a ship full of dead men +that nobody intended to kill." + +Maril shook her head. + +"Those Darian characters," said Calhoun, annoyed, "shouldn't have gone +to Orede in the first place. If they went there, they should at least +have stayed on a continent where there were no people from Weald +digging a mine and hunting cattle for sport on their off days! They +could be spotted! I believe they were. + +"And again, if it had been a long way from the mine installation, they +could probably have wiped out the people who sighted them before they +could get back with the news! But it looks like miners saw men +hunting, and got close enough to see they were blueskins, and then got +back to the mine with the news!" + +She waited for him to explain. + +"I know I'm guessing, but it fits!" he said distastefully. "So +something had to be done. Either the mining settlement had to be wiped +out or the story that blueskins were on Orede had to be discredited. +The blueskins tried for both. They used panic gas on a herd of cattle +and it made them crazy and they charged the settlement like the +four-footed lunatics they are! + +"And the blueskins used panic gas on the settlement itself as the +cattle went through. It should have settled the whole business nicely. +After it was over every man in the settlement would believe he'd been +out of his head for a while, and he'd have the crazy state of the +settlement to think about. + +"He wouldn't be sure of what he'd seen or heard before-hand. They +might try to verify the blueskin story later, but they wouldn't +believe anything with certainty. It should have worked!" + +Again she waited. + +"Unfortunately, when the miners panicked, they stampeded into the +ship. Also unfortunately, panic gas got into the ship with them. So +they stayed panicked while the astrogator--in panic!--took off. They +headed for Weald and threw on the overdrive--which would be set for +Weald anyhow--because that would be the fastest way to run away from +whatever he imagined he feared. But he and all the men on the ship +were still crazy with panic from the gas they kept breathing until +they died!" + +Silence. After a long interval, Maril asked, "You don't think the +Darians intended to kill?" + +"I think they were stupid!" said Calhoun angrily. "Somebody's always +urging the police to use panic gas in case of public tumult. But it's +too dangerous. Nobody knows what one man will do in a panic. Take a +hundred or two or three and panic them all, and there's no limit to +their craziness! The whole thing was handled wrong!" + +"But you don't blame them?" + +"For being stupid, yes," said Calhoun fretfully. "But if I'd been in +their place, perhaps--" + +"Where were you born?" asked Maril suddenly. + +Calhoun jerked his head around. "No! Not where you're guessing, or +hoping. Not on Dara. Just because I act as if Darians were human +doesn't mean I have to be one! I'm a Med Service man, and I'm acting +as I think I should." His tone became exasperated. + +"Dammit, I'm supposed to deal with health situations, actual, and +possible causes of human deaths! And if Weald thinks it finds proof +that blueskins are in space again and caused the death of Wealdians, +it won't be healthy! They're halfway set anyhow to drop fusion-bombs +on Dara to wipe it out!" + +Maril said fiercely, "They might as well drop bombs. It'll be quicker +than starvation, at least!" + +Calhoun looked at her, more exasperated than before. + +"It is a crop failure again?" he demanded. When she nodded he said +bitterly, "Famine conditions already?" When she nodded again he said +drearily, "And of course famine is the great-grandfather of health +problems! And that's right in my lap with all the rest!" + +He stood up. Then he sat down again. + +"I'm tired!" he said flatly. "I'd like to get some sleep. Would you +mind taking a book or something and going into the other cabin? +Murgatroyd and I would like a little relaxation from reality. With +luck, if I go to sleep, I may only have a nightmare. It'll be a +terrific improvement on what I'm in now!" + +Alone in the control compartment, he tried to relax, but it was not +possible. He flung himself into a comfortable chair and brooded. There +is brooding and brooding. It can be a form of wallowing in self-pity, +engaged in for emotional satisfaction. But it can be, also, a way of +bringing out unfavorable factors in a situation. A man in optimistic +mood can ignore them. But no awkward situation is likely to be +remedied while any of its elements are neglected. + +Calhoun dourly considered the situation of the people of the planet +Dara, which it was his job as a Med Service man to remedy or at least +improve. Those people were marked by patches of blue pigment as an +inherited consequence of a plague of three generations past. Because +of the marking, which it was easy to believe a sign of continuing +infection, they were hated and dreaded by their neighbors. Dara was a +planet of pariahs--excluded from the human race by those who feared +them. + +And now there was famine on Dara for the second time, and they were of +no mind to starve quietly. There was food on the planet Orede, +monstrous herds of cattle without owners. It was natural enough for +Darians to build a ship or ships and try to bring food back to its +starving people. But that desperately necessary enterprise had now +roused Weald to a frenzy of apprehension. + +Weald was, if possible, more hysterically afraid of blueskins than +ever before, and even more implacably the enemy of the starving +planet's population. Weald itself prospered. Ironically, it had such +an excess of foodstuffs that it stored them in unneeded spaceships in +orbits about itself. + +Hundreds of thousands of tons of grain circled Weald in sealed-tight +hulks, while the people of Dara starved and only dared try to +steal--if it could be called stealing--some of the innumerable wild +cattle of Orede. + +The blueskins on Orede could not trust Calhoun, so they pretended not +to hear. Or maybe that didn't hear. They'd been abandoned and betrayed +by all of humanity off their world. They'd been threatened and +oppressed by guardships in orbit about them, ready to shoot down any +spacecraft they might send aloft.... + +So Calhoun brooded, while Murgatroyd presently yawned and climbed to +his cubbyhole and curled up to sleep with his furry tail carefully +adjusted over his nose. + +A long time later Calhoun heard small sounds which were not normal on +a Med Ship in overdrive. They were not part of the random noises +carefully generated to keep the silence of the ship endurable. Calhoun +raised his head. He listened sharply. No sound could come from +outside. + +He knocked on the door of the sleeping cabin. The noises stopped +instantly. + +"Come out," he commanded through the door. + +"I'm--I'm all right," said Maril's voice. But it was not quite steady. +She paused. "Did I make a noise? I was having a bad dream." + +"I wish," said Calhoun, "that you'd tell me the truth just +occasionally! Come out, please!" + +There were stirrings. After a little it opened and Maril appeared. She +looked as if she'd been crying. She said, quickly, "I probably look +queer, but it's because I was asleep." + +"To the contrary," said Calhoun, fuming. "You've been lying awake +crying. I don't know why. I've been out here wishing I could, because +I'm frustrated. But since you aren't asleep maybe you can help me with +my job. I've figured some things out. For some others I need facts. +Will you give them to me?" + +She swallowed. "I'll try." + +"Coffee?" he asked. + +Murgatroyd popped his head out of his miniature sleeping cabin. + +"_Chee?_" he asked interestedly. + +"Go back to sleep!" snapped Calhoun. + +He began to pace back and forth. + +"I need to know something about the pigment patches," he said jerkily. +"Maybe it sounds crazy to think of such things now--first things +first, you know. But this is a first thing! So long as Darians don't +look like the people of other worlds, they'll be believed to be +different. If they look repulsive, they'll be believed to be evil. + +"Tell me about those patches. They're different sizes and different +shapes and they appear in different places. You've none on your face +or hands, anyhow." + +"I haven't any at all," said the girl reservedly. + +"I thought--" + +"Not everybody," she said defensively. "Nearly, yes. But not all. Some +people don't have them. Some people are born with bluish splotches on +their skin, but they fade out while they're children. When they grow +up they're just like the people of Weald or any other world. And their +children never have them." + +Calhoun stared. + +"You couldn't possibly be proved to be a Darian, then?" + +She shook her head. Calhoun remembered, and started the coffee. + +"When you left Dara," he said, "you were carried a long, long way, to +some planet where they'd practically never heard of Dara, and where +the name meant nothing. You could have settled there, or anywhere else +and forgotten about Dara. But you didn't. Why not, since you're not a +blueskin?" + +"But I am!" she said fiercely. "My parents, my brothers and sisters, +and Korvan--" + +Then she bit her lip. Calhoun took note but did not comment on the +name she'd mentioned. + +"Then your parents had the splotches fade, so you never had them," he +said absorbedly. "Something like that happened on Tralee, once! +There's a virus, a whole group of virus particles! Normally we humans +are immune to them. One has to be in terrifically bad physical +condition for them to take hold and produce whatever effects they do. +But once they're established they're passed on from mother to child. +And when they die out it's during childhood, too!" + +He poured coffee for the two of them. Murgatroyd swung down to the +floor and said, impatiently, "_Chee! Chee! Chee!_" + +Calhoun absently filled Murgatroyd's tiny cup and handed it to him. + +"But this is marvellous!" he said exuberantly. "The blue patches +appeared after the plague, didn't they? After people recovered--when +they recovered?" + +Maril stared at him. His mind was filled with strictly professional +considerations. He was not talking to her as a person. She was purely +a source of information. + +"So I'm told," said Maril reservedly. "Are there any more humiliating +questions you want to ask?" + +He gaped at her. Then he said ruefully, "I'm stupid, Maril, but you're +touchy. There's nothing personal--" + +"There is to me!" she said fiercely. "I was born among blueskins, and +they're of my blood, and they're hated and I'd have been killed on +Weald if I'd been known as ... what I am! And there's Korvan, who +arranged for me to be sent away as a spy and advised me to do just +what you said: abandon my home world and everybody I care about! +Including him! It's personal to me!" + +Calhoun wrinkled his forehead helplessly. + +"I'm sorry," he repeated. "Drink your coffee!" + +"I don't want it," she said bitterly. "I'd like to die!" + +"If you stay around where I am," Calhoun told her, "you may get your +wish. All right, there'll be no more questions." + +She turned and moved toward the door to the cabin. Calhoun looked +after her. + +"Maril." + +"What?" + +"Why were you crying?" + +"You wouldn't understand," she said evenly. + +Calhoun shrugged his shoulders almost up to his ears. He was a +professional man. In his profession he was not incompetent. But there +is no profession in which a really competent man tries to understand +women. Calhoun, annoyed, had to let fate or chance or disaster take +care of Maril's personal problems. He had larger matters to cope with. + +But he had something to work on, now. He hunted busily in the +reference tapes. He came up with an explicit collection of information +on exactly the subject he needed. He left the control room to go down +into the storage areas of the Med Ship's hull. He found an ultra +frigid storage box, whose contents were kept at the temperature of +liquid air. + +He donned thick gloves, used a special set of tongs, and extracted a +tiny block of plastic in which a sealed-tight phial of glass was +embedded. It frosted instantly he took it out, and when the storage +box was closed again the block was covered with a thick and opaque +coating of frozen moisture. + +He went back to the control room and pulled down the panel which made +available a small-scale but surprisingly adequate biological +laboratory. He set the plastic block in a container which would raise +it very, very gradually to a specific temperature and hold it there. +It was, obviously, a living culture from which any imaginable quantity +of the same culture could be bred. Calhoun set the apparatus with +great exactitude. + +"This," he told Murgatroyd, "may be a good day's work. Now I think I +can rest." + +Then, for a long while, there was no sound or movement in the Med +Ship. The girl may have slept, or maybe not. Calhoun lay relaxed in a +chair which at the touch of a button became the most comfortable of +sleeping places. Murgatroyd remained in his cubbyhole, his tail curled +over his nose. + +There were comforting, unheard, easily dismissable murmurings now and +again. They kept the feeling of life alive in the ship. But for such +infinitesimal stirrings of sound, carefully recorded for this exact +purpose, the feel of the ship would have been that of a tomb. + +But it was quite otherwise when another ship-day began with the taped +sounds of morning activities as faint as echoes but nevertheless +establishing an atmosphere of their own. + +Calhoun examined the plastic block and its contents. He read the +instruments which had cared for it while he slept. He put the +block--no longer frosted--in the culture microscope and saw its +enclosed, infinitesimal particles of life in the process of +multiplying on the food that had been frozen with them when they were +reduced to the spore condition. He beamed. He replaced the block in +the incubation oven and faced the day cheerfully. + +Maril greeted him with great reserve. They breakfasted, with +Murgatroyd eating from his own platter on the floor, a tiny cup of +coffee alongside. + +"I've been thinking," said Maril evenly. "I think I can get you a +hearing for whatever ideas you may have to help Dara." + +"Kind of you," murmured Calhoun. + +In theory, a Med Service man had all the authority needed for this or +any other emergency. The power to declare a planet in quarantine, so +cutting it off from all interstellar commerce, should be enough to +force cooperation from any world's government. But in practice Calhoun +had exactly as much power as he could exercise. + +And Weald could not think straight where blueskins were concerned, and +certainly the authorities on Dara could not be expected to be +levelheaded. They had a history of isolation and outlawry, and long +experience of being regarded as less than human. In cold fact, Calhoun +had no power at all. + +"May I ask whose influence you'll exert?" asked Calhoun. + +"There's a man," said Maril reservedly, "who thinks a great deal of +me. I don't know his present official position, but he was certain to +become prominent. I'll tell him how you've acted up to now, and your +attitude, and of course that you're Med Service. He'll be glad to help +you, I'm sure." + +"Splendid!" said Calhoun, nodding. "That will be Korvan." + +She started. "How did you know?" + +"Intuition," said Calhoun dryly. "All right. I'll count on him." + +But he did not. He worked in the tiny biological lab all that ship-day +and all the next. The girl was very quiet. Murgatroyd tried to enter +into pretended conversation with her, but she was not able to match +his pretense. + +On the ship-day after, the time for breakout approached. While the +ship was practically a world all by itself, it was easy to look +forward with confidence to the future. But when contact and, in a +fashion, conflict with other and larger worlds loomed nearer, +prospects seemed less bright. Calhoun had definite plans, now, but +there were so many ways in which they could be frustrated. + +Calhoun sat down at the control board and watched the clock. + +"I've got things lined up," he told Maril, "if only they work out. If +I can make somebody on Dara listen, which is unlikely, and follow my +advice, which they probably won't; and if Weald doesn't get the ideas +it probably will get; and isn't doing what I suspect it is--why, +maybe something can be done." + +"I'm sure you'll do your best," said Maril politely. + +Calhoun managed to grin. He watched the clock. There was no sensation +attached to overdrive travel except at the beginning and the end. It +was now time for the end. He might find most anything having happened. +His plans might immediately be seen to be hopeless. Weald could have +sent ships to Dara, or Dara might be in such a state of +desperation.... + +As it turned out, Dara was desperate. The Med Ship came out nearly a +light-month from the sun about which the planet Dara revolved. Calhoun +went into a short hop toward it. Then Dara was on the other side of +the blazing yellow star. It took time to reach it. + +He called down, identifying himself and the ship and asking for +coordinates so his ship could be brought to ground. There was +confusion, as if the request were so unusual that the answers were not +ready. The grid, too, was on the planet's night side. Presently the +ship was locked onto by the grid's force-fields. It went downward. + +Calhoun saw that Maril sat tensely, twisting her fingers within each +other, until the ship actually touched ground. + +Then he opened the exit port--and faced armed men in the darkness, +with blast-rifles trained on him. There was a portable cannon trained +on the Med Ship itself. + +"Come out!" rasped a voice. "If you try anything you get blasted! Your +ship and its contents are seized by the planetary government!" + + * * * * * + + + + +5 + + +It seemed that the smell of hunger was in the air. The armed men were +emaciated. Lights came on, and stark, harsh shadows lay black upon the +ground. Calhoun's captors were uniformed, but the uniforms hung +loosely upon them. Where the lights struck upon their faces, their +cheeks were hollow. They were cadaverous. And there were the splotches +of pigment of which Calhoun had heard. + +The man nearest the Med Ship's port had a monstrous, irregular +dull-blue marking over half of one side of his face and up upon his +forehead. The man next to him had a blue throat. The next man again +was less marked, but his left ear was blue and there was what seemed a +splashing of the same color on the skin under his hair. + +The leader of the truculent group--it might have been a firing +squad--made an imperious gesture with his hand. It was blue, except +for two fingers which in the glaring illumination seemed whiter than +white. + +"Out!" said that man savagely. "We're taking over your stock of food. +You'll get your share of it, like everybody else, but--" + +Maril spoke over Calhoun's shoulder. She uttered a cryptic sentence or +two. It should have amounted to identification but there was +skepticism in the armed party. + +"Oh, you're one of us, eh?" said the guard leader sardonically. +"You'll have a chance to prove that. Come out of there!" + +Calhoun spoke abruptly, "This is a Med Ship," he said. "There are +medicines and bacterial culture inside it. They shouldn't be meddled +with. Here on Dara you've had enough of plagues!" + +The man with the blue hand said as sardonically as before, "I said the +government was taking over your ship! It won't be looted. But you're +not taking a full cargo of food away! In fact, it's not likely you're +leaving!" + +"And I want to speak to someone in authority," snapped Calhoun. "We've +just come from Weald." He felt bristling hatred all about him as he +named Weald. "There's tumult there. They're talking about dropping +fusion-bombs here. It's important that I talk to somebody with the +authority to take a few sensible precautions!" + +He descended to the ground. There was a panicky "_Chee! Chee!_" from +behind him, and Murgatroyd came dashing to swarm up his body and cling +apprehensively to his neck. + +"What's that?" + +"A _tormal_" said Calhoun. "He's not a pet. Your medical men will know +something about him. This is a Med Ship and I'm a Med Ship man, and +he's an important member of the crew. He's a Med Ship _tormal_ and he +stays with me!" + +The man with the blue hand said harshly, "There's somebody waiting to +ask you questions. Here!" + +A groundcar came rolling out from the side of the landing-grid +enclosure. The groundcar ran on wheels, and wheels were not much used +on modern worlds. Dara was behind the times in more ways than one. + +"This car will take you to Defense and you can tell them anything you +want. But don't try to sneak back in this ship! It'll be guarded!" + +The groundcar was enclosed, with room for a driver and the three from +the Med Ship. But armed men festooned themselves about its exterior +and it went bumping and rolling to the massive ground-layer girders of +the grid. It rolled out under them and onto a paved highway. It picked +up speed. + +There were buildings on either side of the road, but few showed +lights. This was night, and the men at the landing-grid had set a +pattern of hunger, so that the silence and the dark buildings did not +seem a sign of tranquility and sleep, but of exhaustion and despair. + +The highway lamps were few, by comparison with other inhabited worlds, +and the groundcar needed lights of its own to guide its driver over a +paved surface that needed repair. By those moving lights other +depressing things could be seen: untidiness, buildings not kept up to +perfection, evidences of apathy, the road, which hadn't been cleaned +lately, litter here and there. + +Even the fact that there were no stars added to the feeling of +wretchedness and gloom and, ultimately, of hunger. + +Maril spoke nervously to the driver. + +"The famine isn't any better?" + +He moved his head in negation, but did not speak. There was a splotch +of blue pigment at the back of his neck. It extended upward into his +hair. + +"I left two years ago," said Maril. "It was just beginning then. +Rationing hadn't started." + +The driver said evenly, "There's rationing now!" + +The car went on and on. A vast open space appeared ahead. Lights about +its perimeter seemed few and pale. + +"Everything seems worse. Even the lights." + +"Using all the power," said the driver, "to warm up ground to grow +crops where it ought to be winter. Not doing too well, either." + +Calhoun knew, somehow, that Maril moistened her lips. + +"I was sent," she explained to the driver, "to go ashore on Trent and +then make my way to Weald. I mailed reports of what I found out back +to Trent. Somebody got them back to here whenever it was possible." + +The driver said, "Everybody knows the man on Trent disappeared. Maybe +he got caught, maybe somebody saw him without make-up. Or maybe he +just quit being one of us. What's the difference? No use!" + +Calhoun found himself wincing a little. The driver was not angry. He +was hopeless. But men should not despair. They shouldn't accept +hostility from those about them as a device of fate for their +destruction. + +Maril said quickly to Calhoun, "You understand? Dara's a heavy-metals +planet. There aren't many light elements in our soil. Potassium is +scarce. So our ground isn't very fertile. Before the Plague we traded +metals and manufactured products for imports of food and potash. But +since the Plague we've had no off-planet commerce. We've been +quarantined." + +"I gathered as much," said Calhoun. "It was up to Med Service to see +that that didn't happen. It's up to Med Service now to see that it +stops." + +"Too late now for anything," said the driver. "Whatever Med Service +may be! They're talking about cutting down our population so there'll +be food enough for some to live. There are two questions about it. One +is who's to be kept alive, and the other is why." + +The groundcar aimed now for a cluster of faintly brighter lights on +the far side of the great open space. They enlarged as they grew +nearer. Maril said hesitantly, "There was someone, Korvan--" Calhoun +didn't catch the rest of the name. Maril said hesitantly, "He was +working on food plants. I thought he might accomplish something...." + +The driver said caustically, "Sure! Everybody's heard about him! He +came up with a wonderful thing! He and his outfit worked out a way to +process weeds so they can be eaten. And they can. You can fill your +belly and not feel hungry, but it's like eating hay. You starve just +the same. He's still working. Head of a government division." + +The groundcar passed through a gate. It stopped before a lighted door. +The armed men hanging to its outside dropped off. They watched Calhoun +closely as he stepped out with Murgatroyd riding on his shoulder. + +Minutes later they faced a hastily summoned group of officials of the +Darian government. For a ship to land on Dara was so remarkable an +event that it called practically for a cabinet meeting. And Calhoun +noted that they were no better fed than the guards at the spaceport. + +They regarded Calhoun and Maril with oddly burning, eyes. It was, of +course, because the two of them showed no signs of hunger. They +obviously had not been on short rations. Darians had this, now, to +increase a hatred which was inevitable anyhow, directed at all peoples +off their own planet. + +"My name is Calhoun," said Calhoun briskly. "I've the usual Med +Service credentials. Now--" + +He did not wait to be questioned. He told them of the appalling state +of things in the Twelfth Sector of the Med Service, so that men had +been borrowed from other sectors to remedy the intolerable, and he was +one of them. He told of his arrival at Weald and what had happened +there, from the excessively cautious insistence that he prove he was +not a Darian, to the arrival of the death-ship from Orede. + +He was giving them the news affecting them, as they had not heard it +before. He went on to tell of his stop at Orede and his purpose, and +his encounter with the men he found there. When he finished there was +silence. He broke it. + +"Now," he said, "Maril's an agent of yours. She can add to what I've +told you. I'm Med Service. I have a job to do here to carry out what +wasn't done before. I should make a planetary health inspection and +make recommendations for the improvement of the state of things. I'll +be glad if you'll arrange for me to talk to your health officials. +Things look bad, and something should be done." + +Someone laughed without mirth. + +"What will you recommend for long-continued undernourishment?" he +asked derisively. "That's our health problem!" + +"I recommend food," said Calhoun. + +"Where'll you fill the prescription?" + +"I've the answer to that, too," said Calhoun curtly. "I'll want to +talk to any space pilots you've got. Get your astrogators together and +I think they'll approve my idea." + +The silence was totally skeptical. + +"Orede--" + +"Not Orede," said Calhoun. "Weald will be hunting that planet over for +Darians. If they find any, they'll drop bombs here." + +"Our only space pilots," said a tall man, presently, "are on Orede +now. If you've told the truth, they'll probably head back because of +your warning. They should bring meat." + +His mouth worked peculiarly, and Calhoun knew that it was at the +thought of food. + +"Which," said another man sharply, "goes to the hospitals! I haven't +tasted meat in two years!" + +"Nobody has," growled another man still. "But here's this man Calhoun. +I'm not convinced he can work magic, but we can find out if he lies. +Put a guard on his ship. Otherwise let our health men give him his +head. They'll find out if he's from this Medical Service he tells of! +and this Maril...." + +"I can be identified," said Maril. "I was sent to gather information +and send it in secret writing to one of us on Trent. I have a family +here. They'll know me! And I--there was someone who was working on +foods, and I believe he made it possible to use ... all sorts of +vegetation for food. He will identify me." + +Someone laughed harshly. + +Maril swallowed. + +"I'd like to see him," she repeated. "And my family." + +Some of the blue-splotched men turned away. A broad-shouldered man +said bluntly, "Don't look for them to be glad to see you. And you'd +better not show yourself in public. You've been well fed. You'll be +hated for that." + +Maril began to cry. Murgatroyd said bewilderedly, "_Chee! Chee!_" + +Calhoun held him close. There was confusion. And Calhoun found the +Minister of Health at hand. He looked most harried of all the +officials gathered to question Calhoun. He proposed that he get a look +at the hospital situation right away. + +It wasn't practical. With all the population on half rations or less, +when night came people needed to sleep. Most people, indeed, slept as +many hours out of the traditional twenty-four as they could manage. It +was much more pleasant to sleep than to be awake and constantly nagged +at by continued hunger. + +And there was the matter of simple decency. Continuous gnawing hunger +had an embittering effect upon everyone. Quarrelsomeness was a common +experience. And people who would normally be the leaders of opinion +felt shame because they were obsessed by thoughts of food. It was best +when people slept. + +Still, Calhoun was in the hospitals by daybreak. What he found moved +him to savage anger. There were too many sick children. In every case +undernourishment contributed to their sickness. And there was not +enough food to make them well. Doctors and nurses denied themselves +food to spare it for their patients. And most of that self-denial was +doubtless voluntary, but it would not be discreet for anybody on Dara +to look conspicuously better fed than his fellows. + +Calhoun brought out hormones and enzymes and medicaments from the Med +Ship while the guard in the ship looked on. He demonstrated the +processes of synthesis and auto-catalysis that enabled such small +samples to be multiplied indefinitely. He was annoyed by a clamorous +appetite. There were some doctors who ignored the irony of medical +techniques being taught to cure nonnutritional disease, when everybody +was half-fed, or less. They approved of Calhoun. They even approved of +Murgatroyd when Calhoun explained his function. + +He was, of course, a Med Service _tormal_, and _tormals_ were +creatures of talent. They'd originally been found on a planet in the +Deneb area, and they were engaging and friendly small animals. But the +remarkable fact about them was that they couldn't contract any +disease. Not any. + +They had a built-in, explosive reaction to bacterial and viral toxins, +and there hadn't yet been any pathogenic organism discovered to which +a _tormal_ could not more or less immediately develop antibody +resistance. So that in interstellar medicine _tormals_ were priceless. + +Let Murgatroyd be infected with however localized, however specialized +an inimical organism, and presently some highly valuable defensive +substance could be isolated from his blood and he'd remain in his +usual exuberant good health. + +When the antibody was analyzed by those techniques of microanalysis +the Service had developed, that was that. The antibody could be +synthesized and one could attack any epidemic with confidence. + +The tragedy for Dara was, of course, that no Med Ship had come to Dara +three generations ago, when the Dara plague raged. Worse, after the +plague Weald was able to exert pressure which only a criminally +incompetent Med Service director would have permitted. But criminal +incompetence and its consequences was what Calhoun had been loaned to +Sector Twelve to help remedy. He was not at ease, though. No ship +arrived from Orede to bear out his account of an attempt to get that +lonely world evacuated before Weald discovered it had blueskins on it. +Maril had vanished, to visit or return to her family, or perhaps to +consult with the mysterious Korvan who'd arranged for her to leave +Dara to be a spy, and had advised her simply to make a new life +somewhere else, abandoning a famine-ridden, despised, and out-caste +world. + +Calhoun had learned of two achievements the same Korvan had made for +his world. Neither was remarkably constructive. He'd offered to prove +the value of the second by dying of it. Which might make him a very +admirable character, or he could have a passion for martyrdom, which +is much more common than most people think. In two days Calhoun was +irritable enough from unaccustomed hunger to suspect the worst of him. + +Meanwhile Calhoun worked doggedly; in the hospitals while the patients +were awake and in the Med Ship, under guard, afterward. He had hunger +cramps now, but he tested a plastic cube with a thriving biological +culture in it. + +He worked at increasing his store of it. He'd snipped samples of +pigmented skin from dead patients in the hospitals, and examined the +pigmented areas, and very, very painstakingly verified a theory. It +took an electron microscope to do it, but he found a virus in the blue +patches which matched the type discovered on Tralee. + +The Tralee viruses had effects which were passed on from mother to +child, and heredity had been charged with the observed results of +quasi-living viral particles. And then Calhoun very, very carefully +introduced into a virus culture the material he had been growing in a +plastic cube. He watched what happened. + +He was satisfied, so much so that immediately afterward he yawned and +yawned and barely managed to stagger off to bed. The watching guard in +the Med Ship watched him in amazement. + +That night the ship from Orede came in, packed with frozen bloody +carcasses of cattle. Calhoun knew nothing of it. But next morning +Maril came back. There were shadows under her eyes and her expression +was of someone who has lost everything that had meaning in her life. + +"I'm all right," she insisted, when Calhoun commented. "I've been +visiting my family. I've seen Korvan. I'm quite all right." + +"You haven't eaten any better than I have," Calhoun observed. + +"I couldn't!" admitted Maril. "My sisters, my little sisters so +thin.... There's rationing for everybody and it's all efficiently +arranged. They even had rations for me. But I couldn't eat! I gave +most of my food to my sisters and they--they squabbled over it!" + +Calhoun said nothing. There was nothing to say. Then she said, in a no +less desolate tone, "Korvan said I was foolish to come back." + +"He could be right," said Calhoun. + +"But I had to!" protested Maril. "And now I--I've been eating all I +wanted to, in Weald and in the ship, and I'm ashamed because they're +half-starved and I'm not. And when you see what hunger does to +them.... It's terrible to be half-starved and not able to think of +anything but food!" + +"I hope," said Calhoun, "to do something about that. If I can get hold +of an astrogator or two--" + +"The ship that was on Orede came in during the night," Maril told him +shakily. "It was loaded with frozen meat, but one load's not enough to +make a difference on a whole planet! And if Weald hunts for us on +Orede, we daren't go back for more meat." + +She said abruptly, "There are some prisoners. They were miners. They +were crowded out of the ship. The Darians who'd stampeded the cattle +took them prisoners. They had to!" + +"True," said Calhoun. "It wouldn't have been wise to leave Wealdians +around on Orede with their throats cut. Or living, either, to tell +about a rumor of blueskins. Even if their throats will be cut now. Is +that the program?" + +Maril shivered. + +"No. They'll be put on short rations like everybody else. And people +will watch them. The Wealdians expect to die of plague any minute +because they've been with Darians. So people look at them and laugh. +But it's not very funny." + +"It's natural," said Calhoun, "but perhaps lacking in charity. Look +there! How about those astrogators? I need them for a job I have in +mind." + +Maril wrung her hands. + +"C--come here," she said in a low tone. + +There was an armed guard in the control room of the ship. He'd watched +Calhoun a good part of the previous day as Calhoun performed his +mysterious work. He'd been off-duty and now was on duty again. He was +bored. So long as Calhoun did not touch the control board, though, he +was uninterested. He didn't even turn his head when Maril led the way +into the other cabin and slid the door shut. + +"The astrogators are coming," she said swiftly. "They'll bring some +boxes with them. They'll ask you to instruct them so they can handle +our ship better. They lost themselves coming back from Orede. No, +they didn't lose themselves, but they lost time, enough time almost to +make an extra trip for meat. They need to be experts. I'm to come +along, so they can be sure that what you teach them is what you've +been doing right along." + +Calhoun said, "Well?" + +"They're crazy!" said Maril vehemently. "They knew Weald would do +something monstrous sooner or later. But they're going to try to stop +it by being more monstrous sooner! Not everybody agrees, but there are +enough. So they want to use your ship--it's faster in overdrive and so +on. And they'll go to Weald in this ship and--they say they'll give +Weald something to keep it busy without bothering us!" + +Calhoun said dryly, "This pays me off for being too sympathetic with +blueskins! But if I'd been hungry for a couple of years, and was +despised to boot by the people who kept me hungry, I suppose I might +react the same way. No," he said curtly as she opened her lips to +speak again, "don't tell me the trick. Considering everything, there's +only one trick it could be. But I doubt profoundly that it would work. +All right." + +He slid the door back and returned to the control room. Maril followed +him. He said detachedly, "I've been working on a problem outside of +the food one. It isn't the time to talk about it right now, but I +think I've solved it." + +Maril turned her head, listening. There were footsteps on the tarmac +outside the ship. Both doors of the airlock were open. Four men came +in. They were young men who did not look quite as hungry as most +Darians, but there was a reason for that. Their leader introduced +himself and the others. They were the astrogators of the ship Dara had +built to try to bring food from Orede. They were not, said their +self-appointed leader, good enough. They'd overshot their +destination. They came out of overdrive too far off line. They needed +instruction. + +Calhoun nodded, and observed that he'd been asking for them. They +were, of course, blueskins. On one the only visible disfigurement was +a patch of blue upon his wrist. On another the appearance of a blue +birthmark appeared beside his eye and went back and up his temple. A +third had a white patch on his temple, with all the rest of his face a +dull blue. The fourth had blue fingers on one hand. + +"We've got orders," said their leader, steadily, "to come on board and +learn from you how to handle this ship. It's better than the one we've +got." + +"I asked for you," repeated Calhoun. "I've an idea I'll explain as we +go along.... Those boxes?" + +Someone was passing in iron boxes through the airlock. One of the four +very carefully brought them inside. + +"They're rations," said a second young man. "We don't go anywhere +without rations, except Orede." + +"Orede, yes. I think we were shooting at each other there," said +Calhoun pleasantly. "Weren't we?" + +"Yes," said the young man. + +He was neither cordial nor antagonistic. He was impassive. Calhoun +shrugged. + +"Then we can take off immediately. Here's the communicator and there's +the button. You might call the grid and arrange for us to be lifted." + +The young man seated himself at the control board. Very +professionally, he went through the routine of preparing to lift by +landing-grid, which routine has not changed in two hundred years. He +went briskly ahead until the order to lift. Then Calhoun stopped him. + +"Hold it!" + +He pointed to the airlock. Both doors were open. The young man at the +control board flushed vividly. One of the others closed and dogged the +doors. + +The ship lifted. Calhoun watched with seeming negligence. But he found +occasion for a dozen corrections of procedure. This was presumably a +training voyage of his own suggestion. Therefore, when the blueskin +pilot would have flung the Med Ship into undirected overdrive, Calhoun +grew stern. He insisted on a destination. He suggested Weald. + +The young men glanced at each other and accepted the suggestion. He +made the acting pilot look up the intrinsic brightness of its sun and +measure its apparent brightness from just off Dara. He made him +estimate the change in brightness to be expected after so many hours +in overdrive, if one broke out to measure. + +The first blueskin student pilot ended a Calhoun-determined tour of +duty with more respect for Calhoun then he'd had at the beginning. The +second was anxious to show up better than the first. Calhoun drilled +him in the use of brightness-charts, by which the changes in apparent +brightness of stars between overdrive hops could be correlated with +angular changes to give a three-dimensional picture of the nearer +heavens. + +It was a highly necessary art which had not been worked out on Dara, +and the prospective astrogators became absorbed in this and other fine +points of space-piloting. They'd done enough, in a few trips to Orede, +to realize that they needed to know more. Calhoun showed them. + +Calhoun did not try to make things easy for them. He was hungry and +easily annoyed. It was sound training tactics to be severe, and to +phrase all suggestions as commands. He put the four young men in +command of the ship in turn, under his direction. He continued to use +Weald as a destination, but he set up problems in which the Med Ship +came out of overdrive pointing in an unknown direction and with a +precessory motion. + +He made the third of his students identify Weald in the celestial +globe containing hundreds of millions of stars, and get on course in +overdrive toward it. The fourth was suddenly required to compute the +distance to Weald from such data as he could get from observation, +without reference to any records. + +By this time the first man was chafing to take a second turn. Calhoun +gave each of them a second gruelling lesson. He gave them, in fact, a +highly condensed but very sound course in the art of travel in space. +His young students took command in four-hour watches, with at least +one breakout from overdrive in each watch. + +He built up enthusiasm in them. They ignored the discomfort of being +hungry--though there had been no reason for them to stint on food on +Orede--in growing pride in what they came to know. + +When Weald was a first-magnitude star, the four were not highly +qualified astrogators, to be sure, but they were vastly better +spacemen than at the beginning. Inevitably, their attitude toward +Calhoun was respectful. He'd been irritable and right. To the young, +the combination is impressive. + +Maril had served as passenger only. In theory she was to compare +Calhoun's lessons with his practise when alone. But he did nothing on +this journey which, teaching considered, was different from the two +interstellar journeys Maril had made with him. + +She occupied the sleeping cabin during two of the six watches of each +ship-day. She operated the food-readier, which was almost completely +emptied of its original store of food, it having been confiscated by +the government of Dara. That amount of food would make no difference +to the planet, but it was wise for everyone on Dara to be equally +ill-fed. + +On the sixth day out from Dara, the sun of Weald had a magnitude of +minus five-tenths. The electron telescope could detect its larger +planets, especially a gas-giant fifth-orbit world of high albedo. +Calhoun had his four students estimate its distance again, pointing +out the difference that could be made in breakout position if the Med +Ship were mis-aimed by as much as one second of arc. + +"And now," he said briskly, "we'll have coffee. I'm going to graduate +you as pilots. Maril, four cups of coffee, please." + +Murgatroyd said "_Chee?_" The Med Ship was badly crowded with six +humans and Murgatroyd in a space intended for Calhoun and Murgatroyd +alone. The little _tormal_ had spent most of his time in his +cubbyhole, watching with beady eyes as so many people moved about on +what had been a spacious ship before. + +"No coffee for you, Murgatroyd," said Calhoun. "You didn't do your +lessons. This is for the graduating class only." + +Murgatroyd came out of his miniature den. He found his little cup and +offered it insistently, saying, "_Chee! Chee! Chee!_" + +"No!" said Calhoun firmly. He regarded his class of four young men +with their blueskin markings. "Drink it down!" he commanded. "That's +the last order I'll give you. You're graduate pilots, now!" + +They drank the coffee with a flourish. There was not one who did not +admire Calhoun for having made them admire themselves. They were, +actually, almost as much better pilots as they believed. + +"And now," said Calhoun, "I suppose you'll tell me the truth about +those boxes you brought on board. You said they were rations, but +they haven't been opened in six days. I have an idea what they mean, +but you tell me." + +The four looked uncomfortable. There was a long pause. + +"They could be," said Calhoun detachedly, "cultures to be dumped on +Weald. Weald is making plans to wipe out Dara. So some fool has +decided to get Weald too busy fighting a plague of its own to bother +with you. Is that right?" + +The young men stirred unhappily. Young men can very easily be made +into fanatics. But they have to be kept stirred up. They can't be +provided with sound reason for self-respect. On the Med Ship there'd +not been a single reference to Weald except as an object toward which +the Med Ship was being astrogated. There'd been no reference to +blueskins or enemies or threats or anything but space-piloting. The +four young men were now fanatical about the proper handling of a ship +in emptiness. + +"Well, sir," said one of them, unhappily, "that's what we were ordered +to do." + +"I object," said Calhoun. "It wouldn't work. I just left Weald a +little while back, remember. They've been telling themselves that some +day Dara would try that. They've made preparations to fight any +imaginable contagion you could drop on them. Every so often somebody +claims it's happening. It wouldn't work. I object!" + +"But--" + +"In fact," said Calhoun, "I forbid it. I shall prevent it. You shan't +do anything of the kind." + +One of the young men, staring at Calhoun, nodded suddenly. His eyes +closed. He jerked his head erect and looked bewildered. A second sank +heavily into a chair. He said remotely, "Thish sfunny!" and abruptly +went to sleep. The third found his knees giving way. He paid elaborate +attention to them, stiffening them. But they yielded like rubber and +he went slowly down to the floor. The fourth said thickly and +reproachfully, "Thought y'were our frien'!" + +He collapsed. + +Calhoun very soberly tied them hand and foot and laid them out +comfortably on the floor. Maril watched, white-faced, her hand to her +throat. Murgatroyd looked agitated. He said anxiously, "_Chee? Chee?_" + +"No," said Calhoun. "They'll wake up presently." + +Maril said in a tense and desperate whisper, "You're betraying us! +You're going to take us to Weald!" + +"No," said Calhoun. "We'll only orbit around it. First, though, I want +to get rid of those damned packed-up cultures. They're dead, by the +way. I killed them with super-sonics a couple of days ago, while a +fine argument was going on about distance-measurements by variable +Cepheids of known period." + +He put the four boxes carefully in the disposal unit. He operated it. +The boxes and their contents streamed out to space in the form of +metallic and other vapors. Calhoun sat at the control desk. + +"I'm a Med Service man," he said detachedly. "I couldn't cooperate in +the spread of plagues, anyhow, though a useful epidemic might be +another matter. But the important thing right now is not keeping Weald +busy with troubles to increase their hatred of Dara. It's getting some +food for Dara. And driblets won't help. What's needed is thousands of +tons, or tens of thousands." Then he said, "Overdrive coming, +Murgatroyd! Hold fast!" + +The universe vanished. The customary unpleasant sensations accompanied +the change. Murgatroyd burped. + + * * * * * + + + + +6 + + +A large part of the firmament was blotted out by the blindingly bright +half-disk of Weald, as it shone in the sunshine. It had icecaps at its +poles, and there were seas, and the mottled look of land which had +that carefully maintained balance of woodland and cultivated areas +which was so effective in climate control. The Med Ship floated free, +and Calhoun fretfully monitored all the beacon frequencies known to +man. + +There was relative silence inside the ship. Maril watched Calhoun in a +sort of despairing indecision. The four young blueskins still slept, +still bound hand and foot upon the control room floor. Murgatroyd +regarded them, and Maril, and Calhoun in turn, and his small and furry +forehead wrinkled helplessly. + +"They can't have landed what I'm looking for!" protested Calhoun as +his search had no result. "They can't! It would be too sensible for +them to have done it!" + +Murgatroyd said "_Chee!_" in a subdued voice. + +"But where the devil did they put them?" demanded Calhoun. "A polar +orbit would be ridiculous! They--" Then he grunted in disgust. "Oh! Of +course! Now, where's the landing-grid?" + +He worked busily for minutes, checking the position of the Wealdian +landing-grid, which was mapped in the Sector Directory, against the +look of continents and seas on the half-disk so plainly visible +outside. He found what he wanted. He put on the ship's solar system +drive. + +"I wish," he complained to Maril, "I wish I could think straight the +first time! And it's so obvious! If you want to put something out in +space, and not have it interfere with traffic, in what sort of orbit +and at what distance will you put it?" + +Maril did not answer. + +"Obviously," said Calhoun, "you'll put it as far as possible from the +landing-pattern of ships coming in to the spaceport. You'll put it on +the opposite side of the planet. And you'll want it to stay out of the +way, where anybody can know it is at any time of the day or night +without having to calculate anything. + +"So you'll put it out in orbit so it will revolve around Weald in +exactly one day, neither more nor less, and you'll put it above the +equator. And then it will remain quite stationary above one spot on +the planet, a hundred and eighty degrees longitude away from the +landing-grid and directly over the equator." + +He scribbled for a moment. + +"Which means forty-two thousand miles high, give or take a few +hundred, and--here! And I was hunting for it in a close-in orbit!" + +He grumbled to himself. He waited while the solar-system drive pushed +the Med Ship a quarter of the way around the bright planet below. The +sunset line vanished and the planet's disk became a complete circle. +Then Calhoun listened to the monitor earphones again, and grunted once +more, and changed course, and presently made a noise indicating +satisfaction. + +He abandoned instrument control and peered directly out of a port, +handling the solar system drive with great care. Murgatroyd said +depressedly, "_Chee!_" + +"Stop worrying," commanded Calhoun. "We haven't been challenged, and +there is a beacon transmitter at work, just to make sure that nobody +bumps into what we're looking for. It's a great help, because we do +want to bump, but gently." + +Stars swung across the port out of which he looked. Something dark +appeared, and then straight lines and exact curvings. Even Maril, +despairing and bewildered as she was, caught sight of something vastly +larger than the Med Ship, floating in space. She stared. The Med Ship +maneuvered very cautiously. She saw another large object. A third. A +fourth. There seemed to be dozens of them. + +They were spaceships, huge by comparison with _Aesclipus Twenty_. They +floated as the Med Ship did. They did not drive. They were not in +formation. They were not at even distances from each other. They did +not point in the same direction. They swung in emptiness like +derelicts. + +Calhoun jockeyed his small ship with infinite care. Presently there +came the gentlest of impacts and then a clanking sound. The appearance +out the vision port became stationary, but still unbelievable. The Med +Ship was grappled magnetically to a vast surface of welded metal. + +Calhoun relaxed. He opened a wall panel and brought out a vacuum suit. +He began briskly to get it on. + +"Things moving smoothly," he commented. "We weren't challenged. So +it's extremely unlikely that we were spotted. Our friends on the floor +ought to begin to come to shortly. And I'm going to find out now +whether I'm a hero or in sure-enough trouble!" + +Maril said drearily, "I don't know what you've done, except--" + +Calhoun blinked at her, in the act of hauling the vacuum suit up his +chest and over his shoulders. + +"Isn't it self-evident?" he demanded. "I've been giving astrogation +lessons to these characters. I certainly didn't do it to help them +dump germ-cultures on Weald! I brought them here! Don't you see the +point? These are space ships. They're in orbit around Weald. They're +not manned and they're not controlled. In fact, they're nothing but +sky-riding storage bins!" + +He seemed to consider the explanation complete. He wriggled his arms +into the sleeves and gloves of the suit. He slung the air tanks over +his shoulder and hooked them to the suit. + +"I'll be back," he said. "I hope with good news. I've reason to be +hopeful, though, because these Wealdians are very practical men. They +have things all prepared and tidy. I suspect I'll find these ships +with stores of air and fuel, maybe even food, so that if Weald should +manage to make a deal for the stuff stored out here in them, they'd +only have to bring out crews." + +He lifted the space helmet down from its rack and put it on. He tested +it, reading the tank air-pressure, power-storage, and other data from +the lighted miniature instruments visible through pinholes above his +eye-level. He fastened a space rope about himself, speaking through +the helmet's opened faceplate. + +"If our friends should wake up before I get back," he added, "please +restrain them. I'd hate to be marooned." + +He went waddling into the airlock with the coil of space rope over one +vacuum-suited arm. The inner lock door closed behind him. A little +later Maril heard the outer lock open. Then silence. + +Murgatroyd whimpered a little. Maril shivered. Calhoun had gone out of +the ship to nothingness. He'd said that what he was looking for, and +what he'd found, was forty-two thousand miles from Weald. One could +imagine falling forty-two thousand miles, where one couldn't imagine +falling a light-year. + +Calhoun was walking on the steel plates of a gigantic spaceship which +floated among dozens of its fellows, all seeming derelicts and +seemingly abandoned. He was able to walk on the nearest because of +magnetic-soled shoes. He trusted his life to them and to a flimsy +space rope which trailed after him out the Med Ship's airlock. + +Time passed. A clock ticked in that hurried tempo of five ticks to the +second which has been the habit of clocks since time immemorial. Very +small and trivial noises came from the background tape, preventing +utter silence from hanging intolerably in the ship. + +Maril found herself listening tensely for something else. One of the +four bound blueskins snored, and stirred, and slept again. Murgatroyd +gazed about unhappily, and swung down to the control room floor, and +then paused for lack of any place to go or anything to do. He sat down +and began half-heartedly to lick his whiskers. Maril stirred. + +Murgatroyd looked at her hopefully. + +"_Chee?_" he asked shrilly. + +She shook her head. It became a habit to act as if Murgatroyd were a +human being. "No," she said unsteadily. "Not yet." + +More time passed. An unbearably long time. Then there was the faintest +of clankings. It repeated. Then, abruptly, there were noises in the +airlock. They continued. They were fumbling noises. + +The outer airlock door closed. The inner door opened. Dense white fog +came out of it. There was motion. Calhoun followed the fog out of the +lock. He carried objects which had been weightless, but were suddenly +heavy in the ship's gravity-field. There were two spacesuits and a +curious assortment of parcels. He spread them out, flipped aside his +faceplate, and said briskly, "This stuff is cold! Turn a heater on it, +will you, Maril?" + +He began to work his way out of his own vacuum-suit. + +"Item," he said. "The ships are fuelled _and_ provisioned. A practical +tribe, the Wealdians! The ships are ready to take off as soon as +they're warmed up inside. A half-degree sun doesn't radiate heat +enough to keep a ship warm, when the rest of the cosmos is effectively +near zero Kelvin. Here, point the heaters like this." + +He adjusted the radiant-heat dispensers. The fog disappeared where +their beams played. But the metal spacesuits glistened and steamed, +and the steam disappeared within inches. They were so completely and +utterly cold that they condensed the air about them as a liquid, which +re-evaporated to make fog, which warmed up and disappeared and was +immediately replaced. + +"Item," said Calhoun again, getting his arms out of the vacuum-suit +sleeves. "The controls are pretty nearly standard. Our sleeping +friends will be able to astrogate them back to Dara without trouble, +provided only that nobody comes out here to bother us before they +leave." + +He shed the last of the spacesuit, stepping out of its legs. + +"And," he finished wryly, "I brought back an emergency supply of ship +provisions for everybody concerned, but find that I'm idiot enough to +feel that they'll choke me if I eat them while Dara's still starving." + +Maril said, "But there isn't any hope for Dara! No real hope!" + +He gaped at her. + +"What do you think we're here for?" + +He set to work to restore his four recent students to consciousness. +It was not a difficult task. The dosage mixed in the coffee given them +as a graduation ceremony--the ceremony which had consisted solely of +drinking coffee and passing out--allowed for waking-up processes. +Calhoun took the precaution of disarming them first, but presently +four hot-eyed young men glared at him. + +"I'm calling," said Calhoun, holding a blaster negligently in his +hand, "I'm calling for volunteers. There's a famine on Dara. There've +been unmanageable crop surpluses on Weald. On Dara, the government +grimly rations every ounce of food. On Weald, the government has been +buying surplus grain to keep the price up. + +"To save storage costs, it's loaded the grain into out-of-date +spaceships it once used to stand sentry over Dara to keep it out of +space when there was another famine there. Those ships have been put +out in orbit, where we're hooked on to one of them. + +"It's loaded with half a million bushels of grain. I've brought +spacesuits from it, I've turned on the heaters in its interior, and +I've set its overdrive unit for a hop to Dara. Now I'm calling for +volunteers to take half a million bushels of grain to where it's +needed. Do I get any volunteers?" + +He got four. Not immediately, because they were ashamed that he'd made +it impossible to carry out their original fanatic plan, and now +offered something much better to make up for it. They raged. But half +a million bushels of grain meant that people who must otherwise die +might live. + +Ultimately, truculently, first one and then another angrily agreed. + +"Good!" said Calhoun. "Now, how many of you dare risk the trip alone? +I've got one grain ship warming up. There are plenty of others around +us. Every one of you can take a ship and half a million bushels to +Dara, if you have the nerve!" + +The atmosphere changed. Suddenly they clamored for the task he offered +them. They were still acutely uncomfortable. He'd bossed them and +taught them until they felt capable and glamorous and proud. Then he'd +pinned their ears back. But if they returned to Dara with four enemy +ships and unimaginable quantities of food with which to break the +famine.... + +There was work to be done first, of course. Only one ship was so far +warming up. Three more had to be entered, in spacesuits, and each had +to have its interior warmed so breathable air could exist inside it, +and at least part of the stored provisions had to be brought up to +reasonable temperature for use on the journey. + +Then the overdrive unit had to be inspected and set for the length of +journey that a direct overdrive hop to Dara would mean, and Calhoun +had to make sure again that each of the four could identify Dara's sun +under all circumstances and aim for it with the requisite high +precision, both before going into overdrive and after breakout. When +all that was accomplished, Calhoun might reasonably hope that they'd +arrive. But it wasn't a certainty. + +Still, presently his four students shook hands with him, with the fine +tolerance of young men intending much greater achievements than their +teacher. They wouldn't speak on communicator again, because their +messages might be picked up on Weald. + +Of course, for this high heroic action to be successful, it had to be +performed with the stealth of sneak-thieves. + +What seemed a long time passed. The one ship turned slowly upon some +unseen axis. It wavered back and forth, seeking a point of aim. A +second twisted in its place. A third put on the barest trace of solar +system drive to get clear of the rest. The fourth-- + +One ship vanished. It had gone into overdrive, heading for Dara at +many times the speed of light. Another. Two more. + +That was all. The remainder of the fleet hung clumsily in emptiness. +And Calhoun worriedly went over in his mind the lessons he'd given in +such a pathetically small number of days. If the four ships reached +Dara, their pilots would be heroes. Calhoun had presented them with +that estate over their bitter objection. But they would glory in +it--if they reached Dara. + +Maril looked at him with very strange eyes. + +"Now what?" she asked. + +"We hang around," said Calhoun, "to see if anybody comes up from Weald +to find out what's happened. It's always possible to pick up a sort of +signal when a ship goes into overdrive. Usually it doesn't mean a +thing. Nobody pays any attention. But if somebody comes out here...." + +"What?" + +"It'll be regrettable," said Calhoun. He was suddenly very tired. +"It'll spoil any chance of our coming back and stealing some more +food, like interstellar mice. If they find out what we've done they'll +expect us to try it again. They might get set to fight. Or they might +simply land the rest of these ships." + +"If I'd realized what you were about," said Maril, "I'd have joined in +the lessons. I could have piloted a ship." + +"You wouldn't have wanted to," said Calhoun. He yawned. "You wouldn't +want to be a heroine. No normal girl does." + +"Why?" + +"Korvan," said Calhoun. He yawned again. "I've asked about him. He's +been trying very desperately to deserve well of his fellow blueskins. +All he's accomplished is develop a way to starve painlessly. He +wouldn't feel comfortable with a girl who'd helped make starving +unnecessary. He'd admire you politely, but he'd never marry you. And +you know it." + +She shook her head, but it was not easy to tell whether she denied the +reaction of Korvan, whom Calhoun had never met, or denied that he was +more important to her than anything else. The last was what Calhoun +plainly implied. + +"You don't seem to be trying to be a hero!" she protested. + +"I'd enjoy it," admitted Calhoun, "but I have a job to do. It's got to +be done. It's more important than being admired." + +"You could take another ship back," she told him. "It would be worth +more to Dara than the Med Ship is! And then everybody would realize +that you'd planned everything." + +"Ah," said Calhoun, "but you've no idea how much this ship matters to +Dara!" + +He seated himself at the controls. He slipped headphones over his +ears. He listened. Very, very carefully, he monitored all the wave +lengths and wave forms he could discover in use on Weald. There was no +mention of the oddity of behavior of shiploads of surplus grain aloft. +There was no mention of the ships at all. There was plenty of mention +of Dara, and blueskins, and of the vicious political fight now going +on to see which political party could promise the most complete +protection against blueskins. + +After a full hour of it, Calhoun flipped off his receptor and swung +the Med Ship to an exact, painstakingly precise aim at the sun around +which Dara rolled. He said, "Overdrive coming, Murgatroyd!" + +Murgatroyd grabbed. The stars went out and the universe reeled and the +Med Ship became a sort of cosmos all its own, into which no signal +could come, no danger could enter, and in which there could be no +sound except those minute ones made to prevent silence. + +Calhoun yawned again. + +"Now there's nothing to be done for a day or two," he said wearily, +"and I'm beginning to understand why people sleep all they can, on +Dara. It's one way not to feel hungry. And one dreams such delicious +meals! But looking hungry is a social requirement, on Dara." + +Maril said tensely, "You're going back? After they took the ship from +you?" + +"The job's not finished," he explained. "Not even the famine's ended, +and the famine's a second-order effect. If there were no such thing as +a blueskin, there'd be no famine. Food could be traded for. We've got +to do something to make sure there are no more famines." + +She looked at him oddly. + +"It would be desirable," she said with irony. "But you can't do it." + +"Not today, no," he admitted. Then he said longingly, "I didn't get +much sleep on the way here, while running a seminar on astrogation. I +think I'll take a nap." + +She rose and almost ostentatiously went into the other cabin, to leave +him alone. He shrugged. He settled down into the chair which, to let a +Med Ship man break the monotony of life in unchanging surroundings, +turned into a comfortable sleeping arrangement. He fell instantly +asleep. + +For very many ship-hours, then, there was no action or activity or +happening of any imaginable consequence in the Med Ship. Very, very +far away, light-years distant and light-years apart, four shiploads of +grain hurtled toward the famine-stricken planet of blueskins. Each +great ship had a single semiskilled blueskin for pilot and crew. + +Thousands of millions of suns blazed with violence appropriate to +their stellar types in a galaxy of which a very small proportion had +been explored and colonized by humanity. The human race was now to be +counted in quadrillions on scores of hundreds of inhabited worlds, but +the tiny Med Ship seemed the least significant of all possible created +things. + +It could travel between star-systems and even star-clusters, but it +was not yet capable of crossing the continent of suns on which the +human race arose. And between any two solar systems the journeying of +the Med Ship consumed much time. Which would be maddening for someone +with no work to do or no resources in himself, or herself. + +On the second ship-day Calhoun labored painstakingly and somewhat +distastefully at the little biological laboratory. Maril watched him +in a sort of brooding silence. Murgatroyd slept much of the time, with +his furry tail wrapped meticulously across his nose. + +Toward the end of the day Calhoun finished his task. He had a matter +of six or seven cubic centimeters of clear liquid as the conclusion of +a long process of culturing, and examination by microscope, and again +culturing plus final filtration. He looked at a clock and calculated +time. + +"Better wait until tomorrow," he observed, and put the bit of clear +liquid in a temperature-controlled place of safekeeping. + +"What is it?" asked Maril. "What's it for?" + +"It's part of a job I have on hand," said Calhoun. He considered. "How +about some music?" + +She looked astonished. But he set up an instrument and fed microtape +into it and settled back to listen. Then there was music such as she +had never heard before. It was another device to counteract isolation +and monotonous between-planet voyages. To keep it from losing its +effectiveness, Calhoun rationed himself on music, as on other things. + +Any indulgence frequently repeated would become a habit, in the sense +that it would give no special pleasure when indulged in, but would +make for stress if it were omitted. Calhoun deliberately went for +weeks between uses of his recordings, so that music was an event to be +looked forward to and cherished. + +When he tapered off the stirring symphonies of Kun Gee with +tranquilizing, soothing melodies from the Rim School of composers, +Maril regarded him with a very peculiar gaze indeed. + +"I think I understand now," she said slowly, "why you don't act like +other people. Toward me, for example. The way you live gives you what +other people have to get in crazy ways--making their work feed their +vanity, and justify pride, and make them feel significant. But you can +put your whole mind on your work." + +He thought it over. + +"Med Ship routine is designed to keep one healthy in his mind," he +admitted. "It works pretty well. It satisfies all my mental appetites. +But there are instincts...." + +She waited. He did not finish. + +"What do you do about the instincts that work and music and such +things can't satisfy?" + +Calhoun grinned wryly, "I'm stern with them. I have to be." + +He stood up and plainly expected her to go into the other cabin for +the night. She went. + +It was after breakfast time of the next ship-day when he got out the +sample of clear liquid he'd worked so long to produce. + +"We'll see how it works," he observed. "Murgatroyd's handy in case of +a slip-up. It's perfectly safe so long as he's aboard and there are +only the two of us." + +She watched as he injected half a cc. under his own skin. Then she +shivered a little. + +"What will it do?" + +"That remains to be seen." He paused a moment. "You and I," he said +with some dryness, "make a perfect test for anything. If you catch +something from me, it will be infectious indeed!" + +She gazed at him utterly without comprehension. + +He took his own temperature. He brought out the folios which were his +orders, covering each of the planets he should give a standard Medical +Service inspection. Weald was there. Dara wasn't. But a Med Service +man has much freedom of action, even when only keeping up the routine +of normal Med Service. When catching up on badly neglected operations, +he necessarily has much more. Calhoun went over the folios. + +Two hours later he took his temperature again. He looked pleased. He +made an entry in the ship's log. Two hours later yet he found himself +drinking thirstily and looked more pleased still. + +He made another entry in the log and matter-of-factly drew a small +quantity of blood from his own vein and called to Murgatroyd. +Murgatroyd submitted amiably to the very trivial operation Calhoun +carried out. Calhoun put away the equipment and saw Maril staring at +him with a certain look of shock. + +"It doesn't hurt him," Calhoun explained. "Right after he's born +there's a tiny spot on his flank that has the pain-nerves +desensitized. Murgatroyd's all right. That's what he's for!" + +"But he's your friend!" said Maril. + +Murgatroyd, despite his small size and furriness, had all the human +attributes an animal which lives with humans soon acquires. Calhoun +looked at him with affection. + +"He's my assistant. I don't ask anything of him that I can do myself. +But we're both Med Service. And I do things for him that he can't do +for himself. For example, I make coffee for him." + +Murgatroyd heard the familiar word. He said, "_Chee!_" + +"Very well," agreed Calhoun. "We'll all have some." + +He made coffee. Murgatroyd sipped at the cup especially made for his +little paws. Once he scratched at the place on his flank which had no +pain nerves. It itched. But he was perfectly content. Murgatroyd +would always be contented when he was somewhere near Calhoun. + +Another hour went by. Murgatroyd climbed up into Calhoun's lap and +with a determined air went to sleep there. Calhoun disturbed him long +enough to get an instrument out of his pocket. He listened to +Murgatroyd's heartbeat, while Murgatroyd dozed. + +"Maril," he said. "Write down something for me. The time, and +ninety-six, and one-twenty over ninety-four." + +She obeyed, not comprehending. Half an hour later, still not stirring +to disturb Murgatroyd, he had her write down another time and sequence +of figures, only slightly different from the first. Half an hour later +still, a third set. But then he put Murgatroyd down, well satisfied. + +He took his own temperature. He nodded. + +"Murgatroyd and I have one more chore to do," he told her. "Would you +go in the other cabin for a moment?" + +Disturbed, she went into the other cabin. Calhoun drew a small sample +of blood from the insensitive area on Murgatroyd's flank. Murgatroyd +submitted with complete confidence in the man. In ten minutes Calhoun +had diluted the sample, added an anticoagulant, shaken it up +thoroughly, and filtered it to clarity with all red and white +corpuscles removed. Another Med Ship man would have considered that +Calhoun had had Murgatroyd prepare a splendid small sample of +antibody-containing serum, in case something got out of hand. It would +assuredly take care of two patients. + +But a Med Ship man would also have known that it was simply one of +those scrupulous precautions a Med Ship man takes when using cultures +from store. + +Calhoun put the sample away and called Maril back. + +"It was nothing," he explained, "but you might have felt +uncomfortable. We simply had a bit of Med Service routine that had to +be gone through. It's all right now." + +He offered no further explanation. She said, "I'll fix lunch." She +hesitated. "You brought some food from the first Weald ship. Do you +want to--" + +He shook his head. + +"I'm squeamish," he admitted. "The trouble on Dara is Med Service +fault. Before my time, but still ... I'll stick to rations until +everybody eats." + +He watched her unobtrusively as the day went on. Presently he +considered that she was slightly flushed. Shortly after the evening +meal of singularly unappetizing Darian rations, she drank thirstily. +He did not comment. He brought out cards and showed her a complicated +game of solitaire in which mental arithmetic and expert use of +probability increased one's chance of winning. + +By midnight she'd learned the game and played it absorbedly. Calhoun +was able to scrutinize her without appearing to do so, and he was +satisfied again. When he mentioned that the Med Ship should arrive off +Dara in eight hours more, she put the cards away and went into the +other cabin. + +Calhoun wrote up the log. He added the notes that Maril had made for +him, of Murgatroyd's pulse and blood pressure after the injection of +the same culture that produced fever and thirstiness in himself and +later, without contact with him or the culture, in Maril. He put a +professional comment at the end: + + _The culture seems to have retained its normal characteristics + during long storage in the spore state. It received and reproduced + rapidly. I injected .5 cc. under my skin and in less than one hour + my temperature was 30.8° C. An hour later it was 30.9° C. This was + its peak. It immediately returned to normal. The only other + observable symptom was slightly increased thirst. Bloodpressure + and pulse remained normal. The other person in the Med Ship + displayed the same symptoms, in prompt and complete repetition, + without physical contact._ + +He went to sleep, with Murgatroyd curled up in his cubbyhole, his tail +draped carefully over his nose. + +The Med Ship broke out of overdrive at 1300 hours, ship-time. Calhoun +made contact with the grid and was promptly lowered to the ground. + +It was almost two hours later, at 1500 hours ship-time, when the +people of Dara were informed by broadcast that Calhoun was to be +executed immediately. + + * * * * * + + + + +7 + + +From the viewpoint of Darians, who were also blueskins, the decision +of Calhoun's guilt and the decision to execute him were reasonable +enough. Maril protested fiercely, and her testimony agreed with +Calhoun's in every respect, but from a blueskin viewpoint their own +statements were damning. + +Calhoun had taken four young astrogators to space. They were the only +semiskilled space pilots Dara had. There were no fully qualified men. +Calhoun had asked for them, and taken them out to emptiness, and there +he had instructed them in modern guidance methods for ships of space. + +So far there was no disagreement. He'd proposed to make them more +competent pilots; more capable of driving a ship to Orede, for +example, to raid the enormous cattle herds there. And he'd had them +drive the Med Ship to Weald, against which there could be no +objection. + +But just before arrival he had tricked all four of them by giving them +drugged coffee. He'd destroyed the lethal bacterial cultures they'd +been ordered to dump on Weald. Then he'd sent the four student pilots +off separately, so he and Maril claimed, in huge ships crammed with +grain. But those ships were not to be believed in, anyhow. + +Nobody believed in shiploads of grain to be had for the taking. They +did know that the only four partially experienced space pilots on Dara +had been taken away and by Calhoun's own story sent out of the ship +after they'd been drugged. + +Had they been trained, and had they been helped or even permitted to +sow the seeds of plague on Weald, and had they come back prepared to +pass on training to other men to handle other space ships now +feverishly being built in hidden places on Dara, then Dara might have +a chance of survival. + +But a space battle with only partly trained pilots would be hazardous +at best. With no trained pilots at all, it would be hopeless. So +Calhoun, by his own story, appeared to have doomed every living being +on Dara to massacre from the bombs of Weald. + +It was this last angle which destroyed any chance of anybody believing +in such fairy-tale objects as ships loaded down with grain. Calhoun +had shattered Dara's feeble hope of resistance. Weald had some ships +and could build or buy others faster than Dara could hope to construct +them. + +Equally important, Weald had a plenitude of experienced spacemen to +man some ships fully and train the crews of others. If it had become +desperately busy fighting plague, then a fleet to exterminate life on +Dara would be delayed. Dara might have gained time at least to build +ships which could ram their enemies and destroy them that way. + +But Calhoun had made it impossible. If he told the truth and Weald +already had a fleet of huge ships which only needed to be emptied of +grain and filled with guns and men, then Dara was doomed. But if he +did not tell the truth it was equally doomed by his actions. So +Calhoun would be killed. + +His execution was to take place in the open space of the landing-grid, +with vision cameras transmitting the sight over all the blueskin +planet. Half-starved men with grisly blue blotches on their skins, +marched him to the center of the largest level space on the planet +which was not desperately being cultivated. Their hatred showed in +their expressions. Bitterness and fury surrounded Calhoun like a wall. +Most of Dara would have liked to have seen him killed in a manner as +atrocious as his crime, but no conceivable death would be satisfying. + +So the affair was coldly businesslike, with not even insults offered +to him. He was left to stand alone in the very center of the +landing-grid floor. There were a hundred blasters which would fire +upon him at the same instant. He would not only be killed; he would be +destroyed. He would be vaporized by the blue-white flames poured upon +him. + +His death was remarkably close, nothing remaining but the order to +fire, when loudspeakers from the landing-grid office froze everything. +One of the grain ships from Weald had broken out of overdrive and its +pilot was triumphantly calling for landing coordinates. The grid +office relayed his call to loudspeaker circuits as the quickest way to +get it on the communication system of the whole planet. + +"Calling ground," boomed the triumphant voice of the first of the +student pilots Calhoun had trained. "Calling ground! Pilot Franz in +captured ship requests coordinates for landing! Purpose of landing is +to deliver half a million bushels of grain captured from the enemy!" + +At first, nobody dared believe it. But the pilot could be seen on +vision. He was known. No blueskin would be left alive long enough to +be used as a decoy by the men of Weald! Presently the giant ship on +its second voyage to Dara--the first had been a generation ago, when +it threatened death and destruction--appeared as a dark pinpoint in +the sky. It came down and down, and presently it hovered over the +center of the tarmac, where Calhoun composedly stood on the spot where +he was to have been executed. + +The landing-grid crew shifted the ship to one side, and only then did +Calhoun stroll in a leisurely fashion toward the Med Ship by the +grid's metal-lace wall. + +The big ship touched ground, and its exit port revolved and opened, +and the student pilot stood there grinning and heaving out handfuls of +grain. There was a swarming, yelling, deliriously triumphant crowd, +then, where only minutes before there'd been a mob waiting to rejoice +when Calhoun's living body exploded into flame. + +They no longer hated Calhoun, but he had to fight his way to the Med +Ship, nevertheless. He was surrounded by ecstatically admiring +citizens of Dara. They shouted praise and rejoicing in his ears until +he was half-deafened, and they almost tore his clothing from them in +their desire to touch, to pat, to assure him of their gratitude and +affection, minutes since they'd thirsted for his blood. + +Two hours after the first ship, a second landed. Dara went wild again. +Four hours later still, the third arrived. The fourth came down to +ground on the following day. + +When Calhoun faced the executive and cabinet of Dara for the second +time his tone and manner were very dry. + +"Now," he said curtly, "I would like a few more astrogators to train. +I think it likely that we can raid the Wealdian grain fleet one more +time, and in so doing get the beginning of a fleet for defense. I +insist, however, that it must not be used in combat. We might as well +be sensible about this situation! After all, four shiploads of grain +won't break the famine! They'll help a lot, but they're only the +beginning of what's needed for a planetary population!" + +"How much grain can we hope for?" demanded a man with a blue mark +covering all his chin. + +Calhoun told him. + +"How long before Weald can have a fleet overhead, dropping fusion +bombs?" demanded another, grimly. + +Calhoun named a time. But then he said, "I think we can keep them from +dropping bombs if we can get the grain fleet and some capable +astrogators." + +"How?" + +He told them. It was not possible to tell the whole story of what he +considered sensible behavior. An emotional program can be presented +and accepted immediately. A plan of action which is actually +intelligent, considering all elements of a situation, has to be +accepted piecemeal. Even so, the military men growled. + +"We've plenty of heavy elements," said one. "If we'd used our brains, +we'd have more bombs than Weald can hope for! We could turn that whole +planet into a smoking cinder!" + +"Which," said Calhoun acidly, "would give you some satisfaction but +not an ounce of food! And food's more important than satisfaction. +Now, I'm going to take off for Weald again. I'll want somebody to +build an emergency device for my ship, and I'll want the four pilots +I've trained and twenty more candidates. And I'd like to have some +decent rations! The last trip brought back two million bushels of +grain. You can certainly spare adequate food for twenty men for a few +days!" + +It took some time to get the special device constructed, but the Med +Ship lifted in two days more. The device for which it had waited was +simply a preventive of the disaster overtaking the ship from the mine +on Orede. It was essentially a tank of liquid oxygen, packed in the +space from which stores had been taken away. When the ship's air +supply was pumped past it, first moisture and then CO_{2} froze out. + +Then the air flowed over the liquefied oxygen at a rate to replace the +CO_{2} with more useful breathing material. Then the moisture was +restored to the air as it warmed again. For so long as the oxygen +lasted, fresh air for any number of men could be kept purified and +breathable. The Med Ship's normal equipment could take care of no more +than ten. But with this it could journey to Weald with almost any +complement on board. + +Maril stayed on Dara when the Med Ship left. Murgatroyd protested +shrilly when he discovered her about to be closed out by the closing +airlock. + +"_Chee!_" he said indignantly. "_Chee! Chee!_" + +"No," said Calhoun. "We'll be crowded enough anyhow. We'll see her +later." + +He nodded to one of the first four student pilots, who crisply made +contact with the landing-grid office, and very efficiently supervised +as the grid took the ship up. The other three of the four +first-trained men explained every move to sub-classes assigned to +each. Calhoun moved about, listening and making certain that the +instruction was up to standard. + +He felt queer, acting as the supervisor of an educational institution +in space. He did not like it. There were twenty-four men beside +himself crowded into the Med Ship's small interior. They got in each +other's way. They trampled on each other. There was always somebody +eating, and always somebody sleeping, and there was no need whatever +for the background tape to keep the ship from being intolerably +quiet. But the air system worked well enough, except once when the +reheating unit quit and the air inside the ship went down below +freezing before the trouble could be found and corrected. + +The journey to Weald, this time, took seven days because of the +training program in effect. Calhoun bit his nails over the delay. But +it was necessary for each of the students to make his own line-ups on +Weald's sun, and compute distances, and for each of them to practise +maneuverings that would presently be called for. Calhoun hoped +desperately that preparations for active warfare did not move fast on +Weald. + +He believed, however, that in the absence of direct news from Dara, +Wealdian officials would take the normal course of politicos. They had +proclaimed the ship from Orede an attack from Dara. Therefore, they +would specialize on defensive measures before plumping for offense. +They'd get patrol ships out to spot invasion ships long before they +worked on a fleet to destroy the blueskins. It would meet the public +demand for defense. + +Calhoun was right. The Med Ship made its final approach to Weald under +Calhoun's own control. He'd made brightness-measurements on his +previous journey and he used them again. They would not be strictly +accurate, because a sunspot could knock all meaning out of any reading +beyond two decimal places. But the first breakout was just far enough +from the Wealdian system for Calhoun to be able to pick out its +planets with the electron telescope at maximum magnification. He could +aim for Weald itself, allowing, of course, for the lag in the apparent +motion of its image because of the limited speed of light. He tried +the briefest of overdrive hops, and came out within the solar system +and well inside any watching patrol. + +That was pure fortune. It continued. He'd broken through the screen of +guard ships in undetectable overdrive. He was within half an hour's +solar system drive of the grain fleet. There was no alarm, at first. +Of course radars spotted the Med Ship as an object, but nobody paid +attention. It was not headed for Weald. It was probably assumed to be +a guard boat itself. Such mistakes do happen. + +Again from the storage space from which supplies had been removed, +Calhoun produced vacuum suits. The four first students went out, each +escorting a less-accustomed neophyte and all fastened firmly together +with space ropes. They warmed the interiors of four ships and went on +to others. Presently there were eight ships making ready for an +interstellar journey, each with a scared but resolute new pilot +familiarizing himself with its controls. There were sixteen ships. +Twenty. Twenty-three. + +A guard ship came humming out from Weald. It would be armed, of +course. It came droning, droning up the forty-odd thousand miles from +the planet. Calhoun swore. He could not call his students and tell +them what was toward. The guard ship would overhear. He could not +trust untried young men to act rationally if they were unaware and the +guard ship arrived and matter-of-factly attempted to board one of +them. + +Then he was inspired. He called Murgatroyd, placed him before the +communicator, and set it at voice-only transmission. This was familiar +enough, to Murgatroyd. He'd often seen Calhoun use a communicator. + +"_Chee!_" shrilled Murgatroyd. "_Chee-chee!_" + +A startled voice came out of the speaker: "What's that?" + +"_Chee_," said Murgatroyd zestfully. + +The communicator was talking to him. Murgatroyd adored three things, +in order. One was Calhoun. The second was coffee. The third was +pretending to converse like a human being. The speaker said +explosively, "You there, identify yourself!" + +"_Chee-chee-chee-chee!_" observed Murgatroyd. He wriggled with +pleasure and added, reasonably enough, "_Chee!_" + +The communicator bawled, "Calling ground! Calling ground! Listen to +this! Something that ain't human's talking at me on a communicator! +Listen in an' tell me what to do!" + +Murgatroyd interposed with another shrill, "_Chee!_" + +Then Calhoun pulled the Med Ship slowly away from the clump of +still-lifeless grain ships. It was highly improbable that the guard +boat would carry an electron telescope. Most likely it would have only +an echo-radar, and so could determine only that an object of some sort +moved of its own accord in space. Calhoun let the Med Ship accelerate. +That would be final evidence. The grain ships were between Weald and +its sun. Even electron telescopes on the ground--and electron +telescopes were ultimately optical telescopes with electronic +amplification--could not get a good image of the ship through sunlit +atmosphere. + +"_Chee?_" asked Murgatroyd solicitously. "_Chee-chee-chee?_" + +"Is it blueskins?" shakily demanded the voice from the guard boat. +"Ground! Ground! Is it blueskins?" + +A heavy, authoritative voice came in with much greater volume. "That's +no human voice," it said harshly. "Approach its ship and send back an +image. Don't fire first unless it heads for ground." + +The guard ship swerved and headed for the Med Ship. It was still a +very long way off. + +"_Chee-chee_," said Murgatroyd encouragingly. + +Calhoun changed the Med Ship's course. The guard ship changed course +too. Calhoun let it draw nearer, but only a little. He led it away +from the fleet of grain ships. + +He swung his electron telescope on them. He saw a spacesuited figure +outside one, safely roped, however. It was easy to guess that someone +had meant to return to the Med Ship for orders or to make a report, +and found the Med Ship gone. He'd go back inside and turn on a +communicator. + +"_Chee!_" said Murgatroyd. + +The heavy voice boomed. "You there! This is a human-occupied world! If +you come in peace, cut your drive and let our guard ship approach!" + +Murgatroyd replied in an interested but doubtful tone. The booming +voice bellowed. Another voice of higher authority took over. +Murgatroyd was entranced that so many people wanted to talk to him. He +made what for him was practically an oration. The last voice spoke +persuasively and suavely. + +"_Chee-chee-chee-chee_," said Murgatroyd. + +One of the grain ships flickered and ceased to be. It had gone into +overdrive. Another. And another. Suddenly they began to flick out of +sight by twos and threes. + +"_Chee_," said Murgatroyd with a note of finality. + +The last grain ship vanished. + +"Calling guard ship," said Calhoun dryly. "This is Med Ship _Aesclipus +Twenty_. I called here a couple of weeks ago. You've been talking to +my _tormal_, Murgatroyd." + +A pause. A blank pause. Then profanity of deep and savage +intemperance. + +"I've been on Dara," said Calhoun. + +Dead silence fell. + +"There's a famine there," said Calhoun deliberately. "So the grain +ships you've had in orbit have been taken away by men from +Dara--blueskins if you like--to feed themselves and their families. +They've been dying of hunger and they don't like it." + +There was a single burst of the unprintable. Then the formerly suave +voice said waspishly, "Well? The Med Service will hear of your +interference!" + +"Yes," said Calhoun. "I'll report it myself. I have a message for you. +Dara is ready to pay for every ounce of grain and for the ships it was +stored in. They'll pay in heavy metals--irridium, uranium, that sort +of thing." + +The suave voice fairly curdled. + +"As if we'd allow anything that was ever on Dara to touch ground +here!" + +"Ah! But there can be sterilization. To begin with metals, uranium +melts at 1150° centigrade, and tungsten at 3370° and irridium at +2350°. You could load such things and melt them down in space and then +tow them home. And you can actually sterilize a lot of other useful +materials!" + +The suave voice was infuriated: "I'll report this! You'll suffer for +this!" + +Calhoun said pleasantly, "I'm sure that what I say is being recorded, +so that I'll add that it's perfectly practical for Wealdians to land +on Dara, take whatever property they think wise--to pay for damage +done by blueskins, of course--and get back to Wealdian ships with +absolutely no danger of carrying contagion. If you'll make sure the +recording's clear...." + +He described, clearly and specifically, exactly how a man could be +outfitted to walk into any area of any conceivable contagion, do +whatever seemed necessary in the way of looting--but Calhoun did not +use the word--and then return to his fellows with no risk whatever of +bringing back infection. He gave exact details. + +Then he said, "My radar says you've four ships converging on me to +blast me out of space. I sign off." + +The Med Ship disappeared from normal space, and entered that +improbably stressed area of extension which it formed about itself and +in which physical constants were wildly strange. For one thing, the +speed of light in overdrive-stressed space had not been measured yet. +It was too high. For another, a ship could travel very many times +186,000 miles per second in overdrive. + +The Med Ship did just that. There was nobody but Calhoun and +Murgatroyd on board. There was companionable silence, with only the +small threshold-of-perception sounds which one did not often notice. + +Calhoun luxuriated in regained privacy. For seven days he'd had +twenty-four other human beings crowded into the two cabins of the +ship, with never so much as one yard of space between himself and +someone else. One need not be snobbish to wish to be alone sometimes! + +Murgatroyd licked his whiskers thoughtfully. + +"I hope," said Calhoun, "that things work out right. But they may +remember on Dara that I'm responsible for some ten million bushels of +grain reaching them. Maybe, just possibly, they'll listen to me and +act sensibly. After all, there's only one way to break a famine. Not +with ten million bushels for a whole planet! And certainly not with +bombs!" + +Driving direct, without pausing for practising, the Med Ship could +arrive at Dara in a little more than five days. Calhoun looked forward +to relaxation. As a beginning he made ready to give himself an +adequate meal for the first time since first landing on Dara. Then, +presently, he sat down to a double meal of Darian famine-rations, +which were far from appetizing. But there wasn't anything else on +board. + +He had some pleasure later, though, envisioning what went on in the +normal, non-overdrive universe. Suns flared, and comets hurtled on +their way, and clouds formed and dropped down rain, and all sorts of +celestial and meteorological phenomena took place. On Weald, +obviously, there would be purest panic. + +The vanishing of the grain fleet wouldn't be charged against +twenty-four men. A Darian fleet would be suspected, and with the +suspicion would come terror, and with terror a governmental crisis. +Then there'd be a frantic seizure of any craft that could take to +space, and the agitated improvisation of a space fleet. + +But besides that, biological-warfare technicians would examine +Calhoun's instructions for equipment by which armed men could be +landed on a plague-stricken planet and then safely taken off again. +Military and governmental officials would come to the eminently sane +conclusion that while Calhoun could not well take active measures +against blueskins, as a sane and proper citizen of the galaxy he would +be on the side of law and order and propriety and justice--in short, +of Weald. So they ordered sample anticontagion suits made according to +Calhoun's directions, and they had them tested. They worked admirably. + +On Dara, while Calhoun journeyed placidly back to it, grain was +distributed lavishly, and everybody on the planet had their cereal +ration almost doubled. It was still not a comfortable ration, but the +relief was great. There was considerable gratitude felt for Calhoun, +which as usual included a lively anticipation of further favors to +come. Maril was interviewed repeatedly, as the person best able to +discuss him, and she did his reputation no harm. That was all that +happened on Dara.... + +No. There was something else. A very curious thing, too. There was a +spread of mild symptoms which nobody could exactly call a disease. +They lasted only a few hours. A person felt slightly feverish, and ran +a temperature which peaked at 30.9° centigrade, and drank more water +than usual. Then his temperature went back to normal and he forgot all +about it. There have always been such trivial epidemics. They are +rarely recorded, because few people think to go to a doctor. That was +the case here. + +Calhoun looked ahead a little, too. Presently the fleet of grain ships +would arrive and unload and lift again for Orede, and this time they +would make an infinity of slaughter among wild cattle herds, and bring +back incredible quantities of fresh-slaughtered frozen beef. Almost +everybody would get to taste meat again, which would be most +gratifying. + +Then, the industries of Dara would labor at government-required tasks. +An astonishing amount of fissionable material would be fashioned into +bombs--a concession by Calhoun--and plastic factories would make an +astonishing number of plastic sag-suits. And large shipments of heavy +metals in ingots would be made to the planet's capital city and there +would be some guns and minor items. + +Perhaps somebody could have predicted any of these items in advance, +but it was unlikely that anyone did. Nobody but Calhoun, however, +would ever have put them together and hoped very urgently that things +would work out. He could see a promising total result. In fact, in the +Med Ship hurtling through space, on the fourth day of his journey, he +thought of an improvement that could be made in the sum of all those +happenings when they got mixed together. + +He got back to Dara. Maril came to the Med Ship. Murgatroyd greeted +her with enthusiasm. + +"Something strange has happened," said Maril, very much subdued. "I +told you that sometimes blueskin markings fade out on children, and +then neither they nor their children ever have markings again." + +"Yes," said Calhoun. "I remember that you told me." + +"And you were reminded of a group of viruses on Tralee. You said they +only took hold of people in terribly bad physical condition, but then +they could be passed on from mother to child, until sometimes they +died out." + +Calhoun blinked. + +"Yes?" + +"Korvan," said Maril very carefully. "Has worked out an idea that +that's what happens to the blueskin markings on Darians. He thinks +that people almost dead of the plague could get the virus, and if they +recovered from the plague pass the virus on and be blueskins." + +"Interesting," said Calhoun, noncommittally. + +"And when we went to Weald," said Maril very carefully indeed, "you +were working with some culture material. You wrote quite a lot about +it in the ship's log. You gave yourself an injection. Remember? And +Murgatroyd? You wrote down your temperature, and Murgatroyd's?" She +moistened her lips. "You said that if infection passed between us, +something would be very infectious indeed?" + +"This is a long discussion," said Calhoun. "Does it arrive at a +point?" + +"It does," said Maril. "Thousands of people are having their +pigment-spots fade away. Not only children but grownups. And Korvan +has found out that it always seems to happen after a day when they +felt feverish and very thirsty, and then felt all right again. You +tried out something that made you feverish and thirsty. I had it too, +in the ship. Korvan thinks there's been an epidemic of something that +is obliterating the blue spots on everybody that catches it. There are +always trivial epidemics that nobody notices. Korvan's found evidence +of one that's making _blueskin_ no longer a word with any meaning." + +"Remarkable!" said Calhoun. + +"Did you do it?" asked Maril. "Did you start a harmless epidemic that +wipes out the virus that makes blueskins?" + +Calhoun said in feigned astonishment, "How can you think such a thing, +Maril?" + +"Because I was there," said Maril. She said, somehow desperately, "I +know you did it! But the question is, are you going to tell? When +people find they're not blueskins any longer, when there's no such +thing as a blueskin any longer, will you tell them why?" + +"Naturally not," said Calhoun. "Why?" Then he guessed. "Has Korvan--" + +"He thinks," said Maril, "that he thought it up all by himself. He's +found the proof. He's very proud. I'd have to tell him how the ideas +got into his head if you were going to tell. And he'd be ashamed and +angry." + +Calhoun considered, staring at her. + +"How it happened doesn't matter," he said at last. "The idea of +anybody doing it deliberately would be disturbing, too. It shouldn't +get about. So it seems much the best thing for Korvan to discover +what's happened to the blueskin pigment, and how it happened. But not +why." + +She read his face carefully. + +"You aren't doing it as a favor to me," she decided. "You'd rather it +was that way." + +She looked at him for a long time, until he squirmed. Then she nodded +and went away. + +An hour later the Wealdian space fleet was reported massed in space +and driving for Dara. + + * * * * * + + + + +8 + + +There were small scout ships which came on ahead of the main fleet. +They'd originally been guard boats, intended for solar system duty +only and quite incapable of overdrive. They'd come from Weald in the +cargo holds of the liners now transformed into fighting ships. The +scouts swept low, transmitting fine-screen images back to the fleet, +of all they might see before they were shot down. They found the +landing-grid. It contained nothing larger than Calhoun's Med Ship, +_Aesclipus Twenty_. + +They searched here and there. They flittered to and fro, scanning wide +bands of the surface of Dara. The planet's cities and highways and +industrial centers were wholly open to inspection from the sky. It +looked as if the scouts hunted most busily for the fleet of former +grain ships which Calhoun had said the blueskins had seized and rushed +away. If the scouts looked for them, they did not find them. + +Dara offered no opposition to the ships. Nothing rose to space to +oppose or to resist their search. They went darting over every portion +of the hungry planet, land and seas alike, and there was no sign of +military preparedness against their coming. The huge ships of the main +fleet waited while the scouts reported monotonously that they saw no +sign of the stolen fleet. But the stolen fleet was the only means by +which the planet could be defended. There could be no point in a +pitched battle in emptiness. But a fleet with a planet to back it +might be dangerous. + +Hours passed. The Wealdian main fleet waited. There was no offensive +movement by the fleet. There was no defensive action from the ground. +With fusion-bombs certain to be involved in any actual conflict, there +was something like an embarrassed pause. The Wealdian ships were ready +to bomb. They were less anxious to be vaporized by possible suicide +dashes of defending ships which might blow themselves up near contact +with their enemies. + +But a fleet cannot travel some light-years through space to make a +mere threat. And the Wealdian fleet was furnished with the material +for total devastation. It could drop bombs from hundreds, or +thousands, or even tens of thousands of miles away. It could cover the +world of Dara with mushroom clouds springing up and spreading to make +a continuous pall of atomic-fusion products. And they could settle +down and kill every living thing not destroyed by the explosions +themselves. Even the creatures of the deepest oceans would die of +deadly, purposely-contrived fallout particles. + +The Wealdian fleet contemplated its own destructiveness. It found no +capacity for defense on Dara. It moved forward. + +But then a message went out from the capital city of Dara. It said +that a ship in overdrive had carried word to a Darian fleet in space. +The Darian fleet now hurtled toward Weald. It was a fleet of +thirty-seven giant ships. They carried such-and-such bombs in +such-and-such quantities. Unless its orders were countermanded, it +would deliver those bombs on Weald, set to explode. If Weald bombed +Dara, the orders could not be withdrawn. So Weald could bomb Dara. It +could destroy all life on the pariah planet. But Weald would die with +it. + +The fleet ceased its advance. The situation was a stalemate with pure +desperation on one side and pure frustration on the other. This was no +way to end the war. Neither planet could trust the other, even for +minutes. If they did not destroy each other simultaneously, as now was +possible, each would expect the other to launch an unwarned attack at +some other moment. Ultimately one or the other must perish, and the +survivor would be the one most skilled in treachery. + +But then the pariah planet made a new proposal. It would send a +messenger ship to stop its own fleet's bombardment if Weald would +accept payment of the grain ships and their cargos. It would pay in +ingots of irridium and uranium and tungsten, and gold if Weald wished +it, for all damages Weald might claim. + +It would even pay indemnity for the miners of Orede, who had died by +accident but perhaps in some sense through its fault. It would pay. +But if it were bombed, Weald must spout atomic fire and the fleet of +Weald would have no home planet to return to. + +This proposal seemed both craven and foolish. It would allow the fleet +of Weald to loot and then betray Dara. But it was Calhoun's idea. It +seemed plausible to the admirals of Weald. They felt only contempt for +blueskins. Contemptuously, they accepted the semi-surrender. + +The broadcast waves of Dara told of agreement, and wild and fierce +resentment filled the pariah planet's people. There was almost +revolution to insist upon resistance, however hopeless and however +fatal. But not all of Dara realized that a vital change had come about +in the state of things on Dara. The enemy fleet had not a hint of it. + +In menacing array, the invading fleet spread itself about the skies of +Dara, well beyond the atmosphere. Harsh voices talked with increasing +arrogance to the landing-grid staff. A monster ship of Weald came +heavily down, riding the landing-grid's force-fields. It touched +gently. Its occupants were apprehensive, but hungry for the loot they +had been assured was theirs. The ship's outer hull would be sterilized +before it returned to Weald, of course. And there was adequate +protection for the landing-party. + +Men came out of the ship's ports. They wore the double, transparent +sag-suits Calhoun had suggested, which had been painstakingly tested, +and which were perfect protection against contagion. They were double +garments of plastic, with air tanks inside the inner flexible +envelope. + +Men wearing such sag-suits could walk about on Dara. They could work +on Dara. They could loot with impunity and all contamination must +remain outside the suits, and on their return to their ships they +would simply stand in the airlocks while corrosive gases swirled +around them, killing any possible organism of disease. Then, for extra +assurance, when air from Weald filled the airlock again, the men would +burn the outer plastic covering and step into the ship without ever +having come within two layers of plastic of infection. + +What loot they gathered, obviously, could be decontaminated before it +was returned to Weald. Metals could be melted, if necessary. Gems +could be sterilized. It was a most satisfactory discovery, to realize +that blueskins could be not only scorned but robbed. There was only +one bit of irrelevant information the space fleet of Weald did not +have. + +That information was that the people of Dara weren't blueskins any +longer. There'd been a trivial epidemic.... + +The sag-suited men of Weald went zestfully about their business. They +took over the landing-grid's operation, driving the Darian operators +away. For the first time in history the operators of a landing-grid +wore make-up to look like they did have blue pigment in their skins. +They didn't. The Wealdian landing-party tested the grid's operation. +They brought down another giant ship. Then another. And another. + +Parties in the shiny sag-suits spread through the city. There were the +huge stockpiles of precious metals, brought in readiness to be +surrendered and carried away. Some men set to work to load these into +the holds of the ships of Weald. Some went forthrightly after personal +loot. + +They came upon very few Darians. Those they saw kept sullenly away +from them. They entered shops and took what they fancied. They +zestfully removed the treasure of banks. + +Triumphant and scornful reports went up to the hovering great ships. +The blueskins, said the reports, were spiritless and cowardly. They +permitted themselves to be robbed. They kept out of the way. It had +been observed that the population was streaming out of the city, +fleeing because they feared the ships' landing-parties. The blueskins +had abjectly produced all they'd promised of precious metals, but +there was more to be taken. + +More ships came down, and more. Some of the first, heavily loaded, +were lifted to emptiness again and the process of decontamination of +their hulls began. There was jealousy among the ships in space for +those upon the ground. The first-landed ships had had their choice of +loot. There were squabblings about priorities, now that the navy of +Weald plainly had a license to steal. There was confusion among the +members of the landing-parties. Discipline disappeared. Men in plastic +sag-suits roved about as individuals, seeking what they might loot. + +There were armed and alerted landing-parties around the grid itself, +of course, but the capital city of Dara lay open. Men coming back with +loot found their ships already lifted off to make room for others. +They were pushed into re-embarking-parties of other ships. There were +more and more men to be found on ships where they did not belong, and +more and more not to be found where they did. + +By the time half the fleet had been aground, there was no longer any +pretense of holding a ship down until all its crew returned. There +were too many other ships' companies clamoring for their turn to loot. +The rosters of many ships, indeed, bore no particular relationship to +the men actually on board. + +There were less than fifteen ships whose to-be-fumigated holds were +still emptied, when the watchful government of Dara broadcast a new +message to the invaders. It requested that the looting stop. No matter +what payment Weald claimed, it had taken payment five times over. Now +was time to stop. + +It was amusing. The space admiral of Weald ordered his ships alerted +for action. The message ship, ordering the Darian fleet away from +Weald, had been sent off long since. No other ship could get away now! +The Darians could take their choice: accept the consequences of +surrender, or the fleet would rise to throw down bombs. + +Calhoun was asking politely to be taken to the Wealdian admiral when +the trouble began. It wasn't on the ground, at all. Everything was +under splendid control where a landing force occupied the grid and all +the ground immediately about it. The space admiral had headquarters in +the landing-grid office. Reports came in, orders were issued, +admirably crisp salutes were exchanged among sag-suited men. +Everything was in perfect shape there. + +But there was panic among the ships in space. Communicators gave off +horrified, panic-stricken yells. There were screamings. Intelligible +communications ceased. Ships plunged crazily this way and that. Some +vanished in overdrive. At least one plunged at full power into a +Darian ocean. + +The space admiral found himself in command of fifteen ships only out +of all his former force. The rest of the fleet went through a period +of hysterical madness. In some ships it lasted for minutes only. In +others it went on for half an hour or more. Then they hung overhead, +but did not reply to calls. + +Calhoun arrived at the spaceport with Murgatroyd riding on his +shoulder. A bewildered officer in a sag-suit halted him. + +"I've come," said Calhoun, "to speak to the admiral. My name is +Calhoun and I'm Med Service, and I think I met the admiral at a +banquet a few weeks ago. He'll remember me." + +"You'll have to wait," protested the officer. "There's some trouble--" + +"Yes," said Calhoun. "I know about it. I helped design it. I want to +explain it to the admiral. He needs to know what's happened, if he's +to take appropriate measures." + +There were jitterings. Many men in sag-suits had still no idea that +anything had gone wrong. Some appeared, brightly carrying loot. Some +hung eagerly around the airlocks of ships on the grid tarmac, waiting +their turns to stand in corrosive gases for the decontamination of +their suits, when they would burn the outer layers and step, aseptic +and happy, into a Wealdian ship again. There they could think how rich +they were going to be back on Weald. + +But the situation aloft was bewildering and very, very ominous. There +was strident argument. Presently Calhoun stood before the Wealdian +admiral. + +"I came to explain something," said Calhoun pleasantly. "The situation +has changed. You've noticed it, I'm sure." + +The admiral glared at him through two layers of plastic, which covered +him almost like a gift-wrapped parcel. + +"Be quick!" he rasped. + +"First," said Calhoun, "there are no more blueskins. An epidemic of +something or other has made the blue patches on the skins of Darians +fade out. There have always been some who didn't have blue patches. +Now nobody has them." + +"Nonsense!" rasped the admiral. "And what has that got to do with this +situation?" + +"Why, everything," said Calhoun mildly. "It seems that Darians can +pass for Wealdians whenever they please. That they _are_ passing for +Wealdians. That they've been mixing with your men, wearing sag-suits +exactly like the one you're wearing now. They've been going aboard +your ships in the confusion of returning looters. There's not a ship +now aloft, which has been aground today, which hasn't from one to +fifteen Darians--no longer blueskins--on board." + +The admiral roared. Then his face turned gray. + +"You can't take your fleet back to Weald," said Calhoun gently, "if +you believe its crews have been exposed to carriers of the Dara +plague. You wouldn't be allowed to land, anyhow." + +The admiral said through stiff lips, "I'll blast--" + +"No," said Calhoun, again gently. "When you ordered all ships alerted +for action, the Darians on each ship released panic gas. They only +needed tiny, pocket-sized containers of the gas for the job. They had +them. They only needed to use air tanks from their sag-suits to +protect themselves against the gas. They kept them handy. + +"On nearly all your ships aloft your crews are crazy from panic gas. +They'll stay that way until the air is changed. Darians have +barricaded themselves in the control rooms of most if not all your +ships. You haven't got a fleet. The few ships who will obey your +orders--if they drop one bomb, our fleet off Weald will drop fifty. + +"I don't think you'd better order offensive action. Instead, I think +you'd better have your fleet medical officers come and learn some of +the facts of life. There's no need for war between Dara and Weald, but +if you insist...." + +The admiral made a choking noise. He could have ordered Calhoun +killed, but there was a certain appalling fact. The men aground from +the fleet were breathing Wealdian air from tanks. It would last so +long only. If they were taken on board the still obedient ships +overhead, Darians would unquestionably be mixed with them. There was +no way to take off the parties now aground without exposing them to +contact with Darians, on the ground or in the ships. There was no way +to sort out the Darians. + +"I--I will give the orders," said the admiral thickly. "I do not know +what you devils plan, but--I do not know how to stop you." + +"All that's necessary," said Calhoun warmly, "is an open mind. There's +a misunderstanding to be cleared up, and some principles of planetary +health practises to be explained, and a certain amount of prejudice +that has to be thrown away. But nobody need die of changing their +minds. The Interstellar Medical Service has proved that over and +over!" + +Murgatroyd, perched on his shoulder, felt that it was time to take +part in the conversation. He said, "_Chee-chee!_" + +"Yes," agreed Calhoun. "We do want to get the job done. We're behind +schedule now." + + * * * * * + +It was not, of course, possible for Calhoun to leave immediately. He +had to preside at various meetings of the medical officers of the +fleet and the health officials of Dara. He had to make explanations, +and correct misapprehensions, and delicately suggest such biological +experiments as would prove to the doctors of Weald that there was no +longer a plague on Dara, whatever had been the case three generations +before. + +He had to sit by while an extremely self-confident young Darian +doctor--one of his names was Korvan--rather condescendingly +demonstrated that the former blue pigmentation was a viral product +quite unconnected with the plague, and that it had been wiped out by a +very trivial epidemic of such and such. + +Calhoun regarded that young man with a detached interest. Maril +thought him wonderful, even if she had to give him the material for +his work. He agreed with her that he was wonderful. Calhoun shrugged +and went on with his own work. + +The return of loot, mutual, full, and complete agreement that Darians +were no longer carriers of plague, if they had ever been--unless Weald +convinced other worlds of this, Weald itself would join Dara in +isolation from neighboring worlds. A messenger ship had to recall the +twenty-seven ships once floating in orbit about Weald. Most of them +would be used for some time, to bring beef from Orede. Some would haul +more grain from Weald. It would be paid for. There would be a need for +commercial missions to be exchanged between Weald and Dara. There +would have to be.... + +It was a full week before he could go to the little Med Ship and +prepare for departure. Even then there were matters to be attended to. +All the food-supplies that had been removed could not be replaced. +There were biological samples to be replaced and some to be destroyed. + +Maril came to the Med Ship again when he was almost ready to leave. +She did not seem comfortable. + +"I wanted you to meet Korvan," she said regretfully. + +"I met him," said Calhoun. "I think he will be a most prominent +citizen, in time. He has all the talents for it." + +Maril smiled very faintly. + +"But you don't admire him." + +"I wouldn't say that," protested Calhoun. "After all, he is desirable +to you, which is something I couldn't manage." + +"You didn't try," said Maril. "Just as I didn't try to be fascinating +to you. Why?" + +Calhoun spread out his hands. But he looked at Maril with respect. Not +every woman could have faced the fact that a man did not feel impelled +to make passes at her. It is simply a fact that has nothing to do with +desirability or charm or anything else. + +"You're going to marry him," he said. "I hope you'll be very happy." + +"He's the man I want," said Maril frankly. "And I doubt he'll ever +look at another woman. He looks forward to splendid discoveries. I +wish he didn't." + +Calhoun did not ask the obvious question. Instead, he said +thoughtfully, "There's something you could do. It needs to be done. +The Med Service in this sector has been badly handled. There are a +number of discoveries that need to be made. I don't think your Korvan +would relish having things handed to him on a visible silver platter. +But they should be known...." + +Maril said, "I can guess what you mean. I dropped hints about the way +the blueskin markings went away, yes. You've got books for me?" + +Calhoun nodded. He found them. + +"If we had only fallen in love with each other, Maril, we'd be a team! +Too bad! These are a wedding present you'll do well to hide." + +She put her hands in his. + +"I like you almost as much as I like Murgatroyd! Yes! Korvan will +never know, and he'll be a great man." Then she added defensively, +"But I don't think he'll only discover things from hints I drop him. +He'll make wonderful discoveries." + +"Of which," said Calhoun, "the most remarkable is you. Good luck, +Maril!" + +She went away smiling. But she wiped her eyes when she was out of the +ship. + +Presently the Med Ship lifted. Calhoun aimed it for the next planet on +the list of those he was to visit. After this one more he'd return to +sector headquarters with a biting report to make on the way things had +been handled before him. + +"Overdrive coming, Murgatroyd!" + +Then the stars went out and there was silence, and privacy, and a +faint, faint, almost unbearable series of background sounds which kept +the Med Ship from being totally unendurable. + +Long, long days later the ship broke out of overdrive and Calhoun +guided it to a round and sunlit world. In due time he thumbed the +communicator button. + +"Calling ground," he said crisply. "Calling ground! Med Ship +_Aesclipus Twenty_ reporting arrival and asking coordinates for +landing. Purpose of landing is planetary health inspection. Our mass +is fifty standard tons." + +There was a pause while the beamed message went many, many thousands +of miles. Then the speaker said, "_Aesclipus Twenty_, repeat your +identification!" + +Calhoun repeated it patiently. Murgatroyd watched with bright eyes. +Perhaps he hoped to be allowed to have another long conversation with +somebody by communicator. + +"You are warned," said the communicator sternly, "that any deceit or +deception about your identity or purpose in landing will be severely +punished. We take few chances, here! If you wish to land +notwithstanding this warning--" + +"I'm coming in," said Calhoun. "Give me the coordinates." + +He wrote them down. His expression was slightly pained. The Med Ship +drove on, in solar system drive. Murgatroyd said, "_Chee-chee? Chee?_" + +Calhoun sighed. + +"That's right, Murgatroyd! Here we go again!" + + * * * * * + + + + +FEAR RIDES THE ROCKETS + + +The Interstellar Medical Service was just about the only remaining +galactic organization that every one of the hundreds of inhabited +planets respected. So when their service broke down in Star Sector +Twelve, it created a very dangerous situation. + +When Calhoun took his Med ship out of overdrive near that sector's +planet Weald, he was vaguely aware of the risks. But the crisis came +home to him with a crash the moment he radioed in for landing +coordinates. + +"Contamination! Full mobilization! Red alert! Death to blueskins!" +Such were the nature of his greetings. + +And it began to look like a case of the cosmic jitters that only the +most drastic of orbital surgery could cure. + +Murray Leinster, whose real name is Will F. Jenkins, has been +entertaining the public with his exciting fiction for several decades. +Called the dean of modern science-fiction, he was writing these +amazing super-science adventures back in the early twenties before +there ever was such a thing as an all-fantasy magazine. His short +stories, novelettes, and serial novels have appeared in most of the +major American magazines, both slick and pulp, and many have been +reprinted all over the world. He has made a distinguished name for +himself (or rather two names) in the fields of adventure, historical, +western, sea, and suspense stories. + +Ace Books has still available the following Murray Leinster novels: +CITY ON THE MOON (D-277), THE PIRATES OF ZAN and THE MUTANT WEAPON +(D-403), and THE FORGOTTEN PLANET (D-528). + + * * * * * + +Here's a quick checklist of recent releases of +ACE SCIENCE-FICTION BOOKS + +35¢ + +D-498 GALACTIC DERELICT by Andre Norton + +D-504 MASTER OF THE WORLD by Jules Verne + +D-507 MEETING AT INFINITY by John Brunner + _and_ BEYOND THE SILVER SKY by Kenneth Bulmer + +D-508 MORE MACABRE Edited by Donald A. Wollheim + +D-509 THE BEAST MASTER by Andre Norton + _and_ STAR HUNTER by Andre Norton + +D-516 THE SWORDSMAN OF MARS + by Otis Adelbert Kline + +D-517 BRING BACK YESTERDAY by A. Bertram Chandler + _and_ THE TROUBLE WITH TYCHO by Clifford Simak + +40¢ + +F-104 MAYDAY ORBIT by Poul Anderson + _and_ NO MAN'S WORLD by Kenneth Bulmer + +F-105 THE BEST FROM FANTASY AND SCIENCE FICTION + Fifth Series. Edited by Anthony Boucher. + +F-108 THE SUN SABOTEURS by Damon Knight + _and_ THE LIGHT OF LILITH by G. McDonald Wallis + +F-109 STORM OVER WARLOCK by Andre Norton + +F-113 REBELS OF THE RED PLANET by Charles Fontenay + _and_ 200 YEARS TO CHRISTMAS by J. T. McIntosh + +If you are missing any of these, they can be obtained directly from +the publisher by sending the indicated sum, plus 5¢ handling fee, to +Ace Books, Inc. (Sales Dept.), 23 West 47th St., New York 36, N. 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You may copy it, give it away or +re-use it under the terms of the Project Gutenberg License included +with this eBook or online at www.gutenberg.org + + +Title: This World Is Taboo + +Author: Murray Leinster + +Release Date: April 14, 2006 [EBook #18172] + +Language: English + +Character set encoding: ISO-8859-1 + +*** START OF THIS PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK THIS WORLD IS TABOO *** + + + + +Produced by Greg Weeks, Sankar Viswanathan, and the Online +Distributed Proofreading Team at http://www.pgdp.net + + + + + + +</pre> + + +<p class="tr">Transcriber's note: <br /> + Extensive research did not uncover any evidence that the copyright +on this publication was renewed.</p> + + + + + + + + + + + + +<div class="center"><img src="images/image_01.jpg" alt="Frontispiece" width="400" height="692" /></div> +<h1>THIS WORLD<br /> + +IS TABOO</h1> +<p> </p> +<p> </p> +<h3>by</h3> +<h2>MURRAY LEINSTER</h2> +<p> </p> +<p> </p> +<p> </p> +<h3>ACE BOOKS, INC.</h3> +<h3>23 West 47th Street, New York 36, N. Y.</h3> + + +<hr style="width:65%" /> + +<h2>THIS WORLD IS TABOO</h2> +<hr style="width:65%" /> +<p class="pagenum"><a name="Page_5" id="Page_5">[5]</a></p> + +<h2>1</h2> +<p>The little Med Ship came out of overdrive and the stars were strange +and the Milky Way seemed unfamiliar. Which, of course, was because the +Milky Way and the local Cepheid marker-stars were seen from an +unaccustomed angle and a not-yet-commonplace pattern of varying +magnitudes.</p> + +<p>But Calhoun grunted in satisfaction. There was a banded sun off to +port, which was good. A breakout at no more than sixty light-hours +from one's destination wasn't bad, in a strange sector of the galaxy +and after three light-years of journeying blind.</p> + +<p>"Arise and shine, Murgatroyd," said Calhoun. "Comb your whiskers. Get +set to astonish the natives!"</p> + +<p>A sleepy, small, shrill voice said: "<i>Chee!</i>"</p> + +<p>Murgatroyd the <i>tormal</i> came crawling out of the small cubbyhole which +was his own. He blinked at Calhoun.</p> + +<p>"We're due to land shortly," Calhoun observed. "You will impress the +local inhabitants. I will get unpopular. According to the records, +there's been no Med Ship inspection here for twelve standard years. +And that was practically no inspection, to judge by the report."</p> + +<p>Murgatroyd said: "<i>Chee-chee!</i>"</p> + +<p>He began to make his toilet, first licking his right-hand whiskers and +then his left. Then he stood up and shook himself and looked +interestedly at Calhoun. <i>Tormals</i> are companionable small animals. +They are charmed when somebody speaks to them. They find great, deep +satisfaction in imitating the<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_6" id="Page_6">[6]</a></span> actions of humans, as parrots and +mynahs and parakeets imitate human speech. But <i>tormals</i> have certain +valuable, genetically transmitted talents which make them much more +valuable than mere companions or pets.</p> + +<p>Calhoun got a light-reading for the banded sun. It could hardly be an +accurate measure of distance, but it was a guide.</p> + +<p>"Hold on to something, Murgatroyd!" he said.</p> + +<p>Murgatroyd watched. He saw Calhoun make certain gestures which +presaged discomfort. He popped back into his cubbyhole. Calhoun threw +the overdrive switch and the Med Ship flicked back into that +questionable state of being in which velocities of hundreds of times +that of light are possible. The sensation of going into overdrive was +unpleasant. A moment later, the sensation of coming out was no less +so. Calhoun had experienced it often enough, and still didn't like it.</p> + +<p>The sun Weald burned huge and terrible in space. It was close, now. +Its disk covered half a degree of arc.</p> + +<p>"Very neat," observed Calhoun. "Weald Three is our port, Murgatroyd. +The plane of the ecliptic would be ... Hm...."</p> + +<p>He swung the outside electron telescope, picked up a nearby bright +object, enlarged its image to show details, and checked it against the +local star-pilot. He calculated a moment. The distance was too short +for even the briefest of overdrive hops, but it would take time to get +there on solar-system drive.</p> + +<p>He thumbed down the communicator button and spoke into a microphone.</p> + +<p>"Med Ship <i>Aesclipus Twenty</i> reporting arrival and asking coordinates +for landing," he said matter-of-factly. "Purpose of landing is +planetary health inspection. Our mass is fifty tons, standard. We +should arrive at a landing position in something<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_7" id="Page_7">[7]</a></span> under four hours. +Repeat. Med Ship <i>Aesclipus Twenty</i>...."</p> + +<p>He finished the regular second transmission and made coffee for +himself while he waited for an answer. Murgatroyd came out for a cup +of coffee for himself. Murgatroyd adored coffee. In minutes he held a +tiny cup in a furry small paw and sipped gingerly at the hot liquid.</p> + +<p>A voice came out of the communicator:</p> + +<p>"<i>Aesclipus Twenty</i>, repeat your identification."</p> + +<p>Calhoun went to the control board.</p> + +<p>"<i>Aesclipus Twenty</i>," he said patiently, "is a Med Ship, sent by the +Interstellar Medical Service to make a planetary health inspection on +Weald. Check with your public health authorities. This is the first +Med Ship visit in twelve standard years, I believe—which is +inexcusable. But your health authorities will know all about it. Check +with them."</p> + +<p>The voice said truculently:</p> + +<p>"What was your last port?"</p> + +<p>Calhoun named it. This was not his home sector, but Sector Twelve had +gotten into a very bad situation. Some of its planets had gone +unvisited for as long as twenty years, and twelve between inspections +was almost commonplace. Other sectors had been called on to help it +catch up.</p> + +<p>Calhoun was one of the loaned Med Ship men, and because of the +emergency he'd been given a list of half a dozen planets to be +inspected one after another, instead of reporting back to sector +headquarters after each visit. He'd had minor troubles before with +landing-grid operators in Sector Twelve.</p> + +<p>So he was very patient. He named the planet last inspected, the one +from which he'd set out for Weald Three. The voice from the +communicator said sharply:</p> + +<p>"What port before that?"</p> + +<p>Calhoun named the one before the last.<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_8" id="Page_8">[8]</a></span></p> + +<p>"Don't drive any closer," said the voice harshly, "or you'll be +destroyed!"</p> + +<p>Calhoun said coldly, "Listen, my fine feathered friend! I'm from the +Interstellar Medical Service. You get in touch with planetary health +services immediately! Remind them of the Interstellar Medical +Inspection Agreement, signed on Tralee two hundred and forty standard +years ago. Remind them that if they do not cooperate in medical +inspection that I can put your planet under quarantine and your space +commerce will be cut off like that!</p> + +<p>"No ship will be cleared for Weald from any other planet in the galaxy +until there has been a health inspection! Things have pretty well gone +to pot so far as the Med Service in this sector is concerned, but it's +being straightened up. I'm helping straighten it! I give you twenty +minutes to clear this! Then I am coming in, and if I'm not landed a +quarantine goes on! Tell your health authorities that!"</p> + +<p>Silence. Calhoun clicked off and poured himself another cup of coffee. +Murgatroyd held out his cup for a refill. Calhoun gave it to him.</p> + +<p>"I hate to put on an official hat, Murgatroyd," he said, annoyed, "but +there are some people who demand it. The rule is, never get official +if you can help it, but when you must, out-official the official who's +officialing you."</p> + +<p>Murgatroyd said "<i>Chee</i>!" and sipped at his cup.</p> + +<p>Calhoun checked the course of the Med Ship. It bore on through space. +There were tiny noises from the communicator. There were whisperings +and rustlings and the occasional strange and sometimes beautiful +musical notes whose origin is yet obscure, but which, since they are +carried by electromagnetic radiation of wildly varying wave lengths, +are not likely to be the fabled music of the spheres.</p> + +<p>In fifteen minutes a different voice came from the speaker.<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_9" id="Page_9">[9]</a></span></p> + +<p>"Med Ship <i>Aesclipus</i>! Med Ship <i>Aesclipus</i>!"</p> + +<p>Calhoun answered and the voice said anxiously:</p> + +<p>"Sorry about the challenge, but we have the blueskin problem always +with us. We have to be extremely careful! Will you come in, please?"</p> + +<p>"I'm on my way," said Calhoun.</p> + +<p>"The planetary health authorities," said the voice, more anxiously +still, "are very anxious to be cooperative. We need Med Service help! +We lose a lot of sleep over the blueskin! Could you tell us the name +of the last Med Ship to land here, and its inspector, and when that +inspection was made? We want to look up the record of the event to be +able to assist you in every possible way."</p> + +<p>"He's lying," Calhoun told Murgatroyd, "but he's more scared than +hostile."</p> + +<p>He picked up the order folio on Weald Three. He gave the information +about the last Med Ship visit.</p> + +<p>"What?" he asked, "is a blueskin?"</p> + +<p>He'd read the folio on Weald, of course, but as the ship swam onward +through emptiness he went through it again. The last medical +inspection had been only perfunctory. Twelve years earlier—instead of +three—a Med Ship had landed on Weald. There had been official +conferences with health officials. There was a report on the birth +rate, the death rate, the anomaly rate, and a breakdown of all +reported communicable diseases. But that was all. There were no +special comments and no overall picture.</p> + +<p>Presently Calhoun found the word in a Sector dictionary, where words +of only local usage were to be found:</p> + +<div class="blockquot"><p>"<i>Blueskin: Colloquial term for a person recovered from a plague +which left large patches of blue pigment irregularly distributed +over the body. Especially, inhabitants of Dara. The condition is +said to be caused by a chronic, nonfatal form of Dara plague and +has been said to be noninfectious, though this is not certain. The +etiology of Dara plague has not been worked out. The blueskin +condition is hereditary but not a genetic modification, as markings +appear in non-Mendelian distributions</i>."</p></div> +<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_10" id="Page_10">[10]</a></span></p> +<p>Calhoun puzzled over it. Nobody could have read the entire Sector +directory, even with unlimited leisure during travel between solar +systems. Calhoun hadn't tried. But now he went laboriously through +indices and cross-references while the ship continued to travel +onward.</p> + +<p>He found no other reference to blueskins. He looked up Dara. It was +listed as an inhabited planet, some four hundred years colonized, with +a landing-grid and, at the time the main notice was written out, a +flourishing interstellar commerce. But there was a memo, evidently +added to the entry in some change of editions: "<i>Since plague, special +license from Med Service is required for landing.</i>"</p> + +<p>That was all. Absolutely all.</p> + +<p>The communicator said suavely:</p> + +<p>"Med Ship <i>Aesclipus Twenty</i>! Come in on vision, please!"</p> + +<p>Calhoun went to the control board and threw on vision.</p> + +<p>"Well, what now?" he demanded.</p> + +<p>His screen lighted. A bland face looked out at him.</p> + +<p>"We have—ah—verified your statements," said the third voice from +Weald. "Just one more item. Are you alone in your ship?"</p> + +<p>"Of course," said Calhoun, frowning.</p> + +<p>"Quite alone?" insisted the voice.</p> + +<p>"Obviously!" said Calhoun.</p> + +<p>"No other living creature?" insisted the voice again.<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_11" id="Page_11">[11]</a></span> "Of—oh!" said +Calhoun, annoyed. He called over his shoulder. "Murgatroyd! Come +here!"</p> + +<p>Murgatroyd hopped to his lap and gazed interestedly at the screen. The +bland face changed remarkably. The voice changed even more.</p> + +<p>"Very good!" it said. "Very, very good! Blueskins do not have +<i>tormals</i>! You are Med Service! By all means come in! Your coordinates +will be...."</p> + +<p>Calhoun wrote them down. He clicked off the communicator again and +growled to Murgatroyd, "So I might have been a blueskin, eh? And +you're my passport, because only Med Ships have members of your tribe +aboard! What the hell's the matter, Murgatroyd? They act like they +think somebody's trying to get down on their planet with a load of +plague germs!"</p> + +<p>He grumbled to himself for minutes. The life of a Med Ship man is not +exactly a sinecure, at best. It means long periods in empty space in +overdrive, which is absolute and deadly tedium. Then two or three days +aground, checking official documents and statistics, and asking +questions to see how many of the newest medical techniques have +reached this planet or that, and the supplying of information about +such as have not arrived.</p> + +<p>Then the lifting out to space for long periods of tedium, to repeat +the process somewhere else. Med Ships carry only one man because two +could not stand the close contact without quarreling with each other. +But Med Ships do carry <i>tormals</i>, like Murgatroyd, and a <i>tormal</i> and +a man can get along indefinitely, like a man and a dog. It is a highly +unequal friendship, but it seems to be satisfactory to both.</p> + +<p>Calhoun was very much annoyed with the way the Med Service had been +operated in Sector Twelve. He was one of many men at work to correct +the results of incompetence in directing Med Service in this sector. +But it is always dis<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_12" id="Page_12">[12]</a></span>heartening to have to labor at making up for +somebody else's blundering, when there is so much new work that needs +to be done.</p> + +<p>The condition shown by the landing-grid suspicions was a case in +point. Blueskins were people who inherited a splotchy skin +pigmentation from other people who'd survived a plague. Weald plainly +maintained a one-planet quarantine against them. But a quarantine is +normally an emergency measure. The Med Service should have taken over, +wiped out the need for a quarantine, and then lifted it. It hadn't +been done.</p> + +<p>Calhoun fumed to himself.</p> + +<p>The world of Weald Three grew brighter and brighter and became a disk. +The disk had icecaps and a reasonable proportion of land and water +surface. The ship decelerated, voices notifying observation from the +surface, and the little ship came to a stop some five planetary +diameters out from solidity. The landing field's force-field locked on +to it, and its descent began.</p> + +<p>The business of landing was all very familiar, from the blue rim which +appeared at the limb of the planet from one diameter out, to the +singular flowing-apart of the surface features as the ship sank still +lower. There was the circular landing-grid, rearing skyward for nearly +a mile. It could let down interstellar liners from emptiness and lift +them out to emptiness again, with great convenience and economy for +everyone.</p> + +<p>It landed the Med Ship in its center, and there were officials to +greet Calhoun, and he knew in advance the routine part of his visit. +There would be an interview with the planet's chief executive, by +whatever title he was called. There would be a banquet. Murgatroyd +would be petted by everybody. There would be painful efforts to +impress Calhoun with the<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_13" id="Page_13">[13]</a></span> splendid conduct of public health matters on +Weald. He would be told much scandal.</p> + +<p>He might find one man, somewhere, who passionately labored to advance +the welfare of his fellow humans by finding out how to keep them well +or, failing that, how to make them well when they got sick. And in two +days, or three, Calhoun would be escorted back to the landing-grid, +and lifted out to space, and he'd spend long empty days in overdrive +and land somewhere else to do the whole thing all over again.</p> + +<p>It all happened exactly as he expected, with one exception. Every +human being he met on Weald wanted to talk about blueskins. Blueskins +and the idea of blueskins obsessed everyone. Calhoun listened without +asking questions until he had the picture of what blueskins meant to +the people who talked of them. Then he knew there would be no use +asking questions at random.</p> + +<p>Nobody mentioned ever having seen a blueskin. Nobody mentioned a +specific event in which a blueskin had at any named time taken part. +But everybody was afraid of blueskins. It was a patterned, an +inculcated, a stage-directed fixed idea. And it found expression in +shocked references to the vileness, the depravity, the monstrousness +of the blueskin inhabitants of Dara, from whom Weald must at all costs +be protected.</p> + +<p>It did not make sense. So Calhoun listened politely until he found an +undistinguished medical man who wanted some special information about +gene selection as practised halfway across the galaxy. He invited that +man to the Med Ship, where he supplied the information not hitherto +available. He saw his guest's eyes shine a little with that joyous awe +a man feels when he finds out something he has wanted long and badly +to know.<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_14" id="Page_14">[14]</a></span></p> + +<p>"Now," said Calhoun, "tell me something? Why does everybody on this +planet hate the inhabitants of Dara? It's light-years away. Nobody +claims to have suffered in person from them. Why make a point of +hating them?"</p> + +<p>The Wealdian doctor grimaced.</p> + +<p>"They've blue patches on their skins. They're different from us. So +they can be pictured as a danger and our political parties can make an +election issue out of competing for the privilege of defending us from +them. They had a plague on Dara, once. They're accused of still having +it ready for export."</p> + +<p>"Hm," said Calhoun. "The story is that they want to spread contagion +here, eh? Doesn't anybody"—his tone was sardonic—"doesn't anybody +urge that they be massacred as an act of piety?"</p> + +<p>"Yes-s-s-s," admitted the doctor reluctantly. "It's mentioned in +political speeches."</p> + +<p>"But how's it rationalized?" demanded Calhoun. "What's the argument to +make pigment-patches involve moral and physical degradation, as I'm +assured is the case?"</p> + +<p>"In the public schools," said the doctor, "the children are taught +that blueskins are now carriers of the disease they survived—three +generations ago! That they hate everybody who isn't a blueskin. That +they are constantly scheming to introduce their plague here so most of +us will die and the rest will become blueskins. That's beyond +rationalizing. It can't be true, but it's not safe to doubt it."</p> + +<p>"Bad business," said Calhoun coldly. "That sort of thing usually costs +lives in the end. It could lead to massacre!"</p> + +<p>"Perhaps it has, in a way," said the doctor unhappily. "One doesn't +like to think about it." He paused. "Twenty years ago there was a +famine on Dara. There were crop failures. The situation must have been +very bad: They built a spaceship.</p> + +<p>"They've no use for such things normally, because no near<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_15" id="Page_15">[15]</a></span>by planet +will deal with them or let them land. But they built a spaceship and +came here. They went in orbit around Weald. They asked to trade for +shiploads of food. They offered any price in heavy metals—gold, +platinum, irridium, and so on. They talked from orbit by vision +communicators. They could be seen to be blueskins. You can guess what +happened!"</p> + +<p>"Tell me," said Calhoun.</p> + +<p>"We armed ships in a hurry," admitted the doctor. "We chased their +spaceship back to Dara. We hung in space off the planet. We told them +we'd blast their world from pole to pole if they ever dared take to +space again. We made them destroy their one ship, and we watched on +visionscreens as it was done."</p> + +<p>"But you gave them food?"</p> + +<p>"No," said the doctor ashamedly. "They were blueskins."</p> + +<p>"How bad was the famine?"</p> + +<p>"Who knows? Any number may have starved! And we kept a squadron of +armed ships in their skies for years—to keep them from spreading the +plague, we said. And some of us believed it!"</p> + +<p>The doctor's tone was purest irony.</p> + +<p>"Lately," he said, "there's been a move for economy in our government. +Simultaneously, we began to have a series of overabundant crops. The +government had to buy the excess grain to keep the price up. Retired +patrol ships, built to watch over Dara, were available for storage +space. We filled them up with grain and sent them out into orbit. +They're there now, hundreds of thousands or millions of tons of +grain!"</p> + +<p>"And Dara?"</p> + +<p>The doctor shrugged. He stood up.</p> + +<p>"Our hatred of Dara," he said, again ironically, "has produced one +thing. Roughly halfway between here and Dara<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_16" id="Page_16">[16]</a></span> there's a two-planet +solar system, Orede. There's a usable planet there. It was proposed to +build an outpost of Weald there, against blueskins. Cattle were landed +to run wild and multiply and make a reason for colonists to settle +there.</p> + +<p>"They did, but nobody wants to move near to blueskins! So Orede stayed +uninhabited until a hunting party, shooting wild cattle, found an +outcropping of heavy-metal ore. So now there's a mine there. And +that's all. A few hundred men work the mine at fabulous wages. You may +be asked to check on their health. But not Dara's!"</p> + +<p>"I see," said Calhoun, frowning.</p> + +<p>The doctor moved toward the Med Ship's exit port.</p> + +<p>"I answered your questions," he said grimly. "But if I talked to +anyone else as I've done to you, I'd be lucky only to be driven into +exile!"</p> + +<p>"I shan't give you away," said Calhoun. He did not smile.</p> + +<hr style='width: 45%;' /> + +<p>When the doctor had gone, Calhoun said deliberately, "Murgatroyd, you +should be grateful that you're a <i>tormal</i> and not a man. There's +nothing about being a <i>tormal</i> to make you ashamed!"</p> + +<p>Then he grimly changed his garments for the full-dress uniform of the +Med Service. There was to be a banquet at which he would sit next to +the planet's chief executive and hear innumerable speeches about the +splendor of Weald. Calhoun had his own, strictly Med Service opinion +of the planet's latest and most boasted-of achievement. It was a domed +city in the polar regions, where nobody ever had to go outdoors.</p> + +<p>He was less than professionally enthusiastic about the moving streets, +and much less than approving of the dream broadcasts which supplied +hypnotic, sleep-inducing rhythms to anybody who chose to listen to +them. The price was that<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_17" id="Page_17">[17]</a></span> while asleep one would hear high praise of +commercial products, and might believe them when awake.</p> + +<p>But it was not Calhoun's function to criticize when it could be +avoided. Med Service had been badly managed in Sector Twelve. So at +the banquet Calhoun made a brief and diplomatic address in which he +temperately praised what could be praised, and did not mention +anything else.</p> + +<p>The chief executive followed him. As head of the government he paid +some tribute to the Med Service. But then he reminded his hearers +proudly of the high culture, splendid health, and remarkable +prosperity of the planet since his political party took office. This, +he said, despite the need to be perpetually on guard against the +greatest and most immediate danger to which any world in all the +galaxy was exposed.</p> + +<p>He referred to the blueskins, of course. He did not need to tell the +people of Weald what vigilance, what constant watchfulness was +necessary against that race of deprived and malevolent deviants from +the norm of humanity. But Weald, he said with emotion, held aloft the +torch of all that humanity held most dear, and defended not alone the +lives of its people against blueskin contagion, but their noble +heritage of ideals against blueskin pollution.</p> + +<p>When he sat down, Calhoun said very politely, "It looks as if some day +it should be practical politics to urge the massacre of all blueskins. +Have you thought of that?"</p> + +<p>The chief executive said comfortably, "The idea's been proposed. It's +good politics to urge it, but it would be foolish to carry it out. +People vote against blueskins. Wipe them out, and where'd you be?"</p> + +<p>Calhoun ground his teeth—quietly.</p> + +<p>There were more speeches. Then a messenger, white-faced, arrived with +a written note for the chief executive. He read it<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_18" id="Page_18">[18]</a></span> and passed it to +Calhoun. It was from the Ministry of Health. The spaceport reported +that a ship had just broken out from overdrive within the Wealdian +solar system. Its tape-transmitter had automatically signaled its +arrival from the mining planet Orede.</p> + +<p>But, having sent off its automatic signal, the ship lay dead in space. +It did not drive toward Weald. It did not respond to signals. It +drifted like a derelict upon no course at all. It seemed ominous, and +since it came from Orede, the planet nearest to Dara of the blueskins, +the health ministry informed the planet's chief executive.</p> + +<p>"It'll be blueskins," said that astute person firmly. "They're next +door to Orede. That's who's done this. It wouldn't surprise me if +they'd seeded Orede with their plague, and this ship came from there +to give us warning!"</p> + +<p>"There's no evidence for anything of the sort," protested Calhoun. "A +ship simply came out of overdrive and didn't signal further. That's +all!"</p> + +<p>"We'll see," said the chief executive ominously. "We'll go to the +spaceport. There we'll get the news as it comes in, and can frame +orders on the latest information."</p> + +<p>He took Calhoun by the arm. Calhoun said sharply, "Murgatroyd!"</p> + +<p>During the banquet, Murgatroyd had been visiting with the wives of the +higher-up officials. They had enough of their husbands normally, +without listening to their official speeches. Murgatroyd was brought, +his small paunch distended with cakes and coffee and such delicacies +as he'd been plied with. He was half comatose from overfeeding and +overpetting, but he was glad to see Calhoun.</p> + +<p>Calhoun held the little creature in his arms as the official groundcar +raced through traffic with screaming sirens claiming the right of way. +It reached the spaceport, where enor<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_19" id="Page_19">[19]</a></span>mous metal girders formed a +monster frame of metal lace against a star-filled sky. The chief +executive strode magnificently into the spaceport offices. There was +no news; the situation remained unchanged.</p> + +<p>A ship from Orede had come out of overdrive and lay dead in emptiness. +It did not answer calls. It did not move in space. It floated eerily +in no orbit, going nowhere, doing nothing. And panic was the +consequence.</p> + +<p>It seemed to Calhoun that the official handling of the matter +accounted for the terror that he could feel building up. The +unexplained bit of news was on the air all over the planet Weald. +There was nobody awake of all the world's population who did not +believe that there was a new danger in the sky. Nobody doubted that it +came from blueskins. The treatment of the news was precisely +calculated to keep alive the hatred of Weald for the inhabitants of +the world Dara.</p> + +<p>Calhoun put Murgatroyd into the Med Ship and went back to the +spaceport office. A small spaceboat, designed to inspect the circling +grain ships from time to time, was already aloft. The landing-grid had +thrust it swiftly out most of the way. Now it droned and drove on +sturdily toward the enigmatic ship.</p> + +<p>Calhoun took no part in the agitated conferences among the officials +and news reporters at the spaceport. But he listened to the talk about +him. As the investigating small ship drew nearer to the deathly-still +cargo vessel, the guesses about the meaning of its breakout and +following silence grew more and more wild.</p> + +<p>But, singularly, there was no single suggestion that the mystery might +not be the work of blueskins. Blueskins were scape-goats for all the +fears and all the uneasiness a perhaps over-civilized world developed.</p> + +<p>Presently the investigating spaceboat reached the mystery<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_20" id="Page_20">[20]</a></span> ship and +circled it, beaming queries. No answer. It reported the cargo ship +dark. No lights anywhere on or in it. There were no induction-surges +from even pulsing, idling engines. Delicately, the messenger craft +maneuvered until it touched the silent vessel. It reported that +microphones detected no motion whatever inside.</p> + +<p>"Let a volunteer go aboard," commanded the chief executive. "Let him +report what he finds."</p> + +<p>A pause. Then the solemn announcement of an intrepid volunteer's name, +from far, far away. Calhoun listened, frowning darkly. This pompous +heroism wouldn't be noticed in the Med Service. It would be routine +behavior.</p> + +<p>Suspenseful, second-by-second reports. The volunteer had rocketed +himself across the emptiness between the two again separated ships. He +had opened the airlock from outside. He'd gone in. He'd closed the +outer airlock door. He'd opened the inner. He reported—</p> + +<p>The relayed report was almost incoherent, what with horror and +incredulity and the feeling of doom that came upon the volunteer. The +ship was a bulk-cargo ore-carrier, designed to run between Orede and +Weald with cargos of heavy-metal ores and a crew of no more than five +men. There was no cargo in her holds now, though.</p> + +<p>Instead, there were men. They packed the ship. They filled the +corridors. They had crawled into every space where a man could find +room to push himself. There were hundreds of them. It was insanity. +And it had been greater insanity still for the ship to have taken off +with so preposterous a load of living creatures.</p> + +<p>But they weren't living any longer. The air apparatus had been +designed for a crew of five. It would purify the air for possibly +twenty or more. But there were hundreds of men in hiding as well as in +plain view in the cargo ship from Orede.<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_21" id="Page_21">[21]</a></span> There were many, many times +more than her air apparatus and reserve tanks could possibly have +taken care of. They couldn't even have been fed during the journey +from Orede to Weald.</p> + +<p>But they hadn't starved. Air-scarcity killed them before the ship came +out of overdrive.</p> + +<p>A remarkable thing was that there was no written message in the ship's +log which referred to its takeoff. There was no memorandum of the +taking on of such an impossible number of passengers.</p> + +<p>"The blueskins did it," said the chief executive of Weald. He was +pale. All about Calhoun men looked sick and shocked and terrified. "It +was the blueskins! We'll have to teach them a lesson!" Then he turned +to Calhoun. "The volunteer who went on that ship—he'll have to stay +there, won't he? He can't be brought back to Weald without bringing +contagion."</p> + +<p>Calhoun raged at him.</p> + + + +<hr style="width: 65%;" /> +<h2>2</h2> + + +<p>There was a certain coldness in the manner of those at the Weald +spaceport when the Med Ship left next morning. Calhoun was not popular +because Weald was scared. It had been conditioned to scare easily, +where blueskins might be involved. Its children were trained to react +explosively when the word <i>blueskin</i> was uttered in their hearing, and +its adults tended to say it when anything causing uneasiness entered +their minds. So a planet-wide habit of irrational response had formed +and was not seen to be irrational because almost everybody had it.<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_22" id="Page_22">[22]</a></span></p> + +<p>The volunteer who'd discovered the tragedy on the ship from Orede was +safe, though. He'd made a completely conscientious survey of the ship +he'd volunteered to enter and examine. For his courage, he'd have been +doomed but for Calhoun.</p> + +<p>The reaction of his fellow citizens was that by entering the ship he +might have become contaminated by blueskin infectious material of the +plague still existed, and <i>if</i> the men in the ship had caught it (but +they certainly hadn't died of it), and <i>if</i> there had been blueskins +on Orede to communicate it (for which there was no evidence), and <i>if</i> +blueskins were responsible for the tragedy. Which was at the moment +pure supposition. But Weald feared he might bring death back to Weald +if he were allowed to return.</p> + +<p>Calhoun saved his life. He ordered that the guardship admit him to its +airlock, which then was to be filled with steam and chlorine. The +combination would sterilize and even partly eat away his spacesuit, +after which the chlorine and steam should be bled out to space, and +air from the ship let into the lock.</p> + +<p>If he stripped off the spacesuit without touching its outer surface, +and reentered the investigating ship while the suit was flung outside +by a man in another spacesuit, handling it with a pole he'd fling +after it, there could be no possible contamination brought back.</p> + +<p>Calhoun was quite right, but Weald in general considered that he'd +persuaded the government to take an unreasonable risk.</p> + +<p>There were other reasons for disapproving of him. Calhoun had been +unpleasantly frank. The coming of the death-ship stirred to frenzy +those people who believed that all blueskins should be exterminated as +a pious act. They'd appeared on every vision screen, citing not only +the ship from Orede but<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_23" id="Page_23">[23]</a></span> other incidents which they interpreted as +crimes against Weald.</p> + +<p>They demanded that all Wealdian atomic reactors be modified to turn +out fusion-bomb materials while a space fleet was made ready for an +anti-blueskin crusade. They confidently demanded such a rain of fusion +bombs on Dara that no blueskin, no animal, no shred of vegetation, no +fish in the deepest ocean, not even a living virus particle of the +blueskin plague could remain alive on the blueskin world.</p> + +<p>One of these vehement orators even asserted that Calhoun agreed that +no other course was possible, speaking for the Interstellar Medical +Service. And Calhoun furiously demanded a chance to deny it by +broadcast, and he made a bitter and indiscreet speech from which a +planet-wide audience inferred that he thought them fools.</p> + +<p>He did.</p> + +<p>So he was definitely unpopular when his ship lifted from Weald. He'd +curtly given his destination as Orede, from which the death-ship had +come. The landing-grid locked on, raised the small spacecraft until +Weald was a great shining ball below it, and then somehow scornfully +cast him off. The Med Ship was free, in clear space where there was +not enough of a gravitational field to hinder overdrive.</p> + +<p>He aimed for his destination, his face very grim. He said savagely, +"Get set, Murgatroyd! Overdrive coming!"</p> + +<p>He thumbed down the overdrive button. The universe of stars went out, +while everything living in the ship felt the customary sensations of +dizziness, of nausea, and of a spiraling fall to nothingness. Then +there was silence.</p> + +<p>The Med Ship actually moved at a rate which was a preposterous number +of times the speed of light, but it felt absolutely solid, absolutely +firm and fixed. A ship in overdrive feels exactly as if it were buried +deep in the core of a planet.<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_24" id="Page_24">[24]</a></span> There is no vibration. There is no sign +of anything but solidity and, if one looks out a port, there is only +utter blackness plus an absence of sound fit to make one's eardrums +crack.</p> + +<p>But within seconds random tiny noises began. There was a reel and +there were sound-speakers to keep the ship from sounding like a grave. +The reel played and the speakers gave off minute creakings, and +meaningless hums, and very tiny noises of every imaginable sort, all +of which were just above the threshold of the inaudible.</p> + +<p>Calhoun fretted. Sector Twelve was in very bad shape. A conscientious +Med Service man would never have let the anti-blueskin obsession go +unmentioned in a report on Weald. Health is not only a physical +affair. There is mental health, also. When mental health goes a +civilization can be destroyed more surely and more terribly than by +any imaginable war or plague germs. A plague kills off those who are +susceptible to it, leaving immunes to build up a world again. But +immunes are the first to be killed when a mass neurosis sweeps a +population.</p> + +<p>Weald was definitely a Med Service problem world. Dara was another. +And when hundreds of men jammed themselves into a cargo spaceship +which could not furnish them with air to breathe, and took off and +went into overdrive before the air could fail.... Orede called for no +less of worry.</p> + +<p>"I think," said Calhoun dourly, "that I'll have some coffee."</p> + +<p><i>Coffee</i> was one of the words that Murgatroyd recognized. Ordinarily +he stirred immediately on hearing it, and watched the coffeemaker with +bright, interested eyes. He'd even tried to imitate Calhoun's motions +with it, once, and had scorched his paws in the attempt. But this time +he did not move.</p> + +<p>Calhoun turned his head. Murgatroyd sat on the floor, his long tail +coiled reflectively about a chair leg. He watched the door of the Med +Ship's sleeping cabin.<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_25" id="Page_25">[25]</a></span></p> + +<p>"Murgatroyd," said Calhoun. "I mentioned coffee!"</p> + +<p>"<i>Chee!</i>" shrilled Murgatroyd.</p> + +<p>But he continued to look at the door. The temperature was kept lower +in the other cabin, and the look of things was different than the +control compartment. The difference was part of the means by which a +man was able to be alone for weeks on end—alone save for his +<i>tormal</i>—without becoming ship-happy.</p> + +<p>There were other carefully thought out items in the ship with the same +purpose. But none of them should cause Murgatroyd to stare fixedly and +fascinatedly at the sleeping cabin door. Not when coffee was in the +making!</p> + +<p>Calhoun considered. He became angry at the immediate suspicion that +occurred to him. As a Med Service man, he was duty-bound to be +impartial. To be impartial might mean not to side absolutely with +Weald in its enmity to blueskins.</p> + +<p>And the people of Weald had refused to help Dara in a time of famine, +and had blockaded that pariah world for years afterward. And they had +other reasons for hating the people they'd treated badly. It was +entirely reasonable for some fanatic on Weald to consider that Calhoun +must be killed lest he be of help to the blueskins Weald abhorred.</p> + +<p>In fact, it was quite possible that somebody had stowed away on the +Med Ship to murder Calhoun, so that there would be no danger of any +report favorable to Dara ever being presented anywhere. If so, such a +stowaway would be in the sleeping cabin now, waiting for Calhoun to +walk in unsuspiciously, only to be shot dead.</p> + +<p>So Calhoun made coffee. He slipped a blaster into a pocket where it +would be handy. He filled a small cup for Murgatroyd and a large one +for himself, and then a second large one.<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_26" id="Page_26">[26]</a></span></p> + +<p>He tapped on the sleeping cabin door, standing aside lest a +blaster-bolt come through it.</p> + +<p>"Coffee's ready," he said sardonically. "Come out and join us."</p> + +<p>There was a long pause. Calhoun rapped again.</p> + +<p>"You've a seat at the captain's table," he said more sardonically +still. "It's not polite to keep me waiting!"</p> + +<p>He listened, alert for a rush which would be a fanatic's desperate +attempt to do murder despite premature discovery. He was prepared to +shoot quite ruthlessly, because he was on duty and the Med Service did +not approve of the extermination of populations, however justified +another population might consider it.</p> + +<p>But there was no rush. Instead, there came hesitant foot-falls whose +sound made Calhoun start. The door of the cabin slid slowly aside. A +girl appeared in the opening, desperately white and desperately +composed.</p> + +<p>"H-how did you know I was there?" she asked shakily. She moistened her +lips. "You didn't see me! I was in a closet, and you didn't even enter +the room!"</p> + +<p>Calhoun said grimly, "I've sources of information. Murgatroyd told me +this time. May I present him? Murgatroyd, our passenger. Shake hands."</p> + +<p>Murgatroyd moved forward, stood on his hind legs and offered a skinny, +furry paw. She did not move. She stared at Calhoun.</p> + +<p>"Better shake hands," said Calhoun, as grimly as before. "It might +relax the tension a little. And do you want to tell me your story? You +have one ready, I'm sure."</p> + +<p>The girl swallowed. Murgatroyd shook hands gravely. He said, +"<i>Chee-chee!</i>" in the shrillest of trebles and went back to his former +position.</p> + +<p>"The story?" said Calhoun insistently.<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_27" id="Page_27">[27]</a></span></p> + +<p>"There—there isn't any," said the girl unsteadily. "Just that I—I +need to get to Orede, and you're going there. There's no other way to +go, now."</p> + +<p>"To the contrary," said Calhoun. "There'll undoubtedly be a fleet +heading for Orede as soon as it can be assembled and armed. But I'm +afraid that as a story yours isn't good enough. Try another."</p> + +<p>She shivered a little.</p> + +<p>"I'm running away...."</p> + +<p>"Ah!" said Calhoun. "In that case I'll take you back."</p> + +<p>"No!" she said fiercely. "I'll—I'll die first! I'll wreck this ship +first!"</p> + +<p>Her hand came from behind her. There was a tiny blaster in it. But it +shook visibly as she tried to aim it.</p> + +<p>"I'll shoot out the controls!"</p> + +<p>Calhoun blinked. He'd had to make a drastic change in his estimate of +the situation the instant he saw that the stowaway was a girl. Now he +had to make another when her threat was not to kill him but to disable +the ship. Women are rarely assassins, and when they are they don't use +energy weapons. Daggers and poisons are more typical. But this girl +threatened to destroy the ship rather than its owner, so she was not +actually an assassin at all.</p> + +<p>"I'd rather you didn't do that," said Calhoun dryly. "Besides, you'd +get deadly bored if we were stuck in a derelict waiting for our air +and food to give out."</p> + +<p>Murgatroyd, for no reason whatever, felt it necessary to enter the +conversation:</p> + +<p>"<i>Chee-chee-chee!</i>"</p> + +<p>"A very sensible suggestion," observed Calhoun. "We'll sit down and +have a cup of coffee." To the girl he said, "I'll take you to Orede, +since that's where you say you want to go."<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_28" id="Page_28">[28]</a></span></p> + +<p>"I have a sweetheart there...."</p> + +<p>Calhoun shook his head.</p> + +<p>"No," he said reprovingly. "Nearly all the mining colony had packed +itself into the ship that came into Weald with everybody dead. But not +all. And there's been no check of what men were in the ship and what +men weren't. You wouldn't go to Orede if it were likely your +sweetheart had died on the way to you. Here's your coffee. Sugar or +saccho, and do you take cream?"</p> + +<p>She trembled a little, but she took the cup.</p> + +<p>"I don't understand."</p> + +<p>"Murgatroyd and I," explained Calhoun—and he did not know whether he +spoke out of anger or something else—"we are do-gooders. We go around +trying to keep people from getting sick or dying. Sometimes we even +try to keep them from getting killed. It's our profession. We practise +it even on our own behalf. We want to stay alive. So since you make +such drastic threats, we will take you where you want to go. +Especially since we're going there anyhow."</p> + +<p>"You don't believe anything I've said!" It was a statement.</p> + +<p>"Not a word," admitted Calhoun. "But you'll probably tell us something +more believable presently. When did you eat last?"</p> + +<p>"Yesterday."</p> + +<p>"Would you rather do your own cooking?" asked Calhoun politely. "Or +would you permit me to ready a snack?"</p> + +<p>"I—I'll do it," she said.</p> + +<p>She drank her coffee first, however, and then Calhoun showed her how +to punch the readier for such-and-such dishes, to be extracted from +storage and warmed or chilled, as the case might be, and served at +dialed-for intervals. There was also equipment for preparing food for +oneself, in<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_29" id="Page_29">[29]</a></span> one's own chosen manner—again an item to help make +solitude not unendurable.</p> + +<p>Calhoun deliberately immersed himself in the Galactic Directory, +looking up the planet Orede. He was headed there, but he'd had no +reason to inform himself about it before. Now he read with every +appearance of absorption.</p> + +<p>The girl ate daintily. Murgatroyd watched with highly amiable +interest. But she looked acutely uncomfortable.</p> + +<p>Calhoun finished with the Directory. He got out the micro-film reels +which contained more information. He was specifically after the Med +Service history of all the planets in this sector. He went through the +filmed record of every inspection ever made on Weald and on Dara.</p> + +<p>But Sector Twelve had not been run well. There was no adequate account +of a plague which had wiped out three-quarters of the population of an +inhabited planet! It had happened shortly after one Med Ship visit, +and was over before another Med Ship came by.</p> + +<p>There should have been a painstaking investigation, even after the +fact. There should have been a collection of infectious material and a +reasonably complete identification and study of the agent. It hadn't +been made. There was probably some other emergency at the time, and it +slipped by. Calhoun, whose career was not to be spent in this sector, +resolved on a blistering report about this negligence and its +consequences.</p> + +<p>He kept himself casually busy, ignoring the girl. A Med Ship man has +resources of study and meditation with which to occupy himself during +overdrive travel from one planet to another. Calhoun made use of those +resources. He acted as if he were completely unconscious of the +stowaway. But Murgatroyd watched her with charmed attention.</p> + +<p>Hours after her discovery, she said uneasily, "Please?"</p> + +<p>Calhoun looked up.<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_30" id="Page_30">[30]</a></span></p> + +<p>"Yes?"</p> + +<p>"I don't know exactly how things stand."</p> + +<p>"You are a stowaway," said Calhoun. "Legally, I have the right to put +you out the airlock. It doesn't seem necessary. There's a cabin. When +you're sleepy, use it. Murgatroyd and I can make out quite well out +here. When you're hungry, you now know how to get something to eat. +When we land on Orede, you'll probably go about whatever business you +have there. That's all."</p> + +<p>She stared at him.</p> + +<p>"But you don't believe what I've told you!"</p> + +<p>"No," agreed Calhoun, but didn't add to the statement.</p> + +<p>"But—I will tell you," she offered. "The police were after me. I had +to get away from Weald! I had to! I'd stolen—"</p> + +<p>He shook his head.</p> + +<p>"No," he said. "If you were a thief, you'd say anything in the world +except that you were a thief. You're not ready to tell the truth yet. +You don't have to, so why tell me anything? I suggest that you get +some sleep. Incidentally, there's no lock on the cabin door because +there's only supposed to be one person on this ship at a time. But you +can brace a chair to fasten it somehow or other. Good night."</p> + +<p>She rose slowly. Twice her lips parted as if to speak again, but then +she went into the other cabin and closed herself in. There was the +sound of a chair being wedged against the door.</p> + +<p>Murgatroyd blinked at the place where she'd disappeared and then +climbed up into Calhoun's lap, with complete assurance of welcome. He +settled himself and was silent for moments. Then he said, "<i>Chee!</i>"</p> + +<p>"I believe you're right," said Calhoun. "She doesn't belong on Weald, +or with the conditioning she'd have had, there'd be only one place +she'd dread worse than Orede, which would<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_31" id="Page_31">[31]</a></span> be Dara. But I doubt she'd +be afraid to land even on Dara."</p> + +<p>Murgatroyd liked to be talked to. He liked to pretend that he carried +on a conversation, like humans.</p> + +<p>"<i>Chee-chee!</i>" he said with conviction.</p> + +<p>"Definitely," agreed Calhoun. "She's not doing this for her personal +advantage. Whatever she thinks she'd doing, it's more important to her +than her own life. Murgatroyd...."</p> + +<p>"<i>Chee?</i>" said Murgatroyd in an inquiring tone.</p> + +<p>"There are wild cattle on Orede," said Calhoun. "Herds and herds of +them. I have a suspicion that somebody's been shooting them. Lots of +them. Do you agree? Don't you think that a lot of cattle have been +slaughtered on Orede lately?"</p> + +<p>Murgatroyd yawned. He settled himself still more comfortably in +Calhoun's lap.</p> + +<p>"<i>Chee</i>," he said drowsily.</p> + +<p>He went to sleep, while Calhoun continued the examination of highly +condensed information. Presently he looked up the normal rate of +increase, with other data, among herds of <i>bovis domesticus</i> in a wild +state, on planets where there are no natural enemies.</p> + +<p>It wasn't unheard-of for a world to be stocked with useful types of +Terran fauna and flora before it was attempted to be colonized. Terran +life-forms could play the devil with alien ecological systems—very +much to humanity's benefit. Familiar microorganisms and a standard +vegetation added to the practicality of human settlements on otherwise +alien worlds. But sometimes the results were strange.</p> + +<p>They weren't often so strange, however, as to cause some hundreds of +men to pack themselves frantically aboard a cargo ship which couldn't +possibly sustain them, so that every man must die while the ship was +in overdrive.</p> + +<p>Still, by the time Calhoun turned in on a spare pneumatic mattress, he +had calculated that as few as a dozen head of<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_32" id="Page_32">[32]</a></span> cattle, turned loose on +a suitable planet, would have increased to herds of thousands or tens +or even hundreds of thousands in much less time than had probably +elapsed.</p> + +<p>The Med Ship drove on in seemingly absolute solidity, with no sound +from without, with no sight to be seen outside, with no evidence at +all that it was not buried in the heart of a planet instead of +flashing through emptiness at a speed so great as to have no meaning.</p> + +<p>Next ship-day the girl looked oddly at Calhoun when she appeared in +the control room. Murgatroyd regarded her with great interest. Calhoun +nodded politely and went back to what he'd been doing before she +appeared.</p> + +<p>"Shall I have breakfast?" she asked uncertainly.</p> + +<p>"Murgatroyd and I have," he told her. "Why not?"</p> + +<p>Silently, she operated the food-readier. She ate. Calhoun gave a very +good portrayal of a man who will respond politely when spoken to, but +who was busy with activities remote from stowaways.</p> + +<p>About noon, ship-time, she asked, "When will we get to Orede?"</p> + +<p>Calhoun told her absently, as if he were thinking of something else.</p> + +<p>"What—what do you think happened there? I mean, to make that tragedy +in the ship."</p> + +<p>"I don't know," said Calhoun. "But I disagree with the authorities on +Weald. I don't think it was a planned atrocity of the blueskins."</p> + +<p>"Wh-what are blueskins?" asked the girl.</p> + +<p>Calhoun turned around and looked at her directly.</p> + +<p>"When lying," he said mildly, "you tell as much by what you pretend +isn't, as by what you pretend is. You know what blueskins are!"</p> + +<p>"But what do you think they are?" she asked.<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_33" id="Page_33">[33]</a></span></p> + +<p>"There used to be a human disease called smallpox," said Calhoun. +"When people recovered from it, they were usually marked. Their skin +had little scar pits here and there. At one time, back on Earth, it +was expected that everybody would catch smallpox sooner or later, and +a large percentage would die of it.</p> + +<p>"And it was so much a matter of course that if they printed a picture +of a criminal they never mentioned it if he were pock-marked. It was +no distinction. But if he didn't have the markings, they'd mention +that!" He paused. "Those pock-marks weren't hereditary, but otherwise +a blueskin is like a man who had them. He can't be anything else!"</p> + +<p>"Then you think they're human?"</p> + +<p>"There's never yet been a case of reverse evolution," said Calhoun. +"Maybe Pithecanthropus had a monkey uncle, but no Pithecanthropus ever +went monkey."</p> + +<p>She turned abruptly away. But she glanced at him often during that +day. He continued to busy himself with those activities which make Med +Ship life consistent with retained sanity.</p> + +<p>Next day she asked without preliminary, "Don't you believe the +blueskins planned for the ship with the dead men to arrive at Weald +and spread plague there?"</p> + +<p>"No," said Calhoun.</p> + +<p>"Why?"</p> + +<p>"It couldn't possibly work," Calhoun told her. "With only dead men on +board, the ship wouldn't arrive at a place where the landing-grid +could bring it down. So that would be no good. And plague-stricken +living men wouldn't try to conceal that they had the plague. They +might ask for help, but they'd know they'd instantly be killed on +Weald if they were found to be plague victims. So that would be no +good, either! No, the ship wasn't intended to land plague on Weald."<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_34" id="Page_34">[34]</a></span></p> + +<p>"Are you friendly to blueskins?" she asked uncertainly.</p> + +<p>"Within reason," said Calhoun, "I am a well-wisher to all the human +race. You're slipping, though. When using the word <i>blueskin</i> you +should say it uncomfortably, as if it were a word no refined person +liked to pronounce. You don't. We'll land on Orede tomorrow, by the +way. If you ever intend to tell me the truth, there's not much time +left."</p> + +<p>She bit her lips. Twice, during the remainder of the day, she faced +him and opened her mouth as if to speak, and then turned away again. +Calhoun shrugged. He had fairly definite ideas about her, by now. He +carefully kept them tentative, but no girl born and raised on Weald +would willingly go to Orede, with all of Weald believing that a +shipload of miners preferred death to remaining there. It tied in, +like everything else that was unpleasant, to blueskins. Nobody from +Weald would dream of landing on Orede! Not now!</p> + +<p>A little before the Med Ship was due to break out from overdrive, the +girl said very carefully, "You've been very kind. I'd like to thank +you. I—I didn't really believe I would live to get to Orede."</p> + +<p>Calhoun raised his eyebrows.</p> + +<p>"I wish I could tell you everything you want to know," she added +regretfully. "I think you're ... really decent. But some thing...."</p> + +<p>Calhoun said caustically, "You've told me a great deal. You weren't +born on Weald. You weren't raised there. The people of Dara—notice +that I don't say blueskins, though they are—the people of Dara have +made at least one space ship since Weald threatened them with +extermination. There is probably a new food shortage on Dara now, +leading to pure desperation. Most likely it's bad enough to make them +risk landing on Orede to kill cattle and freeze beef to help. They've +worked out—"<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_35" id="Page_35">[35]</a></span></p> + +<p>She gasped and sprang to her feet. She snatched out the tiny blaster +in her pocket. She pointed it waveringly at him.</p> + +<p>"I have to kill you!" she cried desperately. "I—I have to!"</p> + +<p>Calhoun reached out. She tugged despairingly at the blaster's trigger. +Nothing happened. Before she could realize that she hadn't turned off +the safety, Calhoun twisted the weapon from her fingers. He stepped +back.</p> + +<p>"Good girl!" he said approvingly. "I'll give this back to you when we +land. And thanks. Thanks very much!"</p> + +<p>She wrung her hands. Then she stared at him.</p> + +<p>"Thanks? When I tried to kill you?"</p> + +<p>"Of course!" said Calhoun. "I'd made guesses. I couldn't know that +they were right. When you tried to kill me, you confirmed every one. +Now, when we land on Orede I'm going to get you to try to put me in +touch with your friends. It's going to be tricky, because they must be +pretty well scared about that ship. But it's a highly desirable thing +to get done!"</p> + +<p>He went to the ships' control board and sat down before it.</p> + +<p>"Twenty minutes to breakhour," he observed.</p> + +<p>Murgatroyd peered out of his little cubbyhole. His eyes were anxious. +<i>Tormals</i> are amiable little creatures. During the days in overdrive, +Calhoun had paid less than the usual amount of attention to +Murgatroyd, while the girl was fascinating.</p> + +<p>They'd made friends, awkwardly on the girl's part, very pleasantly on +Murgatroyd's. But only moments ago there had been bitter emotion in +the air. Murgatroyd had fled to his cubbyhole to escape it. He was +distressed. Now that there was silence again, he peered out unhappily.</p> + +<p>"<i>Chee?</i>" he queried plaintively. "<i>Chee-chee-chee?</i>"</p> + +<p>Calhoun said matter-of-factly, "It's all right, Murgatroyd. If we +aren't blasted as we try to land, we should be able to<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_36" id="Page_36">[36]</a></span> make friends +with everybody and get something accomplished."</p> + +<p>The statement was hopelessly inaccurate.</p> + + + +<hr style="width: 65%;" /> +<h2>3</h2> + + +<p>There was no answer from the ground when breakout came and Calhoun +drove the Med Ship to a favourable position for a call. He patiently +repeated, over and over again, that the Med Ship <i>Aesclipus Twenty</i> +notified its arrival and requested coordinates for landing. He added +that its mass was fifty standard tons and that the purpose of its +visit was a planetary health inspection.</p> + +<p>But there was no reply. There should have been a crisp description of +the direction from the planet's center at which, a certain time so +many hours or minutes later, the force-fields of the grid would find +it convenient to lock onto and lower the Med Ship. But the +communicator remained silent.</p> + +<p>"There is a landing-grid," said Calhoun, frowning, "and if they're +using it to load fresh meat for Dara, from the herds I'm told about, +it should be manned. But they don't seem to intend to answer. Maybe +they think that if they pretend I'm not here I'll go away."</p> + +<p>He reflected, and his frown deepened.</p> + +<p>"If I didn't know what I know, I might. So if I land on emergency +rockets the blueskins down below may decide that I come from Weald. +And in that case it would be reasonable to blast me before I could +land and unload some fighting men. On the other hand, no ship from +Weald would conceiva<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_37" id="Page_37">[37]</a></span>bly land without impassioned assurance that it +was safe. It would drop bombs." He turned to the girl. "How many +Darians down below?"</p> + +<p>She shook her head.</p> + +<p>"You don't know," said Calhoun, "or won't tell, yet. But they ought to +be told about the arrival of that ship at Weald, and what Weald thinks +about it! My guess is that you came to tell them. It isn't likely that +Dara gets news directly from Weald. Where were you put ashore from +Dara, when you set out to be a spy?"</p> + +<p>Her lips parted to speak, but she compressed them tightly. She shook +her head again.</p> + +<p>"It must have been plenty far away," said Calhoun restlessly. "Your +people would have built a ship, and made fine forged papers for it, +and they'd travel so far from this part of space that when they landed +nobody would think of Dara. They'd use make-up to cover the blue +spots, but maybe it was so far away that blueskins had never been +heard of!"</p> + +<p>Her face looked pinched, but she did not reply.</p> + +<p>"Then they'd land half a dozen of you, with a supply of make-up for +the blue patches. And you'd separate, and take ships that went various +roundabout ways, and arrive on Weald one by one, to see what could be +done there to—" He stopped. "When did you find out positively that +there wasn't any plague any more?"</p> + +<p>She began to grow pale.</p> + +<p>"I'm not a mind reader," said Calhoun. "But it adds up. You're from +Dara. You've been on Weald. It's practically certain that there are +other ... agents, if you like that word better, on Weald. And there +hasn't been a plague on Weald so you people aren't carriers of it. But +you knew it in advance, I think. How'd you learn? Did a ship in some +sort of trouble land there, on Dara?"<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_38" id="Page_38">[38]</a></span></p> + +<p>"Y—yes," said the girl. "We wouldn't let it go again. But the people +didn't catch—they didn't die. They lived—"</p> + +<p>She stopped short.</p> + +<p>"It's not fair to trap me!" she cried passionately. "It's not fair!"</p> + +<p>"I'll stop," said Calhoun.</p> + +<p>He turned to the control board. The Med Ship was only planetary +diameters from Orede, now, and the electron telescope showed shining +stars in leisurely motion across its screen. Then a huge, gibbous +shining shape appeared, and there were irregular patches of that muddy +color which is seabottom, and varicolored areas which were plains and +forests. Also there were mountains. Calhoun steadied the image, and +squinted at it.</p> + +<p>"The mine," he observed, "was found by members of a hunting party, +killing wild cattle for sport."</p> + +<p>Even a small planet has many millions of square miles of surface, and +a single human installation on a whole world will not be easy to find +by random search. But there were clues to this one. Men hunting for +sport would not choose a tropic nor an arctic climate to hunt in. So +if they found a mineral deposit, it would have been in a temperate +zone.</p> + +<p>Cattle would not be found deep in a mountainous terrain. The mine +would not be on a prairie. The settlement on Orede, then, would be +near the edge of mountains, not far from a prairie such as wild cattle +would frequent, and it would be in a temperate climate.</p> + +<p>Forested areas could be ruled out. And there would be a landing-grid. +Handling only one ship at a time, it might be a very small grid. It +could be only hundreds of yards across and less than half a mile high. +But its shadow would be distinctive.</p> + +<p>Calhoun searched among low mountains near unforested<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_39" id="Page_39">[39]</a></span> prairie in a +temperate zone. He found a speck. He enlarged it manyfold. It was the +mine on Orede. There were heaps of tailings. There was something which +cast a long, lacy shadow: the landing-grid.</p> + +<p>"But they don't answer our call," observed Calhoun, "so we go down +unwelcomed."</p> + +<p>He inverted the Med Ship and the emergency rockets boomed. The ship +plunged planetward.</p> + +<p>A long time later it was deep in the planet's atmosphere. The noise of +its rockets had become thunderous, with air to carry and to reinforce +the sound.</p> + +<p>"Hold on to something, Murgatroyd," commanded Calhoun. "We may have to +dodge some ack."</p> + +<p>But nothing came up from below. The Med Ship again inverted itself, +and its rockets pointed toward the planet and poured out pencil-thin, +blue-white, high-velocity flames. It checked slightly, but continued +to descend. It was not directly above the grid.</p> + +<p>It swept downward until almost level with the peaks of the mountains +in which the mine lay. It tilted again, and swept onward over the +mountaintops, and then tilted once more and went racing up the valley +in which the landing-grid was plainly visible. Calhoun swung it on an +erratic course, lest there be opposition.</p> + +<p>But there was no sign. Then the rockets bellowed, and the ship slowed +its forward motion, hovered momentarily, and settled to solidity +outside the framework of the grid. The grid was small, as Calhoun +reasoned. But it reached interminably toward the sky.</p> + +<p>The rockets cut off. Slender as the flames had been, they'd melted and +bored thin drill-holes deep into the soil. Molten rock boiled and +bubbled down below. But there seemed no other sound. There was no +other motion. There was absolute<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_40" id="Page_40">[40]</a></span> stillness all around. But when +Calhoun switched on the outside microphones a faint, sweet melange of +high-pitched chirpings came from tiny creatures hidden under the +vegetation of the mountainsides.</p> + +<p>Calhoun put a blaster in his pocket and stood up.</p> + +<p>"We'll see what it looks like outside," he said with a certain +grimness. "I don't quite believe what the vision screens show."</p> + +<p>Minutes later he stepped down to the ground from the Med Ship's exit +port. The ship had landed perhaps a hundred feet from what once had +been a wooden building. In it, ore from the mines was concentrated and +the useless tailings carried away by a conveyer belt to make a +monstrous pile of broken stone. But there was no longer a building.</p> + +<p>Next to it there had been a structure containing an ore-crusher. The +massive machinery could still be seen, but the structure was in +fragments. Next to that, again, had been the shaft-head shelters of +the mine. They also were shattered practically to matchsticks.</p> + +<p>The look of the ground about the building sites was simply and purely +impossible. It was a mass of hoofprints. Cattle by thousands and tens +of thousands had trampled everything. Cattle had burst in the wooden +sides of the buildings. Cattle had piled themselves up against the +beams upholding roofs until the buildings collapsed.</p> + +<p>Then cattle had gone plunging over the wrecked buildings until there +was nothing left but indescribable chaos. Many, many cattle had died +in the crush. There were heaps of dead beasts about the metal girders +which were the foundation of the landing-grid. The air was tainted by +the smell of carrion.</p> + +<p>The settlement had been destroyed, positively by stampeded cattle in +tens or hundreds of thousands charging blindly through and over and +upon it. Senselessly, they'd trampled each other to horrible +shapelessness. The mine shaft<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_41" id="Page_41">[41]</a></span> was not choked, because enormously +strong timbers had fallen across and blocked it. But everything else +was pure destruction.</p> + +<p>Calhoun said evenly, "Clever! Very clever! You can't blame men when +beasts stampede. We should accept the evidence that some monstrous +herd, making its way through a mountain pass, somehow went crazy and +bolted for the plains. This settlement got in the way and it was too +bad for the settlement! Everything's explained, except the ship that +went to Weald.</p> + +<p>"A cattle stampede, yes. Anybody can believe that! But there was a man +stampede. Men stampeded into the ship as blindly as the cattle +trampled down this little town. The ship stampeded off into space as +insanely as the cattle. But a stampede of men and cattle, in the same +place? That's a little too much!"</p> + +<p>"But what—"</p> + +<p>"How," asked Calhoun directly, "do you intend to get in touch with +your friends here?"</p> + +<p>"I—I don't know," she said, distressed. "But if the ship stays here, +they're bound to come and see why. Won't they? Or will they?"</p> + +<p>"If they're sane, they won't," said Calhoun. "The one undesirable +thing, here, would be human footprints on top of cattle tracks. If +your friends are a meat-getting party from Dara, as I believe, they +should cover up their tracks, get off-planet as fast as possible, and +pray that no signs of their former presence are ever discovered. That +would be their best first move, certainly!"</p> + +<p>"What should I do?" she asked helplessly.</p> + +<p>"I'm far from sure. At a guess, and for the moment, probably nothing. +I'll work something out. I've got the devil of a<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_42" id="Page_42">[42]</a></span> job before me, +though. I can't spend but so much time here."</p> + +<p>"You can leave me here...."</p> + +<p>He grunted and turned away. It was naturally unthinkable that he +should leave another human being on a supposedly uninhabited planet, +with the knowledge that it might actually be uninhabited, and the +future knowledge that any visitors would have the strongest of +possible reasons to hide themselves away.</p> + +<p>He believed that there were Darians here, and the girl in the Med +ship, so he also believed, was also a Darian. But any who might be +hiding had so much to lose if they were discovered that they might be +hundreds or even thousands of miles from anywhere a space ship would +normally land—if they hadn't fled after the incident of the +spaceship's departure with its load of doomed passengers.</p> + +<p>Considered detachedly, the odds were that there was again a food +shortage on Dara; that blueskins, in desperation, had raided or were +raiding or would raid the cattle herds of Orede for food to carry back +to their home planet; that somehow the miners on Orede had found that +they had blueskin neighbors, and died of the consequences of their +terror. It was a risky guess to make on such evidence as Calhoun +considered he had, but no other guess was possible.</p> + +<p>If his guess were right, he was under some obligation to do exactly +what he believed the girl considered her mission—to warn all +blueskins that Weald would presently try to find them on Orede, when +all hell must break loose upon Dara for punishment. But if there were +men here, he couldn't leave a written warning for them in default of +friendly contact.</p> + +<p>They might not find it, and a search party of Wealdians might. All he +could possibly do was try to make contact and give warning by such +means as would leave no evidence be<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_43" id="Page_43">[43]</a></span>hind that he'd done so. Weald +would consider a warning sure proof of blueskin guilt.</p> + +<p>It was not satisfactory to be limited to broadcasts which might or +might not be picked up, and were unlikely to be acknowledged. But he +settled down with the communicator to make the attempt.</p> + +<p>He called first on a GC wave length and form. It was unlikely that +blueskins would use general communication bands to keep in touch with +each other, but it had to be tried. He broadcast, tuned as broadly as +possible, and went up and down the GC spectrum, repeating his warning +painstakingly and listening without hope for a reply.</p> + +<p>He did find one spot on the dial where there was re-radiation of his +message, as if from a tuned receiver. But he could not get a fix on +it: nobody might be listening. He exhausted the normal communication +pattern. Then he broadcast on old-fashioned amplitude modulation which +a modern communicator would not pick up at all, and which therefore +might be used by men in hiding.</p> + +<p>He worked for a long time. Then he shrugged and gave it up. He'd +repeated to absolute tedium the facts that any Darians—blueskins—on +Orede ought to know. There'd been no answer. And it was all too likely +that if he'd been received, that those who heard him took his message +for a trick to discover if there were any hearers.</p> + +<p>He clicked off at last and stood up, shaking his head. Suddenly the +Med Ship seemed empty. Then he saw Murgatroyd staring vexedly at the +exit port. The inner door of that small airlock was closed. The +telltale light said the outer door was not locked. Someone had gone +out quietly. The girl. Of course.</p> + +<p>Calhoun said angrily, "How long ago, Murgatroyd?"</p> + +<p>"<i>Chee!</i>" said Murgatroyd indignantly.<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_44" id="Page_44">[44]</a></span></p> + +<p>It wasn't an answer, but it showed that Murgatroyd was vexed that he'd +been left behind. He and the girl were close friends, now. If she'd +left Murgatroyd in the ship when he wanted to go with her, then she +wasn't coming back.</p> + +<p>Calhoun swore. He made certain she was not in the ship. He flipped the +outside-speaker switch and said curtly into the microphone, "Coffee! +Murgatroyd and I are having coffee. Will you come back, please?"</p> + +<p>He repeated the call, and repeated it again. Multiplied as his voice +was by the speakers, she should hear him within a mile. She did not +appear. He went to a small and inconspicuous closet and armed himself. +A Med Ship man was not ever expected to fight, but there were +blast-rifles available for extreme emergency.</p> + +<p>When he'd slung a power-pack over his shoulder and reached the +airlock, there was still no sign of his late stowaway. He stood in the +airlock door for long minutes, staring angrily about. Almost certainly +she wouldn't be looking in the mountains for men of Dara come here for +cattle. He used a pair of binoculars, first at low-magnification to +search as wide an area down-valley as possible, and then at highest +power to search the most likely routes.</p> + +<p>He found a small, bobbing speck beyond a faraway hill crest. It was +her head. It went down below the hilltop.</p> + +<p>He snapped a command to Murgatroyd, and when the <i>tormal</i> was on the +ground outside, he locked the port with that combination that nobody +but a Med Ship man was at all likely to discover or use.</p> + +<p>"She's an idiot!" he told Murgatroyd sourly. "Come along! We've got to +be idiots too!"</p> + +<p>He set out in pursuit.</p> + +<p>There was blue sky overhead, as was inevitable on any +oxygen-atmosphere planet of a Sol-type yellow sun. There<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_45" id="Page_45">[45]</a></span> were +mountains, as is universal in planets whose surface rises and falls +and folds and bends from the effects of weather or vulcanism. There +were plants, as has come about wherever microorganisms have broken +down rock to a state where it can nourish vegetation. And naturally +there were animals.</p> + +<p>There were even trees of severely practical design, and underbrush and +ground-cover equivalent to grass. There was, in short, a perfectly +predictable ecological system on Orede. The organic molecules involved +in life here would be made up of the same elements in the same +combinations as elsewhere where the same conditions of temperature and +moisture and sunshine obtained.</p> + +<p>It was a distinctly Earthlike world, as it could not help but be, and +it was reasonable for cattle to thrive and increase here. Only men's +minds kept it from being a place where humans would thrive, too.</p> + +<p>But only Calhoun would have considered the splintered settlement a +proof of that last.</p> + +<p>The girl had a long start. Twice Calhoun came to places where she +could have chosen either of two ways onward. Each time he had to +determine which she'd followed. That cost time. Then the mountains +abruptly ended and a vast undulating plain stretched away to the +horizon. There were at least two large masses and many smaller clumps +of what could only be animals gathered together. Cattle.</p> + +<p>But here the girl was plainly in view. Calhoun increased his stride. +He began to gain on her. She did not look behind.</p> + +<p>Murgatroyd said "<i>Chee!</i>" in a complaining tone.</p> + +<p>"I should have left you behind," agreed Calhoun dourly, "but there was +and is a chance I won't get back. You'll have to keep on hiking."</p> + +<p>He plodded on. His memory of the terrain around the mining settlement +told him that there was no definite destina<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_46" id="Page_46">[46]</a></span>tion in the girl's mind. +But she was in no such despair as to want deliberately to be lost. +She'd guessed, Calhoun believed, that if there were Darians on the +planet, they'd keep the landing-grid under observation.</p> + +<p>If they saw her leave that area and could see that she was alone, they +should intercept her to find out the meaning of the Med Ship's +landing. Then she could identify herself as one of them and give them +the terribly necessary warning of Weald's suspicions.</p> + +<p>"But," said Calhoun sourly, "if she's right, they'll have seen me +marching after her now, which spoils her scheme. And I'd like to help +it, but the way she's going is too dangerous!"</p> + +<p>He went down into one of the hollows of the uneven plain. He saw a +clump of a dozen or so cattle a little distance away. The bull looked +up and snorted. The cows regarded him truculently. Their air was not +one of bovine tranquility.</p> + +<p>He was up the farther hillside and out of sight before the bull worked +himself up to a charge. Then Calhoun suddenly remembered one of the +items in the data about cattle he'd looked into just the other day. He +felt himself grow pale.</p> + +<p>"Murgatroyd!" he said sharply. "We've got to catch up! Fast! Stay with +me if you can, but—" he was jog-trotting as he spoke—"even if you +get lost I have to hurry!"</p> + +<p>He ran fifty paces and walked fifty paces. He ran fifty and walked +fifty. He saw her, atop a rolling of the ground. She came to a full +stop. He ran. He saw her turn to retrace her steps. He flung off the +safety of the blast-rifle and let off a roaring blast at the ground +for her to hear.</p> + +<p>Suddenly she was fleeing desperately, toward him. He plunged on. She +vanished down into a hollow. Horns appeared over the hillcrest she'd +just left. Cattle appeared. Four, a dozen fifteen, twenty! They moved +ominously in her wake.</p> + +<p>He saw her again, running frantically over another upward<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_47" id="Page_47">[47]</a></span> swell of +the prairie. He let off another blast to guide her. He ran on at top +speed with Murgatroyd trailing anxiously behind. From time to time +Murgatroyd called "<i>Chee-chee-chee!</i>" in frightened pleading not to be +abandoned.</p> + +<p>More cattle appeared against the horizon. Fifty or a hundred. They +came after the first clump. The first group of a bull and his harem +were moving faster, now. The girl fled from them, but it is the +instinct of beef-cattle on the open range—Calhoun had learned it only +two days before—to charge any human they find on foot. A mounted man +to their dim minds is a creature to be tolerated or fled from, but a +human on foot is to be crushed and stamped and gored.</p> + +<p>Those in the lead were definitely charging now, with heads bent low. +The bull charged furiously with shut eyes, as bulls do, but the cows, +many times more deadly, charged with their eyes wide open and wickedly +alert, and with a lumbering speed much greater than the girl could +manage.</p> + +<p>She came up over the last rise, chalky-white and gasping, her hair +flying, in the last extremity of terror. The nearest of the pursuing +cattle were within ten yards when Calhoun fired from twenty yards +beyond. One creature bellowed as the blast-bolt struck.</p> + +<p>It went down and others crashed into it and swept over it, and more +came on. The girl saw Calhoun now, and ran toward him, panting. He +knelt very deliberately and began to check the charge by shooting the +leading animals.</p> + +<p>He did not succeed. There were more cattle following the first, and +more and more behind them. It appeared that all the cattle on the +plain joined in the blind and senseless charge. The thudding of hoofs +became a mutter and then a rumble and then a growl.</p> + +<p>Plunging, clumsy figures rushed past on either side. But horns and +heads heaved up over the mound of animals Cal<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_48" id="Page_48">[48]</a></span>houn had shot. He shot +them too. More and more cattle came pounding past the rampart of his +victims, but always, it seemed, some elected to climb the heap of +their dead and dying fellows, and Calhoun shot and shot....</p> + +<p>But he split the herd. The foremost animals had been charging a +sighted human enemy. Others had followed because it is the instinct of +cattle to join their running fellows in whatever crazed urgency they +feel. There was a dense, pounding, wailing, grunting, puffing, raising +thick and impenetrable clouds of dust which hid everything but +galloping beasts going past on either side.</p> + +<p>It lasted for minutes. Then the thunder of hoofs diminished. It ended +abruptly, and Calhoun and the girl were left alone with the gruesome +pile of animals which had divided the charging herd into two parts. +They could see the rears of innumerable running animals, stupidly +continuing the charge, hardly different, now, from a stampede, whose +original objective none now remembered.</p> + +<p>Calhoun thoughtfully touched the barrel of his blast-rifle and winced +at its scorching heat.</p> + +<p>"I just realized," he said coldly, "that I don't know your name. What +is it?"</p> + +<p>"Maril," said the girl. She swallowed. "Th—thank you."</p> + +<p>"Maril," said Calhoun, "you are an idiot! It was half-witted at best +to go off by yourself! You could have been lost! You could have cost +me days of hunting for you, days badly needed for more important +matters!"</p> + +<p>He stopped and took breath. "You may have spoiled what little chance +I've got to do something about the plans Weald's already making! You +have just acted with the most concentrated folly, and the most +magnificent imbecility that you or anybody else could manage!"</p> + +<p>He said more bitterly still, "And I had to leave Murgatroyd<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_49" id="Page_49">[49]</a></span> behind to +get to you in time! He was right in the path of that charge!"</p> + +<p>He turned away from her and said dourly, "All right! Come on back to +the ship. We'll go to Dara. We'd have to, anyhow. But Murgatroyd—"</p> + +<p>Then he heard a very small sneeze. Out of a rolling wall of +still-roiling dust, Murgatroyd appeared forlornly. He was +dust-covered, and draggled, and his tail dropped, and he sneezed +again. He moved as if he could barely put one paw before another, but +at sight of Calhoun he sneezed yet again and said "<i>Chee!</i>" in a +disconsolate voice. Then he sat down and waited for Calhoun to come +and pick him up.</p> + +<p>When Calhoun did so, Murgatroyd clung to him pathetically and said +"<i>Chee-chee!</i>" and again "<i>Chee-chee!</i>" with the intonation of one +telling of incredible horrors and disasters endured. And as a matter +of fact the escape of a small animal like Murgatroyd was remarkable. +He'd escaped the trampling hoofs of at least hundreds of charging +animals. Luck must have played a great part in it, but an hysterical +agility in dodging must have been required, too.</p> + +<p>Calhoun headed back for the valley where the settlement had been, and +the Med Ship was. Murgatroyd clung to his neck. The girl Maril +followed discouragedly. She was at that age when girls—and men of +corresponding type—can grow most passionately devoted to ideals or +causes in default of a promising personal romance. When concerned with +such causes they become splendidly confident that whatever they decide +to do is sensible if only it is dramatic. But Maril was shaken, now.</p> + +<p>Calhoun did not speak to her again. He led the way. A mile back toward +the mountains, they began to see stragglers from the now-vanished +herd. A little farther, those stragglers began to notice them. It +would have been a matter of no<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_50" id="Page_50">[50]</a></span> moment if they'd been domesticated +dairy cattle, but these were range cattle gone wild. Twice, Calhoun +had to use his blast-rifle to discourage incipient charges by +irritated bulls or even more irritated cows. Those with calves darkly +suspected Calhoun of designs upon their offspring.</p> + +<p>It was a relief to enter the valley again. But it was two miles more +to the landing-grid with the Med Ship beside it and the reek of +carrion in the air.</p> + +<p>They were perhaps two hundred feet from the ship when a blast-rifle +crashed and its bolt whined past Calhoun so close that he felt the +monstrous heat. There had been no challenge. There was no warning. +There was simply a shot which came horribly close to ending Calhoun's +career in a completely arbitrary fashion.</p> + + + +<hr style="width: 65%;" /> +<h2>4</h2> + + +<p>Five minutes later Calhoun had located one would-be killer behind a +mass of splintered planking that once had been a wall. He set the wood +afire by a blaster-bolt and then viciously sent other bolts all around +the man it had sheltered when he fled from the flames. He could have +killed him ten times over, but it was more desirable to open +communication. So he missed intentionally.</p> + +<p>Maril had cried out that she came from Dara and had word for them, but +they did not answer. There were three men with heavy-duty +blast-rifles. One was the one Calhoun had burned out of his hiding +place. That man's rifle exploded when the flames hit it. Two remained.</p> + +<p>One, so Calhoun presently discovered—was working his<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_51" id="Page_51">[51]</a></span> way behind +underbrush to a shelf from which he could shoot down at Calhoun. +Calhoun had dropped into a hollow and pulled Maril to cover at the +first shot. The second man happily planned to get to a point where he +could shoot him like a fish in a barrel.</p> + +<p>The third man had fired half a dozen times and then disappeared. +Calhoun estimated that he intended to get around to the rear, hoping +there was no protection from that direction for Calhoun. It would take +some time for him to manage it.</p> + +<p>So Calhoun industriously concentrated his fire on the man trying to +get above him. He was behind a boulder, not too dissimilar to +Calhoun's breastwork. Calhoun set fire to the brush at the point at +which the other man aimed. That, then, made his effort useless.</p> + +<p>Then Calhoun sent a dozen bolts at the other man's rocky shield. It +heated up. Steam rose in a whitish mass and blew directly away from +Calhoun. He saw that antagonist flee. He saw him so clearly that he +was positive that there was a patch of blue pigment on the right-hand +side of the back of his neck.</p> + +<p>He grunted and swung to find the third. That man moved through thick +undergrowth, and Calhoun set it on fire in a neat pattern of spreading +flames. Evidently, these men had had no training in battle tactics +with blast-rifles. The third man also had to get away. He did. But +something from him arched through the smoke. It fell to the ground +directly upwind from Calhoun. White smoke puffed up violently.</p> + +<p>It was instinct that made Calhoun react as he did. He jerked the girl +Maril to her feet and rushed her toward the Med Ship. Smoke from the +flung bomb upwind barely swirled around him and missed Maril +altogether. Calhoun, though, got a whiff of something strange, not +scorched or burning<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_52" id="Page_52">[52]</a></span> vegetation at all. He ceased to breathe and +plunged onward. In clear air he emptied his lungs and refilled them. +They were then halfway to the ship, with Murgatroyd prancing on ahead.</p> + +<p>But then Calhoun's heart began to pound furiously. His muscles +twitched and tensed. He felt extraordinary symptoms like an extreme of +agitation. He swore, but a Med Ship man would not react to such +symptoms as a non-medically-trained man would have done. Calhoun was +familiar enough with tear gas, used by police on some planets.</p> + +<p>But this was different and worse. Even as he helped and urged Maril +onward, he automatically considered his sensations, and had it—panic +gas. Police did not use it because panic is worse than rioting. +Calhoun felt all the physical symptoms of fear and of gibbering +terror.</p> + +<p>A man whose mind yields to terror experiences certain physical +sensations: wildly beating heart, tensed and twitching muscles, and a +frantic impulse to convulsive action. A man in whom those physical +sensations are induced by other means will, ordinarily, find his mind +yielding to terror.</p> + +<p>Calhoun couldn't combat his feelings, but his clinical attitude +enabled him to act despite them. The three from Weald reached the base +of the Med Ship. One of their enemies had lost his rifle and need not +be counted. Another had fled from flames and might be ignored for some +moments, anyhow. But a blast-bolt struck the ship's metal hull only +feet from Calhoun, and he whipped around to the other side and let +loose a staccato rat-tat-tat of fire which emptied the rifle of all +its charges.</p> + +<p>Then he opened the airlock door, hating the fact that he shook and +trembled. He urged the girl and Murgatroyd in. He slammed the outer +airlock door just as another blast-bolt hit.<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_53" id="Page_53">[53]</a></span></p> + +<p>"They—they don't realize," said Maril desperately. "If they only +knew...."</p> + +<p>"Talk to them, if you like," said Calhoun. His teeth chattered and he +raged, because the symptom was of terror he denied.</p> + +<p>He pushed a button on the control board. He pointed to a microphone. +He got at an oxygen bottle and inhaled deeply. Oxygen, obviously, +should be an antidote for panic, since the symptoms of terror act to +increase the oxygenation of the bloodstream and muscles, and to make +superhuman exertion possible if necessary.</p> + +<p>Breathing ninety-five percent oxygen produced the effect the +terror-inspiring gas strove for, so his heart slowed nearly to normal +and his body relaxed. He held out his hand and it did not tremble. +He'd been affronted to see it shake uncontrollably when he pushed the +microphone button for Maril.</p> + +<p>He turned to her. She hadn't spoken into the mike.</p> + +<p>"They may not be from Dara!" she said shakily. "I just thought! They +could be somebody else, maybe criminals who planned to raid the mine +for a shipload of its ore."</p> + +<p>"Nonsense," said Calhoun. "I saw one of them clearly enough to be +sure. But they're skeptical characters. I'm afraid there may be more +on the way here from wherever they keep themselves. Anyhow, now we +know some of them are in hearing! I'll take advantage of that and +we'll go on."</p> + +<p>He took the microphone. An instant later his voice boomed in the +stillness outside the ship, cutting through the thin shrill whirring +of invisible small creatures.</p> + +<p>"This is the Med Ship <i>Aesclipus Twenty</i>," said Calhoun's voice, +amplified to a shout. "I left Weald four days ago, one day after the +cargo ship from here arrived with everybody on board dead. On Weald +they don't know how it happened, but they suspect blueskins. Sooner or +later they'll search here.<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_54" id="Page_54">[54]</a></span></p> + +<p>"Get away! Cover up your tracks! Hide all signs that you've ever been +here! Get the hell away, fast! One more warning! There's talk of +fusion-bombing Dara. They're scared! If they find your traces, they'll +be still more scared! So cover up your tracks and get away from here!"</p> + +<p>The many-times-multiplied voice rolled and echoed among the hills. But +it was very clear. Where it could be heard it could be understood, and +it could be heard for miles.</p> + +<p>But there was no response to it. Calhoun waited a reasonable time. +Then he shrugged and seated himself at the control board.</p> + +<p>"It isn't easy," he observed, "to persuade desperate men that they've +outsmarted themselves! Hold hard, Murgatroyd!"</p> + +<p>The rockets bellowed. Then there was a tremendous noise to end all +noises, and the ship began to climb. It sped up and up and up. By the +time it was out of atmosphere it had velocity enough to coast to clear +space and Calhoun cut the rockets altogether.</p> + +<p>He busied himself with those astrogational chores which began with +orienting oneself to galactic directions after leaving a planet which +rotates at its own individual speed. Then one computes the overdrive +course to another planet, from the respecting coordinates of the world +one is leaving and the one one aims for.</p> + +<p>Then, in this case at any rate, there was the very finicky task of +picking out a fourth-magnitude star of whose planets one was his +destination. He aimed for it with ultra-fine precision.</p> + +<p>"Overdrive coming," he said presently. "Hold on!"</p> + +<p>Space reeled. There was nausea and giddiness and a horrible sensation +of falling in a wildly unlikely spiral. Then stillness, and solidity, +and the blackness outside the Med Ship. The little craft was in +overdrive again.<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_55" id="Page_55">[55]</a></span></p> + +<p>After a long while, the girl Maril said uneasily, "I don't know what +you plan now—"</p> + +<p>"I'm going to Dara," said Calhoun. "On Orede I tried to get the +blueskins there to get going, fast. Maybe I succeeded. I don't know. +But this thing's been mishandled! Even if there's a famine people +shouldn't do things out of desperation! Being desperate jogs the brain +off-center. One doesn't think straight!"</p> + +<p>"I know now that I was ... very foolish."</p> + +<p>"Forget it," commanded Calhoun. "I wasn't talking about you. Here I +run into a situation that the Med Service should have caught and +cleaned up generations ago! But it's not only a Med Service +obligation; it's a current mess! Before I could begin to get at the +basic problem, those idiots on Orede—It'd happened before I reached +Weald! An emotional explosion triggered by a ship full of dead men +that nobody intended to kill."</p> + +<p>Maril shook her head.</p> + +<p>"Those Darian characters," said Calhoun, annoyed, "shouldn't have gone +to Orede in the first place. If they went there, they should at least +have stayed on a continent where there were no people from Weald +digging a mine and hunting cattle for sport on their off days! They +could be spotted! I believe they were.</p> + +<p>"And again, if it had been a long way from the mine installation, they +could probably have wiped out the people who sighted them before they +could get back with the news! But it looks like miners saw men +hunting, and got close enough to see they were blueskins, and then got +back to the mine with the news!"</p> + +<p>She waited for him to explain.</p> + +<p>"I know I'm guessing, but it fits!" he said distastefully. "So +something had to be done. Either the mining settlement had to be wiped +out or the story that blueskins were on Orede<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_56" id="Page_56">[56]</a></span> had to be discredited. +The blueskins tried for both. They used panic gas on a herd of cattle +and it made them crazy and they charged the settlement like the +four-footed lunatics they are!</p> + +<p>"And the blueskins used panic gas on the settlement itself as the +cattle went through. It should have settled the whole business nicely. +After it was over every man in the settlement would believe he'd been +out of his head for a while, and he'd have the crazy state of the +settlement to think about.</p> + +<p>"He wouldn't be sure of what he'd seen or heard before-hand. They +might try to verify the blueskin story later, but they wouldn't +believe anything with certainty. It should have worked!"</p> + +<p>Again she waited.</p> + +<p>"Unfortunately, when the miners panicked, they stampeded into the +ship. Also unfortunately, panic gas got into the ship with them. So +they stayed panicked while the astrogator—in panic!—took off. They +headed for Weald and threw on the overdrive—which would be set for +Weald anyhow—because that would be the fastest way to run away from +whatever he imagined he feared. But he and all the men on the ship +were still crazy with panic from the gas they kept breathing until +they died!"</p> + +<p>Silence. After a long interval, Maril asked, "You don't think the +Darians intended to kill?"</p> + +<p>"I think they were stupid!" said Calhoun angrily. "Somebody's always +urging the police to use panic gas in case of public tumult. But it's +too dangerous. Nobody knows what one man will do in a panic. Take a +hundred or two or three and panic them all, and there's no limit to +their craziness! The whole thing was handled wrong!"</p> + +<p>"But you don't blame them?"<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_57" id="Page_57">[57]</a></span></p> + +<p>"For being stupid, yes," said Calhoun fretfully. "But if I'd been in +their place, perhaps—"</p> + +<p>"Where were you born?" asked Maril suddenly.</p> + +<p>Calhoun jerked his head around. "No! Not where you're guessing, or +hoping. Not on Dara. Just because I act as if Darians were human +doesn't mean I have to be one! I'm a Med Service man, and I'm acting +as I think I should." His tone became exasperated.</p> + +<p>"Dammit, I'm supposed to deal with health situations, actual, and +possible causes of human deaths! And if Weald thinks it finds proof +that blueskins are in space again and caused the death of Wealdians, +it won't be healthy! They're halfway set anyhow to drop fusion-bombs +on Dara to wipe it out!"</p> + +<p>Maril said fiercely, "They might as well drop bombs. It'll be quicker +than starvation, at least!"</p> + +<p>Calhoun looked at her, more exasperated than before.</p> + +<p>"It is a crop failure again?" he demanded. When she nodded he said +bitterly, "Famine conditions already?" When she nodded again he said +drearily, "And of course famine is the great-grandfather of health +problems! And that's right in my lap with all the rest!"</p> + +<p>He stood up. Then he sat down again.</p> + +<p>"I'm tired!" he said flatly. "I'd like to get some sleep. Would you +mind taking a book or something and going into the other cabin? +Murgatroyd and I would like a little relaxation from reality. With +luck, if I go to sleep, I may only have a nightmare. It'll be a +terrific improvement on what I'm in now!"</p> + +<p>Alone in the control compartment, he tried to relax, but it was not +possible. He flung himself into a comfortable chair and brooded. There +is brooding and brooding. It can be a form of wallowing in self-pity, +engaged in for emotional satis<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_58" id="Page_58">[58]</a></span>faction. But it can be, also, a way of +bringing out unfavorable factors in a situation. A man in optimistic +mood can ignore them. But no awkward situation is likely to be +remedied while any of its elements are neglected.</p> + +<p>Calhoun dourly considered the situation of the people of the planet +Dara, which it was his job as a Med Service man to remedy or at least +improve. Those people were marked by patches of blue pigment as an +inherited consequence of a plague of three generations past. Because +of the marking, which it was easy to believe a sign of continuing +infection, they were hated and dreaded by their neighbors. Dara was a +planet of pariahs—excluded from the human race by those who feared +them.</p> + +<p>And now there was famine on Dara for the second time, and they were of +no mind to starve quietly. There was food on the planet Orede, +monstrous herds of cattle without owners. It was natural enough for +Darians to build a ship or ships and try to bring food back to its +starving people. But that desperately necessary enterprise had now +roused Weald to a frenzy of apprehension.</p> + +<p>Weald was, if possible, more hysterically afraid of blueskins than +ever before, and even more implacably the enemy of the starving +planet's population. Weald itself prospered. Ironically, it had such +an excess of foodstuffs that it stored them in unneeded spaceships in +orbits about itself.</p> + +<p>Hundreds of thousands of tons of grain circled Weald in sealed-tight +hulks, while the people of Dara starved and only dared try to +steal—if it could be called stealing—some of the innumerable wild +cattle of Orede.</p> + +<p>The blueskins on Orede could not trust Calhoun, so they pretended not +to hear. Or maybe that didn't hear. They'd been abandoned and betrayed +by all of humanity off their world. They'd been threatened and +oppressed by guardships<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_59" id="Page_59">[59]</a></span> in orbit about them, ready to shoot down any +spacecraft they might send aloft....</p> + +<p>So Calhoun brooded, while Murgatroyd presently yawned and climbed to +his cubbyhole and curled up to sleep with his furry tail carefully +adjusted over his nose.</p> + +<p>A long time later Calhoun heard small sounds which were not normal on +a Med Ship in overdrive. They were not part of the random noises +carefully generated to keep the silence of the ship endurable. Calhoun +raised his head. He listened sharply. No sound could come from +outside.</p> + +<p>He knocked on the door of the sleeping cabin. The noises stopped +instantly.</p> + +<p>"Come out," he commanded through the door.</p> + +<p>"I'm—I'm all right," said Maril's voice. But it was not quite steady. +She paused. "Did I make a noise? I was having a bad dream."</p> + +<p>"I wish," said Calhoun, "that you'd tell me the truth just +occasionally! Come out, please!"</p> + +<p>There were stirrings. After a little it opened and Maril appeared. She +looked as if she'd been crying. She said, quickly, "I probably look +queer, but it's because I was asleep."</p> + +<p>"To the contrary," said Calhoun, fuming. "You've been lying awake +crying. I don't know why. I've been out here wishing I could, because +I'm frustrated. But since you aren't asleep maybe you can help me with +my job. I've figured some things out. For some others I need facts. +Will you give them to me?"</p> + +<p>She swallowed. "I'll try."</p> + +<p>"Coffee?" he asked.</p> + +<p>Murgatroyd popped his head out of his miniature sleeping cabin.</p> + +<p>"<i>Chee?</i>" he asked interestedly.</p> + +<p>"Go back to sleep!" snapped Calhoun.<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_60" id="Page_60">[60]</a></span></p> + +<p>He began to pace back and forth.</p> + +<p>"I need to know something about the pigment patches," he said jerkily. +"Maybe it sounds crazy to think of such things now—first things +first, you know. But this is a first thing! So long as Darians don't +look like the people of other worlds, they'll be believed to be +different. If they look repulsive, they'll be believed to be evil.</p> + +<p>"Tell me about those patches. They're different sizes and different +shapes and they appear in different places. You've none on your face +or hands, anyhow."</p> + +<p>"I haven't any at all," said the girl reservedly.</p> + +<p>"I thought—"</p> + +<p>"Not everybody," she said defensively. "Nearly, yes. But not all. Some +people don't have them. Some people are born with bluish splotches on +their skin, but they fade out while they're children. When they grow +up they're just like the people of Weald or any other world. And their +children never have them."</p> + +<p>Calhoun stared.</p> + +<p>"You couldn't possibly be proved to be a Darian, then?"</p> + +<p>She shook her head. Calhoun remembered, and started the coffee.</p> + +<p>"When you left Dara," he said, "you were carried a long, long way, to +some planet where they'd practically never heard of Dara, and where +the name meant nothing. You could have settled there, or anywhere else +and forgotten about Dara. But you didn't. Why not, since you're not a +blueskin?"</p> + +<p>"But I am!" she said fiercely. "My parents, my brothers and sisters, +and Korvan—"</p> + +<p>Then she bit her lip. Calhoun took note but did not comment on the +name she'd mentioned.</p> + +<p>"Then your parents had the splotches fade, so you never had them," he +said absorbedly. "Something like that happened<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_61" id="Page_61">[61]</a></span> on Tralee, once! +There's a virus, a whole group of virus particles! Normally we humans +are immune to them. One has to be in terrifically bad physical +condition for them to take hold and produce whatever effects they do. +But once they're established they're passed on from mother to child. +And when they die out it's during childhood, too!"</p> + +<p>He poured coffee for the two of them. Murgatroyd swung down to the +floor and said, impatiently, "<i>Chee! Chee! Chee!</i>"</p> + +<p>Calhoun absently filled Murgatroyd's tiny cup and handed it to him.</p> + +<p>"But this is marvellous!" he said exuberantly. "The blue patches +appeared after the plague, didn't they? After people recovered—when +they recovered?"</p> + +<p>Maril stared at him. His mind was filled with strictly professional +considerations. He was not talking to her as a person. She was purely +a source of information.</p> + +<p>"So I'm told," said Maril reservedly. "Are there any more humiliating +questions you want to ask?"</p> + +<p>He gaped at her. Then he said ruefully, "I'm stupid, Maril, but you're +touchy. There's nothing personal—"</p> + +<p>"There is to me!" she said fiercely. "I was born among blueskins, and +they're of my blood, and they're hated and I'd have been killed on +Weald if I'd been known as ... what I am! And there's Korvan, who +arranged for me to be sent away as a spy and advised me to do just +what you said: abandon my home world and everybody I care about! +Including him! It's personal to me!"</p> + +<p>Calhoun wrinkled his forehead helplessly.</p> + +<p>"I'm sorry," he repeated. "Drink your coffee!"</p> + +<p>"I don't want it," she said bitterly. "I'd like to die!"</p> + +<p>"If you stay around where I am," Calhoun told her, "you may get your +wish. All right, there'll be no more questions."<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_62" id="Page_62">[62]</a></span></p> + +<p>She turned and moved toward the door to the cabin. Calhoun looked +after her.</p> + +<p>"Maril."</p> + +<p>"What?"</p> + +<p>"Why were you crying?"</p> + +<p>"You wouldn't understand," she said evenly.</p> + +<p>Calhoun shrugged his shoulders almost up to his ears. He was a +professional man. In his profession he was not incompetent. But there +is no profession in which a really competent man tries to understand +women. Calhoun, annoyed, had to let fate or chance or disaster take +care of Maril's personal problems. He had larger matters to cope with.</p> + +<p>But he had something to work on, now. He hunted busily in the +reference tapes. He came up with an explicit collection of information +on exactly the subject he needed. He left the control room to go down +into the storage areas of the Med Ship's hull. He found an ultra +frigid storage box, whose contents were kept at the temperature of +liquid air.</p> + +<p>He donned thick gloves, used a special set of tongs, and extracted a +tiny block of plastic in which a sealed-tight phial of glass was +embedded. It frosted instantly he took it out, and when the storage +box was closed again the block was covered with a thick and opaque +coating of frozen moisture.</p> + +<p>He went back to the control room and pulled down the panel which made +available a small-scale but surprisingly adequate biological +laboratory. He set the plastic block in a container which would raise +it very, very gradually to a specific temperature and hold it there. +It was, obviously, a living culture from which any imaginable quantity +of the same culture could be bred. Calhoun set the apparatus with +great exactitude.</p> + +<p>"This," he told Murgatroyd, "may be a good day's work. Now I think I +can rest."<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_63" id="Page_63">[63]</a></span></p> + +<p>Then, for a long while, there was no sound or movement in the Med +Ship. The girl may have slept, or maybe not. Calhoun lay relaxed in a +chair which at the touch of a button became the most comfortable of +sleeping places. Murgatroyd remained in his cubbyhole, his tail curled +over his nose.</p> + +<p>There were comforting, unheard, easily dismissable murmurings now and +again. They kept the feeling of life alive in the ship. But for such +infinitesimal stirrings of sound, carefully recorded for this exact +purpose, the feel of the ship would have been that of a tomb.</p> + +<p>But it was quite otherwise when another ship-day began with the taped +sounds of morning activities as faint as echoes but nevertheless +establishing an atmosphere of their own.</p> + +<p>Calhoun examined the plastic block and its contents. He read the +instruments which had cared for it while he slept. He put the +block—no longer frosted—in the culture microscope and saw its +enclosed, infinitesimal particles of life in the process of +multiplying on the food that had been frozen with them when they were +reduced to the spore condition. He beamed. He replaced the block in +the incubation oven and faced the day cheerfully.</p> + +<p>Maril greeted him with great reserve. They breakfasted, with +Murgatroyd eating from his own platter on the floor, a tiny cup of +coffee alongside.</p> + +<p>"I've been thinking," said Maril evenly. "I think I can get you a +hearing for whatever ideas you may have to help Dara."</p> + +<p>"Kind of you," murmured Calhoun.</p> + +<p>In theory, a Med Service man had all the authority needed for this or +any other emergency. The power to declare a planet in quarantine, so +cutting it off from all interstellar commerce, should be enough to +force cooperation from any world's government. But in practice Calhoun +had exactly as much power as he could exercise.<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_64" id="Page_64">[64]</a></span></p> + +<p>And Weald could not think straight where blueskins were concerned, and +certainly the authorities on Dara could not be expected to be +levelheaded. They had a history of isolation and outlawry, and long +experience of being regarded as less than human. In cold fact, Calhoun +had no power at all.</p> + +<p>"May I ask whose influence you'll exert?" asked Calhoun.</p> + +<p>"There's a man," said Maril reservedly, "who thinks a great deal of +me. I don't know his present official position, but he was certain to +become prominent. I'll tell him how you've acted up to now, and your +attitude, and of course that you're Med Service. He'll be glad to help +you, I'm sure."</p> + +<p>"Splendid!" said Calhoun, nodding. "That will be Korvan."</p> + +<p>She started. "How did you know?"</p> + +<p>"Intuition," said Calhoun dryly. "All right. I'll count on him."</p> + +<p>But he did not. He worked in the tiny biological lab all that ship-day +and all the next. The girl was very quiet. Murgatroyd tried to enter +into pretended conversation with her, but she was not able to match +his pretense.</p> + +<p>On the ship-day after, the time for breakout approached. While the +ship was practically a world all by itself, it was easy to look +forward with confidence to the future. But when contact and, in a +fashion, conflict with other and larger worlds loomed nearer, +prospects seemed less bright. Calhoun had definite plans, now, but +there were so many ways in which they could be frustrated.</p> + +<p>Calhoun sat down at the control board and watched the clock.</p> + +<p>"I've got things lined up," he told Maril, "if only they work out. If +I can make somebody on Dara listen, which is unlikely, and follow my +advice, which they probably won't; and if Weald doesn't get the ideas +it probably will get; and<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_65" id="Page_65">[65]</a></span> isn't doing what I suspect it is—why, +maybe something can be done."</p> + +<p>"I'm sure you'll do your best," said Maril politely.</p> + +<p>Calhoun managed to grin. He watched the clock. There was no sensation +attached to overdrive travel except at the beginning and the end. It +was now time for the end. He might find most anything having happened. +His plans might immediately be seen to be hopeless. Weald could have +sent ships to Dara, or Dara might be in such a state of +desperation....</p> + +<p>As it turned out, Dara was desperate. The Med Ship came out nearly a +light-month from the sun about which the planet Dara revolved. Calhoun +went into a short hop toward it. Then Dara was on the other side of +the blazing yellow star. It took time to reach it.</p> + +<p>He called down, identifying himself and the ship and asking for +coordinates so his ship could be brought to ground. There was +confusion, as if the request were so unusual that the answers were not +ready. The grid, too, was on the planet's night side. Presently the +ship was locked onto by the grid's force-fields. It went downward.</p> + +<p>Calhoun saw that Maril sat tensely, twisting her fingers within each +other, until the ship actually touched ground.</p> + +<p>Then he opened the exit port—and faced armed men in the darkness, +with blast-rifles trained on him. There was a portable cannon trained +on the Med Ship itself.</p> + +<p>"Come out!" rasped a voice. "If you try anything you get blasted! Your +ship and its contents are seized by the planetary government!"</p> + + + +<hr style="width: 65%;" /> +<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_66" id="Page_66">[66]</a></span></p> +<h2>5</h2> + + +<p>It seemed that the smell of hunger was in the air. The armed men were +emaciated. Lights came on, and stark, harsh shadows lay black upon the +ground. Calhoun's captors were uniformed, but the uniforms hung +loosely upon them. Where the lights struck upon their faces, their +cheeks were hollow. They were cadaverous. And there were the splotches +of pigment of which Calhoun had heard.</p> + +<p>The man nearest the Med Ship's port had a monstrous, irregular +dull-blue marking over half of one side of his face and up upon his +forehead. The man next to him had a blue throat. The next man again +was less marked, but his left ear was blue and there was what seemed a +splashing of the same color on the skin under his hair.</p> + +<p>The leader of the truculent group—it might have been a firing +squad—made an imperious gesture with his hand. It was blue, except +for two fingers which in the glaring illumination seemed whiter than +white.</p> + +<p>"Out!" said that man savagely. "We're taking over your stock of food. +You'll get your share of it, like everybody else, but—"</p> + +<p>Maril spoke over Calhoun's shoulder. She uttered a cryptic sentence or +two. It should have amounted to identification but there was +skepticism in the armed party.</p> + +<p>"Oh, you're one of us, eh?" said the guard leader sardonically. +"You'll have a chance to prove that. Come out of there!"</p> + +<p>Calhoun spoke abruptly, "This is a Med Ship," he said. "There are +medicines and bacterial culture inside it. They shouldn't be meddled +with. Here on Dara you've had enough of plagues!"<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_67" id="Page_67">[67]</a></span></p> + +<p>The man with the blue hand said as sardonically as before, "I said the +government was taking over your ship! It won't be looted. But you're +not taking a full cargo of food away! In fact, it's not likely you're +leaving!"</p> + +<p>"And I want to speak to someone in authority," snapped Calhoun. "We've +just come from Weald." He felt bristling hatred all about him as he +named Weald. "There's tumult there. They're talking about dropping +fusion-bombs here. It's important that I talk to somebody with the +authority to take a few sensible precautions!"</p> + +<p>He descended to the ground. There was a panicky "<i>Chee! Chee!</i>" from +behind him, and Murgatroyd came dashing to swarm up his body and cling +apprehensively to his neck.</p> + +<p>"What's that?"</p> + +<p>"A <i>tormal</i>" said Calhoun. "He's not a pet. Your medical men will know +something about him. This is a Med Ship and I'm a Med Ship man, and +he's an important member of the crew. He's a Med Ship <i>tormal</i> and he +stays with me!"</p> + +<p>The man with the blue hand said harshly, "There's somebody waiting to +ask you questions. Here!"</p> + +<p>A groundcar came rolling out from the side of the landing-grid +enclosure. The groundcar ran on wheels, and wheels were not much used +on modern worlds. Dara was behind the times in more ways than one.</p> + +<p>"This car will take you to Defense and you can tell them anything you +want. But don't try to sneak back in this ship! It'll be guarded!"</p> + +<p>The groundcar was enclosed, with room for a driver and the three from +the Med Ship. But armed men festooned themselves about its exterior +and it went bumping and rolling to the massive ground-layer girders of +the grid. It rolled out under them and onto a paved highway. It picked +up speed.</p> + +<p>There were buildings on either side of the road, but few<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_68" id="Page_68">[68]</a></span> showed +lights. This was night, and the men at the landing-grid had set a +pattern of hunger, so that the silence and the dark buildings did not +seem a sign of tranquility and sleep, but of exhaustion and despair.</p> + +<p>The highway lamps were few, by comparison with other inhabited worlds, +and the groundcar needed lights of its own to guide its driver over a +paved surface that needed repair. By those moving lights other +depressing things could be seen: untidiness, buildings not kept up to +perfection, evidences of apathy, the road, which hadn't been cleaned +lately, litter here and there.</p> + +<p>Even the fact that there were no stars added to the feeling of +wretchedness and gloom and, ultimately, of hunger.</p> + +<p>Maril spoke nervously to the driver.</p> + +<p>"The famine isn't any better?"</p> + +<p>He moved his head in negation, but did not speak. There was a splotch +of blue pigment at the back of his neck. It extended upward into his +hair.</p> + +<p>"I left two years ago," said Maril. "It was just beginning then. +Rationing hadn't started."</p> + +<p>The driver said evenly, "There's rationing now!"</p> + +<p>The car went on and on. A vast open space appeared ahead. Lights about +its perimeter seemed few and pale.</p> + +<p>"Everything seems worse. Even the lights."</p> + +<p>"Using all the power," said the driver, "to warm up ground to grow +crops where it ought to be winter. Not doing too well, either."</p> + +<p>Calhoun knew, somehow, that Maril moistened her lips.</p> + +<p>"I was sent," she explained to the driver, "to go ashore on Trent and +then make my way to Weald. I mailed reports of what I found out back +to Trent. Somebody got them back to here whenever it was possible."</p> + +<p>The driver said, "Everybody knows the man on Trent dis<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_69" id="Page_69">[69]</a></span>appeared. Maybe +he got caught, maybe somebody saw him without make-up. Or maybe he +just quit being one of us. What's the difference? No use!"</p> + +<p>Calhoun found himself wincing a little. The driver was not angry. He +was hopeless. But men should not despair. They shouldn't accept +hostility from those about them as a device of fate for their +destruction.</p> + +<p>Maril said quickly to Calhoun, "You understand? Dara's a heavy-metals +planet. There aren't many light elements in our soil. Potassium is +scarce. So our ground isn't very fertile. Before the Plague we traded +metals and manufactured products for imports of food and potash. But +since the Plague we've had no off-planet commerce. We've been +quarantined."</p> + +<p>"I gathered as much," said Calhoun. "It was up to Med Service to see +that that didn't happen. It's up to Med Service now to see that it +stops."</p> + +<p>"Too late now for anything," said the driver. "Whatever Med Service +may be! They're talking about cutting down our population so there'll +be food enough for some to live. There are two questions about it. One +is who's to be kept alive, and the other is why."</p> + +<p>The groundcar aimed now for a cluster of faintly brighter lights on +the far side of the great open space. They enlarged as they grew +nearer. Maril said hesitantly, "There was someone, Korvan—" Calhoun +didn't catch the rest of the name. Maril said hesitantly, "He was +working on food plants. I thought he might accomplish something...."</p> + +<p>The driver said caustically, "Sure! Everybody's heard about him! He +came up with a wonderful thing! He and his outfit worked out a way to +process weeds so they can be eaten. And they can. You can fill your +belly and not feel hungry, but it's like eating hay. You starve just +the same. He's still working. Head of a government division."<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_70" id="Page_70">[70]</a></span></p> + +<p>The groundcar passed through a gate. It stopped before a lighted door. +The armed men hanging to its outside dropped off. They watched Calhoun +closely as he stepped out with Murgatroyd riding on his shoulder.</p> + +<p>Minutes later they faced a hastily summoned group of officials of the +Darian government. For a ship to land on Dara was so remarkable an +event that it called practically for a cabinet meeting. And Calhoun +noted that they were no better fed than the guards at the spaceport.</p> + +<p>They regarded Calhoun and Maril with oddly burning, eyes. It was, of +course, because the two of them showed no signs of hunger. They +obviously had not been on short rations. Darians had this, now, to +increase a hatred which was inevitable anyhow, directed at all peoples +off their own planet.</p> + +<p>"My name is Calhoun," said Calhoun briskly. "I've the usual Med +Service credentials. Now—"</p> + +<p>He did not wait to be questioned. He told them of the appalling state +of things in the Twelfth Sector of the Med Service, so that men had +been borrowed from other sectors to remedy the intolerable, and he was +one of them. He told of his arrival at Weald and what had happened +there, from the excessively cautious insistence that he prove he was +not a Darian, to the arrival of the death-ship from Orede.</p> + +<p>He was giving them the news affecting them, as they had not heard it +before. He went on to tell of his stop at Orede and his purpose, and +his encounter with the men he found there. When he finished there was +silence. He broke it.</p> + +<p>"Now," he said, "Maril's an agent of yours. She can add to what I've +told you. I'm Med Service. I have a job to do here to carry out what +wasn't done before. I should make a planetary health inspection and +make recommendations for the improvement of the state of things. I'll +be glad if you'll arrange for<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_71" id="Page_71">[71]</a></span> me to talk to your health officials. +Things look bad, and something should be done."</p> + +<p>Someone laughed without mirth.</p> + +<p>"What will you recommend for long-continued undernourishment?" he +asked derisively. "That's our health problem!"</p> + +<p>"I recommend food," said Calhoun.</p> + +<p>"Where'll you fill the prescription?"</p> + +<p>"I've the answer to that, too," said Calhoun curtly. "I'll want to +talk to any space pilots you've got. Get your astrogators together and +I think they'll approve my idea."</p> + +<p>The silence was totally skeptical.</p> + +<p>"Orede—"</p> + +<p>"Not Orede," said Calhoun. "Weald will be hunting that planet over for +Darians. If they find any, they'll drop bombs here."</p> + +<p>"Our only space pilots," said a tall man, presently, "are on Orede +now. If you've told the truth, they'll probably head back because of +your warning. They should bring meat."</p> + +<p>His mouth worked peculiarly, and Calhoun knew that it was at the +thought of food.</p> + +<p>"Which," said another man sharply, "goes to the hospitals! I haven't +tasted meat in two years!"</p> + +<p>"Nobody has," growled another man still. "But here's this man Calhoun. +I'm not convinced he can work magic, but we can find out if he lies. +Put a guard on his ship. Otherwise let our health men give him his +head. They'll find out if he's from this Medical Service he tells of! +and this Maril...."</p> + +<p>"I can be identified," said Maril. "I was sent to gather information +and send it in secret writing to one of us on Trent. I have a family +here. They'll know me! And I—there was someone who was working on +foods, and I believe he made it possible to use ... all sorts of +vegetation for food. He will identify me."<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_72" id="Page_72">[72]</a></span></p> + +<p>Someone laughed harshly.</p> + +<p>Maril swallowed.</p> + +<p>"I'd like to see him," she repeated. "And my family."</p> + +<p>Some of the blue-splotched men turned away. A broad-shouldered man +said bluntly, "Don't look for them to be glad to see you. And you'd +better not show yourself in public. You've been well fed. You'll be +hated for that."</p> + +<p>Maril began to cry. Murgatroyd said bewilderedly, "<i>Chee! Chee!</i>"</p> + +<p>Calhoun held him close. There was confusion. And Calhoun found the +Minister of Health at hand. He looked most harried of all the +officials gathered to question Calhoun. He proposed that he get a look +at the hospital situation right away.</p> + +<p>It wasn't practical. With all the population on half rations or less, +when night came people needed to sleep. Most people, indeed, slept as +many hours out of the traditional twenty-four as they could manage. It +was much more pleasant to sleep than to be awake and constantly nagged +at by continued hunger.</p> + +<p>And there was the matter of simple decency. Continuous gnawing hunger +had an embittering effect upon everyone. Quarrelsomeness was a common +experience. And people who would normally be the leaders of opinion +felt shame because they were obsessed by thoughts of food. It was best +when people slept.</p> + +<p>Still, Calhoun was in the hospitals by daybreak. What he found moved +him to savage anger. There were too many sick children. In every case +undernourishment contributed to their sickness. And there was not +enough food to make them well. Doctors and nurses denied themselves +food to spare it for their patients. And most of that self-denial was +doubtless<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_73" id="Page_73">[73]</a></span> voluntary, but it would not be discreet for anybody on Dara +to look conspicuously better fed than his fellows.</p> + +<p>Calhoun brought out hormones and enzymes and medicaments from the Med +Ship while the guard in the ship looked on. He demonstrated the +processes of synthesis and auto-catalysis that enabled such small +samples to be multiplied indefinitely. He was annoyed by a clamorous +appetite. There were some doctors who ignored the irony of medical +techniques being taught to cure nonnutritional disease, when everybody +was half-fed, or less. They approved of Calhoun. They even approved of +Murgatroyd when Calhoun explained his function.</p> + +<p>He was, of course, a Med Service <i>tormal</i>, and <i>tormals</i> were +creatures of talent. They'd originally been found on a planet in the +Deneb area, and they were engaging and friendly small animals. But the +remarkable fact about them was that they couldn't contract any +disease. Not any.</p> + +<p>They had a built-in, explosive reaction to bacterial and viral toxins, +and there hadn't yet been any pathogenic organism discovered to which +a <i>tormal</i> could not more or less immediately develop antibody +resistance. So that in interstellar medicine <i>tormals</i> were priceless.</p> + +<p>Let Murgatroyd be infected with however localized, however specialized +an inimical organism, and presently some highly valuable defensive +substance could be isolated from his blood and he'd remain in his +usual exuberant good health.</p> + +<p>When the antibody was analyzed by those techniques of microanalysis +the Service had developed, that was that. The antibody could be +synthesized and one could attack any epidemic with confidence.</p> + +<p>The tragedy for Dara was, of course, that no Med Ship had come to Dara +three generations ago, when the Dara plague raged. Worse, after the +plague Weald was able to exert pres<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_74" id="Page_74">[74]</a></span>sure which only a criminally +incompetent Med Service director would have permitted. But criminal +incompetence and its consequences was what Calhoun had been loaned to +Sector Twelve to help remedy. He was not at ease, though. No ship +arrived from Orede to bear out his account of an attempt to get that +lonely world evacuated before Weald discovered it had blueskins on it. +Maril had vanished, to visit or return to her family, or perhaps to +consult with the mysterious Korvan who'd arranged for her to leave +Dara to be a spy, and had advised her simply to make a new life +somewhere else, abandoning a famine-ridden, despised, and out-caste +world.</p> + +<p>Calhoun had learned of two achievements the same Korvan had made for +his world. Neither was remarkably constructive. He'd offered to prove +the value of the second by dying of it. Which might make him a very +admirable character, or he could have a passion for martyrdom, which +is much more common than most people think. In two days Calhoun was +irritable enough from unaccustomed hunger to suspect the worst of him.</p> + +<p>Meanwhile Calhoun worked doggedly; in the hospitals while the patients +were awake and in the Med Ship, under guard, afterward. He had hunger +cramps now, but he tested a plastic cube with a thriving biological +culture in it.</p> + +<p>He worked at increasing his store of it. He'd snipped samples of +pigmented skin from dead patients in the hospitals, and examined the +pigmented areas, and very, very painstakingly verified a theory. It +took an electron microscope to do it, but he found a virus in the blue +patches which matched the type discovered on Tralee.</p> + +<p>The Tralee viruses had effects which were passed on from mother to +child, and heredity had been charged with the observed results of +quasi-living viral particles. And then Calhoun<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_75" id="Page_75">[75]</a></span> very, very carefully +introduced into a virus culture the material he had been growing in a +plastic cube. He watched what happened.</p> + +<p>He was satisfied, so much so that immediately afterward he yawned and +yawned and barely managed to stagger off to bed. The watching guard in +the Med Ship watched him in amazement.</p> + +<p>That night the ship from Orede came in, packed with frozen bloody +carcasses of cattle. Calhoun knew nothing of it. But next morning +Maril came back. There were shadows under her eyes and her expression +was of someone who has lost everything that had meaning in her life.</p> + +<p>"I'm all right," she insisted, when Calhoun commented. "I've been +visiting my family. I've seen Korvan. I'm quite all right."</p> + +<p>"You haven't eaten any better than I have," Calhoun observed.</p> + +<p>"I couldn't!" admitted Maril. "My sisters, my little sisters so +thin.... There's rationing for everybody and it's all efficiently +arranged. They even had rations for me. But I couldn't eat! I gave +most of my food to my sisters and they—they squabbled over it!"</p> + +<p>Calhoun said nothing. There was nothing to say. Then she said, in a no +less desolate tone, "Korvan said I was foolish to come back."</p> + +<p>"He could be right," said Calhoun.</p> + +<p>"But I had to!" protested Maril. "And now I—I've been eating all I +wanted to, in Weald and in the ship, and I'm ashamed because they're +half-starved and I'm not. And when you see what hunger does to +them.... It's terrible to be half-starved and not able to think of +anything but food!"</p> + +<p>"I hope," said Calhoun, "to do something about that. If I can get hold +of an astrogator or two—"<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_76" id="Page_76">[76]</a></span></p> + +<p>"The ship that was on Orede came in during the night," Maril told him +shakily. "It was loaded with frozen meat, but one load's not enough to +make a difference on a whole planet! And if Weald hunts for us on +Orede, we daren't go back for more meat."</p> + +<p>She said abruptly, "There are some prisoners. They were miners. They +were crowded out of the ship. The Darians who'd stampeded the cattle +took them prisoners. They had to!"</p> + +<p>"True," said Calhoun. "It wouldn't have been wise to leave Wealdians +around on Orede with their throats cut. Or living, either, to tell +about a rumor of blueskins. Even if their throats will be cut now. Is +that the program?"</p> + +<p>Maril shivered.</p> + +<p>"No. They'll be put on short rations like everybody else. And people +will watch them. The Wealdians expect to die of plague any minute +because they've been with Darians. So people look at them and laugh. +But it's not very funny."</p> + +<p>"It's natural," said Calhoun, "but perhaps lacking in charity. Look +there! How about those astrogators? I need them for a job I have in +mind."</p> + +<p>Maril wrung her hands.</p> + +<p>"C—come here," she said in a low tone.</p> + +<p>There was an armed guard in the control room of the ship. He'd watched +Calhoun a good part of the previous day as Calhoun performed his +mysterious work. He'd been off-duty and now was on duty again. He was +bored. So long as Calhoun did not touch the control board, though, he +was uninterested. He didn't even turn his head when Maril led the way +into the other cabin and slid the door shut.</p> + +<p>"The astrogators are coming," she said swiftly. "They'll bring some +boxes with them. They'll ask you to instruct them so they can handle +our ship better. They lost themselves<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_77" id="Page_77">[77]</a></span> coming back from Orede. No, +they didn't lose themselves, but they lost time, enough time almost to +make an extra trip for meat. They need to be experts. I'm to come +along, so they can be sure that what you teach them is what you've +been doing right along."</p> + +<p>Calhoun said, "Well?"</p> + +<p>"They're crazy!" said Maril vehemently. "They knew Weald would do +something monstrous sooner or later. But they're going to try to stop +it by being more monstrous sooner! Not everybody agrees, but there are +enough. So they want to use your ship—it's faster in overdrive and so +on. And they'll go to Weald in this ship and—they say they'll give +Weald something to keep it busy without bothering us!"</p> + +<p>Calhoun said dryly, "This pays me off for being too sympathetic with +blueskins! But if I'd been hungry for a couple of years, and was +despised to boot by the people who kept me hungry, I suppose I might +react the same way. No," he said curtly as she opened her lips to +speak again, "don't tell me the trick. Considering everything, there's +only one trick it could be. But I doubt profoundly that it would work. +All right."</p> + +<p>He slid the door back and returned to the control room. Maril followed +him. He said detachedly, "I've been working on a problem outside of +the food one. It isn't the time to talk about it right now, but I +think I've solved it."</p> + +<p>Maril turned her head, listening. There were footsteps on the tarmac +outside the ship. Both doors of the airlock were open. Four men came +in. They were young men who did not look quite as hungry as most +Darians, but there was a reason for that. Their leader introduced +himself and the others. They were the astrogators of the ship Dara had +built to try to bring food from Orede. They were not, said their +self-appointed leader, good enough. They'd overshot their +destina<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_78" id="Page_78">[78]</a></span>tion. They came out of overdrive too far off line. They needed +instruction.</p> + +<p>Calhoun nodded, and observed that he'd been asking for them. They +were, of course, blueskins. On one the only visible disfigurement was +a patch of blue upon his wrist. On another the appearance of a blue +birthmark appeared beside his eye and went back and up his temple. A +third had a white patch on his temple, with all the rest of his face a +dull blue. The fourth had blue fingers on one hand.</p> + +<p>"We've got orders," said their leader, steadily, "to come on board and +learn from you how to handle this ship. It's better than the one we've +got."</p> + +<p>"I asked for you," repeated Calhoun. "I've an idea I'll explain as we +go along.... Those boxes?"</p> + +<p>Someone was passing in iron boxes through the airlock. One of the four +very carefully brought them inside.</p> + +<p>"They're rations," said a second young man. "We don't go anywhere +without rations, except Orede."</p> + +<p>"Orede, yes. I think we were shooting at each other there," said +Calhoun pleasantly. "Weren't we?"</p> + +<p>"Yes," said the young man.</p> + +<p>He was neither cordial nor antagonistic. He was impassive. Calhoun +shrugged.</p> + +<p>"Then we can take off immediately. Here's the communicator and there's +the button. You might call the grid and arrange for us to be lifted."</p> + +<p>The young man seated himself at the control board. Very +professionally, he went through the routine of preparing to lift by +landing-grid, which routine has not changed in two hundred years. He +went briskly ahead until the order to lift. Then Calhoun stopped him.</p> + +<p>"Hold it!"</p> + +<p>He pointed to the airlock. Both doors were open. The young<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_79" id="Page_79">[79]</a></span> man at the +control board flushed vividly. One of the others closed and dogged the +doors.</p> + +<p>The ship lifted. Calhoun watched with seeming negligence. But he found +occasion for a dozen corrections of procedure. This was presumably a +training voyage of his own suggestion. Therefore, when the blueskin +pilot would have flung the Med Ship into undirected overdrive, Calhoun +grew stern. He insisted on a destination. He suggested Weald.</p> + +<p>The young men glanced at each other and accepted the suggestion. He +made the acting pilot look up the intrinsic brightness of its sun and +measure its apparent brightness from just off Dara. He made him +estimate the change in brightness to be expected after so many hours +in overdrive, if one broke out to measure.</p> + +<p>The first blueskin student pilot ended a Calhoun-determined tour of +duty with more respect for Calhoun then he'd had at the beginning. The +second was anxious to show up better than the first. Calhoun drilled +him in the use of brightness-charts, by which the changes in apparent +brightness of stars between overdrive hops could be correlated with +angular changes to give a three-dimensional picture of the nearer +heavens.</p> + +<p>It was a highly necessary art which had not been worked out on Dara, +and the prospective astrogators became absorbed in this and other fine +points of space-piloting. They'd done enough, in a few trips to Orede, +to realize that they needed to know more. Calhoun showed them.</p> + +<p>Calhoun did not try to make things easy for them. He was hungry and +easily annoyed. It was sound training tactics to be severe, and to +phrase all suggestions as commands. He put the four young men in +command of the ship in turn, under his direction. He continued to use +Weald as a destination, but he set up problems in which the Med Ship +came out of over<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_80" id="Page_80">[80]</a></span>drive pointing in an unknown direction and with a +precessory motion.</p> + +<p>He made the third of his students identify Weald in the celestial +globe containing hundreds of millions of stars, and get on course in +overdrive toward it. The fourth was suddenly required to compute the +distance to Weald from such data as he could get from observation, +without reference to any records.</p> + +<p>By this time the first man was chafing to take a second turn. Calhoun +gave each of them a second gruelling lesson. He gave them, in fact, a +highly condensed but very sound course in the art of travel in space. +His young students took command in four-hour watches, with at least +one breakout from overdrive in each watch.</p> + +<p>He built up enthusiasm in them. They ignored the discomfort of being +hungry—though there had been no reason for them to stint on food on +Orede—in growing pride in what they came to know.</p> + +<p>When Weald was a first-magnitude star, the four were not highly +qualified astrogators, to be sure, but they were vastly better +spacemen than at the beginning. Inevitably, their attitude toward +Calhoun was respectful. He'd been irritable and right. To the young, +the combination is impressive.</p> + +<p>Maril had served as passenger only. In theory she was to compare +Calhoun's lessons with his practise when alone. But he did nothing on +this journey which, teaching considered, was different from the two +interstellar journeys Maril had made with him.</p> + +<p>She occupied the sleeping cabin during two of the six watches of each +ship-day. She operated the food-readier, which was almost completely +emptied of its original store of food, it having been confiscated by +the government of Dara.<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_81" id="Page_81">[81]</a></span> That amount of food would make no difference +to the planet, but it was wise for everyone on Dara to be equally +ill-fed.</p> + +<p>On the sixth day out from Dara, the sun of Weald had a magnitude of +minus five-tenths. The electron telescope could detect its larger +planets, especially a gas-giant fifth-orbit world of high albedo. +Calhoun had his four students estimate its distance again, pointing +out the difference that could be made in breakout position if the Med +Ship were mis-aimed by as much as one second of arc.</p> + +<p>"And now," he said briskly, "we'll have coffee. I'm going to graduate +you as pilots. Maril, four cups of coffee, please."</p> + +<p>Murgatroyd said "<i>Chee?</i>" The Med Ship was badly crowded with six +humans and Murgatroyd in a space intended for Calhoun and Murgatroyd +alone. The little <i>tormal</i> had spent most of his time in his +cubbyhole, watching with beady eyes as so many people moved about on +what had been a spacious ship before.</p> + +<p>"No coffee for you, Murgatroyd," said Calhoun. "You didn't do your +lessons. This is for the graduating class only."</p> + +<p>Murgatroyd came out of his miniature den. He found his little cup and +offered it insistently, saying, "<i>Chee! Chee! Chee!</i>"</p> + +<p>"No!" said Calhoun firmly. He regarded his class of four young men +with their blueskin markings. "Drink it down!" he commanded. "That's +the last order I'll give you. You're graduate pilots, now!"</p> + +<p>They drank the coffee with a flourish. There was not one who did not +admire Calhoun for having made them admire themselves. They were, +actually, almost as much better pilots as they believed.</p> + +<p>"And now," said Calhoun, "I suppose you'll tell me the truth about +those boxes you brought on board. You said they<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_82" id="Page_82">[82]</a></span> were rations, but +they haven't been opened in six days. I have an idea what they mean, +but you tell me."</p> + +<p>The four looked uncomfortable. There was a long pause.</p> + +<p>"They could be," said Calhoun detachedly, "cultures to be dumped on +Weald. Weald is making plans to wipe out Dara. So some fool has +decided to get Weald too busy fighting a plague of its own to bother +with you. Is that right?"</p> + +<p>The young men stirred unhappily. Young men can very easily be made +into fanatics. But they have to be kept stirred up. They can't be +provided with sound reason for self-respect. On the Med Ship there'd +not been a single reference to Weald except as an object toward which +the Med Ship was being astrogated. There'd been no reference to +blueskins or enemies or threats or anything but space-piloting. The +four young men were now fanatical about the proper handling of a ship +in emptiness.</p> + +<p>"Well, sir," said one of them, unhappily, "that's what we were ordered +to do."</p> + +<p>"I object," said Calhoun. "It wouldn't work. I just left Weald a +little while back, remember. They've been telling themselves that some +day Dara would try that. They've made preparations to fight any +imaginable contagion you could drop on them. Every so often somebody +claims it's happening. It wouldn't work. I object!"</p> + +<p>"But—"</p> + +<p>"In fact," said Calhoun, "I forbid it. I shall prevent it. You shan't +do anything of the kind."</p> + +<p>One of the young men, staring at Calhoun, nodded suddenly. His eyes +closed. He jerked his head erect and looked bewildered. A second sank +heavily into a chair. He said remotely, "Thish sfunny!" and abruptly +went to sleep. The third found his knees giving way. He paid elaborate +attention to them, stiffening them. But they yielded like rubber<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_83" id="Page_83">[83]</a></span> and +he went slowly down to the floor. The fourth said thickly and +reproachfully, "Thought y'were our frien'!"</p> + +<p>He collapsed.</p> + +<p>Calhoun very soberly tied them hand and foot and laid them out +comfortably on the floor. Maril watched, white-faced, her hand to her +throat. Murgatroyd looked agitated. He said anxiously, "<i>Chee? Chee?</i>"</p> + +<p>"No," said Calhoun. "They'll wake up presently."</p> + +<p>Maril said in a tense and desperate whisper, "You're betraying us! +You're going to take us to Weald!"</p> + +<p>"No," said Calhoun. "We'll only orbit around it. First, though, I want +to get rid of those damned packed-up cultures. They're dead, by the +way. I killed them with super-sonics a couple of days ago, while a +fine argument was going on about distance-measurements by variable +Cepheids of known period."</p> + +<p>He put the four boxes carefully in the disposal unit. He operated it. +The boxes and their contents streamed out to space in the form of +metallic and other vapors. Calhoun sat at the control desk.</p> + +<p>"I'm a Med Service man," he said detachedly. "I couldn't cooperate in +the spread of plagues, anyhow, though a useful epidemic might be +another matter. But the important thing right now is not keeping Weald +busy with troubles to increase their hatred of Dara. It's getting some +food for Dara. And driblets won't help. What's needed is thousands of +tons, or tens of thousands." Then he said, "Overdrive coming, +Murgatroyd! Hold fast!"</p> + +<p>The universe vanished. The customary unpleasant sensations accompanied +the change. Murgatroyd burped.</p> + + + +<hr style="width: 65%;" /> +<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_84" id="Page_84">[84]</a></span></p> +<h2>6</h2> + + +<p>A large part of the firmament was blotted out by the blindingly bright +half-disk of Weald, as it shone in the sunshine. It had icecaps at its +poles, and there were seas, and the mottled look of land which had +that carefully maintained balance of woodland and cultivated areas +which was so effective in climate control. The Med Ship floated free, +and Calhoun fretfully monitored all the beacon frequencies known to +man.</p> + +<p>There was relative silence inside the ship. Maril watched Calhoun in a +sort of despairing indecision. The four young blueskins still slept, +still bound hand and foot upon the control room floor. Murgatroyd +regarded them, and Maril, and Calhoun in turn, and his small and furry +forehead wrinkled helplessly.</p> + +<p>"They can't have landed what I'm looking for!" protested Calhoun as +his search had no result. "They can't! It would be too sensible for +them to have done it!"</p> + +<p>Murgatroyd said "<i>Chee!</i>" in a subdued voice.</p> + +<p>"But where the devil did they put them?" demanded Calhoun. "A polar +orbit would be ridiculous! They—" Then he grunted in disgust. "Oh! Of +course! Now, where's the landing-grid?"</p> + +<p>He worked busily for minutes, checking the position of the Wealdian +landing-grid, which was mapped in the Sector Directory, against the +look of continents and seas on the half-disk so plainly visible +outside. He found what he wanted. He put on the ship's solar system +drive.</p> + +<p>"I wish," he complained to Maril, "I wish I could think straight the +first time! And it's so obvious! If you want to put something out in +space, and not have it interfere with traffic,<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_85" id="Page_85">[85]</a></span> in what sort of orbit +and at what distance will you put it?"</p> + +<p>Maril did not answer.</p> + +<p>"Obviously," said Calhoun, "you'll put it as far as possible from the +landing-pattern of ships coming in to the spaceport. You'll put it on +the opposite side of the planet. And you'll want it to stay out of the +way, where anybody can know it is at any time of the day or night +without having to calculate anything.</p> + +<p>"So you'll put it out in orbit so it will revolve around Weald in +exactly one day, neither more nor less, and you'll put it above the +equator. And then it will remain quite stationary above one spot on +the planet, a hundred and eighty degrees longitude away from the +landing-grid and directly over the equator."</p> + +<p>He scribbled for a moment.</p> + +<p>"Which means forty-two thousand miles high, give or take a few +hundred, and—here! And I was hunting for it in a close-in orbit!"</p> + +<p>He grumbled to himself. He waited while the solar-system drive pushed +the Med Ship a quarter of the way around the bright planet below. The +sunset line vanished and the planet's disk became a complete circle. +Then Calhoun listened to the monitor earphones again, and grunted once +more, and changed course, and presently made a noise indicating +satisfaction.</p> + +<p>He abandoned instrument control and peered directly out of a port, +handling the solar system drive with great care. Murgatroyd said +depressedly, "<i>Chee!</i>"</p> + +<p>"Stop worrying," commanded Calhoun. "We haven't been challenged, and +there is a beacon transmitter at work, just to make sure that nobody +bumps into what we're looking for. It's a great help, because we do +want to bump, but gently."</p> + +<p>Stars swung across the port out of which he looked. Something dark +appeared, and then straight lines and exact curv<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_86" id="Page_86">[86]</a></span>ings. Even Maril, +despairing and bewildered as she was, caught sight of something vastly +larger than the Med Ship, floating in space. She stared. The Med Ship +maneuvered very cautiously. She saw another large object. A third. A +fourth. There seemed to be dozens of them.</p> + +<p>They were spaceships, huge by comparison with <i>Aesclipus Twenty</i>. They +floated as the Med Ship did. They did not drive. They were not in +formation. They were not at even distances from each other. They did +not point in the same direction. They swung in emptiness like +derelicts.</p> + +<p>Calhoun jockeyed his small ship with infinite care. Presently there +came the gentlest of impacts and then a clanking sound. The appearance +out the vision port became stationary, but still unbelievable. The Med +Ship was grappled magnetically to a vast surface of welded metal.</p> + +<p>Calhoun relaxed. He opened a wall panel and brought out a vacuum suit. +He began briskly to get it on.</p> + +<p>"Things moving smoothly," he commented. "We weren't challenged. So +it's extremely unlikely that we were spotted. Our friends on the floor +ought to begin to come to shortly. And I'm going to find out now +whether I'm a hero or in sure-enough trouble!"</p> + +<p>Maril said drearily, "I don't know what you've done, except—"</p> + +<p>Calhoun blinked at her, in the act of hauling the vacuum suit up his +chest and over his shoulders.</p> + +<p>"Isn't it self-evident?" he demanded. "I've been giving astrogation +lessons to these characters. I certainly didn't do it to help them +dump germ-cultures on Weald! I brought them here! Don't you see the +point? These are space ships. They're in orbit around Weald. They're +not manned and they're not controlled. In fact, they're nothing but +sky-riding storage bins!"<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_87" id="Page_87">[87]</a></span></p> + +<p>He seemed to consider the explanation complete. He wriggled his arms +into the sleeves and gloves of the suit. He slung the air tanks over +his shoulder and hooked them to the suit.</p> + +<p>"I'll be back," he said. "I hope with good news. I've reason to be +hopeful, though, because these Wealdians are very practical men. They +have things all prepared and tidy. I suspect I'll find these ships +with stores of air and fuel, maybe even food, so that if Weald should +manage to make a deal for the stuff stored out here in them, they'd +only have to bring out crews."</p> + +<p>He lifted the space helmet down from its rack and put it on. He tested +it, reading the tank air-pressure, power-storage, and other data from +the lighted miniature instruments visible through pinholes above his +eye-level. He fastened a space rope about himself, speaking through +the helmet's opened faceplate.</p> + +<p>"If our friends should wake up before I get back," he added, "please +restrain them. I'd hate to be marooned."</p> + +<p>He went waddling into the airlock with the coil of space rope over one +vacuum-suited arm. The inner lock door closed behind him. A little +later Maril heard the outer lock open. Then silence.</p> + +<p>Murgatroyd whimpered a little. Maril shivered. Calhoun had gone out of +the ship to nothingness. He'd said that what he was looking for, and +what he'd found, was forty-two thousand miles from Weald. One could +imagine falling forty-two thousand miles, where one couldn't imagine +falling a light-year.</p> + +<p>Calhoun was walking on the steel plates of a gigantic spaceship which +floated among dozens of its fellows, all seeming derelicts and +seemingly abandoned. He was able to walk on the nearest because of +magnetic-soled shoes. He<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_88" id="Page_88">[88]</a></span> trusted his life to them and to a flimsy +space rope which trailed after him out the Med Ship's airlock.</p> + +<p>Time passed. A clock ticked in that hurried tempo of five ticks to the +second which has been the habit of clocks since time immemorial. Very +small and trivial noises came from the background tape, preventing +utter silence from hanging intolerably in the ship.</p> + +<p>Maril found herself listening tensely for something else. One of the +four bound blueskins snored, and stirred, and slept again. Murgatroyd +gazed about unhappily, and swung down to the control room floor, and +then paused for lack of any place to go or anything to do. He sat down +and began half-heartedly to lick his whiskers. Maril stirred.</p> + +<p>Murgatroyd looked at her hopefully.</p> + +<p>"<i>Chee?</i>" he asked shrilly.</p> + +<p>She shook her head. It became a habit to act as if Murgatroyd were a +human being. "No," she said unsteadily. "Not yet."</p> + +<p>More time passed. An unbearably long time. Then there was the faintest +of clankings. It repeated. Then, abruptly, there were noises in the +airlock. They continued. They were fumbling noises.</p> + +<p>The outer airlock door closed. The inner door opened. Dense white fog +came out of it. There was motion. Calhoun followed the fog out of the +lock. He carried objects which had been weightless, but were suddenly +heavy in the ship's gravity-field. There were two spacesuits and a +curious assortment of parcels. He spread them out, flipped aside his +faceplate, and said briskly, "This stuff is cold! Turn a heater on it, +will you, Maril?"</p> + +<p>He began to work his way out of his own vacuum-suit.</p> + +<p>"Item," he said. "The ships are fuelled <i>and</i> provisioned. A practical +tribe, the Wealdians! The ships are ready to take<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_89" id="Page_89">[89]</a></span> off as soon as +they're warmed up inside. A half-degree sun doesn't radiate heat +enough to keep a ship warm, when the rest of the cosmos is effectively +near zero Kelvin. Here, point the heaters like this."</p> + +<p>He adjusted the radiant-heat dispensers. The fog disappeared where +their beams played. But the metal spacesuits glistened and steamed, +and the steam disappeared within inches. They were so completely and +utterly cold that they condensed the air about them as a liquid, which +re-evaporated to make fog, which warmed up and disappeared and was +immediately replaced.</p> + +<p>"Item," said Calhoun again, getting his arms out of the vacuum-suit +sleeves. "The controls are pretty nearly standard. Our sleeping +friends will be able to astrogate them back to Dara without trouble, +provided only that nobody comes out here to bother us before they +leave."</p> + +<p>He shed the last of the spacesuit, stepping out of its legs.</p> + +<p>"And," he finished wryly, "I brought back an emergency supply of ship +provisions for everybody concerned, but find that I'm idiot enough to +feel that they'll choke me if I eat them while Dara's still starving."</p> + +<p>Maril said, "But there isn't any hope for Dara! No real hope!"</p> + +<p>He gaped at her.</p> + +<p>"What do you think we're here for?"</p> + +<p>He set to work to restore his four recent students to consciousness. +It was not a difficult task. The dosage mixed in the coffee given them +as a graduation ceremony—the ceremony which had consisted solely of +drinking coffee and passing out—allowed for waking-up processes. +Calhoun took the precaution of disarming them first, but presently +four hot-eyed young men glared at him.</p> + +<p>"I'm calling," said Calhoun, holding a blaster negligently<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_90" id="Page_90">[90]</a></span> in his +hand, "I'm calling for volunteers. There's a famine on Dara. There've +been unmanageable crop surpluses on Weald. On Dara, the government +grimly rations every ounce of food. On Weald, the government has been +buying surplus grain to keep the price up.</p> + +<p>"To save storage costs, it's loaded the grain into out-of-date +spaceships it once used to stand sentry over Dara to keep it out of +space when there was another famine there. Those ships have been put +out in orbit, where we're hooked on to one of them.</p> + +<p>"It's loaded with half a million bushels of grain. I've brought +spacesuits from it, I've turned on the heaters in its interior, and +I've set its overdrive unit for a hop to Dara. Now I'm calling for +volunteers to take half a million bushels of grain to where it's +needed. Do I get any volunteers?"</p> + +<p>He got four. Not immediately, because they were ashamed that he'd made +it impossible to carry out their original fanatic plan, and now +offered something much better to make up for it. They raged. But half +a million bushels of grain meant that people who must otherwise die +might live.</p> + +<p>Ultimately, truculently, first one and then another angrily agreed.</p> + +<p>"Good!" said Calhoun. "Now, how many of you dare risk the trip alone? +I've got one grain ship warming up. There are plenty of others around +us. Every one of you can take a ship and half a million bushels to +Dara, if you have the nerve!"</p> + +<p>The atmosphere changed. Suddenly they clamored for the task he offered +them. They were still acutely uncomfortable. He'd bossed them and +taught them until they felt capable and glamorous and proud. Then he'd +pinned their ears back. But if they returned to Dara with four enemy +ships and un<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_91" id="Page_91">[91]</a></span>imaginable quantities of food with which to break the +famine....</p> + +<p>There was work to be done first, of course. Only one ship was so far +warming up. Three more had to be entered, in spacesuits, and each had +to have its interior warmed so breathable air could exist inside it, +and at least part of the stored provisions had to be brought up to +reasonable temperature for use on the journey.</p> + +<p>Then the overdrive unit had to be inspected and set for the length of +journey that a direct overdrive hop to Dara would mean, and Calhoun +had to make sure again that each of the four could identify Dara's sun +under all circumstances and aim for it with the requisite high +precision, both before going into overdrive and after breakout. When +all that was accomplished, Calhoun might reasonably hope that they'd +arrive. But it wasn't a certainty.</p> + +<p>Still, presently his four students shook hands with him, with the fine +tolerance of young men intending much greater achievements than their +teacher. They wouldn't speak on communicator again, because their +messages might be picked up on Weald.</p> + +<p>Of course, for this high heroic action to be successful, it had to be +performed with the stealth of sneak-thieves.</p> + +<p>What seemed a long time passed. The one ship turned slowly upon some +unseen axis. It wavered back and forth, seeking a point of aim. A +second twisted in its place. A third put on the barest trace of solar +system drive to get clear of the rest. The fourth—</p> + +<p>One ship vanished. It had gone into overdrive, heading for Dara at +many times the speed of light. Another. Two more.</p> + +<p>That was all. The remainder of the fleet hung clumsily in emptiness. +And Calhoun worriedly went over in his mind the lessons he'd given in +such a pathetically small number of<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_92" id="Page_92">[92]</a></span> days. If the four ships reached +Dara, their pilots would be heroes. Calhoun had presented them with +that estate over their bitter objection. But they would glory in +it—if they reached Dara.</p> + +<p>Maril looked at him with very strange eyes.</p> + +<p>"Now what?" she asked.</p> + +<p>"We hang around," said Calhoun, "to see if anybody comes up from Weald +to find out what's happened. It's always possible to pick up a sort of +signal when a ship goes into overdrive. Usually it doesn't mean a +thing. Nobody pays any attention. But if somebody comes out here...."</p> + +<p>"What?"</p> + +<p>"It'll be regrettable," said Calhoun. He was suddenly very tired. +"It'll spoil any chance of our coming back and stealing some more +food, like interstellar mice. If they find out what we've done they'll +expect us to try it again. They might get set to fight. Or they might +simply land the rest of these ships."</p> + +<p>"If I'd realized what you were about," said Maril, "I'd have joined in +the lessons. I could have piloted a ship."</p> + +<p>"You wouldn't have wanted to," said Calhoun. He yawned. "You wouldn't +want to be a heroine. No normal girl does."</p> + +<p>"Why?"</p> + +<p>"Korvan," said Calhoun. He yawned again. "I've asked about him. He's +been trying very desperately to deserve well of his fellow blueskins. +All he's accomplished is develop a way to starve painlessly. He +wouldn't feel comfortable with a girl who'd helped make starving +unnecessary. He'd admire you politely, but he'd never marry you. And +you know it."</p> + +<p>She shook her head, but it was not easy to tell whether she denied the +reaction of Korvan, whom Calhoun had never met, or denied that he was +more important to her than anything else. The last was what Calhoun +plainly implied.<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_93" id="Page_93">[93]</a></span></p> + +<p>"You don't seem to be trying to be a hero!" she protested.</p> + +<p>"I'd enjoy it," admitted Calhoun, "but I have a job to do. It's got to +be done. It's more important than being admired."</p> + +<p>"You could take another ship back," she told him. "It would be worth +more to Dara than the Med Ship is! And then everybody would realize +that you'd planned everything."</p> + +<p>"Ah," said Calhoun, "but you've no idea how much this ship matters to +Dara!"</p> + +<p>He seated himself at the controls. He slipped headphones over his +ears. He listened. Very, very carefully, he monitored all the wave +lengths and wave forms he could discover in use on Weald. There was no +mention of the oddity of behavior of shiploads of surplus grain aloft. +There was no mention of the ships at all. There was plenty of mention +of Dara, and blueskins, and of the vicious political fight now going +on to see which political party could promise the most complete +protection against blueskins.</p> + +<p>After a full hour of it, Calhoun flipped off his receptor and swung +the Med Ship to an exact, painstakingly precise aim at the sun around +which Dara rolled. He said, "Overdrive coming, Murgatroyd!"</p> + +<p>Murgatroyd grabbed. The stars went out and the universe reeled and the +Med Ship became a sort of cosmos all its own, into which no signal +could come, no danger could enter, and in which there could be no +sound except those minute ones made to prevent silence.</p> + +<p>Calhoun yawned again.</p> + +<p>"Now there's nothing to be done for a day or two," he said wearily, +"and I'm beginning to understand why people sleep all they can, on +Dara. It's one way not to feel hungry. And one dreams such delicious +meals! But looking hungry is a social requirement, on Dara."<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_94" id="Page_94">[94]</a></span></p> + +<p>Maril said tensely, "You're going back? After they took the ship from +you?"</p> + +<p>"The job's not finished," he explained. "Not even the famine's ended, +and the famine's a second-order effect. If there were no such thing as +a blueskin, there'd be no famine. Food could be traded for. We've got +to do something to make sure there are no more famines."</p> + +<p>She looked at him oddly.</p> + +<p>"It would be desirable," she said with irony. "But you can't do it."</p> + +<p>"Not today, no," he admitted. Then he said longingly, "I didn't get +much sleep on the way here, while running a seminar on astrogation. I +think I'll take a nap."</p> + +<p>She rose and almost ostentatiously went into the other cabin, to leave +him alone. He shrugged. He settled down into the chair which, to let a +Med Ship man break the monotony of life in unchanging surroundings, +turned into a comfortable sleeping arrangement. He fell instantly +asleep.</p> + +<p>For very many ship-hours, then, there was no action or activity or +happening of any imaginable consequence in the Med Ship. Very, very +far away, light-years distant and light-years apart, four shiploads of +grain hurtled toward the famine-stricken planet of blueskins. Each +great ship had a single semiskilled blueskin for pilot and crew.</p> + +<p>Thousands of millions of suns blazed with violence appropriate to +their stellar types in a galaxy of which a very small proportion had +been explored and colonized by humanity. The human race was now to be +counted in quadrillions on scores of hundreds of inhabited worlds, but +the tiny Med Ship seemed the least significant of all possible created +things.</p> + +<p>It could travel between star-systems and even star-clusters, but it +was not yet capable of crossing the continent of suns<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_95" id="Page_95">[95]</a></span> on which the +human race arose. And between any two solar systems the journeying of +the Med Ship consumed much time. Which would be maddening for someone +with no work to do or no resources in himself, or herself.</p> + +<p>On the second ship-day Calhoun labored painstakingly and somewhat +distastefully at the little biological laboratory. Maril watched him +in a sort of brooding silence. Murgatroyd slept much of the time, with +his furry tail wrapped meticulously across his nose.</p> + +<p>Toward the end of the day Calhoun finished his task. He had a matter +of six or seven cubic centimeters of clear liquid as the conclusion of +a long process of culturing, and examination by microscope, and again +culturing plus final filtration. He looked at a clock and calculated +time.</p> + +<p>"Better wait until tomorrow," he observed, and put the bit of clear +liquid in a temperature-controlled place of safekeeping.</p> + +<p>"What is it?" asked Maril. "What's it for?"</p> + +<p>"It's part of a job I have on hand," said Calhoun. He considered. "How +about some music?"</p> + +<p>She looked astonished. But he set up an instrument and fed microtape +into it and settled back to listen. Then there was music such as she +had never heard before. It was another device to counteract isolation +and monotonous between-planet voyages. To keep it from losing its +effectiveness, Calhoun rationed himself on music, as on other things.</p> + +<p>Any indulgence frequently repeated would become a habit, in the sense +that it would give no special pleasure when indulged in, but would +make for stress if it were omitted. Calhoun deliberately went for +weeks between uses of his recordings, so that music was an event to be +looked forward to and cherished.</p> + +<p>When he tapered off the stirring symphonies of Kun Gee<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_96" id="Page_96">[96]</a></span> with +tranquilizing, soothing melodies from the Rim School of composers, +Maril regarded him with a very peculiar gaze indeed.</p> + +<p>"I think I understand now," she said slowly, "why you don't act like +other people. Toward me, for example. The way you live gives you what +other people have to get in crazy ways—making their work feed their +vanity, and justify pride, and make them feel significant. But you can +put your whole mind on your work."</p> + +<p>He thought it over.</p> + +<p>"Med Ship routine is designed to keep one healthy in his mind," he +admitted. "It works pretty well. It satisfies all my mental appetites. +But there are instincts...."</p> + +<p>She waited. He did not finish.</p> + +<p>"What do you do about the instincts that work and music and such +things can't satisfy?"</p> + +<p>Calhoun grinned wryly, "I'm stern with them. I have to be."</p> + +<p>He stood up and plainly expected her to go into the other cabin for +the night. She went.</p> + +<p>It was after breakfast time of the next ship-day when he got out the +sample of clear liquid he'd worked so long to produce.</p> + +<p>"We'll see how it works," he observed. "Murgatroyd's handy in case of +a slip-up. It's perfectly safe so long as he's aboard and there are +only the two of us."</p> + +<p>She watched as he injected half a cc. under his own skin. Then she +shivered a little.</p> + +<p>"What will it do?"</p> + +<p>"That remains to be seen." He paused a moment. "You and I," he said +with some dryness, "make a perfect test for anything. If you catch +something from me, it will be infectious indeed!"</p> + +<p>She gazed at him utterly without comprehension.<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_97" id="Page_97">[97]</a></span></p> + +<p>He took his own temperature. He brought out the folios which were his +orders, covering each of the planets he should give a standard Medical +Service inspection. Weald was there. Dara wasn't. But a Med Service +man has much freedom of action, even when only keeping up the routine +of normal Med Service. When catching up on badly neglected operations, +he necessarily has much more. Calhoun went over the folios.</p> + +<p>Two hours later he took his temperature again. He looked pleased. He +made an entry in the ship's log. Two hours later yet he found himself +drinking thirstily and looked more pleased still.</p> + +<p>He made another entry in the log and matter-of-factly drew a small +quantity of blood from his own vein and called to Murgatroyd. +Murgatroyd submitted amiably to the very trivial operation Calhoun +carried out. Calhoun put away the equipment and saw Maril staring at +him with a certain look of shock.</p> + +<p>"It doesn't hurt him," Calhoun explained. "Right after he's born +there's a tiny spot on his flank that has the pain-nerves +desensitized. Murgatroyd's all right. That's what he's for!"</p> + +<p>"But he's your friend!" said Maril.</p> + +<p>Murgatroyd, despite his small size and furriness, had all the human +attributes an animal which lives with humans soon acquires. Calhoun +looked at him with affection.</p> + +<p>"He's my assistant. I don't ask anything of him that I can do myself. +But we're both Med Service. And I do things for him that he can't do +for himself. For example, I make coffee for him."</p> + +<p>Murgatroyd heard the familiar word. He said, "<i>Chee!</i>"</p> + +<p>"Very well," agreed Calhoun. "We'll all have some."</p> + +<p>He made coffee. Murgatroyd sipped at the cup especially made for his +little paws. Once he scratched at the place on his flank which had no +pain nerves. It itched. But he was<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_98" id="Page_98">[98]</a></span> perfectly content. Murgatroyd +would always be contented when he was somewhere near Calhoun.</p> + +<p>Another hour went by. Murgatroyd climbed up into Calhoun's lap and +with a determined air went to sleep there. Calhoun disturbed him long +enough to get an instrument out of his pocket. He listened to +Murgatroyd's heartbeat, while Murgatroyd dozed.</p> + +<p>"Maril," he said. "Write down something for me. The time, and +ninety-six, and one-twenty over ninety-four."</p> + +<p>She obeyed, not comprehending. Half an hour later, still not stirring +to disturb Murgatroyd, he had her write down another time and sequence +of figures, only slightly different from the first. Half an hour later +still, a third set. But then he put Murgatroyd down, well satisfied.</p> + +<p>He took his own temperature. He nodded.</p> + +<p>"Murgatroyd and I have one more chore to do," he told her. "Would you +go in the other cabin for a moment?"</p> + +<p>Disturbed, she went into the other cabin. Calhoun drew a small sample +of blood from the insensitive area on Murgatroyd's flank. Murgatroyd +submitted with complete confidence in the man. In ten minutes Calhoun +had diluted the sample, added an anticoagulant, shaken it up +thoroughly, and filtered it to clarity with all red and white +corpuscles removed. Another Med Ship man would have considered that +Calhoun had had Murgatroyd prepare a splendid small sample of +antibody-containing serum, in case something got out of hand. It would +assuredly take care of two patients.</p> + +<p>But a Med Ship man would also have known that it was simply one of +those scrupulous precautions a Med Ship man takes when using cultures +from store.</p> + +<p>Calhoun put the sample away and called Maril back.</p> + +<p>"It was nothing," he explained, "but you might have felt<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_99" id="Page_99">[99]</a></span> +uncomfortable. We simply had a bit of Med Service routine that had to +be gone through. It's all right now."</p> + +<p>He offered no further explanation. She said, "I'll fix lunch." She +hesitated. "You brought some food from the first Weald ship. Do you +want to—"</p> + +<p>He shook his head.</p> + +<p>"I'm squeamish," he admitted. "The trouble on Dara is Med Service +fault. Before my time, but still ... I'll stick to rations until +everybody eats."</p> + +<p>He watched her unobtrusively as the day went on. Presently he +considered that she was slightly flushed. Shortly after the evening +meal of singularly unappetizing Darian rations, she drank thirstily. +He did not comment. He brought out cards and showed her a complicated +game of solitaire in which mental arithmetic and expert use of +probability increased one's chance of winning.</p> + +<p>By midnight she'd learned the game and played it absorbedly. Calhoun +was able to scrutinize her without appearing to do so, and he was +satisfied again. When he mentioned that the Med Ship should arrive off +Dara in eight hours more, she put the cards away and went into the +other cabin.</p> + +<p>Calhoun wrote up the log. He added the notes that Maril had made for +him, of Murgatroyd's pulse and blood pressure after the injection of +the same culture that produced fever and thirstiness in himself and +later, without contact with him or the culture, in Maril. He put a +professional comment at the end:</p> + +<div class="blockquot"><p><i>The culture seems to have retained its normal characteristics +during long storage in the spore state. It received and reproduced +rapidly. I injected .5 cc. under my skin and in less than one hour +my temperature was 30.8° C. An hour later it was 30.9° C. This was +its peak. It immediately returned to normal. The only other +observable symptom was slightly increased thirst. Bloodpressure +and pulse remained normal. The other person in the Med Ship +displayed the same symptoms, in prompt and complete repetition, +without physical contact.</i></p></div> +<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_100" id="Page_100">[100]</a></span></p> +<p>He went to sleep, with Murgatroyd curled up in his cubbyhole, his tail +draped carefully over his nose.</p> + +<p>The Med Ship broke out of overdrive at 1300 hours, ship-time. Calhoun +made contact with the grid and was promptly lowered to the ground.</p> + +<p>It was almost two hours later, at 1500 hours ship-time, when the +people of Dara were informed by broadcast that Calhoun was to be +executed immediately.</p> + + + +<hr style="width: 65%;" /> +<h2>7</h2> + + +<p>From the viewpoint of Darians, who were also blueskins, the decision +of Calhoun's guilt and the decision to execute him were reasonable +enough. Maril protested fiercely, and her testimony agreed with +Calhoun's in every respect, but from a blueskin viewpoint their own +statements were damning.</p> + +<p>Calhoun had taken four young astrogators to space. They were the only +semiskilled space pilots Dara had. There were no fully qualified men. +Calhoun had asked for them, and taken them out to emptiness, and there +he had instructed them in modern guidance methods for ships of space.</p> + +<p>So far there was no disagreement. He'd proposed to make them more +competent pilots; more capable of driving a ship to Orede, for +example, to raid the enormous cattle herds<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_101" id="Page_101">[101]</a></span> there. And he'd had them +drive the Med Ship to Weald, against which there could be no +objection.</p> + +<p>But just before arrival he had tricked all four of them by giving them +drugged coffee. He'd destroyed the lethal bacterial cultures they'd +been ordered to dump on Weald. Then he'd sent the four student pilots +off separately, so he and Maril claimed, in huge ships crammed with +grain. But those ships were not to be believed in, anyhow.</p> + +<p>Nobody believed in shiploads of grain to be had for the taking. They +did know that the only four partially experienced space pilots on Dara +had been taken away and by Calhoun's own story sent out of the ship +after they'd been drugged.</p> + +<p>Had they been trained, and had they been helped or even permitted to +sow the seeds of plague on Weald, and had they come back prepared to +pass on training to other men to handle other space ships now +feverishly being built in hidden places on Dara, then Dara might have +a chance of survival.</p> + +<p>But a space battle with only partly trained pilots would be hazardous +at best. With no trained pilots at all, it would be hopeless. So +Calhoun, by his own story, appeared to have doomed every living being +on Dara to massacre from the bombs of Weald.</p> + +<p>It was this last angle which destroyed any chance of anybody believing +in such fairy-tale objects as ships loaded down with grain. Calhoun +had shattered Dara's feeble hope of resistance. Weald had some ships +and could build or buy others faster than Dara could hope to construct +them.</p> + +<p>Equally important, Weald had a plenitude of experienced spacemen to +man some ships fully and train the crews of others. If it had become +desperately busy fighting plague, then a fleet to exterminate life on +Dara would be delayed.<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_102" id="Page_102">[102]</a></span> Dara might have gained time at least to build +ships which could ram their enemies and destroy them that way.</p> + +<p>But Calhoun had made it impossible. If he told the truth and Weald +already had a fleet of huge ships which only needed to be emptied of +grain and filled with guns and men, then Dara was doomed. But if he +did not tell the truth it was equally doomed by his actions. So +Calhoun would be killed.</p> + +<p>His execution was to take place in the open space of the landing-grid, +with vision cameras transmitting the sight over all the blueskin +planet. Half-starved men with grisly blue blotches on their skins, +marched him to the center of the largest level space on the planet +which was not desperately being cultivated. Their hatred showed in +their expressions. Bitterness and fury surrounded Calhoun like a wall. +Most of Dara would have liked to have seen him killed in a manner as +atrocious as his crime, but no conceivable death would be satisfying.</p> + +<p>So the affair was coldly businesslike, with not even insults offered +to him. He was left to stand alone in the very center of the +landing-grid floor. There were a hundred blasters which would fire +upon him at the same instant. He would not only be killed; he would be +destroyed. He would be vaporized by the blue-white flames poured upon +him.</p> + +<p>His death was remarkably close, nothing remaining but the order to +fire, when loudspeakers from the landing-grid office froze everything. +One of the grain ships from Weald had broken out of overdrive and its +pilot was triumphantly calling for landing coordinates. The grid +office relayed his call to loudspeaker circuits as the quickest way to +get it on the communication system of the whole planet.</p> + +<p>"Calling ground," boomed the triumphant voice of the first of the +student pilots Calhoun had trained. "Calling ground! Pilot Franz in +captured ship requests coordinates for land<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_103" id="Page_103">[103]</a></span>ing! Purpose of landing is +to deliver half a million bushels of grain captured from the enemy!"</p> + +<p>At first, nobody dared believe it. But the pilot could be seen on +vision. He was known. No blueskin would be left alive long enough to +be used as a decoy by the men of Weald! Presently the giant ship on +its second voyage to Dara—the first had been a generation ago, when +it threatened death and destruction—appeared as a dark pinpoint in +the sky. It came down and down, and presently it hovered over the +center of the tarmac, where Calhoun composedly stood on the spot where +he was to have been executed.</p> + +<p>The landing-grid crew shifted the ship to one side, and only then did +Calhoun stroll in a leisurely fashion toward the Med Ship by the +grid's metal-lace wall.</p> + +<p>The big ship touched ground, and its exit port revolved and opened, +and the student pilot stood there grinning and heaving out handfuls of +grain. There was a swarming, yelling, deliriously triumphant crowd, +then, where only minutes before there'd been a mob waiting to rejoice +when Calhoun's living body exploded into flame.</p> + +<p>They no longer hated Calhoun, but he had to fight his way to the Med +Ship, nevertheless. He was surrounded by ecstatically admiring +citizens of Dara. They shouted praise and rejoicing in his ears until +he was half-deafened, and they almost tore his clothing from them in +their desire to touch, to pat, to assure him of their gratitude and +affection, minutes since they'd thirsted for his blood.</p> + +<p>Two hours after the first ship, a second landed. Dara went wild again. +Four hours later still, the third arrived. The fourth came down to +ground on the following day.</p> + +<p>When Calhoun faced the executive and cabinet of Dara for the second +time his tone and manner were very dry.</p> + +<p>"Now," he said curtly, "I would like a few more astrogators<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_104" id="Page_104">[104]</a></span> to train. +I think it likely that we can raid the Wealdian grain fleet one more +time, and in so doing get the beginning of a fleet for defense. I +insist, however, that it must not be used in combat. We might as well +be sensible about this situation! After all, four shiploads of grain +won't break the famine! They'll help a lot, but they're only the +beginning of what's needed for a planetary population!"</p> + +<p>"How much grain can we hope for?" demanded a man with a blue mark +covering all his chin.</p> + +<p>Calhoun told him.</p> + +<p>"How long before Weald can have a fleet overhead, dropping fusion +bombs?" demanded another, grimly.</p> + +<p>Calhoun named a time. But then he said, "I think we can keep them from +dropping bombs if we can get the grain fleet and some capable +astrogators."</p> + +<p>"How?"</p> + +<p>He told them. It was not possible to tell the whole story of what he +considered sensible behavior. An emotional program can be presented +and accepted immediately. A plan of action which is actually +intelligent, considering all elements of a situation, has to be +accepted piecemeal. Even so, the military men growled.</p> + +<p>"We've plenty of heavy elements," said one. "If we'd used our brains, +we'd have more bombs than Weald can hope for! We could turn that whole +planet into a smoking cinder!"</p> + +<p>"Which," said Calhoun acidly, "would give you some satisfaction but +not an ounce of food! And food's more important than satisfaction. +Now, I'm going to take off for Weald again. I'll want somebody to +build an emergency device for my ship, and I'll want the four pilots +I've trained and twenty more candidates. And I'd like to have some +decent rations! The last trip brought back two million bushels of +grain. You can certainly spare adequate food for twenty men for a few +days!"<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_105" id="Page_105">[105]</a></span></p> + +<p>It took some time to get the special device constructed, but the Med +Ship lifted in two days more. The device for which it had waited was +simply a preventive of the disaster overtaking the ship from the mine +on Orede. It was essentially a tank of liquid oxygen, packed in the +space from which stores had been taken away. When the ship's air +supply was pumped past it, first moisture and then CO<sub>2</sub> froze out.</p> + +<p>Then the air flowed over the liquefied oxygen at a rate to replace the +CO<sub>2</sub> with more useful breathing material. Then the moisture was +restored to the air as it warmed again. For so long as the oxygen +lasted, fresh air for any number of men could be kept purified and +breathable. The Med Ship's normal equipment could take care of no more +than ten. But with this it could journey to Weald with almost any +complement on board.</p> + +<p>Maril stayed on Dara when the Med Ship left. Murgatroyd protested +shrilly when he discovered her about to be closed out by the closing +airlock.</p> + +<p>"<i>Chee!</i>" he said indignantly. "<i>Chee! Chee!</i>"</p> + +<p>"No," said Calhoun. "We'll be crowded enough anyhow. We'll see her +later."</p> + +<p>He nodded to one of the first four student pilots, who crisply made +contact with the landing-grid office, and very efficiently supervised +as the grid took the ship up. The other three of the four +first-trained men explained every move to sub-classes assigned to +each. Calhoun moved about, listening and making certain that the +instruction was up to standard.</p> + +<p>He felt queer, acting as the supervisor of an educational institution +in space. He did not like it. There were twenty-four men beside +himself crowded into the Med Ship's small interior. They got in each +other's way. They trampled on each other. There was always somebody +eating, and always somebody sleeping, and there was no need whatever +for the back<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_106" id="Page_106">[106]</a></span>ground tape to keep the ship from being intolerably +quiet. But the air system worked well enough, except once when the +reheating unit quit and the air inside the ship went down below +freezing before the trouble could be found and corrected.</p> + +<p>The journey to Weald, this time, took seven days because of the +training program in effect. Calhoun bit his nails over the delay. But +it was necessary for each of the students to make his own line-ups on +Weald's sun, and compute distances, and for each of them to practise +maneuverings that would presently be called for. Calhoun hoped +desperately that preparations for active warfare did not move fast on +Weald.</p> + +<p>He believed, however, that in the absence of direct news from Dara, +Wealdian officials would take the normal course of politicos. They had +proclaimed the ship from Orede an attack from Dara. Therefore, they +would specialize on defensive measures before plumping for offense. +They'd get patrol ships out to spot invasion ships long before they +worked on a fleet to destroy the blueskins. It would meet the public +demand for defense.</p> + +<p>Calhoun was right. The Med Ship made its final approach to Weald under +Calhoun's own control. He'd made brightness-measurements on his +previous journey and he used them again. They would not be strictly +accurate, because a sunspot could knock all meaning out of any reading +beyond two decimal places. But the first breakout was just far enough +from the Wealdian system for Calhoun to be able to pick out its +planets with the electron telescope at maximum magnification. He could +aim for Weald itself, allowing, of course, for the lag in the apparent +motion of its image because of the limited speed of light. He tried +the briefest of overdrive hops, and came out within the solar system +and well inside any watching patrol.<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_107" id="Page_107">[107]</a></span></p> + +<p>That was pure fortune. It continued. He'd broken through the screen of +guard ships in undetectable overdrive. He was within half an hour's +solar system drive of the grain fleet. There was no alarm, at first. +Of course radars spotted the Med Ship as an object, but nobody paid +attention. It was not headed for Weald. It was probably assumed to be +a guard boat itself. Such mistakes do happen.</p> + +<p>Again from the storage space from which supplies had been removed, +Calhoun produced vacuum suits. The four first students went out, each +escorting a less-accustomed neophyte and all fastened firmly together +with space ropes. They warmed the interiors of four ships and went on +to others. Presently there were eight ships making ready for an +interstellar journey, each with a scared but resolute new pilot +familiarizing himself with its controls. There were sixteen ships. +Twenty. Twenty-three.</p> + +<p>A guard ship came humming out from Weald. It would be armed, of +course. It came droning, droning up the forty-odd thousand miles from +the planet. Calhoun swore. He could not call his students and tell +them what was toward. The guard ship would overhear. He could not +trust untried young men to act rationally if they were unaware and the +guard ship arrived and matter-of-factly attempted to board one of +them.</p> + +<p>Then he was inspired. He called Murgatroyd, placed him before the +communicator, and set it at voice-only transmission. This was familiar +enough, to Murgatroyd. He'd often seen Calhoun use a communicator.</p> + +<p>"<i>Chee!</i>" shrilled Murgatroyd. "<i>Chee-chee!</i>"</p> + +<p>A startled voice came out of the speaker: "What's that?"</p> + +<p>"<i>Chee</i>," said Murgatroyd zestfully.</p> + +<p>The communicator was talking to him. Murgatroyd adored three things, +in order. One was Calhoun. The second was coffee. The third was +pretending to converse like a human<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_108" id="Page_108">[108]</a></span> being. The speaker said +explosively, "You there, identify yourself!"</p> + +<p>"<i>Chee-chee-chee-chee!</i>" observed Murgatroyd. He wriggled with +pleasure and added, reasonably enough, "<i>Chee!</i>"</p> + +<p>The communicator bawled, "Calling ground! Calling ground! Listen to +this! Something that ain't human's talking at me on a communicator! +Listen in an' tell me what to do!"</p> + +<p>Murgatroyd interposed with another shrill, "<i>Chee!</i>"</p> + +<p>Then Calhoun pulled the Med Ship slowly away from the clump of +still-lifeless grain ships. It was highly improbable that the guard +boat would carry an electron telescope. Most likely it would have only +an echo-radar, and so could determine only that an object of some sort +moved of its own accord in space. Calhoun let the Med Ship accelerate. +That would be final evidence. The grain ships were between Weald and +its sun. Even electron telescopes on the ground—and electron +telescopes were ultimately optical telescopes with electronic +amplification—could not get a good image of the ship through sunlit +atmosphere.</p> + +<p>"<i>Chee?</i>" asked Murgatroyd solicitously. "<i>Chee-chee-chee?</i>"</p> + +<p>"Is it blueskins?" shakily demanded the voice from the guard boat. +"Ground! Ground! Is it blueskins?"</p> + +<p>A heavy, authoritative voice came in with much greater volume. "That's +no human voice," it said harshly. "Approach its ship and send back an +image. Don't fire first unless it heads for ground."</p> + +<p>The guard ship swerved and headed for the Med Ship. It was still a +very long way off.</p> + +<p>"<i>Chee-chee</i>," said Murgatroyd encouragingly.</p> + +<p>Calhoun changed the Med Ship's course. The guard ship changed course +too. Calhoun let it draw nearer, but only a little. He led it away +from the fleet of grain ships.</p> + +<p>He swung his electron telescope on them. He saw a space<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_109" id="Page_109">[109]</a></span>suited figure +outside one, safely roped, however. It was easy to guess that someone +had meant to return to the Med Ship for orders or to make a report, +and found the Med Ship gone. He'd go back inside and turn on a +communicator.</p> + +<p>"<i>Chee!</i>" said Murgatroyd.</p> + +<p>The heavy voice boomed. "You there! This is a human-occupied world! If +you come in peace, cut your drive and let our guard ship approach!"</p> + +<p>Murgatroyd replied in an interested but doubtful tone. The booming +voice bellowed. Another voice of higher authority took over. +Murgatroyd was entranced that so many people wanted to talk to him. He +made what for him was practically an oration. The last voice spoke +persuasively and suavely.</p> + +<p>"<i>Chee-chee-chee-chee</i>," said Murgatroyd.</p> + +<p>One of the grain ships flickered and ceased to be. It had gone into +overdrive. Another. And another. Suddenly they began to flick out of +sight by twos and threes.</p> + +<p>"<i>Chee</i>," said Murgatroyd with a note of finality.</p> + +<p>The last grain ship vanished.</p> + +<p>"Calling guard ship," said Calhoun dryly. "This is Med Ship <i>Aesclipus +Twenty</i>. I called here a couple of weeks ago. You've been talking to +my <i>tormal</i>, Murgatroyd."</p> + +<p>A pause. A blank pause. Then profanity of deep and savage +intemperance.</p> + +<p>"I've been on Dara," said Calhoun.</p> + +<p>Dead silence fell.</p> + +<p>"There's a famine there," said Calhoun deliberately. "So the grain +ships you've had in orbit have been taken away by men from +Dara—blueskins if you like—to feed themselves and their families. +They've been dying of hunger and they don't like it."</p> + +<p>There was a single burst of the unprintable. Then the<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_110" id="Page_110">[110]</a></span> formerly suave +voice said waspishly, "Well? The Med Service will hear of your +interference!"</p> + +<p>"Yes," said Calhoun. "I'll report it myself. I have a message for you. +Dara is ready to pay for every ounce of grain and for the ships it was +stored in. They'll pay in heavy metals—irridium, uranium, that sort +of thing."</p> + +<p>The suave voice fairly curdled.</p> + +<p>"As if we'd allow anything that was ever on Dara to touch ground +here!"</p> + +<p>"Ah! But there can be sterilization. To begin with metals, uranium +melts at 1150° centigrade, and tungsten at 3370° and irridium at +2350°. You could load such things and melt them down in space and then +tow them home. And you can actually sterilize a lot of other useful +materials!"</p> + +<p>The suave voice was infuriated: "I'll report this! You'll suffer for +this!"</p> + +<p>Calhoun said pleasantly, "I'm sure that what I say is being recorded, +so that I'll add that it's perfectly practical for Wealdians to land +on Dara, take whatever property they think wise—to pay for damage +done by blueskins, of course—and get back to Wealdian ships with +absolutely no danger of carrying contagion. If you'll make sure the +recording's clear...."</p> + +<p>He described, clearly and specifically, exactly how a man could be +outfitted to walk into any area of any conceivable contagion, do +whatever seemed necessary in the way of looting—but Calhoun did not +use the word—and then return to his fellows with no risk whatever of +bringing back infection. He gave exact details.</p> + +<p>Then he said, "My radar says you've four ships converging on me to +blast me out of space. I sign off."</p> + +<p>The Med Ship disappeared from normal space, and entered that +improbably stressed area of extension which it formed about itself and +in which physical constants were wildly<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_111" id="Page_111">[111]</a></span> strange. For one thing, the +speed of light in overdrive-stressed space had not been measured yet. +It was too high. For another, a ship could travel very many times +186,000 miles per second in overdrive.</p> + +<p>The Med Ship did just that. There was nobody but Calhoun and +Murgatroyd on board. There was companionable silence, with only the +small threshold-of-perception sounds which one did not often notice.</p> + +<p>Calhoun luxuriated in regained privacy. For seven days he'd had +twenty-four other human beings crowded into the two cabins of the +ship, with never so much as one yard of space between himself and +someone else. One need not be snobbish to wish to be alone sometimes!</p> + +<p>Murgatroyd licked his whiskers thoughtfully.</p> + +<p>"I hope," said Calhoun, "that things work out right. But they may +remember on Dara that I'm responsible for some ten million bushels of +grain reaching them. Maybe, just possibly, they'll listen to me and +act sensibly. After all, there's only one way to break a famine. Not +with ten million bushels for a whole planet! And certainly not with +bombs!"</p> + +<p>Driving direct, without pausing for practising, the Med Ship could +arrive at Dara in a little more than five days. Calhoun looked forward +to relaxation. As a beginning he made ready to give himself an +adequate meal for the first time since first landing on Dara. Then, +presently, he sat down to a double meal of Darian famine-rations, +which were far from appetizing. But there wasn't anything else on +board.</p> + +<p>He had some pleasure later, though, envisioning what went on in the +normal, non-overdrive universe. Suns flared, and comets hurtled on +their way, and clouds formed and dropped down rain, and all sorts of +celestial and meteorological phenomena took place. On Weald, +obviously, there would be purest panic.<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_112" id="Page_112">[112]</a></span></p> + +<p>The vanishing of the grain fleet wouldn't be charged against +twenty-four men. A Darian fleet would be suspected, and with the +suspicion would come terror, and with terror a governmental crisis. +Then there'd be a frantic seizure of any craft that could take to +space, and the agitated improvisation of a space fleet.</p> + +<p>But besides that, biological-warfare technicians would examine +Calhoun's instructions for equipment by which armed men could be +landed on a plague-stricken planet and then safely taken off again. +Military and governmental officials would come to the eminently sane +conclusion that while Calhoun could not well take active measures +against blueskins, as a sane and proper citizen of the galaxy he would +be on the side of law and order and propriety and justice—in short, +of Weald. So they ordered sample anticontagion suits made according to +Calhoun's directions, and they had them tested. They worked admirably.</p> + +<p>On Dara, while Calhoun journeyed placidly back to it, grain was +distributed lavishly, and everybody on the planet had their cereal +ration almost doubled. It was still not a comfortable ration, but the +relief was great. There was considerable gratitude felt for Calhoun, +which as usual included a lively anticipation of further favors to +come. Maril was interviewed repeatedly, as the person best able to +discuss him, and she did his reputation no harm. That was all that +happened on Dara....</p> + +<p>No. There was something else. A very curious thing, too. There was a +spread of mild symptoms which nobody could exactly call a disease. +They lasted only a few hours. A person felt slightly feverish, and ran +a temperature which peaked at 30.9° centigrade, and drank more water +than usual. Then his temperature went back to normal and he forgot all +about it. There have always been such trivial epidemics. They are<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_113" id="Page_113">[113]</a></span> +rarely recorded, because few people think to go to a doctor. That was +the case here.</p> + +<p>Calhoun looked ahead a little, too. Presently the fleet of grain ships +would arrive and unload and lift again for Orede, and this time they +would make an infinity of slaughter among wild cattle herds, and bring +back incredible quantities of fresh-slaughtered frozen beef. Almost +everybody would get to taste meat again, which would be most +gratifying.</p> + +<p>Then, the industries of Dara would labor at government-required tasks. +An astonishing amount of fissionable material would be fashioned into +bombs—a concession by Calhoun—and plastic factories would make an +astonishing number of plastic sag-suits. And large shipments of heavy +metals in ingots would be made to the planet's capital city and there +would be some guns and minor items.</p> + +<p>Perhaps somebody could have predicted any of these items in advance, +but it was unlikely that anyone did. Nobody but Calhoun, however, +would ever have put them together and hoped very urgently that things +would work out. He could see a promising total result. In fact, in the +Med Ship hurtling through space, on the fourth day of his journey, he +thought of an improvement that could be made in the sum of all those +happenings when they got mixed together.</p> + +<p>He got back to Dara. Maril came to the Med Ship. Murgatroyd greeted +her with enthusiasm.</p> + +<p>"Something strange has happened," said Maril, very much subdued. "I +told you that sometimes blueskin markings fade out on children, and +then neither they nor their children ever have markings again."</p> + +<p>"Yes," said Calhoun. "I remember that you told me."</p> + +<p>"And you were reminded of a group of viruses on Tralee. You said they +only took hold of people in terribly bad physi<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_114" id="Page_114">[114]</a></span>cal condition, but then +they could be passed on from mother to child, until sometimes they +died out."</p> + +<p>Calhoun blinked.</p> + +<p>"Yes?"</p> + +<p>"Korvan," said Maril very carefully. "Has worked out an idea that +that's what happens to the blueskin markings on Darians. He thinks +that people almost dead of the plague could get the virus, and if they +recovered from the plague pass the virus on and be blueskins."</p> + +<p>"Interesting," said Calhoun, noncommittally.</p> + +<p>"And when we went to Weald," said Maril very carefully indeed, "you +were working with some culture material. You wrote quite a lot about +it in the ship's log. You gave yourself an injection. Remember? And +Murgatroyd? You wrote down your temperature, and Murgatroyd's?" She +moistened her lips. "You said that if infection passed between us, +something would be very infectious indeed?"</p> + +<p>"This is a long discussion," said Calhoun. "Does it arrive at a +point?"</p> + +<p>"It does," said Maril. "Thousands of people are having their +pigment-spots fade away. Not only children but grownups. And Korvan +has found out that it always seems to happen after a day when they +felt feverish and very thirsty, and then felt all right again. You +tried out something that made you feverish and thirsty. I had it too, +in the ship. Korvan thinks there's been an epidemic of something that +is obliterating the blue spots on everybody that catches it. There are +always trivial epidemics that nobody notices. Korvan's found evidence +of one that's making <i>blueskin</i> no longer a word with any meaning."</p> + +<p>"Remarkable!" said Calhoun.</p> + +<p>"Did you do it?" asked Maril. "Did you start a harmless epidemic that +wipes out the virus that makes blueskins?"<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_115" id="Page_115">[115]</a></span></p> + +<p>Calhoun said in feigned astonishment, "How can you think such a thing, +Maril?"</p> + +<p>"Because I was there," said Maril. She said, somehow desperately, "I +know you did it! But the question is, are you going to tell? When +people find they're not blueskins any longer, when there's no such +thing as a blueskin any longer, will you tell them why?"</p> + +<p>"Naturally not," said Calhoun. "Why?" Then he guessed. "Has Korvan—"</p> + +<p>"He thinks," said Maril, "that he thought it up all by himself. He's +found the proof. He's very proud. I'd have to tell him how the ideas +got into his head if you were going to tell. And he'd be ashamed and +angry."</p> + +<p>Calhoun considered, staring at her.</p> + +<p>"How it happened doesn't matter," he said at last. "The idea of +anybody doing it deliberately would be disturbing, too. It shouldn't +get about. So it seems much the best thing for Korvan to discover +what's happened to the blueskin pigment, and how it happened. But not +why."</p> + +<p>She read his face carefully.</p> + +<p>"You aren't doing it as a favor to me," she decided. "You'd rather it +was that way."</p> + +<p>She looked at him for a long time, until he squirmed. Then she nodded +and went away.</p> + +<p>An hour later the Wealdian space fleet was reported massed in space +and driving for Dara.</p> + + + +<hr style="width: 65%;" /> +<h2>8</h2> + + +<p>There were small scout ships which came on ahead of the main fleet. +They'd originally been guard boats, intended for<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_116" id="Page_116">[116]</a></span> solar system duty +only and quite incapable of overdrive. They'd come from Weald in the +cargo holds of the liners now transformed into fighting ships. The +scouts swept low, transmitting fine-screen images back to the fleet, +of all they might see before they were shot down. They found the +landing-grid. It contained nothing larger than Calhoun's Med Ship, +<i>Aesclipus Twenty</i>.</p> + +<p>They searched here and there. They flittered to and fro, scanning wide +bands of the surface of Dara. The planet's cities and highways and +industrial centers were wholly open to inspection from the sky. It +looked as if the scouts hunted most busily for the fleet of former +grain ships which Calhoun had said the blueskins had seized and rushed +away. If the scouts looked for them, they did not find them.</p> + +<p>Dara offered no opposition to the ships. Nothing rose to space to +oppose or to resist their search. They went darting over every portion +of the hungry planet, land and seas alike, and there was no sign of +military preparedness against their coming. The huge ships of the main +fleet waited while the scouts reported monotonously that they saw no +sign of the stolen fleet. But the stolen fleet was the only means by +which the planet could be defended. There could be no point in a +pitched battle in emptiness. But a fleet with a planet to back it +might be dangerous.</p> + +<p>Hours passed. The Wealdian main fleet waited. There was no offensive +movement by the fleet. There was no defensive action from the ground. +With fusion-bombs certain to be involved in any actual conflict, there +was something like an embarrassed pause. The Wealdian ships were ready +to bomb. They were less anxious to be vaporized by possible suicide +dashes of defending ships which might blow themselves up near contact +with their enemies.</p> + +<p>But a fleet cannot travel some light-years through space<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_117" id="Page_117">[117]</a></span> to make a +mere threat. And the Wealdian fleet was furnished with the material +for total devastation. It could drop bombs from hundreds, or +thousands, or even tens of thousands of miles away. It could cover the +world of Dara with mushroom clouds springing up and spreading to make +a continuous pall of atomic-fusion products. And they could settle +down and kill every living thing not destroyed by the explosions +themselves. Even the creatures of the deepest oceans would die of +deadly, purposely-contrived fallout particles.</p> + +<p>The Wealdian fleet contemplated its own destructiveness. It found no +capacity for defense on Dara. It moved forward.</p> + +<p>But then a message went out from the capital city of Dara. It said +that a ship in overdrive had carried word to a Darian fleet in space. +The Darian fleet now hurtled toward Weald. It was a fleet of +thirty-seven giant ships. They carried such-and-such bombs in +such-and-such quantities. Unless its orders were countermanded, it +would deliver those bombs on Weald, set to explode. If Weald bombed +Dara, the orders could not be withdrawn. So Weald could bomb Dara. It +could destroy all life on the pariah planet. But Weald would die with +it.</p> + +<p>The fleet ceased its advance. The situation was a stalemate with pure +desperation on one side and pure frustration on the other. This was no +way to end the war. Neither planet could trust the other, even for +minutes. If they did not destroy each other simultaneously, as now was +possible, each would expect the other to launch an unwarned attack at +some other moment. Ultimately one or the other must perish, and the +survivor would be the one most skilled in treachery.</p> + +<p>But then the pariah planet made a new proposal. It would send a +messenger ship to stop its own fleet's bombardment if Weald would +accept payment of the grain ships and their <span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_118" id="Page_118">[118]</a></span>cargos. It would pay in +ingots of irridium and uranium and tungsten, and gold if Weald wished +it, for all damages Weald might claim.</p> + +<p>It would even pay indemnity for the miners of Orede, who had died by +accident but perhaps in some sense through its fault. It would pay. +But if it were bombed, Weald must spout atomic fire and the fleet of +Weald would have no home planet to return to.</p> + +<p>This proposal seemed both craven and foolish. It would allow the fleet +of Weald to loot and then betray Dara. But it was Calhoun's idea. It +seemed plausible to the admirals of Weald. They felt only contempt for +blueskins. Contemptuously, they accepted the semi-surrender.</p> + +<p>The broadcast waves of Dara told of agreement, and wild and fierce +resentment filled the pariah planet's people. There was almost +revolution to insist upon resistance, however hopeless and however +fatal. But not all of Dara realized that a vital change had come about +in the state of things on Dara. The enemy fleet had not a hint of it.</p> + +<p>In menacing array, the invading fleet spread itself about the skies of +Dara, well beyond the atmosphere. Harsh voices talked with increasing +arrogance to the landing-grid staff. A monster ship of Weald came +heavily down, riding the landing-grid's force-fields. It touched +gently. Its occupants were apprehensive, but hungry for the loot they +had been assured was theirs. The ship's outer hull would be sterilized +before it returned to Weald, of course. And there was adequate +protection for the landing-party.</p> + +<p>Men came out of the ship's ports. They wore the double, transparent +sag-suits Calhoun had suggested, which had been painstakingly tested, +and which were perfect protection against contagion. They were double +garments of plastic, with air tanks inside the inner flexible +envelope.</p> + +<p>Men wearing such sag-suits could walk about on Dara. They<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_119" id="Page_119">[119]</a></span> could work +on Dara. They could loot with impunity and all contamination must +remain outside the suits, and on their return to their ships they +would simply stand in the airlocks while corrosive gases swirled +around them, killing any possible organism of disease. Then, for extra +assurance, when air from Weald filled the airlock again, the men would +burn the outer plastic covering and step into the ship without ever +having come within two layers of plastic of infection.</p> + +<p>What loot they gathered, obviously, could be decontaminated before it +was returned to Weald. Metals could be melted, if necessary. Gems +could be sterilized. It was a most satisfactory discovery, to realize +that blueskins could be not only scorned but robbed. There was only +one bit of irrelevant information the space fleet of Weald did not +have.</p> + +<p>That information was that the people of Dara weren't blueskins any +longer. There'd been a trivial epidemic....</p> + +<p>The sag-suited men of Weald went zestfully about their business. They +took over the landing-grid's operation, driving the Darian operators +away. For the first time in history the operators of a landing-grid +wore make-up to look like they did have blue pigment in their skins. +They didn't. The Wealdian landing-party tested the grid's operation. +They brought down another giant ship. Then another. And another.</p> + +<p>Parties in the shiny sag-suits spread through the city. There were the +huge stockpiles of precious metals, brought in readiness to be +surrendered and carried away. Some men set to work to load these into +the holds of the ships of Weald. Some went forthrightly after personal +loot.</p> + +<p>They came upon very few Darians. Those they saw kept sullenly away +from them. They entered shops and took what they fancied. They +zestfully removed the treasure of banks.</p> + +<p>Triumphant and scornful reports went up to the hovering great ships. +The blueskins, said the reports, were spiritless<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_120" id="Page_120">[120]</a></span> and cowardly. They +permitted themselves to be robbed. They kept out of the way. It had +been observed that the population was streaming out of the city, +fleeing because they feared the ships' landing-parties. The blueskins +had abjectly produced all they'd promised of precious metals, but +there was more to be taken.</p> + +<p>More ships came down, and more. Some of the first, heavily loaded, +were lifted to emptiness again and the process of decontamination of +their hulls began. There was jealousy among the ships in space for +those upon the ground. The first-landed ships had had their choice of +loot. There were squabblings about priorities, now that the navy of +Weald plainly had a license to steal. There was confusion among the +members of the landing-parties. Discipline disappeared. Men in plastic +sag-suits roved about as individuals, seeking what they might loot.</p> + +<p>There were armed and alerted landing-parties around the grid itself, +of course, but the capital city of Dara lay open. Men coming back with +loot found their ships already lifted off to make room for others. +They were pushed into re-embarking-parties of other ships. There were +more and more men to be found on ships where they did not belong, and +more and more not to be found where they did.</p> + +<p>By the time half the fleet had been aground, there was no longer any +pretense of holding a ship down until all its crew returned. There +were too many other ships' companies clamoring for their turn to loot. +The rosters of many ships, indeed, bore no particular relationship to +the men actually on board.</p> + +<p>There were less than fifteen ships whose to-be-fumigated holds were +still emptied, when the watchful government of Dara broadcast a new +message to the invaders. It requested that the looting stop. No matter +what payment Weald<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_121" id="Page_121">[121]</a></span> claimed, it had taken payment five times over. Now +was time to stop.</p> + +<p>It was amusing. The space admiral of Weald ordered his ships alerted +for action. The message ship, ordering the Darian fleet away from +Weald, had been sent off long since. No other ship could get away now! +The Darians could take their choice: accept the consequences of +surrender, or the fleet would rise to throw down bombs.</p> + +<p>Calhoun was asking politely to be taken to the Wealdian admiral when +the trouble began. It wasn't on the ground, at all. Everything was +under splendid control where a landing force occupied the grid and all +the ground immediately about it. The space admiral had headquarters in +the landing-grid office. Reports came in, orders were issued, +admirably crisp salutes were exchanged among sag-suited men. +Everything was in perfect shape there.</p> + +<p>But there was panic among the ships in space. Communicators gave off +horrified, panic-stricken yells. There were screamings. Intelligible +communications ceased. Ships plunged crazily this way and that. Some +vanished in overdrive. At least one plunged at full power into a +Darian ocean.</p> + +<p>The space admiral found himself in command of fifteen ships only out +of all his former force. The rest of the fleet went through a period +of hysterical madness. In some ships it lasted for minutes only. In +others it went on for half an hour or more. Then they hung overhead, +but did not reply to calls.</p> + +<p>Calhoun arrived at the spaceport with Murgatroyd riding on his +shoulder. A bewildered officer in a sag-suit halted him.</p> + +<p>"I've come," said Calhoun, "to speak to the admiral. My name is +Calhoun and I'm Med Service, and I think I met the admiral at a +banquet a few weeks ago. He'll remember me."<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_122" id="Page_122">[122]</a></span></p> + +<p>"You'll have to wait," protested the officer. "There's some trouble—"</p> + +<p>"Yes," said Calhoun. "I know about it. I helped design it. I want to +explain it to the admiral. He needs to know what's happened, if he's +to take appropriate measures."</p> + +<p>There were jitterings. Many men in sag-suits had still no idea that +anything had gone wrong. Some appeared, brightly carrying loot. Some +hung eagerly around the airlocks of ships on the grid tarmac, waiting +their turns to stand in corrosive gases for the decontamination of +their suits, when they would burn the outer layers and step, aseptic +and happy, into a Wealdian ship again. There they could think how rich +they were going to be back on Weald.</p> + +<p>But the situation aloft was bewildering and very, very ominous. There +was strident argument. Presently Calhoun stood before the Wealdian +admiral.</p> + +<p>"I came to explain something," said Calhoun pleasantly. "The situation +has changed. You've noticed it, I'm sure."</p> + +<p>The admiral glared at him through two layers of plastic, which covered +him almost like a gift-wrapped parcel.</p> + +<p>"Be quick!" he rasped.</p> + +<p>"First," said Calhoun, "there are no more blueskins. An epidemic of +something or other has made the blue patches on the skins of Darians +fade out. There have always been some who didn't have blue patches. +Now nobody has them."</p> + +<p>"Nonsense!" rasped the admiral. "And what has that got to do with this +situation?"</p> + +<p>"Why, everything," said Calhoun mildly. "It seems that Darians can +pass for Wealdians whenever they please. That they <i>are</i> passing for +Wealdians. That they've been mixing with your men, wearing sag-suits +exactly like the one you're wearing now. They've been going aboard +your ships in the confusion of returning looters. There's not a ship +now aloft,<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_123" id="Page_123">[123]</a></span> which has been aground today, which hasn't from one to +fifteen Darians—no longer blueskins—on board."</p> + +<p>The admiral roared. Then his face turned gray.</p> + +<p>"You can't take your fleet back to Weald," said Calhoun gently, "if +you believe its crews have been exposed to carriers of the Dara +plague. You wouldn't be allowed to land, anyhow."</p> + +<p>The admiral said through stiff lips, "I'll blast—"</p> + +<p>"No," said Calhoun, again gently. "When you ordered all ships alerted +for action, the Darians on each ship released panic gas. They only +needed tiny, pocket-sized containers of the gas for the job. They had +them. They only needed to use air tanks from their sag-suits to +protect themselves against the gas. They kept them handy.</p> + +<p>"On nearly all your ships aloft your crews are crazy from panic gas. +They'll stay that way until the air is changed. Darians have +barricaded themselves in the control rooms of most if not all your +ships. You haven't got a fleet. The few ships who will obey your +orders—if they drop one bomb, our fleet off Weald will drop fifty.</p> + +<p>"I don't think you'd better order offensive action. Instead, I think +you'd better have your fleet medical officers come and learn some of +the facts of life. There's no need for war between Dara and Weald, but +if you insist...."</p> + +<p>The admiral made a choking noise. He could have ordered Calhoun +killed, but there was a certain appalling fact. The men aground from +the fleet were breathing Wealdian air from tanks. It would last so +long only. If they were taken on board the still obedient ships +overhead, Darians would unquestionably be mixed with them. There was +no way to take off the parties now aground without exposing them to +contact with Darians, on the ground or in the ships. There was no way +to sort out the Darians.<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_124" id="Page_124">[124]</a></span></p> + +<p>"I—I will give the orders," said the admiral thickly. "I do not know +what you devils plan, but—I do not know how to stop you."</p> + +<p>"All that's necessary," said Calhoun warmly, "is an open mind. There's +a misunderstanding to be cleared up, and some principles of planetary +health practises to be explained, and a certain amount of prejudice +that has to be thrown away. But nobody need die of changing their +minds. The Interstellar Medical Service has proved that over and +over!"</p> + +<p>Murgatroyd, perched on his shoulder, felt that it was time to take +part in the conversation. He said, "<i>Chee-chee!</i>"</p> + +<p>"Yes," agreed Calhoun. "We do want to get the job done. We're behind +schedule now."</p> + +<hr style='width: 45%;' /> + +<p>It was not, of course, possible for Calhoun to leave immediately. He +had to preside at various meetings of the medical officers of the +fleet and the health officials of Dara. He had to make explanations, +and correct misapprehensions, and delicately suggest such biological +experiments as would prove to the doctors of Weald that there was no +longer a plague on Dara, whatever had been the case three generations +before.</p> + +<p>He had to sit by while an extremely self-confident young Darian +doctor—one of his names was Korvan—rather condescendingly +demonstrated that the former blue pigmentation was a viral product +quite unconnected with the plague, and that it had been wiped out by a +very trivial epidemic of such and such.</p> + +<p>Calhoun regarded that young man with a detached interest. Maril +thought him wonderful, even if she had to give him the material for +his work. He agreed with her that he was wonderful. Calhoun shrugged +and went on with his own work.<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_125" id="Page_125">[125]</a></span></p> + +<p>The return of loot, mutual, full, and complete agreement that Darians +were no longer carriers of plague, if they had ever been—unless Weald +convinced other worlds of this, Weald itself would join Dara in +isolation from neighboring worlds. A messenger ship had to recall the +twenty-seven ships once floating in orbit about Weald. Most of them +would be used for some time, to bring beef from Orede. Some would haul +more grain from Weald. It would be paid for. There would be a need for +commercial missions to be exchanged between Weald and Dara. There +would have to be....</p> + +<p>It was a full week before he could go to the little Med Ship and +prepare for departure. Even then there were matters to be attended to. +All the food-supplies that had been removed could not be replaced. +There were biological samples to be replaced and some to be destroyed.</p> + +<p>Maril came to the Med Ship again when he was almost ready to leave. +She did not seem comfortable.</p> + +<p>"I wanted you to meet Korvan," she said regretfully.</p> + +<p>"I met him," said Calhoun. "I think he will be a most prominent +citizen, in time. He has all the talents for it."</p> + +<p>Maril smiled very faintly.</p> + +<p>"But you don't admire him."</p> + +<p>"I wouldn't say that," protested Calhoun. "After all, he is desirable +to you, which is something I couldn't manage."</p> + +<p>"You didn't try," said Maril. "Just as I didn't try to be fascinating +to you. Why?"</p> + +<p>Calhoun spread out his hands. But he looked at Maril with respect. Not +every woman could have faced the fact that a man did not feel impelled +to make passes at her. It is simply a fact that has nothing to do with +desirability or charm or anything else.</p> + +<p>"You're going to marry him," he said. "I hope you'll be very happy."<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_126" id="Page_126">[126]</a></span></p> + +<p>"He's the man I want," said Maril frankly. "And I doubt he'll ever +look at another woman. He looks forward to splendid discoveries. I +wish he didn't."</p> + +<p>Calhoun did not ask the obvious question. Instead, he said +thoughtfully, "There's something you could do. It needs to be done. +The Med Service in this sector has been badly handled. There are a +number of discoveries that need to be made. I don't think your Korvan +would relish having things handed to him on a visible silver platter. +But they should be known...."</p> + +<p>Maril said, "I can guess what you mean. I dropped hints about the way +the blueskin markings went away, yes. You've got books for me?"</p> + +<p>Calhoun nodded. He found them.</p> + +<p>"If we had only fallen in love with each other, Maril, we'd be a team! +Too bad! These are a wedding present you'll do well to hide."</p> + +<p>She put her hands in his.</p> + +<p>"I like you almost as much as I like Murgatroyd! Yes! Korvan will +never know, and he'll be a great man." Then she added defensively, +"But I don't think he'll only discover things from hints I drop him. +He'll make wonderful discoveries."</p> + +<p>"Of which," said Calhoun, "the most remarkable is you. Good luck, +Maril!"</p> + +<p>She went away smiling. But she wiped her eyes when she was out of the +ship.</p> + +<p>Presently the Med Ship lifted. Calhoun aimed it for the next planet on +the list of those he was to visit. After this one more he'd return to +sector headquarters with a biting report to make on the way things had +been handled before him.</p> + +<p>"Overdrive coming, Murgatroyd!"</p> + +<p>Then the stars went out and there was silence, and privacy,<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_127" id="Page_127">[127]</a></span> and a +faint, faint, almost unbearable series of background sounds which kept +the Med Ship from being totally unendurable.</p> + +<p>Long, long days later the ship broke out of overdrive and Calhoun +guided it to a round and sunlit world. In due time he thumbed the +communicator button.</p> + +<p>"Calling ground," he said crisply. "Calling ground! Med Ship +<i>Aesclipus Twenty</i> reporting arrival and asking coordinates for +landing. Purpose of landing is planetary health inspection. Our mass +is fifty standard tons."</p> + +<p>There was a pause while the beamed message went many, many thousands +of miles. Then the speaker said, "<i>Aesclipus Twenty</i>, repeat your +identification!"</p> + +<p>Calhoun repeated it patiently. Murgatroyd watched with bright eyes. +Perhaps he hoped to be allowed to have another long conversation with +somebody by communicator.</p> + +<p>"You are warned," said the communicator sternly, "that any deceit or +deception about your identity or purpose in landing will be severely +punished. We take few chances, here! If you wish to land +notwithstanding this warning—"</p> + +<p>"I'm coming in," said Calhoun. "Give me the coordinates."</p> + +<p>He wrote them down. His expression was slightly pained. The Med Ship +drove on, in solar system drive. Murgatroyd said, "<i>Chee-chee? Chee?</i>"</p> + +<p>Calhoun sighed.</p> + +<p>"That's right, Murgatroyd! Here we go again!"</p> + +<p> </p> +<hr style='width: 65%;' /> +<h3>FEAR RIDES THE ROCKETS</h3> +<p class="blockquot">The Interstellar Medical Service was just about the only remaining +galactic organization that every one of the hundreds of inhabited +planets respected. So when their service broke down in Star Sector +Twelve, it created a very dangerous situation.</p> + +<p class="blockquot">When Calhoun took his Med ship out of overdrive near that sector's +planet Weald, he was vaguely aware of the risks. But the crisis came +home to him with a crash the moment he radioed in for landing +coordinates.</p> + +<p class="blockquot">"Contamination! Full mobilization! Red alert! Death to blueskins!" +Such were the nature of his greetings.</p> + +<p class="blockquot">And it began to look like a case of the cosmic jitters that only the +most drastic of orbital surgery could cure.</p> + +<p>Murray Leinster, whose real name is Will F. Jenkins, has been +entertaining the public with his exciting fiction for several decades. +Called the dean of modern science-fiction, he was writing these +amazing super-science adventures back in the early twenties before +there ever was such a thing as an all-fantasy magazine. His short +stories, novelettes, and serial novels have appeared in most of the +major American magazines, both slick and pulp, and many have been +reprinted all over the world. He has made a distinguished name for +himself (or rather two names) in the fields of adventure, historical, +western, sea, and suspense stories.</p> + +<p>Ace Books has still available the following Murray Leinster novels: +CITY ON THE MOON (D-277), THE PIRATES OF ZAN and THE MUTANT WEAPON +(D-403), and THE FORGOTTEN PLANET (D-528). +</p> +<hr style='width: 65%;' /> +<h3> +Here's a quick checklist of recent releases of<br /> +ACE SCIENCE-FICTION BOOKS</h3> + +<h3>35¢</h3> +<p> + <b>D-498 GALACTIC DERELICT</b> by Andre Norton</p><p> + <b>D-504 MASTER OF THE WORLD</b> by Jules Verne</p><p> + <b>D-507 MEETING AT INFINITY</b> by John Brunner<br /> + <span style="margin-left: 3.5em;"><i>and</i> <b>BEYOND THE SILVER SKY</b> by Kenneth Bulmer</span></p><p> + <b>D-508 MORE MACABRE</b> Edited by Donald A. 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McDonald Wallis</span></p><p> + <b>F-109 STORM OVER WARLOCK</b> by Andre Norton</p><p> + <b>F-113 REBELS OF THE RED PLANET</b> by Charles Fontenay<br /> + <span style="margin-left: 3.5em;"><i>and</i> <b>200 YEARS TO CHRISTMAS</b> by J. T. McIntosh</span><br /> + </p> + + +<p>If you are missing any of these, they can be obtained directly from +the publisher by sending the indicated sum, plus 5¢ handling fee, to +Ace Books, Inc. (Sales Dept.), 23 West 47th St., New York 36, N. Y.</p> + +<hr style='width: 65%;' /> + + + + + + + + + + +<pre> + + + + + +End of the Project Gutenberg EBook of This World Is Taboo, by Murray Leinster + +*** END OF THIS PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK THIS WORLD IS TABOO *** + +***** This file should be named 18172-h.htm or 18172-h.zip ***** +This and all associated files of various formats will be found in: + http://www.gutenberg.org/1/8/1/7/18172/ + +Produced by Greg Weeks, Sankar Viswanathan, and the Online +Distributed Proofreading Team at http://www.pgdp.net + + +Updated editions will replace the previous one--the old editions +will be renamed. + +Creating the works from public domain print editions means that no +one owns a United States copyright in these works, so the Foundation +(and you!) can copy and distribute it in the United States without +permission and without paying copyright royalties. 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Thus, we do not necessarily +keep eBooks in compliance with any particular paper edition. + +Most people start at our Web site which has the main PG search facility: + + http://www.gutenberg.org + +This Web site includes information about Project Gutenberg-tm, +including how to make donations to the Project Gutenberg Literary +Archive Foundation, how to help produce our new eBooks, and how to +subscribe to our email newsletter to hear about new eBooks. + +*** END: FULL LICENSE *** + + + +</pre> + +</body> +</html> + diff --git a/18172-h/images/image_01.jpg b/18172-h/images/image_01.jpg Binary files differnew file mode 100644 index 0000000..7e7313f --- /dev/null +++ b/18172-h/images/image_01.jpg diff --git a/18172.txt b/18172.txt new file mode 100644 index 0000000..dd96e24 --- /dev/null +++ b/18172.txt @@ -0,0 +1,5090 @@ +The Project Gutenberg EBook of This World Is Taboo, by Murray Leinster + +This eBook is for the use of anyone anywhere at no cost and with +almost no restrictions whatsoever. You may copy it, give it away or +re-use it under the terms of the Project Gutenberg License included +with this eBook or online at www.gutenberg.org + + +Title: This World Is Taboo + +Author: Murray Leinster + +Release Date: April 14, 2006 [EBook #18172] + +Language: English + +Character set encoding: ASCII + +*** START OF THIS PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK THIS WORLD IS TABOO *** + + + + +Produced by Greg Weeks, Sankar Viswanathan, and the Online +Distributed Proofreading Team at http://www.pgdp.net + + + + + + + + + + Transcriber's note: + Extensive research did not uncover any evidence that the copyright + on this publication was renewed. + + + THIS WORLD + IS TABOO + + + by + MURRAY LEINSTER + + + + + ACE BOOKS, INC. + 23 West 47th Street, New York 36, N. Y. + + * * * * * + + + + +THIS WORLD IS TABOO + +1 + + +The little Med Ship came out of overdrive and the stars were strange +and the Milky Way seemed unfamiliar. Which, of course, was because the +Milky Way and the local Cepheid marker-stars were seen from an +unaccustomed angle and a not-yet-commonplace pattern of varying +magnitudes. + +But Calhoun grunted in satisfaction. There was a banded sun off to +port, which was good. A breakout at no more than sixty light-hours +from one's destination wasn't bad, in a strange sector of the galaxy +and after three light-years of journeying blind. + +"Arise and shine, Murgatroyd," said Calhoun. "Comb your whiskers. Get +set to astonish the natives!" + +A sleepy, small, shrill voice said: "_Chee!_" + +Murgatroyd the _tormal_ came crawling out of the small cubbyhole which +was his own. He blinked at Calhoun. + +"We're due to land shortly," Calhoun observed. "You will impress the +local inhabitants. I will get unpopular. According to the records, +there's been no Med Ship inspection here for twelve standard years. +And that was practically no inspection, to judge by the report." + +Murgatroyd said: "_Chee-chee!_" + +He began to make his toilet, first licking his right-hand whiskers and +then his left. Then he stood up and shook himself and looked +interestedly at Calhoun. _Tormals_ are companionable small animals. +They are charmed when somebody speaks to them. They find great, deep +satisfaction in imitating the actions of humans, as parrots and +mynahs and parakeets imitate human speech. But _tormals_ have certain +valuable, genetically transmitted talents which make them much more +valuable than mere companions or pets. + +Calhoun got a light-reading for the banded sun. It could hardly be an +accurate measure of distance, but it was a guide. + +"Hold on to something, Murgatroyd!" he said. + +Murgatroyd watched. He saw Calhoun make certain gestures which +presaged discomfort. He popped back into his cubbyhole. Calhoun threw +the overdrive switch and the Med Ship flicked back into that +questionable state of being in which velocities of hundreds of times +that of light are possible. The sensation of going into overdrive was +unpleasant. A moment later, the sensation of coming out was no less +so. Calhoun had experienced it often enough, and still didn't like it. + +The sun Weald burned huge and terrible in space. It was close, now. +Its disk covered half a degree of arc. + +"Very neat," observed Calhoun. "Weald Three is our port, Murgatroyd. +The plane of the ecliptic would be ... Hm...." + +He swung the outside electron telescope, picked up a nearby bright +object, enlarged its image to show details, and checked it against the +local star-pilot. He calculated a moment. The distance was too short +for even the briefest of overdrive hops, but it would take time to get +there on solar-system drive. + +He thumbed down the communicator button and spoke into a microphone. + +"Med Ship _Aesclipus Twenty_ reporting arrival and asking coordinates +for landing," he said matter-of-factly. "Purpose of landing is +planetary health inspection. Our mass is fifty tons, standard. We +should arrive at a landing position in something under four hours. +Repeat. Med Ship _Aesclipus Twenty_...." + +He finished the regular second transmission and made coffee for +himself while he waited for an answer. Murgatroyd came out for a cup +of coffee for himself. Murgatroyd adored coffee. In minutes he held a +tiny cup in a furry small paw and sipped gingerly at the hot liquid. + +A voice came out of the communicator: + +"_Aesclipus Twenty_, repeat your identification." + +Calhoun went to the control board. + +"_Aesclipus Twenty_," he said patiently, "is a Med Ship, sent by the +Interstellar Medical Service to make a planetary health inspection on +Weald. Check with your public health authorities. This is the first +Med Ship visit in twelve standard years, I believe--which is +inexcusable. But your health authorities will know all about it. Check +with them." + +The voice said truculently: + +"What was your last port?" + +Calhoun named it. This was not his home sector, but Sector Twelve had +gotten into a very bad situation. Some of its planets had gone +unvisited for as long as twenty years, and twelve between inspections +was almost commonplace. Other sectors had been called on to help it +catch up. + +Calhoun was one of the loaned Med Ship men, and because of the +emergency he'd been given a list of half a dozen planets to be +inspected one after another, instead of reporting back to sector +headquarters after each visit. He'd had minor troubles before with +landing-grid operators in Sector Twelve. + +So he was very patient. He named the planet last inspected, the one +from which he'd set out for Weald Three. The voice from the +communicator said sharply: + +"What port before that?" + +Calhoun named the one before the last. + +"Don't drive any closer," said the voice harshly, "or you'll be +destroyed!" + +Calhoun said coldly, "Listen, my fine feathered friend! I'm from the +Interstellar Medical Service. You get in touch with planetary health +services immediately! Remind them of the Interstellar Medical +Inspection Agreement, signed on Tralee two hundred and forty standard +years ago. Remind them that if they do not cooperate in medical +inspection that I can put your planet under quarantine and your space +commerce will be cut off like that! + +"No ship will be cleared for Weald from any other planet in the galaxy +until there has been a health inspection! Things have pretty well gone +to pot so far as the Med Service in this sector is concerned, but it's +being straightened up. I'm helping straighten it! I give you twenty +minutes to clear this! Then I am coming in, and if I'm not landed a +quarantine goes on! Tell your health authorities that!" + +Silence. Calhoun clicked off and poured himself another cup of coffee. +Murgatroyd held out his cup for a refill. Calhoun gave it to him. + +"I hate to put on an official hat, Murgatroyd," he said, annoyed, "but +there are some people who demand it. The rule is, never get official +if you can help it, but when you must, out-official the official who's +officialing you." + +Murgatroyd said "_Chee!_" and sipped at his cup. + +Calhoun checked the course of the Med Ship. It bore on through space. +There were tiny noises from the communicator. There were whisperings +and rustlings and the occasional strange and sometimes beautiful +musical notes whose origin is yet obscure, but which, since they are +carried by electromagnetic radiation of wildly varying wave lengths, +are not likely to be the fabled music of the spheres. + +In fifteen minutes a different voice came from the speaker. + +"Med Ship _Aesclipus_! Med Ship _Aesclipus_!" + +Calhoun answered and the voice said anxiously: + +"Sorry about the challenge, but we have the blueskin problem always +with us. We have to be extremely careful! Will you come in, please?" + +"I'm on my way," said Calhoun. + +"The planetary health authorities," said the voice, more anxiously +still, "are very anxious to be cooperative. We need Med Service help! +We lose a lot of sleep over the blueskin! Could you tell us the name +of the last Med Ship to land here, and its inspector, and when that +inspection was made? We want to look up the record of the event to be +able to assist you in every possible way." + +"He's lying," Calhoun told Murgatroyd, "but he's more scared than +hostile." + +He picked up the order folio on Weald Three. He gave the information +about the last Med Ship visit. + +"What?" he asked, "is a blueskin?" + +He'd read the folio on Weald, of course, but as the ship swam onward +through emptiness he went through it again. The last medical +inspection had been only perfunctory. Twelve years earlier--instead of +three--a Med Ship had landed on Weald. There had been official +conferences with health officials. There was a report on the birth +rate, the death rate, the anomaly rate, and a breakdown of all +reported communicable diseases. But that was all. There were no +special comments and no overall picture. + +Presently Calhoun found the word in a Sector dictionary, where words +of only local usage were to be found: + + "_Blueskin: Colloquial term for a person recovered from a plague + which left large patches of blue pigment irregularly distributed + over the body. Especially, inhabitants of Dara. The condition is + said to be caused by a chronic, nonfatal form of Dara plague and + has been said to be noninfectious, though this is not certain. The + etiology of Dara plague has not been worked out. The blueskin + condition is hereditary but not a genetic modification, as markings + appear in non-Mendelian distributions_." + +Calhoun puzzled over it. Nobody could have read the entire Sector +directory, even with unlimited leisure during travel between solar +systems. Calhoun hadn't tried. But now he went laboriously through +indices and cross-references while the ship continued to travel +onward. + +He found no other reference to blueskins. He looked up Dara. It was +listed as an inhabited planet, some four hundred years colonized, with +a landing-grid and, at the time the main notice was written out, a +flourishing interstellar commerce. But there was a memo, evidently +added to the entry in some change of editions: "_Since plague, special +license from Med Service is required for landing._" + +That was all. Absolutely all. + +The communicator said suavely: + +"Med Ship _Aesclipus Twenty_! Come in on vision, please!" + +Calhoun went to the control board and threw on vision. + +"Well, what now?" he demanded. + +His screen lighted. A bland face looked out at him. + +"We have--ah--verified your statements," said the third voice from +Weald. "Just one more item. Are you alone in your ship?" + +"Of course," said Calhoun, frowning. + +"Quite alone?" insisted the voice. + +"Obviously!" said Calhoun. + +"No other living creature?" insisted the voice again. "Of--oh!" said +Calhoun, annoyed. He called over his shoulder. "Murgatroyd! Come +here!" + +Murgatroyd hopped to his lap and gazed interestedly at the screen. The +bland face changed remarkably. The voice changed even more. + +"Very good!" it said. "Very, very good! Blueskins do not have +_tormals_! You are Med Service! By all means come in! Your coordinates +will be...." + +Calhoun wrote them down. He clicked off the communicator again and +growled to Murgatroyd, "So I might have been a blueskin, eh? And +you're my passport, because only Med Ships have members of your tribe +aboard! What the hell's the matter, Murgatroyd? They act like they +think somebody's trying to get down on their planet with a load of +plague germs!" + +He grumbled to himself for minutes. The life of a Med Ship man is not +exactly a sinecure, at best. It means long periods in empty space in +overdrive, which is absolute and deadly tedium. Then two or three days +aground, checking official documents and statistics, and asking +questions to see how many of the newest medical techniques have +reached this planet or that, and the supplying of information about +such as have not arrived. + +Then the lifting out to space for long periods of tedium, to repeat +the process somewhere else. Med Ships carry only one man because two +could not stand the close contact without quarreling with each other. +But Med Ships do carry _tormals_, like Murgatroyd, and a _tormal_ and +a man can get along indefinitely, like a man and a dog. It is a highly +unequal friendship, but it seems to be satisfactory to both. + +Calhoun was very much annoyed with the way the Med Service had been +operated in Sector Twelve. He was one of many men at work to correct +the results of incompetence in directing Med Service in this sector. +But it is always disheartening to have to labor at making up for +somebody else's blundering, when there is so much new work that needs +to be done. + +The condition shown by the landing-grid suspicions was a case in +point. Blueskins were people who inherited a splotchy skin +pigmentation from other people who'd survived a plague. Weald plainly +maintained a one-planet quarantine against them. But a quarantine is +normally an emergency measure. The Med Service should have taken over, +wiped out the need for a quarantine, and then lifted it. It hadn't +been done. + +Calhoun fumed to himself. + +The world of Weald Three grew brighter and brighter and became a disk. +The disk had icecaps and a reasonable proportion of land and water +surface. The ship decelerated, voices notifying observation from the +surface, and the little ship came to a stop some five planetary +diameters out from solidity. The landing field's force-field locked on +to it, and its descent began. + +The business of landing was all very familiar, from the blue rim which +appeared at the limb of the planet from one diameter out, to the +singular flowing-apart of the surface features as the ship sank still +lower. There was the circular landing-grid, rearing skyward for nearly +a mile. It could let down interstellar liners from emptiness and lift +them out to emptiness again, with great convenience and economy for +everyone. + +It landed the Med Ship in its center, and there were officials to +greet Calhoun, and he knew in advance the routine part of his visit. +There would be an interview with the planet's chief executive, by +whatever title he was called. There would be a banquet. Murgatroyd +would be petted by everybody. There would be painful efforts to +impress Calhoun with the splendid conduct of public health matters on +Weald. He would be told much scandal. + +He might find one man, somewhere, who passionately labored to advance +the welfare of his fellow humans by finding out how to keep them well +or, failing that, how to make them well when they got sick. And in two +days, or three, Calhoun would be escorted back to the landing-grid, +and lifted out to space, and he'd spend long empty days in overdrive +and land somewhere else to do the whole thing all over again. + +It all happened exactly as he expected, with one exception. Every +human being he met on Weald wanted to talk about blueskins. Blueskins +and the idea of blueskins obsessed everyone. Calhoun listened without +asking questions until he had the picture of what blueskins meant to +the people who talked of them. Then he knew there would be no use +asking questions at random. + +Nobody mentioned ever having seen a blueskin. Nobody mentioned a +specific event in which a blueskin had at any named time taken part. +But everybody was afraid of blueskins. It was a patterned, an +inculcated, a stage-directed fixed idea. And it found expression in +shocked references to the vileness, the depravity, the monstrousness +of the blueskin inhabitants of Dara, from whom Weald must at all costs +be protected. + +It did not make sense. So Calhoun listened politely until he found an +undistinguished medical man who wanted some special information about +gene selection as practised halfway across the galaxy. He invited that +man to the Med Ship, where he supplied the information not hitherto +available. He saw his guest's eyes shine a little with that joyous awe +a man feels when he finds out something he has wanted long and badly +to know. + +"Now," said Calhoun, "tell me something? Why does everybody on this +planet hate the inhabitants of Dara? It's light-years away. Nobody +claims to have suffered in person from them. Why make a point of +hating them?" + +The Wealdian doctor grimaced. + +"They've blue patches on their skins. They're different from us. So +they can be pictured as a danger and our political parties can make an +election issue out of competing for the privilege of defending us from +them. They had a plague on Dara, once. They're accused of still having +it ready for export." + +"Hm," said Calhoun. "The story is that they want to spread contagion +here, eh? Doesn't anybody"--his tone was sardonic--"doesn't anybody +urge that they be massacred as an act of piety?" + +"Yes-s-s-s," admitted the doctor reluctantly. "It's mentioned in +political speeches." + +"But how's it rationalized?" demanded Calhoun. "What's the argument to +make pigment-patches involve moral and physical degradation, as I'm +assured is the case?" + +"In the public schools," said the doctor, "the children are taught +that blueskins are now carriers of the disease they survived--three +generations ago! That they hate everybody who isn't a blueskin. That +they are constantly scheming to introduce their plague here so most of +us will die and the rest will become blueskins. That's beyond +rationalizing. It can't be true, but it's not safe to doubt it." + +"Bad business," said Calhoun coldly. "That sort of thing usually costs +lives in the end. It could lead to massacre!" + +"Perhaps it has, in a way," said the doctor unhappily. "One doesn't +like to think about it." He paused. "Twenty years ago there was a +famine on Dara. There were crop failures. The situation must have been +very bad: They built a spaceship. + +"They've no use for such things normally, because no nearby planet +will deal with them or let them land. But they built a spaceship and +came here. They went in orbit around Weald. They asked to trade for +shiploads of food. They offered any price in heavy metals--gold, +platinum, irridium, and so on. They talked from orbit by vision +communicators. They could be seen to be blueskins. You can guess what +happened!" + +"Tell me," said Calhoun. + +"We armed ships in a hurry," admitted the doctor. "We chased their +spaceship back to Dara. We hung in space off the planet. We told them +we'd blast their world from pole to pole if they ever dared take to +space again. We made them destroy their one ship, and we watched on +visionscreens as it was done." + +"But you gave them food?" + +"No," said the doctor ashamedly. "They were blueskins." + +"How bad was the famine?" + +"Who knows? Any number may have starved! And we kept a squadron of +armed ships in their skies for years--to keep them from spreading the +plague, we said. And some of us believed it!" + +The doctor's tone was purest irony. + +"Lately," he said, "there's been a move for economy in our government. +Simultaneously, we began to have a series of overabundant crops. The +government had to buy the excess grain to keep the price up. Retired +patrol ships, built to watch over Dara, were available for storage +space. We filled them up with grain and sent them out into orbit. +They're there now, hundreds of thousands or millions of tons of +grain!" + +"And Dara?" + +The doctor shrugged. He stood up. + +"Our hatred of Dara," he said, again ironically, "has produced one +thing. Roughly halfway between here and Dara there's a two-planet +solar system, Orede. There's a usable planet there. It was proposed to +build an outpost of Weald there, against blueskins. Cattle were landed +to run wild and multiply and make a reason for colonists to settle +there. + +"They did, but nobody wants to move near to blueskins! So Orede stayed +uninhabited until a hunting party, shooting wild cattle, found an +outcropping of heavy-metal ore. So now there's a mine there. And +that's all. A few hundred men work the mine at fabulous wages. You may +be asked to check on their health. But not Dara's!" + +"I see," said Calhoun, frowning. + +The doctor moved toward the Med Ship's exit port. + +"I answered your questions," he said grimly. "But if I talked to +anyone else as I've done to you, I'd be lucky only to be driven into +exile!" + +"I shan't give you away," said Calhoun. He did not smile. + + * * * * * + +When the doctor had gone, Calhoun said deliberately, "Murgatroyd, you +should be grateful that you're a _tormal_ and not a man. There's +nothing about being a _tormal_ to make you ashamed!" + +Then he grimly changed his garments for the full-dress uniform of the +Med Service. There was to be a banquet at which he would sit next to +the planet's chief executive and hear innumerable speeches about the +splendor of Weald. Calhoun had his own, strictly Med Service opinion +of the planet's latest and most boasted-of achievement. It was a domed +city in the polar regions, where nobody ever had to go outdoors. + +He was less than professionally enthusiastic about the moving streets, +and much less than approving of the dream broadcasts which supplied +hypnotic, sleep-inducing rhythms to anybody who chose to listen to +them. The price was that while asleep one would hear high praise of +commercial products, and might believe them when awake. + +But it was not Calhoun's function to criticize when it could be +avoided. Med Service had been badly managed in Sector Twelve. So at +the banquet Calhoun made a brief and diplomatic address in which he +temperately praised what could be praised, and did not mention +anything else. + +The chief executive followed him. As head of the government he paid +some tribute to the Med Service. But then he reminded his hearers +proudly of the high culture, splendid health, and remarkable +prosperity of the planet since his political party took office. This, +he said, despite the need to be perpetually on guard against the +greatest and most immediate danger to which any world in all the +galaxy was exposed. + +He referred to the blueskins, of course. He did not need to tell the +people of Weald what vigilance, what constant watchfulness was +necessary against that race of deprived and malevolent deviants from +the norm of humanity. But Weald, he said with emotion, held aloft the +torch of all that humanity held most dear, and defended not alone the +lives of its people against blueskin contagion, but their noble +heritage of ideals against blueskin pollution. + +When he sat down, Calhoun said very politely, "It looks as if some day +it should be practical politics to urge the massacre of all blueskins. +Have you thought of that?" + +The chief executive said comfortably, "The idea's been proposed. It's +good politics to urge it, but it would be foolish to carry it out. +People vote against blueskins. Wipe them out, and where'd you be?" + +Calhoun ground his teeth--quietly. + +There were more speeches. Then a messenger, white-faced, arrived with +a written note for the chief executive. He read it and passed it to +Calhoun. It was from the Ministry of Health. The spaceport reported +that a ship had just broken out from overdrive within the Wealdian +solar system. Its tape-transmitter had automatically signaled its +arrival from the mining planet Orede. + +But, having sent off its automatic signal, the ship lay dead in space. +It did not drive toward Weald. It did not respond to signals. It +drifted like a derelict upon no course at all. It seemed ominous, and +since it came from Orede, the planet nearest to Dara of the blueskins, +the health ministry informed the planet's chief executive. + +"It'll be blueskins," said that astute person firmly. "They're next +door to Orede. That's who's done this. It wouldn't surprise me if +they'd seeded Orede with their plague, and this ship came from there +to give us warning!" + +"There's no evidence for anything of the sort," protested Calhoun. "A +ship simply came out of overdrive and didn't signal further. That's +all!" + +"We'll see," said the chief executive ominously. "We'll go to the +spaceport. There we'll get the news as it comes in, and can frame +orders on the latest information." + +He took Calhoun by the arm. Calhoun said sharply, "Murgatroyd!" + +During the banquet, Murgatroyd had been visiting with the wives of the +higher-up officials. They had enough of their husbands normally, +without listening to their official speeches. Murgatroyd was brought, +his small paunch distended with cakes and coffee and such delicacies +as he'd been plied with. He was half comatose from overfeeding and +overpetting, but he was glad to see Calhoun. + +Calhoun held the little creature in his arms as the official groundcar +raced through traffic with screaming sirens claiming the right of way. +It reached the spaceport, where enormous metal girders formed a +monster frame of metal lace against a star-filled sky. The chief +executive strode magnificently into the spaceport offices. There was +no news; the situation remained unchanged. + +A ship from Orede had come out of overdrive and lay dead in emptiness. +It did not answer calls. It did not move in space. It floated eerily +in no orbit, going nowhere, doing nothing. And panic was the +consequence. + +It seemed to Calhoun that the official handling of the matter +accounted for the terror that he could feel building up. The +unexplained bit of news was on the air all over the planet Weald. +There was nobody awake of all the world's population who did not +believe that there was a new danger in the sky. Nobody doubted that it +came from blueskins. The treatment of the news was precisely +calculated to keep alive the hatred of Weald for the inhabitants of +the world Dara. + +Calhoun put Murgatroyd into the Med Ship and went back to the +spaceport office. A small spaceboat, designed to inspect the circling +grain ships from time to time, was already aloft. The landing-grid had +thrust it swiftly out most of the way. Now it droned and drove on +sturdily toward the enigmatic ship. + +Calhoun took no part in the agitated conferences among the officials +and news reporters at the spaceport. But he listened to the talk about +him. As the investigating small ship drew nearer to the deathly-still +cargo vessel, the guesses about the meaning of its breakout and +following silence grew more and more wild. + +But, singularly, there was no single suggestion that the mystery might +not be the work of blueskins. Blueskins were scape-goats for all the +fears and all the uneasiness a perhaps over-civilized world developed. + +Presently the investigating spaceboat reached the mystery ship and +circled it, beaming queries. No answer. It reported the cargo ship +dark. No lights anywhere on or in it. There were no induction-surges +from even pulsing, idling engines. Delicately, the messenger craft +maneuvered until it touched the silent vessel. It reported that +microphones detected no motion whatever inside. + +"Let a volunteer go aboard," commanded the chief executive. "Let him +report what he finds." + +A pause. Then the solemn announcement of an intrepid volunteer's name, +from far, far away. Calhoun listened, frowning darkly. This pompous +heroism wouldn't be noticed in the Med Service. It would be routine +behavior. + +Suspenseful, second-by-second reports. The volunteer had rocketed +himself across the emptiness between the two again separated ships. He +had opened the airlock from outside. He'd gone in. He'd closed the +outer airlock door. He'd opened the inner. He reported-- + +The relayed report was almost incoherent, what with horror and +incredulity and the feeling of doom that came upon the volunteer. The +ship was a bulk-cargo ore-carrier, designed to run between Orede and +Weald with cargos of heavy-metal ores and a crew of no more than five +men. There was no cargo in her holds now, though. + +Instead, there were men. They packed the ship. They filled the +corridors. They had crawled into every space where a man could find +room to push himself. There were hundreds of them. It was insanity. +And it had been greater insanity still for the ship to have taken off +with so preposterous a load of living creatures. + +But they weren't living any longer. The air apparatus had been +designed for a crew of five. It would purify the air for possibly +twenty or more. But there were hundreds of men in hiding as well as in +plain view in the cargo ship from Orede. There were many, many times +more than her air apparatus and reserve tanks could possibly have +taken care of. They couldn't even have been fed during the journey +from Orede to Weald. + +But they hadn't starved. Air-scarcity killed them before the ship came +out of overdrive. + +A remarkable thing was that there was no written message in the ship's +log which referred to its takeoff. There was no memorandum of the +taking on of such an impossible number of passengers. + +"The blueskins did it," said the chief executive of Weald. He was +pale. All about Calhoun men looked sick and shocked and terrified. "It +was the blueskins! We'll have to teach them a lesson!" Then he turned +to Calhoun. "The volunteer who went on that ship--he'll have to stay +there, won't he? He can't be brought back to Weald without bringing +contagion." + +Calhoun raged at him. + + * * * * * + + + + +2 + + +There was a certain coldness in the manner of those at the Weald +spaceport when the Med Ship left next morning. Calhoun was not popular +because Weald was scared. It had been conditioned to scare easily, +where blueskins might be involved. Its children were trained to react +explosively when the word _blueskin_ was uttered in their hearing, and +its adults tended to say it when anything causing uneasiness entered +their minds. So a planet-wide habit of irrational response had formed +and was not seen to be irrational because almost everybody had it. + +The volunteer who'd discovered the tragedy on the ship from Orede was +safe, though. He'd made a completely conscientious survey of the ship +he'd volunteered to enter and examine. For his courage, he'd have been +doomed but for Calhoun. + +The reaction of his fellow citizens was that by entering the ship he +might have become contaminated by blueskin infectious material of the +plague still existed, and _if_ the men in the ship had caught it (but +they certainly hadn't died of it), and _if_ there had been blueskins +on Orede to communicate it (for which there was no evidence), and _if_ +blueskins were responsible for the tragedy. Which was at the moment +pure supposition. But Weald feared he might bring death back to Weald +if he were allowed to return. + +Calhoun saved his life. He ordered that the guardship admit him to its +airlock, which then was to be filled with steam and chlorine. The +combination would sterilize and even partly eat away his spacesuit, +after which the chlorine and steam should be bled out to space, and +air from the ship let into the lock. + +If he stripped off the spacesuit without touching its outer surface, +and reentered the investigating ship while the suit was flung outside +by a man in another spacesuit, handling it with a pole he'd fling +after it, there could be no possible contamination brought back. + +Calhoun was quite right, but Weald in general considered that he'd +persuaded the government to take an unreasonable risk. + +There were other reasons for disapproving of him. Calhoun had been +unpleasantly frank. The coming of the death-ship stirred to frenzy +those people who believed that all blueskins should be exterminated as +a pious act. They'd appeared on every vision screen, citing not only +the ship from Orede but other incidents which they interpreted as +crimes against Weald. + +They demanded that all Wealdian atomic reactors be modified to turn +out fusion-bomb materials while a space fleet was made ready for an +anti-blueskin crusade. They confidently demanded such a rain of fusion +bombs on Dara that no blueskin, no animal, no shred of vegetation, no +fish in the deepest ocean, not even a living virus particle of the +blueskin plague could remain alive on the blueskin world. + +One of these vehement orators even asserted that Calhoun agreed that +no other course was possible, speaking for the Interstellar Medical +Service. And Calhoun furiously demanded a chance to deny it by +broadcast, and he made a bitter and indiscreet speech from which a +planet-wide audience inferred that he thought them fools. + +He did. + +So he was definitely unpopular when his ship lifted from Weald. He'd +curtly given his destination as Orede, from which the death-ship had +come. The landing-grid locked on, raised the small spacecraft until +Weald was a great shining ball below it, and then somehow scornfully +cast him off. The Med Ship was free, in clear space where there was +not enough of a gravitational field to hinder overdrive. + +He aimed for his destination, his face very grim. He said savagely, +"Get set, Murgatroyd! Overdrive coming!" + +He thumbed down the overdrive button. The universe of stars went out, +while everything living in the ship felt the customary sensations of +dizziness, of nausea, and of a spiraling fall to nothingness. Then +there was silence. + +The Med Ship actually moved at a rate which was a preposterous number +of times the speed of light, but it felt absolutely solid, absolutely +firm and fixed. A ship in overdrive feels exactly as if it were buried +deep in the core of a planet. There is no vibration. There is no sign +of anything but solidity and, if one looks out a port, there is only +utter blackness plus an absence of sound fit to make one's eardrums +crack. + +But within seconds random tiny noises began. There was a reel and +there were sound-speakers to keep the ship from sounding like a grave. +The reel played and the speakers gave off minute creakings, and +meaningless hums, and very tiny noises of every imaginable sort, all +of which were just above the threshold of the inaudible. + +Calhoun fretted. Sector Twelve was in very bad shape. A conscientious +Med Service man would never have let the anti-blueskin obsession go +unmentioned in a report on Weald. Health is not only a physical +affair. There is mental health, also. When mental health goes a +civilization can be destroyed more surely and more terribly than by +any imaginable war or plague germs. A plague kills off those who are +susceptible to it, leaving immunes to build up a world again. But +immunes are the first to be killed when a mass neurosis sweeps a +population. + +Weald was definitely a Med Service problem world. Dara was another. +And when hundreds of men jammed themselves into a cargo spaceship +which could not furnish them with air to breathe, and took off and +went into overdrive before the air could fail.... Orede called for no +less of worry. + +"I think," said Calhoun dourly, "that I'll have some coffee." + +_Coffee_ was one of the words that Murgatroyd recognized. Ordinarily +he stirred immediately on hearing it, and watched the coffeemaker with +bright, interested eyes. He'd even tried to imitate Calhoun's motions +with it, once, and had scorched his paws in the attempt. But this time +he did not move. + +Calhoun turned his head. Murgatroyd sat on the floor, his long tail +coiled reflectively about a chair leg. He watched the door of the Med +Ship's sleeping cabin. + +"Murgatroyd," said Calhoun. "I mentioned coffee!" + +"_Chee!_" shrilled Murgatroyd. + +But he continued to look at the door. The temperature was kept lower +in the other cabin, and the look of things was different than the +control compartment. The difference was part of the means by which a +man was able to be alone for weeks on end--alone save for his +_tormal_--without becoming ship-happy. + +There were other carefully thought out items in the ship with the same +purpose. But none of them should cause Murgatroyd to stare fixedly and +fascinatedly at the sleeping cabin door. Not when coffee was in the +making! + +Calhoun considered. He became angry at the immediate suspicion that +occurred to him. As a Med Service man, he was duty-bound to be +impartial. To be impartial might mean not to side absolutely with +Weald in its enmity to blueskins. + +And the people of Weald had refused to help Dara in a time of famine, +and had blockaded that pariah world for years afterward. And they had +other reasons for hating the people they'd treated badly. It was +entirely reasonable for some fanatic on Weald to consider that Calhoun +must be killed lest he be of help to the blueskins Weald abhorred. + +In fact, it was quite possible that somebody had stowed away on the +Med Ship to murder Calhoun, so that there would be no danger of any +report favorable to Dara ever being presented anywhere. If so, such a +stowaway would be in the sleeping cabin now, waiting for Calhoun to +walk in unsuspiciously, only to be shot dead. + +So Calhoun made coffee. He slipped a blaster into a pocket where it +would be handy. He filled a small cup for Murgatroyd and a large one +for himself, and then a second large one. + +He tapped on the sleeping cabin door, standing aside lest a +blaster-bolt come through it. + +"Coffee's ready," he said sardonically. "Come out and join us." + +There was a long pause. Calhoun rapped again. + +"You've a seat at the captain's table," he said more sardonically +still. "It's not polite to keep me waiting!" + +He listened, alert for a rush which would be a fanatic's desperate +attempt to do murder despite premature discovery. He was prepared to +shoot quite ruthlessly, because he was on duty and the Med Service did +not approve of the extermination of populations, however justified +another population might consider it. + +But there was no rush. Instead, there came hesitant foot-falls whose +sound made Calhoun start. The door of the cabin slid slowly aside. A +girl appeared in the opening, desperately white and desperately +composed. + +"H-how did you know I was there?" she asked shakily. She moistened her +lips. "You didn't see me! I was in a closet, and you didn't even enter +the room!" + +Calhoun said grimly, "I've sources of information. Murgatroyd told me +this time. May I present him? Murgatroyd, our passenger. Shake hands." + +Murgatroyd moved forward, stood on his hind legs and offered a skinny, +furry paw. She did not move. She stared at Calhoun. + +"Better shake hands," said Calhoun, as grimly as before. "It might +relax the tension a little. And do you want to tell me your story? You +have one ready, I'm sure." + +The girl swallowed. Murgatroyd shook hands gravely. He said, +"_Chee-chee!_" in the shrillest of trebles and went back to his former +position. + +"The story?" said Calhoun insistently. + +"There--there isn't any," said the girl unsteadily. "Just that I--I +need to get to Orede, and you're going there. There's no other way to +go, now." + +"To the contrary," said Calhoun. "There'll undoubtedly be a fleet +heading for Orede as soon as it can be assembled and armed. But I'm +afraid that as a story yours isn't good enough. Try another." + +She shivered a little. + +"I'm running away...." + +"Ah!" said Calhoun. "In that case I'll take you back." + +"No!" she said fiercely. "I'll--I'll die first! I'll wreck this ship +first!" + +Her hand came from behind her. There was a tiny blaster in it. But it +shook visibly as she tried to aim it. + +"I'll shoot out the controls!" + +Calhoun blinked. He'd had to make a drastic change in his estimate of +the situation the instant he saw that the stowaway was a girl. Now he +had to make another when her threat was not to kill him but to disable +the ship. Women are rarely assassins, and when they are they don't use +energy weapons. Daggers and poisons are more typical. But this girl +threatened to destroy the ship rather than its owner, so she was not +actually an assassin at all. + +"I'd rather you didn't do that," said Calhoun dryly. "Besides, you'd +get deadly bored if we were stuck in a derelict waiting for our air +and food to give out." + +Murgatroyd, for no reason whatever, felt it necessary to enter the +conversation: + +"_Chee-chee-chee!_" + +"A very sensible suggestion," observed Calhoun. "We'll sit down and +have a cup of coffee." To the girl he said, "I'll take you to Orede, +since that's where you say you want to go." + +"I have a sweetheart there...." + +Calhoun shook his head. + +"No," he said reprovingly. "Nearly all the mining colony had packed +itself into the ship that came into Weald with everybody dead. But not +all. And there's been no check of what men were in the ship and what +men weren't. You wouldn't go to Orede if it were likely your +sweetheart had died on the way to you. Here's your coffee. Sugar or +saccho, and do you take cream?" + +She trembled a little, but she took the cup. + +"I don't understand." + +"Murgatroyd and I," explained Calhoun--and he did not know whether he +spoke out of anger or something else--"we are do-gooders. We go around +trying to keep people from getting sick or dying. Sometimes we even +try to keep them from getting killed. It's our profession. We practise +it even on our own behalf. We want to stay alive. So since you make +such drastic threats, we will take you where you want to go. +Especially since we're going there anyhow." + +"You don't believe anything I've said!" It was a statement. + +"Not a word," admitted Calhoun. "But you'll probably tell us something +more believable presently. When did you eat last?" + +"Yesterday." + +"Would you rather do your own cooking?" asked Calhoun politely. "Or +would you permit me to ready a snack?" + +"I--I'll do it," she said. + +She drank her coffee first, however, and then Calhoun showed her how +to punch the readier for such-and-such dishes, to be extracted from +storage and warmed or chilled, as the case might be, and served at +dialed-for intervals. There was also equipment for preparing food for +oneself, in one's own chosen manner--again an item to help make +solitude not unendurable. + +Calhoun deliberately immersed himself in the Galactic Directory, +looking up the planet Orede. He was headed there, but he'd had no +reason to inform himself about it before. Now he read with every +appearance of absorption. + +The girl ate daintily. Murgatroyd watched with highly amiable +interest. But she looked acutely uncomfortable. + +Calhoun finished with the Directory. He got out the micro-film reels +which contained more information. He was specifically after the Med +Service history of all the planets in this sector. He went through the +filmed record of every inspection ever made on Weald and on Dara. + +But Sector Twelve had not been run well. There was no adequate account +of a plague which had wiped out three-quarters of the population of an +inhabited planet! It had happened shortly after one Med Ship visit, +and was over before another Med Ship came by. + +There should have been a painstaking investigation, even after the +fact. There should have been a collection of infectious material and a +reasonably complete identification and study of the agent. It hadn't +been made. There was probably some other emergency at the time, and it +slipped by. Calhoun, whose career was not to be spent in this sector, +resolved on a blistering report about this negligence and its +consequences. + +He kept himself casually busy, ignoring the girl. A Med Ship man has +resources of study and meditation with which to occupy himself during +overdrive travel from one planet to another. Calhoun made use of those +resources. He acted as if he were completely unconscious of the +stowaway. But Murgatroyd watched her with charmed attention. + +Hours after her discovery, she said uneasily, "Please?" + +Calhoun looked up. + +"Yes?" + +"I don't know exactly how things stand." + +"You are a stowaway," said Calhoun. "Legally, I have the right to put +you out the airlock. It doesn't seem necessary. There's a cabin. When +you're sleepy, use it. Murgatroyd and I can make out quite well out +here. When you're hungry, you now know how to get something to eat. +When we land on Orede, you'll probably go about whatever business you +have there. That's all." + +She stared at him. + +"But you don't believe what I've told you!" + +"No," agreed Calhoun, but didn't add to the statement. + +"But--I will tell you," she offered. "The police were after me. I had +to get away from Weald! I had to! I'd stolen--" + +He shook his head. + +"No," he said. "If you were a thief, you'd say anything in the world +except that you were a thief. You're not ready to tell the truth yet. +You don't have to, so why tell me anything? I suggest that you get +some sleep. Incidentally, there's no lock on the cabin door because +there's only supposed to be one person on this ship at a time. But you +can brace a chair to fasten it somehow or other. Good night." + +She rose slowly. Twice her lips parted as if to speak again, but then +she went into the other cabin and closed herself in. There was the +sound of a chair being wedged against the door. + +Murgatroyd blinked at the place where she'd disappeared and then +climbed up into Calhoun's lap, with complete assurance of welcome. He +settled himself and was silent for moments. Then he said, "_Chee!_" + +"I believe you're right," said Calhoun. "She doesn't belong on Weald, +or with the conditioning she'd have had, there'd be only one place +she'd dread worse than Orede, which would be Dara. But I doubt she'd +be afraid to land even on Dara." + +Murgatroyd liked to be talked to. He liked to pretend that he carried +on a conversation, like humans. + +"_Chee-chee!_" he said with conviction. + +"Definitely," agreed Calhoun. "She's not doing this for her personal +advantage. Whatever she thinks she'd doing, it's more important to her +than her own life. Murgatroyd...." + +"_Chee?_" said Murgatroyd in an inquiring tone. + +"There are wild cattle on Orede," said Calhoun. "Herds and herds of +them. I have a suspicion that somebody's been shooting them. Lots of +them. Do you agree? Don't you think that a lot of cattle have been +slaughtered on Orede lately?" + +Murgatroyd yawned. He settled himself still more comfortably in +Calhoun's lap. + +"_Chee_," he said drowsily. + +He went to sleep, while Calhoun continued the examination of highly +condensed information. Presently he looked up the normal rate of +increase, with other data, among herds of _bovis domesticus_ in a wild +state, on planets where there are no natural enemies. + +It wasn't unheard-of for a world to be stocked with useful types of +Terran fauna and flora before it was attempted to be colonized. Terran +life-forms could play the devil with alien ecological systems--very +much to humanity's benefit. Familiar microorganisms and a standard +vegetation added to the practicality of human settlements on otherwise +alien worlds. But sometimes the results were strange. + +They weren't often so strange, however, as to cause some hundreds of +men to pack themselves frantically aboard a cargo ship which couldn't +possibly sustain them, so that every man must die while the ship was +in overdrive. + +Still, by the time Calhoun turned in on a spare pneumatic mattress, he +had calculated that as few as a dozen head of cattle, turned loose on +a suitable planet, would have increased to herds of thousands or tens +or even hundreds of thousands in much less time than had probably +elapsed. + +The Med Ship drove on in seemingly absolute solidity, with no sound +from without, with no sight to be seen outside, with no evidence at +all that it was not buried in the heart of a planet instead of +flashing through emptiness at a speed so great as to have no meaning. + +Next ship-day the girl looked oddly at Calhoun when she appeared in +the control room. Murgatroyd regarded her with great interest. Calhoun +nodded politely and went back to what he'd been doing before she +appeared. + +"Shall I have breakfast?" she asked uncertainly. + +"Murgatroyd and I have," he told her. "Why not?" + +Silently, she operated the food-readier. She ate. Calhoun gave a very +good portrayal of a man who will respond politely when spoken to, but +who was busy with activities remote from stowaways. + +About noon, ship-time, she asked, "When will we get to Orede?" + +Calhoun told her absently, as if he were thinking of something else. + +"What--what do you think happened there? I mean, to make that tragedy +in the ship." + +"I don't know," said Calhoun. "But I disagree with the authorities on +Weald. I don't think it was a planned atrocity of the blueskins." + +"Wh-what are blueskins?" asked the girl. + +Calhoun turned around and looked at her directly. + +"When lying," he said mildly, "you tell as much by what you pretend +isn't, as by what you pretend is. You know what blueskins are!" + +"But what do you think they are?" she asked. + +"There used to be a human disease called smallpox," said Calhoun. +"When people recovered from it, they were usually marked. Their skin +had little scar pits here and there. At one time, back on Earth, it +was expected that everybody would catch smallpox sooner or later, and +a large percentage would die of it. + +"And it was so much a matter of course that if they printed a picture +of a criminal they never mentioned it if he were pock-marked. It was +no distinction. But if he didn't have the markings, they'd mention +that!" He paused. "Those pock-marks weren't hereditary, but otherwise +a blueskin is like a man who had them. He can't be anything else!" + +"Then you think they're human?" + +"There's never yet been a case of reverse evolution," said Calhoun. +"Maybe Pithecanthropus had a monkey uncle, but no Pithecanthropus ever +went monkey." + +She turned abruptly away. But she glanced at him often during that +day. He continued to busy himself with those activities which make Med +Ship life consistent with retained sanity. + +Next day she asked without preliminary, "Don't you believe the +blueskins planned for the ship with the dead men to arrive at Weald +and spread plague there?" + +"No," said Calhoun. + +"Why?" + +"It couldn't possibly work," Calhoun told her. "With only dead men on +board, the ship wouldn't arrive at a place where the landing-grid +could bring it down. So that would be no good. And plague-stricken +living men wouldn't try to conceal that they had the plague. They +might ask for help, but they'd know they'd instantly be killed on +Weald if they were found to be plague victims. So that would be no +good, either! No, the ship wasn't intended to land plague on Weald." + +"Are you friendly to blueskins?" she asked uncertainly. + +"Within reason," said Calhoun, "I am a well-wisher to all the human +race. You're slipping, though. When using the word _blueskin_ you +should say it uncomfortably, as if it were a word no refined person +liked to pronounce. You don't. We'll land on Orede tomorrow, by the +way. If you ever intend to tell me the truth, there's not much time +left." + +She bit her lips. Twice, during the remainder of the day, she faced +him and opened her mouth as if to speak, and then turned away again. +Calhoun shrugged. He had fairly definite ideas about her, by now. He +carefully kept them tentative, but no girl born and raised on Weald +would willingly go to Orede, with all of Weald believing that a +shipload of miners preferred death to remaining there. It tied in, +like everything else that was unpleasant, to blueskins. Nobody from +Weald would dream of landing on Orede! Not now! + +A little before the Med Ship was due to break out from overdrive, the +girl said very carefully, "You've been very kind. I'd like to thank +you. I--I didn't really believe I would live to get to Orede." + +Calhoun raised his eyebrows. + +"I wish I could tell you everything you want to know," she added +regretfully. "I think you're ... really decent. But some thing...." + +Calhoun said caustically, "You've told me a great deal. You weren't +born on Weald. You weren't raised there. The people of Dara--notice +that I don't say blueskins, though they are--the people of Dara have +made at least one space ship since Weald threatened them with +extermination. There is probably a new food shortage on Dara now, +leading to pure desperation. Most likely it's bad enough to make them +risk landing on Orede to kill cattle and freeze beef to help. They've +worked out--" + +She gasped and sprang to her feet. She snatched out the tiny blaster +in her pocket. She pointed it waveringly at him. + +"I have to kill you!" she cried desperately. "I--I have to!" + +Calhoun reached out. She tugged despairingly at the blaster's trigger. +Nothing happened. Before she could realize that she hadn't turned off +the safety, Calhoun twisted the weapon from her fingers. He stepped +back. + +"Good girl!" he said approvingly. "I'll give this back to you when we +land. And thanks. Thanks very much!" + +She wrung her hands. Then she stared at him. + +"Thanks? When I tried to kill you?" + +"Of course!" said Calhoun. "I'd made guesses. I couldn't know that +they were right. When you tried to kill me, you confirmed every one. +Now, when we land on Orede I'm going to get you to try to put me in +touch with your friends. It's going to be tricky, because they must be +pretty well scared about that ship. But it's a highly desirable thing +to get done!" + +He went to the ships' control board and sat down before it. + +"Twenty minutes to breakhour," he observed. + +Murgatroyd peered out of his little cubbyhole. His eyes were anxious. +_Tormals_ are amiable little creatures. During the days in overdrive, +Calhoun had paid less than the usual amount of attention to +Murgatroyd, while the girl was fascinating. + +They'd made friends, awkwardly on the girl's part, very pleasantly on +Murgatroyd's. But only moments ago there had been bitter emotion in +the air. Murgatroyd had fled to his cubbyhole to escape it. He was +distressed. Now that there was silence again, he peered out unhappily. + +"_Chee?_" he queried plaintively. "_Chee-chee-chee?_" + +Calhoun said matter-of-factly, "It's all right, Murgatroyd. If we +aren't blasted as we try to land, we should be able to make friends +with everybody and get something accomplished." + +The statement was hopelessly inaccurate. + + * * * * * + + + + +3 + + +There was no answer from the ground when breakout came and Calhoun +drove the Med Ship to a favourable position for a call. He patiently +repeated, over and over again, that the Med Ship _Aesclipus Twenty_ +notified its arrival and requested coordinates for landing. He added +that its mass was fifty standard tons and that the purpose of its +visit was a planetary health inspection. + +But there was no reply. There should have been a crisp description of +the direction from the planet's center at which, a certain time so +many hours or minutes later, the force-fields of the grid would find +it convenient to lock onto and lower the Med Ship. But the +communicator remained silent. + +"There is a landing-grid," said Calhoun, frowning, "and if they're +using it to load fresh meat for Dara, from the herds I'm told about, +it should be manned. But they don't seem to intend to answer. Maybe +they think that if they pretend I'm not here I'll go away." + +He reflected, and his frown deepened. + +"If I didn't know what I know, I might. So if I land on emergency +rockets the blueskins down below may decide that I come from Weald. +And in that case it would be reasonable to blast me before I could +land and unload some fighting men. On the other hand, no ship from +Weald would conceivably land without impassioned assurance that it +was safe. It would drop bombs." He turned to the girl. "How many +Darians down below?" + +She shook her head. + +"You don't know," said Calhoun, "or won't tell, yet. But they ought to +be told about the arrival of that ship at Weald, and what Weald thinks +about it! My guess is that you came to tell them. It isn't likely that +Dara gets news directly from Weald. Where were you put ashore from +Dara, when you set out to be a spy?" + +Her lips parted to speak, but she compressed them tightly. She shook +her head again. + +"It must have been plenty far away," said Calhoun restlessly. "Your +people would have built a ship, and made fine forged papers for it, +and they'd travel so far from this part of space that when they landed +nobody would think of Dara. They'd use make-up to cover the blue +spots, but maybe it was so far away that blueskins had never been +heard of!" + +Her face looked pinched, but she did not reply. + +"Then they'd land half a dozen of you, with a supply of make-up for +the blue patches. And you'd separate, and take ships that went various +roundabout ways, and arrive on Weald one by one, to see what could be +done there to--" He stopped. "When did you find out positively that +there wasn't any plague any more?" + +She began to grow pale. + +"I'm not a mind reader," said Calhoun. "But it adds up. You're from +Dara. You've been on Weald. It's practically certain that there are +other ... agents, if you like that word better, on Weald. And there +hasn't been a plague on Weald so you people aren't carriers of it. But +you knew it in advance, I think. How'd you learn? Did a ship in some +sort of trouble land there, on Dara?" + +"Y--yes," said the girl. "We wouldn't let it go again. But the people +didn't catch--they didn't die. They lived--" + +She stopped short. + +"It's not fair to trap me!" she cried passionately. "It's not fair!" + +"I'll stop," said Calhoun. + +He turned to the control board. The Med Ship was only planetary +diameters from Orede, now, and the electron telescope showed shining +stars in leisurely motion across its screen. Then a huge, gibbous +shining shape appeared, and there were irregular patches of that muddy +color which is seabottom, and varicolored areas which were plains and +forests. Also there were mountains. Calhoun steadied the image, and +squinted at it. + +"The mine," he observed, "was found by members of a hunting party, +killing wild cattle for sport." + +Even a small planet has many millions of square miles of surface, and +a single human installation on a whole world will not be easy to find +by random search. But there were clues to this one. Men hunting for +sport would not choose a tropic nor an arctic climate to hunt in. So +if they found a mineral deposit, it would have been in a temperate +zone. + +Cattle would not be found deep in a mountainous terrain. The mine +would not be on a prairie. The settlement on Orede, then, would be +near the edge of mountains, not far from a prairie such as wild cattle +would frequent, and it would be in a temperate climate. + +Forested areas could be ruled out. And there would be a landing-grid. +Handling only one ship at a time, it might be a very small grid. It +could be only hundreds of yards across and less than half a mile high. +But its shadow would be distinctive. + +Calhoun searched among low mountains near unforested prairie in a +temperate zone. He found a speck. He enlarged it manyfold. It was the +mine on Orede. There were heaps of tailings. There was something which +cast a long, lacy shadow: the landing-grid. + +"But they don't answer our call," observed Calhoun, "so we go down +unwelcomed." + +He inverted the Med Ship and the emergency rockets boomed. The ship +plunged planetward. + +A long time later it was deep in the planet's atmosphere. The noise of +its rockets had become thunderous, with air to carry and to reinforce +the sound. + +"Hold on to something, Murgatroyd," commanded Calhoun. "We may have to +dodge some ack." + +But nothing came up from below. The Med Ship again inverted itself, +and its rockets pointed toward the planet and poured out pencil-thin, +blue-white, high-velocity flames. It checked slightly, but continued +to descend. It was not directly above the grid. + +It swept downward until almost level with the peaks of the mountains +in which the mine lay. It tilted again, and swept onward over the +mountaintops, and then tilted once more and went racing up the valley +in which the landing-grid was plainly visible. Calhoun swung it on an +erratic course, lest there be opposition. + +But there was no sign. Then the rockets bellowed, and the ship slowed +its forward motion, hovered momentarily, and settled to solidity +outside the framework of the grid. The grid was small, as Calhoun +reasoned. But it reached interminably toward the sky. + +The rockets cut off. Slender as the flames had been, they'd melted and +bored thin drill-holes deep into the soil. Molten rock boiled and +bubbled down below. But there seemed no other sound. There was no +other motion. There was absolute stillness all around. But when +Calhoun switched on the outside microphones a faint, sweet melange of +high-pitched chirpings came from tiny creatures hidden under the +vegetation of the mountainsides. + +Calhoun put a blaster in his pocket and stood up. + +"We'll see what it looks like outside," he said with a certain +grimness. "I don't quite believe what the vision screens show." + +Minutes later he stepped down to the ground from the Med Ship's exit +port. The ship had landed perhaps a hundred feet from what once had +been a wooden building. In it, ore from the mines was concentrated and +the useless tailings carried away by a conveyer belt to make a +monstrous pile of broken stone. But there was no longer a building. + +Next to it there had been a structure containing an ore-crusher. The +massive machinery could still be seen, but the structure was in +fragments. Next to that, again, had been the shaft-head shelters of +the mine. They also were shattered practically to matchsticks. + +The look of the ground about the building sites was simply and purely +impossible. It was a mass of hoofprints. Cattle by thousands and tens +of thousands had trampled everything. Cattle had burst in the wooden +sides of the buildings. Cattle had piled themselves up against the +beams upholding roofs until the buildings collapsed. + +Then cattle had gone plunging over the wrecked buildings until there +was nothing left but indescribable chaos. Many, many cattle had died +in the crush. There were heaps of dead beasts about the metal girders +which were the foundation of the landing-grid. The air was tainted by +the smell of carrion. + +The settlement had been destroyed, positively by stampeded cattle in +tens or hundreds of thousands charging blindly through and over and +upon it. Senselessly, they'd trampled each other to horrible +shapelessness. The mine shaft was not choked, because enormously +strong timbers had fallen across and blocked it. But everything else +was pure destruction. + +Calhoun said evenly, "Clever! Very clever! You can't blame men when +beasts stampede. We should accept the evidence that some monstrous +herd, making its way through a mountain pass, somehow went crazy and +bolted for the plains. This settlement got in the way and it was too +bad for the settlement! Everything's explained, except the ship that +went to Weald. + +"A cattle stampede, yes. Anybody can believe that! But there was a man +stampede. Men stampeded into the ship as blindly as the cattle +trampled down this little town. The ship stampeded off into space as +insanely as the cattle. But a stampede of men and cattle, in the same +place? That's a little too much!" + +"But what--" + +"How," asked Calhoun directly, "do you intend to get in touch with +your friends here?" + +"I--I don't know," she said, distressed. "But if the ship stays here, +they're bound to come and see why. Won't they? Or will they?" + +"If they're sane, they won't," said Calhoun. "The one undesirable +thing, here, would be human footprints on top of cattle tracks. If +your friends are a meat-getting party from Dara, as I believe, they +should cover up their tracks, get off-planet as fast as possible, and +pray that no signs of their former presence are ever discovered. That +would be their best first move, certainly!" + +"What should I do?" she asked helplessly. + +"I'm far from sure. At a guess, and for the moment, probably nothing. +I'll work something out. I've got the devil of a job before me, +though. I can't spend but so much time here." + +"You can leave me here...." + +He grunted and turned away. It was naturally unthinkable that he +should leave another human being on a supposedly uninhabited planet, +with the knowledge that it might actually be uninhabited, and the +future knowledge that any visitors would have the strongest of +possible reasons to hide themselves away. + +He believed that there were Darians here, and the girl in the Med +ship, so he also believed, was also a Darian. But any who might be +hiding had so much to lose if they were discovered that they might be +hundreds or even thousands of miles from anywhere a space ship would +normally land--if they hadn't fled after the incident of the +spaceship's departure with its load of doomed passengers. + +Considered detachedly, the odds were that there was again a food +shortage on Dara; that blueskins, in desperation, had raided or were +raiding or would raid the cattle herds of Orede for food to carry back +to their home planet; that somehow the miners on Orede had found that +they had blueskin neighbors, and died of the consequences of their +terror. It was a risky guess to make on such evidence as Calhoun +considered he had, but no other guess was possible. + +If his guess were right, he was under some obligation to do exactly +what he believed the girl considered her mission--to warn all +blueskins that Weald would presently try to find them on Orede, when +all hell must break loose upon Dara for punishment. But if there were +men here, he couldn't leave a written warning for them in default of +friendly contact. + +They might not find it, and a search party of Wealdians might. All he +could possibly do was try to make contact and give warning by such +means as would leave no evidence behind that he'd done so. Weald +would consider a warning sure proof of blueskin guilt. + +It was not satisfactory to be limited to broadcasts which might or +might not be picked up, and were unlikely to be acknowledged. But he +settled down with the communicator to make the attempt. + +He called first on a GC wave length and form. It was unlikely that +blueskins would use general communication bands to keep in touch with +each other, but it had to be tried. He broadcast, tuned as broadly as +possible, and went up and down the GC spectrum, repeating his warning +painstakingly and listening without hope for a reply. + +He did find one spot on the dial where there was re-radiation of his +message, as if from a tuned receiver. But he could not get a fix on +it: nobody might be listening. He exhausted the normal communication +pattern. Then he broadcast on old-fashioned amplitude modulation which +a modern communicator would not pick up at all, and which therefore +might be used by men in hiding. + +He worked for a long time. Then he shrugged and gave it up. He'd +repeated to absolute tedium the facts that any Darians--blueskins--on +Orede ought to know. There'd been no answer. And it was all too likely +that if he'd been received, that those who heard him took his message +for a trick to discover if there were any hearers. + +He clicked off at last and stood up, shaking his head. Suddenly the +Med Ship seemed empty. Then he saw Murgatroyd staring vexedly at the +exit port. The inner door of that small airlock was closed. The +telltale light said the outer door was not locked. Someone had gone +out quietly. The girl. Of course. + +Calhoun said angrily, "How long ago, Murgatroyd?" + +"_Chee!_" said Murgatroyd indignantly. + +It wasn't an answer, but it showed that Murgatroyd was vexed that he'd +been left behind. He and the girl were close friends, now. If she'd +left Murgatroyd in the ship when he wanted to go with her, then she +wasn't coming back. + +Calhoun swore. He made certain she was not in the ship. He flipped the +outside-speaker switch and said curtly into the microphone, "Coffee! +Murgatroyd and I are having coffee. Will you come back, please?" + +He repeated the call, and repeated it again. Multiplied as his voice +was by the speakers, she should hear him within a mile. She did not +appear. He went to a small and inconspicuous closet and armed himself. +A Med Ship man was not ever expected to fight, but there were +blast-rifles available for extreme emergency. + +When he'd slung a power-pack over his shoulder and reached the +airlock, there was still no sign of his late stowaway. He stood in the +airlock door for long minutes, staring angrily about. Almost certainly +she wouldn't be looking in the mountains for men of Dara come here for +cattle. He used a pair of binoculars, first at low-magnification to +search as wide an area down-valley as possible, and then at highest +power to search the most likely routes. + +He found a small, bobbing speck beyond a faraway hill crest. It was +her head. It went down below the hilltop. + +He snapped a command to Murgatroyd, and when the _tormal_ was on the +ground outside, he locked the port with that combination that nobody +but a Med Ship man was at all likely to discover or use. + +"She's an idiot!" he told Murgatroyd sourly. "Come along! We've got to +be idiots too!" + +He set out in pursuit. + +There was blue sky overhead, as was inevitable on any +oxygen-atmosphere planet of a Sol-type yellow sun. There were +mountains, as is universal in planets whose surface rises and falls +and folds and bends from the effects of weather or vulcanism. There +were plants, as has come about wherever microorganisms have broken +down rock to a state where it can nourish vegetation. And naturally +there were animals. + +There were even trees of severely practical design, and underbrush and +ground-cover equivalent to grass. There was, in short, a perfectly +predictable ecological system on Orede. The organic molecules involved +in life here would be made up of the same elements in the same +combinations as elsewhere where the same conditions of temperature and +moisture and sunshine obtained. + +It was a distinctly Earthlike world, as it could not help but be, and +it was reasonable for cattle to thrive and increase here. Only men's +minds kept it from being a place where humans would thrive, too. + +But only Calhoun would have considered the splintered settlement a +proof of that last. + +The girl had a long start. Twice Calhoun came to places where she +could have chosen either of two ways onward. Each time he had to +determine which she'd followed. That cost time. Then the mountains +abruptly ended and a vast undulating plain stretched away to the +horizon. There were at least two large masses and many smaller clumps +of what could only be animals gathered together. Cattle. + +But here the girl was plainly in view. Calhoun increased his stride. +He began to gain on her. She did not look behind. + +Murgatroyd said "_Chee!_" in a complaining tone. + +"I should have left you behind," agreed Calhoun dourly, "but there was +and is a chance I won't get back. You'll have to keep on hiking." + +He plodded on. His memory of the terrain around the mining settlement +told him that there was no definite destination in the girl's mind. +But she was in no such despair as to want deliberately to be lost. +She'd guessed, Calhoun believed, that if there were Darians on the +planet, they'd keep the landing-grid under observation. + +If they saw her leave that area and could see that she was alone, they +should intercept her to find out the meaning of the Med Ship's +landing. Then she could identify herself as one of them and give them +the terribly necessary warning of Weald's suspicions. + +"But," said Calhoun sourly, "if she's right, they'll have seen me +marching after her now, which spoils her scheme. And I'd like to help +it, but the way she's going is too dangerous!" + +He went down into one of the hollows of the uneven plain. He saw a +clump of a dozen or so cattle a little distance away. The bull looked +up and snorted. The cows regarded him truculently. Their air was not +one of bovine tranquility. + +He was up the farther hillside and out of sight before the bull worked +himself up to a charge. Then Calhoun suddenly remembered one of the +items in the data about cattle he'd looked into just the other day. He +felt himself grow pale. + +"Murgatroyd!" he said sharply. "We've got to catch up! Fast! Stay with +me if you can, but--" he was jog-trotting as he spoke--"even if you +get lost I have to hurry!" + +He ran fifty paces and walked fifty paces. He ran fifty and walked +fifty. He saw her, atop a rolling of the ground. She came to a full +stop. He ran. He saw her turn to retrace her steps. He flung off the +safety of the blast-rifle and let off a roaring blast at the ground +for her to hear. + +Suddenly she was fleeing desperately, toward him. He plunged on. She +vanished down into a hollow. Horns appeared over the hillcrest she'd +just left. Cattle appeared. Four, a dozen fifteen, twenty! They moved +ominously in her wake. + +He saw her again, running frantically over another upward swell of +the prairie. He let off another blast to guide her. He ran on at top +speed with Murgatroyd trailing anxiously behind. From time to time +Murgatroyd called "_Chee-chee-chee!_" in frightened pleading not to be +abandoned. + +More cattle appeared against the horizon. Fifty or a hundred. They +came after the first clump. The first group of a bull and his harem +were moving faster, now. The girl fled from them, but it is the +instinct of beef-cattle on the open range--Calhoun had learned it only +two days before--to charge any human they find on foot. A mounted man +to their dim minds is a creature to be tolerated or fled from, but a +human on foot is to be crushed and stamped and gored. + +Those in the lead were definitely charging now, with heads bent low. +The bull charged furiously with shut eyes, as bulls do, but the cows, +many times more deadly, charged with their eyes wide open and wickedly +alert, and with a lumbering speed much greater than the girl could +manage. + +She came up over the last rise, chalky-white and gasping, her hair +flying, in the last extremity of terror. The nearest of the pursuing +cattle were within ten yards when Calhoun fired from twenty yards +beyond. One creature bellowed as the blast-bolt struck. + +It went down and others crashed into it and swept over it, and more +came on. The girl saw Calhoun now, and ran toward him, panting. He +knelt very deliberately and began to check the charge by shooting the +leading animals. + +He did not succeed. There were more cattle following the first, and +more and more behind them. It appeared that all the cattle on the +plain joined in the blind and senseless charge. The thudding of hoofs +became a mutter and then a rumble and then a growl. + +Plunging, clumsy figures rushed past on either side. But horns and +heads heaved up over the mound of animals Calhoun had shot. He shot +them too. More and more cattle came pounding past the rampart of his +victims, but always, it seemed, some elected to climb the heap of +their dead and dying fellows, and Calhoun shot and shot.... + +But he split the herd. The foremost animals had been charging a +sighted human enemy. Others had followed because it is the instinct of +cattle to join their running fellows in whatever crazed urgency they +feel. There was a dense, pounding, wailing, grunting, puffing, raising +thick and impenetrable clouds of dust which hid everything but +galloping beasts going past on either side. + +It lasted for minutes. Then the thunder of hoofs diminished. It ended +abruptly, and Calhoun and the girl were left alone with the gruesome +pile of animals which had divided the charging herd into two parts. +They could see the rears of innumerable running animals, stupidly +continuing the charge, hardly different, now, from a stampede, whose +original objective none now remembered. + +Calhoun thoughtfully touched the barrel of his blast-rifle and winced +at its scorching heat. + +"I just realized," he said coldly, "that I don't know your name. What +is it?" + +"Maril," said the girl. She swallowed. "Th--thank you." + +"Maril," said Calhoun, "you are an idiot! It was half-witted at best +to go off by yourself! You could have been lost! You could have cost +me days of hunting for you, days badly needed for more important +matters!" + +He stopped and took breath. "You may have spoiled what little chance +I've got to do something about the plans Weald's already making! You +have just acted with the most concentrated folly, and the most +magnificent imbecility that you or anybody else could manage!" + +He said more bitterly still, "And I had to leave Murgatroyd behind to +get to you in time! He was right in the path of that charge!" + +He turned away from her and said dourly, "All right! Come on back to +the ship. We'll go to Dara. We'd have to, anyhow. But Murgatroyd--" + +Then he heard a very small sneeze. Out of a rolling wall of +still-roiling dust, Murgatroyd appeared forlornly. He was +dust-covered, and draggled, and his tail dropped, and he sneezed +again. He moved as if he could barely put one paw before another, but +at sight of Calhoun he sneezed yet again and said "_Chee!_" in a +disconsolate voice. Then he sat down and waited for Calhoun to come +and pick him up. + +When Calhoun did so, Murgatroyd clung to him pathetically and said +"_Chee-chee!_" and again "_Chee-chee!_" with the intonation of one +telling of incredible horrors and disasters endured. And as a matter +of fact the escape of a small animal like Murgatroyd was remarkable. +He'd escaped the trampling hoofs of at least hundreds of charging +animals. Luck must have played a great part in it, but an hysterical +agility in dodging must have been required, too. + +Calhoun headed back for the valley where the settlement had been, and +the Med Ship was. Murgatroyd clung to his neck. The girl Maril +followed discouragedly. She was at that age when girls--and men of +corresponding type--can grow most passionately devoted to ideals or +causes in default of a promising personal romance. When concerned with +such causes they become splendidly confident that whatever they decide +to do is sensible if only it is dramatic. But Maril was shaken, now. + +Calhoun did not speak to her again. He led the way. A mile back toward +the mountains, they began to see stragglers from the now-vanished +herd. A little farther, those stragglers began to notice them. It +would have been a matter of no moment if they'd been domesticated +dairy cattle, but these were range cattle gone wild. Twice, Calhoun +had to use his blast-rifle to discourage incipient charges by +irritated bulls or even more irritated cows. Those with calves darkly +suspected Calhoun of designs upon their offspring. + +It was a relief to enter the valley again. But it was two miles more +to the landing-grid with the Med Ship beside it and the reek of +carrion in the air. + +They were perhaps two hundred feet from the ship when a blast-rifle +crashed and its bolt whined past Calhoun so close that he felt the +monstrous heat. There had been no challenge. There was no warning. +There was simply a shot which came horribly close to ending Calhoun's +career in a completely arbitrary fashion. + + * * * * * + + + + +4 + + +Five minutes later Calhoun had located one would-be killer behind a +mass of splintered planking that once had been a wall. He set the wood +afire by a blaster-bolt and then viciously sent other bolts all around +the man it had sheltered when he fled from the flames. He could have +killed him ten times over, but it was more desirable to open +communication. So he missed intentionally. + +Maril had cried out that she came from Dara and had word for them, but +they did not answer. There were three men with heavy-duty +blast-rifles. One was the one Calhoun had burned out of his hiding +place. That man's rifle exploded when the flames hit it. Two remained. + +One, so Calhoun presently discovered--was working his way behind +underbrush to a shelf from which he could shoot down at Calhoun. +Calhoun had dropped into a hollow and pulled Maril to cover at the +first shot. The second man happily planned to get to a point where he +could shoot him like a fish in a barrel. + +The third man had fired half a dozen times and then disappeared. +Calhoun estimated that he intended to get around to the rear, hoping +there was no protection from that direction for Calhoun. It would take +some time for him to manage it. + +So Calhoun industriously concentrated his fire on the man trying to +get above him. He was behind a boulder, not too dissimilar to +Calhoun's breastwork. Calhoun set fire to the brush at the point at +which the other man aimed. That, then, made his effort useless. + +Then Calhoun sent a dozen bolts at the other man's rocky shield. It +heated up. Steam rose in a whitish mass and blew directly away from +Calhoun. He saw that antagonist flee. He saw him so clearly that he +was positive that there was a patch of blue pigment on the right-hand +side of the back of his neck. + +He grunted and swung to find the third. That man moved through thick +undergrowth, and Calhoun set it on fire in a neat pattern of spreading +flames. Evidently, these men had had no training in battle tactics +with blast-rifles. The third man also had to get away. He did. But +something from him arched through the smoke. It fell to the ground +directly upwind from Calhoun. White smoke puffed up violently. + +It was instinct that made Calhoun react as he did. He jerked the girl +Maril to her feet and rushed her toward the Med Ship. Smoke from the +flung bomb upwind barely swirled around him and missed Maril +altogether. Calhoun, though, got a whiff of something strange, not +scorched or burning vegetation at all. He ceased to breathe and +plunged onward. In clear air he emptied his lungs and refilled them. +They were then halfway to the ship, with Murgatroyd prancing on ahead. + +But then Calhoun's heart began to pound furiously. His muscles +twitched and tensed. He felt extraordinary symptoms like an extreme of +agitation. He swore, but a Med Ship man would not react to such +symptoms as a non-medically-trained man would have done. Calhoun was +familiar enough with tear gas, used by police on some planets. + +But this was different and worse. Even as he helped and urged Maril +onward, he automatically considered his sensations, and had it--panic +gas. Police did not use it because panic is worse than rioting. +Calhoun felt all the physical symptoms of fear and of gibbering +terror. + +A man whose mind yields to terror experiences certain physical +sensations: wildly beating heart, tensed and twitching muscles, and a +frantic impulse to convulsive action. A man in whom those physical +sensations are induced by other means will, ordinarily, find his mind +yielding to terror. + +Calhoun couldn't combat his feelings, but his clinical attitude +enabled him to act despite them. The three from Weald reached the base +of the Med Ship. One of their enemies had lost his rifle and need not +be counted. Another had fled from flames and might be ignored for some +moments, anyhow. But a blast-bolt struck the ship's metal hull only +feet from Calhoun, and he whipped around to the other side and let +loose a staccato rat-tat-tat of fire which emptied the rifle of all +its charges. + +Then he opened the airlock door, hating the fact that he shook and +trembled. He urged the girl and Murgatroyd in. He slammed the outer +airlock door just as another blast-bolt hit. + +"They--they don't realize," said Maril desperately. "If they only +knew...." + +"Talk to them, if you like," said Calhoun. His teeth chattered and he +raged, because the symptom was of terror he denied. + +He pushed a button on the control board. He pointed to a microphone. +He got at an oxygen bottle and inhaled deeply. Oxygen, obviously, +should be an antidote for panic, since the symptoms of terror act to +increase the oxygenation of the bloodstream and muscles, and to make +superhuman exertion possible if necessary. + +Breathing ninety-five percent oxygen produced the effect the +terror-inspiring gas strove for, so his heart slowed nearly to normal +and his body relaxed. He held out his hand and it did not tremble. +He'd been affronted to see it shake uncontrollably when he pushed the +microphone button for Maril. + +He turned to her. She hadn't spoken into the mike. + +"They may not be from Dara!" she said shakily. "I just thought! They +could be somebody else, maybe criminals who planned to raid the mine +for a shipload of its ore." + +"Nonsense," said Calhoun. "I saw one of them clearly enough to be +sure. But they're skeptical characters. I'm afraid there may be more +on the way here from wherever they keep themselves. Anyhow, now we +know some of them are in hearing! I'll take advantage of that and +we'll go on." + +He took the microphone. An instant later his voice boomed in the +stillness outside the ship, cutting through the thin shrill whirring +of invisible small creatures. + +"This is the Med Ship _Aesclipus Twenty_," said Calhoun's voice, +amplified to a shout. "I left Weald four days ago, one day after the +cargo ship from here arrived with everybody on board dead. On Weald +they don't know how it happened, but they suspect blueskins. Sooner or +later they'll search here. + +"Get away! Cover up your tracks! Hide all signs that you've ever been +here! Get the hell away, fast! One more warning! There's talk of +fusion-bombing Dara. They're scared! If they find your traces, they'll +be still more scared! So cover up your tracks and get away from here!" + +The many-times-multiplied voice rolled and echoed among the hills. But +it was very clear. Where it could be heard it could be understood, and +it could be heard for miles. + +But there was no response to it. Calhoun waited a reasonable time. +Then he shrugged and seated himself at the control board. + +"It isn't easy," he observed, "to persuade desperate men that they've +outsmarted themselves! Hold hard, Murgatroyd!" + +The rockets bellowed. Then there was a tremendous noise to end all +noises, and the ship began to climb. It sped up and up and up. By the +time it was out of atmosphere it had velocity enough to coast to clear +space and Calhoun cut the rockets altogether. + +He busied himself with those astrogational chores which began with +orienting oneself to galactic directions after leaving a planet which +rotates at its own individual speed. Then one computes the overdrive +course to another planet, from the respecting coordinates of the world +one is leaving and the one one aims for. + +Then, in this case at any rate, there was the very finicky task of +picking out a fourth-magnitude star of whose planets one was his +destination. He aimed for it with ultra-fine precision. + +"Overdrive coming," he said presently. "Hold on!" + +Space reeled. There was nausea and giddiness and a horrible sensation +of falling in a wildly unlikely spiral. Then stillness, and solidity, +and the blackness outside the Med Ship. The little craft was in +overdrive again. + +After a long while, the girl Maril said uneasily, "I don't know what +you plan now--" + +"I'm going to Dara," said Calhoun. "On Orede I tried to get the +blueskins there to get going, fast. Maybe I succeeded. I don't know. +But this thing's been mishandled! Even if there's a famine people +shouldn't do things out of desperation! Being desperate jogs the brain +off-center. One doesn't think straight!" + +"I know now that I was ... very foolish." + +"Forget it," commanded Calhoun. "I wasn't talking about you. Here I +run into a situation that the Med Service should have caught and +cleaned up generations ago! But it's not only a Med Service +obligation; it's a current mess! Before I could begin to get at the +basic problem, those idiots on Orede--It'd happened before I reached +Weald! An emotional explosion triggered by a ship full of dead men +that nobody intended to kill." + +Maril shook her head. + +"Those Darian characters," said Calhoun, annoyed, "shouldn't have gone +to Orede in the first place. If they went there, they should at least +have stayed on a continent where there were no people from Weald +digging a mine and hunting cattle for sport on their off days! They +could be spotted! I believe they were. + +"And again, if it had been a long way from the mine installation, they +could probably have wiped out the people who sighted them before they +could get back with the news! But it looks like miners saw men +hunting, and got close enough to see they were blueskins, and then got +back to the mine with the news!" + +She waited for him to explain. + +"I know I'm guessing, but it fits!" he said distastefully. "So +something had to be done. Either the mining settlement had to be wiped +out or the story that blueskins were on Orede had to be discredited. +The blueskins tried for both. They used panic gas on a herd of cattle +and it made them crazy and they charged the settlement like the +four-footed lunatics they are! + +"And the blueskins used panic gas on the settlement itself as the +cattle went through. It should have settled the whole business nicely. +After it was over every man in the settlement would believe he'd been +out of his head for a while, and he'd have the crazy state of the +settlement to think about. + +"He wouldn't be sure of what he'd seen or heard before-hand. They +might try to verify the blueskin story later, but they wouldn't +believe anything with certainty. It should have worked!" + +Again she waited. + +"Unfortunately, when the miners panicked, they stampeded into the +ship. Also unfortunately, panic gas got into the ship with them. So +they stayed panicked while the astrogator--in panic!--took off. They +headed for Weald and threw on the overdrive--which would be set for +Weald anyhow--because that would be the fastest way to run away from +whatever he imagined he feared. But he and all the men on the ship +were still crazy with panic from the gas they kept breathing until +they died!" + +Silence. After a long interval, Maril asked, "You don't think the +Darians intended to kill?" + +"I think they were stupid!" said Calhoun angrily. "Somebody's always +urging the police to use panic gas in case of public tumult. But it's +too dangerous. Nobody knows what one man will do in a panic. Take a +hundred or two or three and panic them all, and there's no limit to +their craziness! The whole thing was handled wrong!" + +"But you don't blame them?" + +"For being stupid, yes," said Calhoun fretfully. "But if I'd been in +their place, perhaps--" + +"Where were you born?" asked Maril suddenly. + +Calhoun jerked his head around. "No! Not where you're guessing, or +hoping. Not on Dara. Just because I act as if Darians were human +doesn't mean I have to be one! I'm a Med Service man, and I'm acting +as I think I should." His tone became exasperated. + +"Dammit, I'm supposed to deal with health situations, actual, and +possible causes of human deaths! And if Weald thinks it finds proof +that blueskins are in space again and caused the death of Wealdians, +it won't be healthy! They're halfway set anyhow to drop fusion-bombs +on Dara to wipe it out!" + +Maril said fiercely, "They might as well drop bombs. It'll be quicker +than starvation, at least!" + +Calhoun looked at her, more exasperated than before. + +"It is a crop failure again?" he demanded. When she nodded he said +bitterly, "Famine conditions already?" When she nodded again he said +drearily, "And of course famine is the great-grandfather of health +problems! And that's right in my lap with all the rest!" + +He stood up. Then he sat down again. + +"I'm tired!" he said flatly. "I'd like to get some sleep. Would you +mind taking a book or something and going into the other cabin? +Murgatroyd and I would like a little relaxation from reality. With +luck, if I go to sleep, I may only have a nightmare. It'll be a +terrific improvement on what I'm in now!" + +Alone in the control compartment, he tried to relax, but it was not +possible. He flung himself into a comfortable chair and brooded. There +is brooding and brooding. It can be a form of wallowing in self-pity, +engaged in for emotional satisfaction. But it can be, also, a way of +bringing out unfavorable factors in a situation. A man in optimistic +mood can ignore them. But no awkward situation is likely to be +remedied while any of its elements are neglected. + +Calhoun dourly considered the situation of the people of the planet +Dara, which it was his job as a Med Service man to remedy or at least +improve. Those people were marked by patches of blue pigment as an +inherited consequence of a plague of three generations past. Because +of the marking, which it was easy to believe a sign of continuing +infection, they were hated and dreaded by their neighbors. Dara was a +planet of pariahs--excluded from the human race by those who feared +them. + +And now there was famine on Dara for the second time, and they were of +no mind to starve quietly. There was food on the planet Orede, +monstrous herds of cattle without owners. It was natural enough for +Darians to build a ship or ships and try to bring food back to its +starving people. But that desperately necessary enterprise had now +roused Weald to a frenzy of apprehension. + +Weald was, if possible, more hysterically afraid of blueskins than +ever before, and even more implacably the enemy of the starving +planet's population. Weald itself prospered. Ironically, it had such +an excess of foodstuffs that it stored them in unneeded spaceships in +orbits about itself. + +Hundreds of thousands of tons of grain circled Weald in sealed-tight +hulks, while the people of Dara starved and only dared try to +steal--if it could be called stealing--some of the innumerable wild +cattle of Orede. + +The blueskins on Orede could not trust Calhoun, so they pretended not +to hear. Or maybe that didn't hear. They'd been abandoned and betrayed +by all of humanity off their world. They'd been threatened and +oppressed by guardships in orbit about them, ready to shoot down any +spacecraft they might send aloft.... + +So Calhoun brooded, while Murgatroyd presently yawned and climbed to +his cubbyhole and curled up to sleep with his furry tail carefully +adjusted over his nose. + +A long time later Calhoun heard small sounds which were not normal on +a Med Ship in overdrive. They were not part of the random noises +carefully generated to keep the silence of the ship endurable. Calhoun +raised his head. He listened sharply. No sound could come from +outside. + +He knocked on the door of the sleeping cabin. The noises stopped +instantly. + +"Come out," he commanded through the door. + +"I'm--I'm all right," said Maril's voice. But it was not quite steady. +She paused. "Did I make a noise? I was having a bad dream." + +"I wish," said Calhoun, "that you'd tell me the truth just +occasionally! Come out, please!" + +There were stirrings. After a little it opened and Maril appeared. She +looked as if she'd been crying. She said, quickly, "I probably look +queer, but it's because I was asleep." + +"To the contrary," said Calhoun, fuming. "You've been lying awake +crying. I don't know why. I've been out here wishing I could, because +I'm frustrated. But since you aren't asleep maybe you can help me with +my job. I've figured some things out. For some others I need facts. +Will you give them to me?" + +She swallowed. "I'll try." + +"Coffee?" he asked. + +Murgatroyd popped his head out of his miniature sleeping cabin. + +"_Chee?_" he asked interestedly. + +"Go back to sleep!" snapped Calhoun. + +He began to pace back and forth. + +"I need to know something about the pigment patches," he said jerkily. +"Maybe it sounds crazy to think of such things now--first things +first, you know. But this is a first thing! So long as Darians don't +look like the people of other worlds, they'll be believed to be +different. If they look repulsive, they'll be believed to be evil. + +"Tell me about those patches. They're different sizes and different +shapes and they appear in different places. You've none on your face +or hands, anyhow." + +"I haven't any at all," said the girl reservedly. + +"I thought--" + +"Not everybody," she said defensively. "Nearly, yes. But not all. Some +people don't have them. Some people are born with bluish splotches on +their skin, but they fade out while they're children. When they grow +up they're just like the people of Weald or any other world. And their +children never have them." + +Calhoun stared. + +"You couldn't possibly be proved to be a Darian, then?" + +She shook her head. Calhoun remembered, and started the coffee. + +"When you left Dara," he said, "you were carried a long, long way, to +some planet where they'd practically never heard of Dara, and where +the name meant nothing. You could have settled there, or anywhere else +and forgotten about Dara. But you didn't. Why not, since you're not a +blueskin?" + +"But I am!" she said fiercely. "My parents, my brothers and sisters, +and Korvan--" + +Then she bit her lip. Calhoun took note but did not comment on the +name she'd mentioned. + +"Then your parents had the splotches fade, so you never had them," he +said absorbedly. "Something like that happened on Tralee, once! +There's a virus, a whole group of virus particles! Normally we humans +are immune to them. One has to be in terrifically bad physical +condition for them to take hold and produce whatever effects they do. +But once they're established they're passed on from mother to child. +And when they die out it's during childhood, too!" + +He poured coffee for the two of them. Murgatroyd swung down to the +floor and said, impatiently, "_Chee! Chee! Chee!_" + +Calhoun absently filled Murgatroyd's tiny cup and handed it to him. + +"But this is marvellous!" he said exuberantly. "The blue patches +appeared after the plague, didn't they? After people recovered--when +they recovered?" + +Maril stared at him. His mind was filled with strictly professional +considerations. He was not talking to her as a person. She was purely +a source of information. + +"So I'm told," said Maril reservedly. "Are there any more humiliating +questions you want to ask?" + +He gaped at her. Then he said ruefully, "I'm stupid, Maril, but you're +touchy. There's nothing personal--" + +"There is to me!" she said fiercely. "I was born among blueskins, and +they're of my blood, and they're hated and I'd have been killed on +Weald if I'd been known as ... what I am! And there's Korvan, who +arranged for me to be sent away as a spy and advised me to do just +what you said: abandon my home world and everybody I care about! +Including him! It's personal to me!" + +Calhoun wrinkled his forehead helplessly. + +"I'm sorry," he repeated. "Drink your coffee!" + +"I don't want it," she said bitterly. "I'd like to die!" + +"If you stay around where I am," Calhoun told her, "you may get your +wish. All right, there'll be no more questions." + +She turned and moved toward the door to the cabin. Calhoun looked +after her. + +"Maril." + +"What?" + +"Why were you crying?" + +"You wouldn't understand," she said evenly. + +Calhoun shrugged his shoulders almost up to his ears. He was a +professional man. In his profession he was not incompetent. But there +is no profession in which a really competent man tries to understand +women. Calhoun, annoyed, had to let fate or chance or disaster take +care of Maril's personal problems. He had larger matters to cope with. + +But he had something to work on, now. He hunted busily in the +reference tapes. He came up with an explicit collection of information +on exactly the subject he needed. He left the control room to go down +into the storage areas of the Med Ship's hull. He found an ultra +frigid storage box, whose contents were kept at the temperature of +liquid air. + +He donned thick gloves, used a special set of tongs, and extracted a +tiny block of plastic in which a sealed-tight phial of glass was +embedded. It frosted instantly he took it out, and when the storage +box was closed again the block was covered with a thick and opaque +coating of frozen moisture. + +He went back to the control room and pulled down the panel which made +available a small-scale but surprisingly adequate biological +laboratory. He set the plastic block in a container which would raise +it very, very gradually to a specific temperature and hold it there. +It was, obviously, a living culture from which any imaginable quantity +of the same culture could be bred. Calhoun set the apparatus with +great exactitude. + +"This," he told Murgatroyd, "may be a good day's work. Now I think I +can rest." + +Then, for a long while, there was no sound or movement in the Med +Ship. The girl may have slept, or maybe not. Calhoun lay relaxed in a +chair which at the touch of a button became the most comfortable of +sleeping places. Murgatroyd remained in his cubbyhole, his tail curled +over his nose. + +There were comforting, unheard, easily dismissable murmurings now and +again. They kept the feeling of life alive in the ship. But for such +infinitesimal stirrings of sound, carefully recorded for this exact +purpose, the feel of the ship would have been that of a tomb. + +But it was quite otherwise when another ship-day began with the taped +sounds of morning activities as faint as echoes but nevertheless +establishing an atmosphere of their own. + +Calhoun examined the plastic block and its contents. He read the +instruments which had cared for it while he slept. He put the +block--no longer frosted--in the culture microscope and saw its +enclosed, infinitesimal particles of life in the process of +multiplying on the food that had been frozen with them when they were +reduced to the spore condition. He beamed. He replaced the block in +the incubation oven and faced the day cheerfully. + +Maril greeted him with great reserve. They breakfasted, with +Murgatroyd eating from his own platter on the floor, a tiny cup of +coffee alongside. + +"I've been thinking," said Maril evenly. "I think I can get you a +hearing for whatever ideas you may have to help Dara." + +"Kind of you," murmured Calhoun. + +In theory, a Med Service man had all the authority needed for this or +any other emergency. The power to declare a planet in quarantine, so +cutting it off from all interstellar commerce, should be enough to +force cooperation from any world's government. But in practice Calhoun +had exactly as much power as he could exercise. + +And Weald could not think straight where blueskins were concerned, and +certainly the authorities on Dara could not be expected to be +levelheaded. They had a history of isolation and outlawry, and long +experience of being regarded as less than human. In cold fact, Calhoun +had no power at all. + +"May I ask whose influence you'll exert?" asked Calhoun. + +"There's a man," said Maril reservedly, "who thinks a great deal of +me. I don't know his present official position, but he was certain to +become prominent. I'll tell him how you've acted up to now, and your +attitude, and of course that you're Med Service. He'll be glad to help +you, I'm sure." + +"Splendid!" said Calhoun, nodding. "That will be Korvan." + +She started. "How did you know?" + +"Intuition," said Calhoun dryly. "All right. I'll count on him." + +But he did not. He worked in the tiny biological lab all that ship-day +and all the next. The girl was very quiet. Murgatroyd tried to enter +into pretended conversation with her, but she was not able to match +his pretense. + +On the ship-day after, the time for breakout approached. While the +ship was practically a world all by itself, it was easy to look +forward with confidence to the future. But when contact and, in a +fashion, conflict with other and larger worlds loomed nearer, +prospects seemed less bright. Calhoun had definite plans, now, but +there were so many ways in which they could be frustrated. + +Calhoun sat down at the control board and watched the clock. + +"I've got things lined up," he told Maril, "if only they work out. If +I can make somebody on Dara listen, which is unlikely, and follow my +advice, which they probably won't; and if Weald doesn't get the ideas +it probably will get; and isn't doing what I suspect it is--why, +maybe something can be done." + +"I'm sure you'll do your best," said Maril politely. + +Calhoun managed to grin. He watched the clock. There was no sensation +attached to overdrive travel except at the beginning and the end. It +was now time for the end. He might find most anything having happened. +His plans might immediately be seen to be hopeless. Weald could have +sent ships to Dara, or Dara might be in such a state of +desperation.... + +As it turned out, Dara was desperate. The Med Ship came out nearly a +light-month from the sun about which the planet Dara revolved. Calhoun +went into a short hop toward it. Then Dara was on the other side of +the blazing yellow star. It took time to reach it. + +He called down, identifying himself and the ship and asking for +coordinates so his ship could be brought to ground. There was +confusion, as if the request were so unusual that the answers were not +ready. The grid, too, was on the planet's night side. Presently the +ship was locked onto by the grid's force-fields. It went downward. + +Calhoun saw that Maril sat tensely, twisting her fingers within each +other, until the ship actually touched ground. + +Then he opened the exit port--and faced armed men in the darkness, +with blast-rifles trained on him. There was a portable cannon trained +on the Med Ship itself. + +"Come out!" rasped a voice. "If you try anything you get blasted! Your +ship and its contents are seized by the planetary government!" + + * * * * * + + + + +5 + + +It seemed that the smell of hunger was in the air. The armed men were +emaciated. Lights came on, and stark, harsh shadows lay black upon the +ground. Calhoun's captors were uniformed, but the uniforms hung +loosely upon them. Where the lights struck upon their faces, their +cheeks were hollow. They were cadaverous. And there were the splotches +of pigment of which Calhoun had heard. + +The man nearest the Med Ship's port had a monstrous, irregular +dull-blue marking over half of one side of his face and up upon his +forehead. The man next to him had a blue throat. The next man again +was less marked, but his left ear was blue and there was what seemed a +splashing of the same color on the skin under his hair. + +The leader of the truculent group--it might have been a firing +squad--made an imperious gesture with his hand. It was blue, except +for two fingers which in the glaring illumination seemed whiter than +white. + +"Out!" said that man savagely. "We're taking over your stock of food. +You'll get your share of it, like everybody else, but--" + +Maril spoke over Calhoun's shoulder. She uttered a cryptic sentence or +two. It should have amounted to identification but there was +skepticism in the armed party. + +"Oh, you're one of us, eh?" said the guard leader sardonically. +"You'll have a chance to prove that. Come out of there!" + +Calhoun spoke abruptly, "This is a Med Ship," he said. "There are +medicines and bacterial culture inside it. They shouldn't be meddled +with. Here on Dara you've had enough of plagues!" + +The man with the blue hand said as sardonically as before, "I said the +government was taking over your ship! It won't be looted. But you're +not taking a full cargo of food away! In fact, it's not likely you're +leaving!" + +"And I want to speak to someone in authority," snapped Calhoun. "We've +just come from Weald." He felt bristling hatred all about him as he +named Weald. "There's tumult there. They're talking about dropping +fusion-bombs here. It's important that I talk to somebody with the +authority to take a few sensible precautions!" + +He descended to the ground. There was a panicky "_Chee! Chee!_" from +behind him, and Murgatroyd came dashing to swarm up his body and cling +apprehensively to his neck. + +"What's that?" + +"A _tormal_" said Calhoun. "He's not a pet. Your medical men will know +something about him. This is a Med Ship and I'm a Med Ship man, and +he's an important member of the crew. He's a Med Ship _tormal_ and he +stays with me!" + +The man with the blue hand said harshly, "There's somebody waiting to +ask you questions. Here!" + +A groundcar came rolling out from the side of the landing-grid +enclosure. The groundcar ran on wheels, and wheels were not much used +on modern worlds. Dara was behind the times in more ways than one. + +"This car will take you to Defense and you can tell them anything you +want. But don't try to sneak back in this ship! It'll be guarded!" + +The groundcar was enclosed, with room for a driver and the three from +the Med Ship. But armed men festooned themselves about its exterior +and it went bumping and rolling to the massive ground-layer girders of +the grid. It rolled out under them and onto a paved highway. It picked +up speed. + +There were buildings on either side of the road, but few showed +lights. This was night, and the men at the landing-grid had set a +pattern of hunger, so that the silence and the dark buildings did not +seem a sign of tranquility and sleep, but of exhaustion and despair. + +The highway lamps were few, by comparison with other inhabited worlds, +and the groundcar needed lights of its own to guide its driver over a +paved surface that needed repair. By those moving lights other +depressing things could be seen: untidiness, buildings not kept up to +perfection, evidences of apathy, the road, which hadn't been cleaned +lately, litter here and there. + +Even the fact that there were no stars added to the feeling of +wretchedness and gloom and, ultimately, of hunger. + +Maril spoke nervously to the driver. + +"The famine isn't any better?" + +He moved his head in negation, but did not speak. There was a splotch +of blue pigment at the back of his neck. It extended upward into his +hair. + +"I left two years ago," said Maril. "It was just beginning then. +Rationing hadn't started." + +The driver said evenly, "There's rationing now!" + +The car went on and on. A vast open space appeared ahead. Lights about +its perimeter seemed few and pale. + +"Everything seems worse. Even the lights." + +"Using all the power," said the driver, "to warm up ground to grow +crops where it ought to be winter. Not doing too well, either." + +Calhoun knew, somehow, that Maril moistened her lips. + +"I was sent," she explained to the driver, "to go ashore on Trent and +then make my way to Weald. I mailed reports of what I found out back +to Trent. Somebody got them back to here whenever it was possible." + +The driver said, "Everybody knows the man on Trent disappeared. Maybe +he got caught, maybe somebody saw him without make-up. Or maybe he +just quit being one of us. What's the difference? No use!" + +Calhoun found himself wincing a little. The driver was not angry. He +was hopeless. But men should not despair. They shouldn't accept +hostility from those about them as a device of fate for their +destruction. + +Maril said quickly to Calhoun, "You understand? Dara's a heavy-metals +planet. There aren't many light elements in our soil. Potassium is +scarce. So our ground isn't very fertile. Before the Plague we traded +metals and manufactured products for imports of food and potash. But +since the Plague we've had no off-planet commerce. We've been +quarantined." + +"I gathered as much," said Calhoun. "It was up to Med Service to see +that that didn't happen. It's up to Med Service now to see that it +stops." + +"Too late now for anything," said the driver. "Whatever Med Service +may be! They're talking about cutting down our population so there'll +be food enough for some to live. There are two questions about it. One +is who's to be kept alive, and the other is why." + +The groundcar aimed now for a cluster of faintly brighter lights on +the far side of the great open space. They enlarged as they grew +nearer. Maril said hesitantly, "There was someone, Korvan--" Calhoun +didn't catch the rest of the name. Maril said hesitantly, "He was +working on food plants. I thought he might accomplish something...." + +The driver said caustically, "Sure! Everybody's heard about him! He +came up with a wonderful thing! He and his outfit worked out a way to +process weeds so they can be eaten. And they can. You can fill your +belly and not feel hungry, but it's like eating hay. You starve just +the same. He's still working. Head of a government division." + +The groundcar passed through a gate. It stopped before a lighted door. +The armed men hanging to its outside dropped off. They watched Calhoun +closely as he stepped out with Murgatroyd riding on his shoulder. + +Minutes later they faced a hastily summoned group of officials of the +Darian government. For a ship to land on Dara was so remarkable an +event that it called practically for a cabinet meeting. And Calhoun +noted that they were no better fed than the guards at the spaceport. + +They regarded Calhoun and Maril with oddly burning, eyes. It was, of +course, because the two of them showed no signs of hunger. They +obviously had not been on short rations. Darians had this, now, to +increase a hatred which was inevitable anyhow, directed at all peoples +off their own planet. + +"My name is Calhoun," said Calhoun briskly. "I've the usual Med +Service credentials. Now--" + +He did not wait to be questioned. He told them of the appalling state +of things in the Twelfth Sector of the Med Service, so that men had +been borrowed from other sectors to remedy the intolerable, and he was +one of them. He told of his arrival at Weald and what had happened +there, from the excessively cautious insistence that he prove he was +not a Darian, to the arrival of the death-ship from Orede. + +He was giving them the news affecting them, as they had not heard it +before. He went on to tell of his stop at Orede and his purpose, and +his encounter with the men he found there. When he finished there was +silence. He broke it. + +"Now," he said, "Maril's an agent of yours. She can add to what I've +told you. I'm Med Service. I have a job to do here to carry out what +wasn't done before. I should make a planetary health inspection and +make recommendations for the improvement of the state of things. I'll +be glad if you'll arrange for me to talk to your health officials. +Things look bad, and something should be done." + +Someone laughed without mirth. + +"What will you recommend for long-continued undernourishment?" he +asked derisively. "That's our health problem!" + +"I recommend food," said Calhoun. + +"Where'll you fill the prescription?" + +"I've the answer to that, too," said Calhoun curtly. "I'll want to +talk to any space pilots you've got. Get your astrogators together and +I think they'll approve my idea." + +The silence was totally skeptical. + +"Orede--" + +"Not Orede," said Calhoun. "Weald will be hunting that planet over for +Darians. If they find any, they'll drop bombs here." + +"Our only space pilots," said a tall man, presently, "are on Orede +now. If you've told the truth, they'll probably head back because of +your warning. They should bring meat." + +His mouth worked peculiarly, and Calhoun knew that it was at the +thought of food. + +"Which," said another man sharply, "goes to the hospitals! I haven't +tasted meat in two years!" + +"Nobody has," growled another man still. "But here's this man Calhoun. +I'm not convinced he can work magic, but we can find out if he lies. +Put a guard on his ship. Otherwise let our health men give him his +head. They'll find out if he's from this Medical Service he tells of! +and this Maril...." + +"I can be identified," said Maril. "I was sent to gather information +and send it in secret writing to one of us on Trent. I have a family +here. They'll know me! And I--there was someone who was working on +foods, and I believe he made it possible to use ... all sorts of +vegetation for food. He will identify me." + +Someone laughed harshly. + +Maril swallowed. + +"I'd like to see him," she repeated. "And my family." + +Some of the blue-splotched men turned away. A broad-shouldered man +said bluntly, "Don't look for them to be glad to see you. And you'd +better not show yourself in public. You've been well fed. You'll be +hated for that." + +Maril began to cry. Murgatroyd said bewilderedly, "_Chee! Chee!_" + +Calhoun held him close. There was confusion. And Calhoun found the +Minister of Health at hand. He looked most harried of all the +officials gathered to question Calhoun. He proposed that he get a look +at the hospital situation right away. + +It wasn't practical. With all the population on half rations or less, +when night came people needed to sleep. Most people, indeed, slept as +many hours out of the traditional twenty-four as they could manage. It +was much more pleasant to sleep than to be awake and constantly nagged +at by continued hunger. + +And there was the matter of simple decency. Continuous gnawing hunger +had an embittering effect upon everyone. Quarrelsomeness was a common +experience. And people who would normally be the leaders of opinion +felt shame because they were obsessed by thoughts of food. It was best +when people slept. + +Still, Calhoun was in the hospitals by daybreak. What he found moved +him to savage anger. There were too many sick children. In every case +undernourishment contributed to their sickness. And there was not +enough food to make them well. Doctors and nurses denied themselves +food to spare it for their patients. And most of that self-denial was +doubtless voluntary, but it would not be discreet for anybody on Dara +to look conspicuously better fed than his fellows. + +Calhoun brought out hormones and enzymes and medicaments from the Med +Ship while the guard in the ship looked on. He demonstrated the +processes of synthesis and auto-catalysis that enabled such small +samples to be multiplied indefinitely. He was annoyed by a clamorous +appetite. There were some doctors who ignored the irony of medical +techniques being taught to cure nonnutritional disease, when everybody +was half-fed, or less. They approved of Calhoun. They even approved of +Murgatroyd when Calhoun explained his function. + +He was, of course, a Med Service _tormal_, and _tormals_ were +creatures of talent. They'd originally been found on a planet in the +Deneb area, and they were engaging and friendly small animals. But the +remarkable fact about them was that they couldn't contract any +disease. Not any. + +They had a built-in, explosive reaction to bacterial and viral toxins, +and there hadn't yet been any pathogenic organism discovered to which +a _tormal_ could not more or less immediately develop antibody +resistance. So that in interstellar medicine _tormals_ were priceless. + +Let Murgatroyd be infected with however localized, however specialized +an inimical organism, and presently some highly valuable defensive +substance could be isolated from his blood and he'd remain in his +usual exuberant good health. + +When the antibody was analyzed by those techniques of microanalysis +the Service had developed, that was that. The antibody could be +synthesized and one could attack any epidemic with confidence. + +The tragedy for Dara was, of course, that no Med Ship had come to Dara +three generations ago, when the Dara plague raged. Worse, after the +plague Weald was able to exert pressure which only a criminally +incompetent Med Service director would have permitted. But criminal +incompetence and its consequences was what Calhoun had been loaned to +Sector Twelve to help remedy. He was not at ease, though. No ship +arrived from Orede to bear out his account of an attempt to get that +lonely world evacuated before Weald discovered it had blueskins on it. +Maril had vanished, to visit or return to her family, or perhaps to +consult with the mysterious Korvan who'd arranged for her to leave +Dara to be a spy, and had advised her simply to make a new life +somewhere else, abandoning a famine-ridden, despised, and out-caste +world. + +Calhoun had learned of two achievements the same Korvan had made for +his world. Neither was remarkably constructive. He'd offered to prove +the value of the second by dying of it. Which might make him a very +admirable character, or he could have a passion for martyrdom, which +is much more common than most people think. In two days Calhoun was +irritable enough from unaccustomed hunger to suspect the worst of him. + +Meanwhile Calhoun worked doggedly; in the hospitals while the patients +were awake and in the Med Ship, under guard, afterward. He had hunger +cramps now, but he tested a plastic cube with a thriving biological +culture in it. + +He worked at increasing his store of it. He'd snipped samples of +pigmented skin from dead patients in the hospitals, and examined the +pigmented areas, and very, very painstakingly verified a theory. It +took an electron microscope to do it, but he found a virus in the blue +patches which matched the type discovered on Tralee. + +The Tralee viruses had effects which were passed on from mother to +child, and heredity had been charged with the observed results of +quasi-living viral particles. And then Calhoun very, very carefully +introduced into a virus culture the material he had been growing in a +plastic cube. He watched what happened. + +He was satisfied, so much so that immediately afterward he yawned and +yawned and barely managed to stagger off to bed. The watching guard in +the Med Ship watched him in amazement. + +That night the ship from Orede came in, packed with frozen bloody +carcasses of cattle. Calhoun knew nothing of it. But next morning +Maril came back. There were shadows under her eyes and her expression +was of someone who has lost everything that had meaning in her life. + +"I'm all right," she insisted, when Calhoun commented. "I've been +visiting my family. I've seen Korvan. I'm quite all right." + +"You haven't eaten any better than I have," Calhoun observed. + +"I couldn't!" admitted Maril. "My sisters, my little sisters so +thin.... There's rationing for everybody and it's all efficiently +arranged. They even had rations for me. But I couldn't eat! I gave +most of my food to my sisters and they--they squabbled over it!" + +Calhoun said nothing. There was nothing to say. Then she said, in a no +less desolate tone, "Korvan said I was foolish to come back." + +"He could be right," said Calhoun. + +"But I had to!" protested Maril. "And now I--I've been eating all I +wanted to, in Weald and in the ship, and I'm ashamed because they're +half-starved and I'm not. And when you see what hunger does to +them.... It's terrible to be half-starved and not able to think of +anything but food!" + +"I hope," said Calhoun, "to do something about that. If I can get hold +of an astrogator or two--" + +"The ship that was on Orede came in during the night," Maril told him +shakily. "It was loaded with frozen meat, but one load's not enough to +make a difference on a whole planet! And if Weald hunts for us on +Orede, we daren't go back for more meat." + +She said abruptly, "There are some prisoners. They were miners. They +were crowded out of the ship. The Darians who'd stampeded the cattle +took them prisoners. They had to!" + +"True," said Calhoun. "It wouldn't have been wise to leave Wealdians +around on Orede with their throats cut. Or living, either, to tell +about a rumor of blueskins. Even if their throats will be cut now. Is +that the program?" + +Maril shivered. + +"No. They'll be put on short rations like everybody else. And people +will watch them. The Wealdians expect to die of plague any minute +because they've been with Darians. So people look at them and laugh. +But it's not very funny." + +"It's natural," said Calhoun, "but perhaps lacking in charity. Look +there! How about those astrogators? I need them for a job I have in +mind." + +Maril wrung her hands. + +"C--come here," she said in a low tone. + +There was an armed guard in the control room of the ship. He'd watched +Calhoun a good part of the previous day as Calhoun performed his +mysterious work. He'd been off-duty and now was on duty again. He was +bored. So long as Calhoun did not touch the control board, though, he +was uninterested. He didn't even turn his head when Maril led the way +into the other cabin and slid the door shut. + +"The astrogators are coming," she said swiftly. "They'll bring some +boxes with them. They'll ask you to instruct them so they can handle +our ship better. They lost themselves coming back from Orede. No, +they didn't lose themselves, but they lost time, enough time almost to +make an extra trip for meat. They need to be experts. I'm to come +along, so they can be sure that what you teach them is what you've +been doing right along." + +Calhoun said, "Well?" + +"They're crazy!" said Maril vehemently. "They knew Weald would do +something monstrous sooner or later. But they're going to try to stop +it by being more monstrous sooner! Not everybody agrees, but there are +enough. So they want to use your ship--it's faster in overdrive and so +on. And they'll go to Weald in this ship and--they say they'll give +Weald something to keep it busy without bothering us!" + +Calhoun said dryly, "This pays me off for being too sympathetic with +blueskins! But if I'd been hungry for a couple of years, and was +despised to boot by the people who kept me hungry, I suppose I might +react the same way. No," he said curtly as she opened her lips to +speak again, "don't tell me the trick. Considering everything, there's +only one trick it could be. But I doubt profoundly that it would work. +All right." + +He slid the door back and returned to the control room. Maril followed +him. He said detachedly, "I've been working on a problem outside of +the food one. It isn't the time to talk about it right now, but I +think I've solved it." + +Maril turned her head, listening. There were footsteps on the tarmac +outside the ship. Both doors of the airlock were open. Four men came +in. They were young men who did not look quite as hungry as most +Darians, but there was a reason for that. Their leader introduced +himself and the others. They were the astrogators of the ship Dara had +built to try to bring food from Orede. They were not, said their +self-appointed leader, good enough. They'd overshot their +destination. They came out of overdrive too far off line. They needed +instruction. + +Calhoun nodded, and observed that he'd been asking for them. They +were, of course, blueskins. On one the only visible disfigurement was +a patch of blue upon his wrist. On another the appearance of a blue +birthmark appeared beside his eye and went back and up his temple. A +third had a white patch on his temple, with all the rest of his face a +dull blue. The fourth had blue fingers on one hand. + +"We've got orders," said their leader, steadily, "to come on board and +learn from you how to handle this ship. It's better than the one we've +got." + +"I asked for you," repeated Calhoun. "I've an idea I'll explain as we +go along.... Those boxes?" + +Someone was passing in iron boxes through the airlock. One of the four +very carefully brought them inside. + +"They're rations," said a second young man. "We don't go anywhere +without rations, except Orede." + +"Orede, yes. I think we were shooting at each other there," said +Calhoun pleasantly. "Weren't we?" + +"Yes," said the young man. + +He was neither cordial nor antagonistic. He was impassive. Calhoun +shrugged. + +"Then we can take off immediately. Here's the communicator and there's +the button. You might call the grid and arrange for us to be lifted." + +The young man seated himself at the control board. Very +professionally, he went through the routine of preparing to lift by +landing-grid, which routine has not changed in two hundred years. He +went briskly ahead until the order to lift. Then Calhoun stopped him. + +"Hold it!" + +He pointed to the airlock. Both doors were open. The young man at the +control board flushed vividly. One of the others closed and dogged the +doors. + +The ship lifted. Calhoun watched with seeming negligence. But he found +occasion for a dozen corrections of procedure. This was presumably a +training voyage of his own suggestion. Therefore, when the blueskin +pilot would have flung the Med Ship into undirected overdrive, Calhoun +grew stern. He insisted on a destination. He suggested Weald. + +The young men glanced at each other and accepted the suggestion. He +made the acting pilot look up the intrinsic brightness of its sun and +measure its apparent brightness from just off Dara. He made him +estimate the change in brightness to be expected after so many hours +in overdrive, if one broke out to measure. + +The first blueskin student pilot ended a Calhoun-determined tour of +duty with more respect for Calhoun then he'd had at the beginning. The +second was anxious to show up better than the first. Calhoun drilled +him in the use of brightness-charts, by which the changes in apparent +brightness of stars between overdrive hops could be correlated with +angular changes to give a three-dimensional picture of the nearer +heavens. + +It was a highly necessary art which had not been worked out on Dara, +and the prospective astrogators became absorbed in this and other fine +points of space-piloting. They'd done enough, in a few trips to Orede, +to realize that they needed to know more. Calhoun showed them. + +Calhoun did not try to make things easy for them. He was hungry and +easily annoyed. It was sound training tactics to be severe, and to +phrase all suggestions as commands. He put the four young men in +command of the ship in turn, under his direction. He continued to use +Weald as a destination, but he set up problems in which the Med Ship +came out of overdrive pointing in an unknown direction and with a +precessory motion. + +He made the third of his students identify Weald in the celestial +globe containing hundreds of millions of stars, and get on course in +overdrive toward it. The fourth was suddenly required to compute the +distance to Weald from such data as he could get from observation, +without reference to any records. + +By this time the first man was chafing to take a second turn. Calhoun +gave each of them a second gruelling lesson. He gave them, in fact, a +highly condensed but very sound course in the art of travel in space. +His young students took command in four-hour watches, with at least +one breakout from overdrive in each watch. + +He built up enthusiasm in them. They ignored the discomfort of being +hungry--though there had been no reason for them to stint on food on +Orede--in growing pride in what they came to know. + +When Weald was a first-magnitude star, the four were not highly +qualified astrogators, to be sure, but they were vastly better +spacemen than at the beginning. Inevitably, their attitude toward +Calhoun was respectful. He'd been irritable and right. To the young, +the combination is impressive. + +Maril had served as passenger only. In theory she was to compare +Calhoun's lessons with his practise when alone. But he did nothing on +this journey which, teaching considered, was different from the two +interstellar journeys Maril had made with him. + +She occupied the sleeping cabin during two of the six watches of each +ship-day. She operated the food-readier, which was almost completely +emptied of its original store of food, it having been confiscated by +the government of Dara. That amount of food would make no difference +to the planet, but it was wise for everyone on Dara to be equally +ill-fed. + +On the sixth day out from Dara, the sun of Weald had a magnitude of +minus five-tenths. The electron telescope could detect its larger +planets, especially a gas-giant fifth-orbit world of high albedo. +Calhoun had his four students estimate its distance again, pointing +out the difference that could be made in breakout position if the Med +Ship were mis-aimed by as much as one second of arc. + +"And now," he said briskly, "we'll have coffee. I'm going to graduate +you as pilots. Maril, four cups of coffee, please." + +Murgatroyd said "_Chee?_" The Med Ship was badly crowded with six +humans and Murgatroyd in a space intended for Calhoun and Murgatroyd +alone. The little _tormal_ had spent most of his time in his +cubbyhole, watching with beady eyes as so many people moved about on +what had been a spacious ship before. + +"No coffee for you, Murgatroyd," said Calhoun. "You didn't do your +lessons. This is for the graduating class only." + +Murgatroyd came out of his miniature den. He found his little cup and +offered it insistently, saying, "_Chee! Chee! Chee!_" + +"No!" said Calhoun firmly. He regarded his class of four young men +with their blueskin markings. "Drink it down!" he commanded. "That's +the last order I'll give you. You're graduate pilots, now!" + +They drank the coffee with a flourish. There was not one who did not +admire Calhoun for having made them admire themselves. They were, +actually, almost as much better pilots as they believed. + +"And now," said Calhoun, "I suppose you'll tell me the truth about +those boxes you brought on board. You said they were rations, but +they haven't been opened in six days. I have an idea what they mean, +but you tell me." + +The four looked uncomfortable. There was a long pause. + +"They could be," said Calhoun detachedly, "cultures to be dumped on +Weald. Weald is making plans to wipe out Dara. So some fool has +decided to get Weald too busy fighting a plague of its own to bother +with you. Is that right?" + +The young men stirred unhappily. Young men can very easily be made +into fanatics. But they have to be kept stirred up. They can't be +provided with sound reason for self-respect. On the Med Ship there'd +not been a single reference to Weald except as an object toward which +the Med Ship was being astrogated. There'd been no reference to +blueskins or enemies or threats or anything but space-piloting. The +four young men were now fanatical about the proper handling of a ship +in emptiness. + +"Well, sir," said one of them, unhappily, "that's what we were ordered +to do." + +"I object," said Calhoun. "It wouldn't work. I just left Weald a +little while back, remember. They've been telling themselves that some +day Dara would try that. They've made preparations to fight any +imaginable contagion you could drop on them. Every so often somebody +claims it's happening. It wouldn't work. I object!" + +"But--" + +"In fact," said Calhoun, "I forbid it. I shall prevent it. You shan't +do anything of the kind." + +One of the young men, staring at Calhoun, nodded suddenly. His eyes +closed. He jerked his head erect and looked bewildered. A second sank +heavily into a chair. He said remotely, "Thish sfunny!" and abruptly +went to sleep. The third found his knees giving way. He paid elaborate +attention to them, stiffening them. But they yielded like rubber and +he went slowly down to the floor. The fourth said thickly and +reproachfully, "Thought y'were our frien'!" + +He collapsed. + +Calhoun very soberly tied them hand and foot and laid them out +comfortably on the floor. Maril watched, white-faced, her hand to her +throat. Murgatroyd looked agitated. He said anxiously, "_Chee? Chee?_" + +"No," said Calhoun. "They'll wake up presently." + +Maril said in a tense and desperate whisper, "You're betraying us! +You're going to take us to Weald!" + +"No," said Calhoun. "We'll only orbit around it. First, though, I want +to get rid of those damned packed-up cultures. They're dead, by the +way. I killed them with super-sonics a couple of days ago, while a +fine argument was going on about distance-measurements by variable +Cepheids of known period." + +He put the four boxes carefully in the disposal unit. He operated it. +The boxes and their contents streamed out to space in the form of +metallic and other vapors. Calhoun sat at the control desk. + +"I'm a Med Service man," he said detachedly. "I couldn't cooperate in +the spread of plagues, anyhow, though a useful epidemic might be +another matter. But the important thing right now is not keeping Weald +busy with troubles to increase their hatred of Dara. It's getting some +food for Dara. And driblets won't help. What's needed is thousands of +tons, or tens of thousands." Then he said, "Overdrive coming, +Murgatroyd! Hold fast!" + +The universe vanished. The customary unpleasant sensations accompanied +the change. Murgatroyd burped. + + * * * * * + + + + +6 + + +A large part of the firmament was blotted out by the blindingly bright +half-disk of Weald, as it shone in the sunshine. It had icecaps at its +poles, and there were seas, and the mottled look of land which had +that carefully maintained balance of woodland and cultivated areas +which was so effective in climate control. The Med Ship floated free, +and Calhoun fretfully monitored all the beacon frequencies known to +man. + +There was relative silence inside the ship. Maril watched Calhoun in a +sort of despairing indecision. The four young blueskins still slept, +still bound hand and foot upon the control room floor. Murgatroyd +regarded them, and Maril, and Calhoun in turn, and his small and furry +forehead wrinkled helplessly. + +"They can't have landed what I'm looking for!" protested Calhoun as +his search had no result. "They can't! It would be too sensible for +them to have done it!" + +Murgatroyd said "_Chee!_" in a subdued voice. + +"But where the devil did they put them?" demanded Calhoun. "A polar +orbit would be ridiculous! They--" Then he grunted in disgust. "Oh! Of +course! Now, where's the landing-grid?" + +He worked busily for minutes, checking the position of the Wealdian +landing-grid, which was mapped in the Sector Directory, against the +look of continents and seas on the half-disk so plainly visible +outside. He found what he wanted. He put on the ship's solar system +drive. + +"I wish," he complained to Maril, "I wish I could think straight the +first time! And it's so obvious! If you want to put something out in +space, and not have it interfere with traffic, in what sort of orbit +and at what distance will you put it?" + +Maril did not answer. + +"Obviously," said Calhoun, "you'll put it as far as possible from the +landing-pattern of ships coming in to the spaceport. You'll put it on +the opposite side of the planet. And you'll want it to stay out of the +way, where anybody can know it is at any time of the day or night +without having to calculate anything. + +"So you'll put it out in orbit so it will revolve around Weald in +exactly one day, neither more nor less, and you'll put it above the +equator. And then it will remain quite stationary above one spot on +the planet, a hundred and eighty degrees longitude away from the +landing-grid and directly over the equator." + +He scribbled for a moment. + +"Which means forty-two thousand miles high, give or take a few +hundred, and--here! And I was hunting for it in a close-in orbit!" + +He grumbled to himself. He waited while the solar-system drive pushed +the Med Ship a quarter of the way around the bright planet below. The +sunset line vanished and the planet's disk became a complete circle. +Then Calhoun listened to the monitor earphones again, and grunted once +more, and changed course, and presently made a noise indicating +satisfaction. + +He abandoned instrument control and peered directly out of a port, +handling the solar system drive with great care. Murgatroyd said +depressedly, "_Chee!_" + +"Stop worrying," commanded Calhoun. "We haven't been challenged, and +there is a beacon transmitter at work, just to make sure that nobody +bumps into what we're looking for. It's a great help, because we do +want to bump, but gently." + +Stars swung across the port out of which he looked. Something dark +appeared, and then straight lines and exact curvings. Even Maril, +despairing and bewildered as she was, caught sight of something vastly +larger than the Med Ship, floating in space. She stared. The Med Ship +maneuvered very cautiously. She saw another large object. A third. A +fourth. There seemed to be dozens of them. + +They were spaceships, huge by comparison with _Aesclipus Twenty_. They +floated as the Med Ship did. They did not drive. They were not in +formation. They were not at even distances from each other. They did +not point in the same direction. They swung in emptiness like +derelicts. + +Calhoun jockeyed his small ship with infinite care. Presently there +came the gentlest of impacts and then a clanking sound. The appearance +out the vision port became stationary, but still unbelievable. The Med +Ship was grappled magnetically to a vast surface of welded metal. + +Calhoun relaxed. He opened a wall panel and brought out a vacuum suit. +He began briskly to get it on. + +"Things moving smoothly," he commented. "We weren't challenged. So +it's extremely unlikely that we were spotted. Our friends on the floor +ought to begin to come to shortly. And I'm going to find out now +whether I'm a hero or in sure-enough trouble!" + +Maril said drearily, "I don't know what you've done, except--" + +Calhoun blinked at her, in the act of hauling the vacuum suit up his +chest and over his shoulders. + +"Isn't it self-evident?" he demanded. "I've been giving astrogation +lessons to these characters. I certainly didn't do it to help them +dump germ-cultures on Weald! I brought them here! Don't you see the +point? These are space ships. They're in orbit around Weald. They're +not manned and they're not controlled. In fact, they're nothing but +sky-riding storage bins!" + +He seemed to consider the explanation complete. He wriggled his arms +into the sleeves and gloves of the suit. He slung the air tanks over +his shoulder and hooked them to the suit. + +"I'll be back," he said. "I hope with good news. I've reason to be +hopeful, though, because these Wealdians are very practical men. They +have things all prepared and tidy. I suspect I'll find these ships +with stores of air and fuel, maybe even food, so that if Weald should +manage to make a deal for the stuff stored out here in them, they'd +only have to bring out crews." + +He lifted the space helmet down from its rack and put it on. He tested +it, reading the tank air-pressure, power-storage, and other data from +the lighted miniature instruments visible through pinholes above his +eye-level. He fastened a space rope about himself, speaking through +the helmet's opened faceplate. + +"If our friends should wake up before I get back," he added, "please +restrain them. I'd hate to be marooned." + +He went waddling into the airlock with the coil of space rope over one +vacuum-suited arm. The inner lock door closed behind him. A little +later Maril heard the outer lock open. Then silence. + +Murgatroyd whimpered a little. Maril shivered. Calhoun had gone out of +the ship to nothingness. He'd said that what he was looking for, and +what he'd found, was forty-two thousand miles from Weald. One could +imagine falling forty-two thousand miles, where one couldn't imagine +falling a light-year. + +Calhoun was walking on the steel plates of a gigantic spaceship which +floated among dozens of its fellows, all seeming derelicts and +seemingly abandoned. He was able to walk on the nearest because of +magnetic-soled shoes. He trusted his life to them and to a flimsy +space rope which trailed after him out the Med Ship's airlock. + +Time passed. A clock ticked in that hurried tempo of five ticks to the +second which has been the habit of clocks since time immemorial. Very +small and trivial noises came from the background tape, preventing +utter silence from hanging intolerably in the ship. + +Maril found herself listening tensely for something else. One of the +four bound blueskins snored, and stirred, and slept again. Murgatroyd +gazed about unhappily, and swung down to the control room floor, and +then paused for lack of any place to go or anything to do. He sat down +and began half-heartedly to lick his whiskers. Maril stirred. + +Murgatroyd looked at her hopefully. + +"_Chee?_" he asked shrilly. + +She shook her head. It became a habit to act as if Murgatroyd were a +human being. "No," she said unsteadily. "Not yet." + +More time passed. An unbearably long time. Then there was the faintest +of clankings. It repeated. Then, abruptly, there were noises in the +airlock. They continued. They were fumbling noises. + +The outer airlock door closed. The inner door opened. Dense white fog +came out of it. There was motion. Calhoun followed the fog out of the +lock. He carried objects which had been weightless, but were suddenly +heavy in the ship's gravity-field. There were two spacesuits and a +curious assortment of parcels. He spread them out, flipped aside his +faceplate, and said briskly, "This stuff is cold! Turn a heater on it, +will you, Maril?" + +He began to work his way out of his own vacuum-suit. + +"Item," he said. "The ships are fuelled _and_ provisioned. A practical +tribe, the Wealdians! The ships are ready to take off as soon as +they're warmed up inside. A half-degree sun doesn't radiate heat +enough to keep a ship warm, when the rest of the cosmos is effectively +near zero Kelvin. Here, point the heaters like this." + +He adjusted the radiant-heat dispensers. The fog disappeared where +their beams played. But the metal spacesuits glistened and steamed, +and the steam disappeared within inches. They were so completely and +utterly cold that they condensed the air about them as a liquid, which +re-evaporated to make fog, which warmed up and disappeared and was +immediately replaced. + +"Item," said Calhoun again, getting his arms out of the vacuum-suit +sleeves. "The controls are pretty nearly standard. Our sleeping +friends will be able to astrogate them back to Dara without trouble, +provided only that nobody comes out here to bother us before they +leave." + +He shed the last of the spacesuit, stepping out of its legs. + +"And," he finished wryly, "I brought back an emergency supply of ship +provisions for everybody concerned, but find that I'm idiot enough to +feel that they'll choke me if I eat them while Dara's still starving." + +Maril said, "But there isn't any hope for Dara! No real hope!" + +He gaped at her. + +"What do you think we're here for?" + +He set to work to restore his four recent students to consciousness. +It was not a difficult task. The dosage mixed in the coffee given them +as a graduation ceremony--the ceremony which had consisted solely of +drinking coffee and passing out--allowed for waking-up processes. +Calhoun took the precaution of disarming them first, but presently +four hot-eyed young men glared at him. + +"I'm calling," said Calhoun, holding a blaster negligently in his +hand, "I'm calling for volunteers. There's a famine on Dara. There've +been unmanageable crop surpluses on Weald. On Dara, the government +grimly rations every ounce of food. On Weald, the government has been +buying surplus grain to keep the price up. + +"To save storage costs, it's loaded the grain into out-of-date +spaceships it once used to stand sentry over Dara to keep it out of +space when there was another famine there. Those ships have been put +out in orbit, where we're hooked on to one of them. + +"It's loaded with half a million bushels of grain. I've brought +spacesuits from it, I've turned on the heaters in its interior, and +I've set its overdrive unit for a hop to Dara. Now I'm calling for +volunteers to take half a million bushels of grain to where it's +needed. Do I get any volunteers?" + +He got four. Not immediately, because they were ashamed that he'd made +it impossible to carry out their original fanatic plan, and now +offered something much better to make up for it. They raged. But half +a million bushels of grain meant that people who must otherwise die +might live. + +Ultimately, truculently, first one and then another angrily agreed. + +"Good!" said Calhoun. "Now, how many of you dare risk the trip alone? +I've got one grain ship warming up. There are plenty of others around +us. Every one of you can take a ship and half a million bushels to +Dara, if you have the nerve!" + +The atmosphere changed. Suddenly they clamored for the task he offered +them. They were still acutely uncomfortable. He'd bossed them and +taught them until they felt capable and glamorous and proud. Then he'd +pinned their ears back. But if they returned to Dara with four enemy +ships and unimaginable quantities of food with which to break the +famine.... + +There was work to be done first, of course. Only one ship was so far +warming up. Three more had to be entered, in spacesuits, and each had +to have its interior warmed so breathable air could exist inside it, +and at least part of the stored provisions had to be brought up to +reasonable temperature for use on the journey. + +Then the overdrive unit had to be inspected and set for the length of +journey that a direct overdrive hop to Dara would mean, and Calhoun +had to make sure again that each of the four could identify Dara's sun +under all circumstances and aim for it with the requisite high +precision, both before going into overdrive and after breakout. When +all that was accomplished, Calhoun might reasonably hope that they'd +arrive. But it wasn't a certainty. + +Still, presently his four students shook hands with him, with the fine +tolerance of young men intending much greater achievements than their +teacher. They wouldn't speak on communicator again, because their +messages might be picked up on Weald. + +Of course, for this high heroic action to be successful, it had to be +performed with the stealth of sneak-thieves. + +What seemed a long time passed. The one ship turned slowly upon some +unseen axis. It wavered back and forth, seeking a point of aim. A +second twisted in its place. A third put on the barest trace of solar +system drive to get clear of the rest. The fourth-- + +One ship vanished. It had gone into overdrive, heading for Dara at +many times the speed of light. Another. Two more. + +That was all. The remainder of the fleet hung clumsily in emptiness. +And Calhoun worriedly went over in his mind the lessons he'd given in +such a pathetically small number of days. If the four ships reached +Dara, their pilots would be heroes. Calhoun had presented them with +that estate over their bitter objection. But they would glory in +it--if they reached Dara. + +Maril looked at him with very strange eyes. + +"Now what?" she asked. + +"We hang around," said Calhoun, "to see if anybody comes up from Weald +to find out what's happened. It's always possible to pick up a sort of +signal when a ship goes into overdrive. Usually it doesn't mean a +thing. Nobody pays any attention. But if somebody comes out here...." + +"What?" + +"It'll be regrettable," said Calhoun. He was suddenly very tired. +"It'll spoil any chance of our coming back and stealing some more +food, like interstellar mice. If they find out what we've done they'll +expect us to try it again. They might get set to fight. Or they might +simply land the rest of these ships." + +"If I'd realized what you were about," said Maril, "I'd have joined in +the lessons. I could have piloted a ship." + +"You wouldn't have wanted to," said Calhoun. He yawned. "You wouldn't +want to be a heroine. No normal girl does." + +"Why?" + +"Korvan," said Calhoun. He yawned again. "I've asked about him. He's +been trying very desperately to deserve well of his fellow blueskins. +All he's accomplished is develop a way to starve painlessly. He +wouldn't feel comfortable with a girl who'd helped make starving +unnecessary. He'd admire you politely, but he'd never marry you. And +you know it." + +She shook her head, but it was not easy to tell whether she denied the +reaction of Korvan, whom Calhoun had never met, or denied that he was +more important to her than anything else. The last was what Calhoun +plainly implied. + +"You don't seem to be trying to be a hero!" she protested. + +"I'd enjoy it," admitted Calhoun, "but I have a job to do. It's got to +be done. It's more important than being admired." + +"You could take another ship back," she told him. "It would be worth +more to Dara than the Med Ship is! And then everybody would realize +that you'd planned everything." + +"Ah," said Calhoun, "but you've no idea how much this ship matters to +Dara!" + +He seated himself at the controls. He slipped headphones over his +ears. He listened. Very, very carefully, he monitored all the wave +lengths and wave forms he could discover in use on Weald. There was no +mention of the oddity of behavior of shiploads of surplus grain aloft. +There was no mention of the ships at all. There was plenty of mention +of Dara, and blueskins, and of the vicious political fight now going +on to see which political party could promise the most complete +protection against blueskins. + +After a full hour of it, Calhoun flipped off his receptor and swung +the Med Ship to an exact, painstakingly precise aim at the sun around +which Dara rolled. He said, "Overdrive coming, Murgatroyd!" + +Murgatroyd grabbed. The stars went out and the universe reeled and the +Med Ship became a sort of cosmos all its own, into which no signal +could come, no danger could enter, and in which there could be no +sound except those minute ones made to prevent silence. + +Calhoun yawned again. + +"Now there's nothing to be done for a day or two," he said wearily, +"and I'm beginning to understand why people sleep all they can, on +Dara. It's one way not to feel hungry. And one dreams such delicious +meals! But looking hungry is a social requirement, on Dara." + +Maril said tensely, "You're going back? After they took the ship from +you?" + +"The job's not finished," he explained. "Not even the famine's ended, +and the famine's a second-order effect. If there were no such thing as +a blueskin, there'd be no famine. Food could be traded for. We've got +to do something to make sure there are no more famines." + +She looked at him oddly. + +"It would be desirable," she said with irony. "But you can't do it." + +"Not today, no," he admitted. Then he said longingly, "I didn't get +much sleep on the way here, while running a seminar on astrogation. I +think I'll take a nap." + +She rose and almost ostentatiously went into the other cabin, to leave +him alone. He shrugged. He settled down into the chair which, to let a +Med Ship man break the monotony of life in unchanging surroundings, +turned into a comfortable sleeping arrangement. He fell instantly +asleep. + +For very many ship-hours, then, there was no action or activity or +happening of any imaginable consequence in the Med Ship. Very, very +far away, light-years distant and light-years apart, four shiploads of +grain hurtled toward the famine-stricken planet of blueskins. Each +great ship had a single semiskilled blueskin for pilot and crew. + +Thousands of millions of suns blazed with violence appropriate to +their stellar types in a galaxy of which a very small proportion had +been explored and colonized by humanity. The human race was now to be +counted in quadrillions on scores of hundreds of inhabited worlds, but +the tiny Med Ship seemed the least significant of all possible created +things. + +It could travel between star-systems and even star-clusters, but it +was not yet capable of crossing the continent of suns on which the +human race arose. And between any two solar systems the journeying of +the Med Ship consumed much time. Which would be maddening for someone +with no work to do or no resources in himself, or herself. + +On the second ship-day Calhoun labored painstakingly and somewhat +distastefully at the little biological laboratory. Maril watched him +in a sort of brooding silence. Murgatroyd slept much of the time, with +his furry tail wrapped meticulously across his nose. + +Toward the end of the day Calhoun finished his task. He had a matter +of six or seven cubic centimeters of clear liquid as the conclusion of +a long process of culturing, and examination by microscope, and again +culturing plus final filtration. He looked at a clock and calculated +time. + +"Better wait until tomorrow," he observed, and put the bit of clear +liquid in a temperature-controlled place of safekeeping. + +"What is it?" asked Maril. "What's it for?" + +"It's part of a job I have on hand," said Calhoun. He considered. "How +about some music?" + +She looked astonished. But he set up an instrument and fed microtape +into it and settled back to listen. Then there was music such as she +had never heard before. It was another device to counteract isolation +and monotonous between-planet voyages. To keep it from losing its +effectiveness, Calhoun rationed himself on music, as on other things. + +Any indulgence frequently repeated would become a habit, in the sense +that it would give no special pleasure when indulged in, but would +make for stress if it were omitted. Calhoun deliberately went for +weeks between uses of his recordings, so that music was an event to be +looked forward to and cherished. + +When he tapered off the stirring symphonies of Kun Gee with +tranquilizing, soothing melodies from the Rim School of composers, +Maril regarded him with a very peculiar gaze indeed. + +"I think I understand now," she said slowly, "why you don't act like +other people. Toward me, for example. The way you live gives you what +other people have to get in crazy ways--making their work feed their +vanity, and justify pride, and make them feel significant. But you can +put your whole mind on your work." + +He thought it over. + +"Med Ship routine is designed to keep one healthy in his mind," he +admitted. "It works pretty well. It satisfies all my mental appetites. +But there are instincts...." + +She waited. He did not finish. + +"What do you do about the instincts that work and music and such +things can't satisfy?" + +Calhoun grinned wryly, "I'm stern with them. I have to be." + +He stood up and plainly expected her to go into the other cabin for +the night. She went. + +It was after breakfast time of the next ship-day when he got out the +sample of clear liquid he'd worked so long to produce. + +"We'll see how it works," he observed. "Murgatroyd's handy in case of +a slip-up. It's perfectly safe so long as he's aboard and there are +only the two of us." + +She watched as he injected half a cc. under his own skin. Then she +shivered a little. + +"What will it do?" + +"That remains to be seen." He paused a moment. "You and I," he said +with some dryness, "make a perfect test for anything. If you catch +something from me, it will be infectious indeed!" + +She gazed at him utterly without comprehension. + +He took his own temperature. He brought out the folios which were his +orders, covering each of the planets he should give a standard Medical +Service inspection. Weald was there. Dara wasn't. But a Med Service +man has much freedom of action, even when only keeping up the routine +of normal Med Service. When catching up on badly neglected operations, +he necessarily has much more. Calhoun went over the folios. + +Two hours later he took his temperature again. He looked pleased. He +made an entry in the ship's log. Two hours later yet he found himself +drinking thirstily and looked more pleased still. + +He made another entry in the log and matter-of-factly drew a small +quantity of blood from his own vein and called to Murgatroyd. +Murgatroyd submitted amiably to the very trivial operation Calhoun +carried out. Calhoun put away the equipment and saw Maril staring at +him with a certain look of shock. + +"It doesn't hurt him," Calhoun explained. "Right after he's born +there's a tiny spot on his flank that has the pain-nerves +desensitized. Murgatroyd's all right. That's what he's for!" + +"But he's your friend!" said Maril. + +Murgatroyd, despite his small size and furriness, had all the human +attributes an animal which lives with humans soon acquires. Calhoun +looked at him with affection. + +"He's my assistant. I don't ask anything of him that I can do myself. +But we're both Med Service. And I do things for him that he can't do +for himself. For example, I make coffee for him." + +Murgatroyd heard the familiar word. He said, "_Chee!_" + +"Very well," agreed Calhoun. "We'll all have some." + +He made coffee. Murgatroyd sipped at the cup especially made for his +little paws. Once he scratched at the place on his flank which had no +pain nerves. It itched. But he was perfectly content. Murgatroyd +would always be contented when he was somewhere near Calhoun. + +Another hour went by. Murgatroyd climbed up into Calhoun's lap and +with a determined air went to sleep there. Calhoun disturbed him long +enough to get an instrument out of his pocket. He listened to +Murgatroyd's heartbeat, while Murgatroyd dozed. + +"Maril," he said. "Write down something for me. The time, and +ninety-six, and one-twenty over ninety-four." + +She obeyed, not comprehending. Half an hour later, still not stirring +to disturb Murgatroyd, he had her write down another time and sequence +of figures, only slightly different from the first. Half an hour later +still, a third set. But then he put Murgatroyd down, well satisfied. + +He took his own temperature. He nodded. + +"Murgatroyd and I have one more chore to do," he told her. "Would you +go in the other cabin for a moment?" + +Disturbed, she went into the other cabin. Calhoun drew a small sample +of blood from the insensitive area on Murgatroyd's flank. Murgatroyd +submitted with complete confidence in the man. In ten minutes Calhoun +had diluted the sample, added an anticoagulant, shaken it up +thoroughly, and filtered it to clarity with all red and white +corpuscles removed. Another Med Ship man would have considered that +Calhoun had had Murgatroyd prepare a splendid small sample of +antibody-containing serum, in case something got out of hand. It would +assuredly take care of two patients. + +But a Med Ship man would also have known that it was simply one of +those scrupulous precautions a Med Ship man takes when using cultures +from store. + +Calhoun put the sample away and called Maril back. + +"It was nothing," he explained, "but you might have felt +uncomfortable. We simply had a bit of Med Service routine that had to +be gone through. It's all right now." + +He offered no further explanation. She said, "I'll fix lunch." She +hesitated. "You brought some food from the first Weald ship. Do you +want to--" + +He shook his head. + +"I'm squeamish," he admitted. "The trouble on Dara is Med Service +fault. Before my time, but still ... I'll stick to rations until +everybody eats." + +He watched her unobtrusively as the day went on. Presently he +considered that she was slightly flushed. Shortly after the evening +meal of singularly unappetizing Darian rations, she drank thirstily. +He did not comment. He brought out cards and showed her a complicated +game of solitaire in which mental arithmetic and expert use of +probability increased one's chance of winning. + +By midnight she'd learned the game and played it absorbedly. Calhoun +was able to scrutinize her without appearing to do so, and he was +satisfied again. When he mentioned that the Med Ship should arrive off +Dara in eight hours more, she put the cards away and went into the +other cabin. + +Calhoun wrote up the log. He added the notes that Maril had made for +him, of Murgatroyd's pulse and blood pressure after the injection of +the same culture that produced fever and thirstiness in himself and +later, without contact with him or the culture, in Maril. He put a +professional comment at the end: + + _The culture seems to have retained its normal characteristics + during long storage in the spore state. It received and reproduced + rapidly. I injected .5 cc. under my skin and in less than one hour + my temperature was 30.8 deg. C. An hour later it was 30.9 deg. C. This was + its peak. It immediately returned to normal. The only other + observable symptom was slightly increased thirst. Bloodpressure + and pulse remained normal. The other person in the Med Ship + displayed the same symptoms, in prompt and complete repetition, + without physical contact._ + +He went to sleep, with Murgatroyd curled up in his cubbyhole, his tail +draped carefully over his nose. + +The Med Ship broke out of overdrive at 1300 hours, ship-time. Calhoun +made contact with the grid and was promptly lowered to the ground. + +It was almost two hours later, at 1500 hours ship-time, when the +people of Dara were informed by broadcast that Calhoun was to be +executed immediately. + + * * * * * + + + + +7 + + +From the viewpoint of Darians, who were also blueskins, the decision +of Calhoun's guilt and the decision to execute him were reasonable +enough. Maril protested fiercely, and her testimony agreed with +Calhoun's in every respect, but from a blueskin viewpoint their own +statements were damning. + +Calhoun had taken four young astrogators to space. They were the only +semiskilled space pilots Dara had. There were no fully qualified men. +Calhoun had asked for them, and taken them out to emptiness, and there +he had instructed them in modern guidance methods for ships of space. + +So far there was no disagreement. He'd proposed to make them more +competent pilots; more capable of driving a ship to Orede, for +example, to raid the enormous cattle herds there. And he'd had them +drive the Med Ship to Weald, against which there could be no +objection. + +But just before arrival he had tricked all four of them by giving them +drugged coffee. He'd destroyed the lethal bacterial cultures they'd +been ordered to dump on Weald. Then he'd sent the four student pilots +off separately, so he and Maril claimed, in huge ships crammed with +grain. But those ships were not to be believed in, anyhow. + +Nobody believed in shiploads of grain to be had for the taking. They +did know that the only four partially experienced space pilots on Dara +had been taken away and by Calhoun's own story sent out of the ship +after they'd been drugged. + +Had they been trained, and had they been helped or even permitted to +sow the seeds of plague on Weald, and had they come back prepared to +pass on training to other men to handle other space ships now +feverishly being built in hidden places on Dara, then Dara might have +a chance of survival. + +But a space battle with only partly trained pilots would be hazardous +at best. With no trained pilots at all, it would be hopeless. So +Calhoun, by his own story, appeared to have doomed every living being +on Dara to massacre from the bombs of Weald. + +It was this last angle which destroyed any chance of anybody believing +in such fairy-tale objects as ships loaded down with grain. Calhoun +had shattered Dara's feeble hope of resistance. Weald had some ships +and could build or buy others faster than Dara could hope to construct +them. + +Equally important, Weald had a plenitude of experienced spacemen to +man some ships fully and train the crews of others. If it had become +desperately busy fighting plague, then a fleet to exterminate life on +Dara would be delayed. Dara might have gained time at least to build +ships which could ram their enemies and destroy them that way. + +But Calhoun had made it impossible. If he told the truth and Weald +already had a fleet of huge ships which only needed to be emptied of +grain and filled with guns and men, then Dara was doomed. But if he +did not tell the truth it was equally doomed by his actions. So +Calhoun would be killed. + +His execution was to take place in the open space of the landing-grid, +with vision cameras transmitting the sight over all the blueskin +planet. Half-starved men with grisly blue blotches on their skins, +marched him to the center of the largest level space on the planet +which was not desperately being cultivated. Their hatred showed in +their expressions. Bitterness and fury surrounded Calhoun like a wall. +Most of Dara would have liked to have seen him killed in a manner as +atrocious as his crime, but no conceivable death would be satisfying. + +So the affair was coldly businesslike, with not even insults offered +to him. He was left to stand alone in the very center of the +landing-grid floor. There were a hundred blasters which would fire +upon him at the same instant. He would not only be killed; he would be +destroyed. He would be vaporized by the blue-white flames poured upon +him. + +His death was remarkably close, nothing remaining but the order to +fire, when loudspeakers from the landing-grid office froze everything. +One of the grain ships from Weald had broken out of overdrive and its +pilot was triumphantly calling for landing coordinates. The grid +office relayed his call to loudspeaker circuits as the quickest way to +get it on the communication system of the whole planet. + +"Calling ground," boomed the triumphant voice of the first of the +student pilots Calhoun had trained. "Calling ground! Pilot Franz in +captured ship requests coordinates for landing! Purpose of landing is +to deliver half a million bushels of grain captured from the enemy!" + +At first, nobody dared believe it. But the pilot could be seen on +vision. He was known. No blueskin would be left alive long enough to +be used as a decoy by the men of Weald! Presently the giant ship on +its second voyage to Dara--the first had been a generation ago, when +it threatened death and destruction--appeared as a dark pinpoint in +the sky. It came down and down, and presently it hovered over the +center of the tarmac, where Calhoun composedly stood on the spot where +he was to have been executed. + +The landing-grid crew shifted the ship to one side, and only then did +Calhoun stroll in a leisurely fashion toward the Med Ship by the +grid's metal-lace wall. + +The big ship touched ground, and its exit port revolved and opened, +and the student pilot stood there grinning and heaving out handfuls of +grain. There was a swarming, yelling, deliriously triumphant crowd, +then, where only minutes before there'd been a mob waiting to rejoice +when Calhoun's living body exploded into flame. + +They no longer hated Calhoun, but he had to fight his way to the Med +Ship, nevertheless. He was surrounded by ecstatically admiring +citizens of Dara. They shouted praise and rejoicing in his ears until +he was half-deafened, and they almost tore his clothing from them in +their desire to touch, to pat, to assure him of their gratitude and +affection, minutes since they'd thirsted for his blood. + +Two hours after the first ship, a second landed. Dara went wild again. +Four hours later still, the third arrived. The fourth came down to +ground on the following day. + +When Calhoun faced the executive and cabinet of Dara for the second +time his tone and manner were very dry. + +"Now," he said curtly, "I would like a few more astrogators to train. +I think it likely that we can raid the Wealdian grain fleet one more +time, and in so doing get the beginning of a fleet for defense. I +insist, however, that it must not be used in combat. We might as well +be sensible about this situation! After all, four shiploads of grain +won't break the famine! They'll help a lot, but they're only the +beginning of what's needed for a planetary population!" + +"How much grain can we hope for?" demanded a man with a blue mark +covering all his chin. + +Calhoun told him. + +"How long before Weald can have a fleet overhead, dropping fusion +bombs?" demanded another, grimly. + +Calhoun named a time. But then he said, "I think we can keep them from +dropping bombs if we can get the grain fleet and some capable +astrogators." + +"How?" + +He told them. It was not possible to tell the whole story of what he +considered sensible behavior. An emotional program can be presented +and accepted immediately. A plan of action which is actually +intelligent, considering all elements of a situation, has to be +accepted piecemeal. Even so, the military men growled. + +"We've plenty of heavy elements," said one. "If we'd used our brains, +we'd have more bombs than Weald can hope for! We could turn that whole +planet into a smoking cinder!" + +"Which," said Calhoun acidly, "would give you some satisfaction but +not an ounce of food! And food's more important than satisfaction. +Now, I'm going to take off for Weald again. I'll want somebody to +build an emergency device for my ship, and I'll want the four pilots +I've trained and twenty more candidates. And I'd like to have some +decent rations! The last trip brought back two million bushels of +grain. You can certainly spare adequate food for twenty men for a few +days!" + +It took some time to get the special device constructed, but the Med +Ship lifted in two days more. The device for which it had waited was +simply a preventive of the disaster overtaking the ship from the mine +on Orede. It was essentially a tank of liquid oxygen, packed in the +space from which stores had been taken away. When the ship's air +supply was pumped past it, first moisture and then CO_{2} froze out. + +Then the air flowed over the liquefied oxygen at a rate to replace the +CO_{2} with more useful breathing material. Then the moisture was +restored to the air as it warmed again. For so long as the oxygen +lasted, fresh air for any number of men could be kept purified and +breathable. The Med Ship's normal equipment could take care of no more +than ten. But with this it could journey to Weald with almost any +complement on board. + +Maril stayed on Dara when the Med Ship left. Murgatroyd protested +shrilly when he discovered her about to be closed out by the closing +airlock. + +"_Chee!_" he said indignantly. "_Chee! Chee!_" + +"No," said Calhoun. "We'll be crowded enough anyhow. We'll see her +later." + +He nodded to one of the first four student pilots, who crisply made +contact with the landing-grid office, and very efficiently supervised +as the grid took the ship up. The other three of the four +first-trained men explained every move to sub-classes assigned to +each. Calhoun moved about, listening and making certain that the +instruction was up to standard. + +He felt queer, acting as the supervisor of an educational institution +in space. He did not like it. There were twenty-four men beside +himself crowded into the Med Ship's small interior. They got in each +other's way. They trampled on each other. There was always somebody +eating, and always somebody sleeping, and there was no need whatever +for the background tape to keep the ship from being intolerably +quiet. But the air system worked well enough, except once when the +reheating unit quit and the air inside the ship went down below +freezing before the trouble could be found and corrected. + +The journey to Weald, this time, took seven days because of the +training program in effect. Calhoun bit his nails over the delay. But +it was necessary for each of the students to make his own line-ups on +Weald's sun, and compute distances, and for each of them to practise +maneuverings that would presently be called for. Calhoun hoped +desperately that preparations for active warfare did not move fast on +Weald. + +He believed, however, that in the absence of direct news from Dara, +Wealdian officials would take the normal course of politicos. They had +proclaimed the ship from Orede an attack from Dara. Therefore, they +would specialize on defensive measures before plumping for offense. +They'd get patrol ships out to spot invasion ships long before they +worked on a fleet to destroy the blueskins. It would meet the public +demand for defense. + +Calhoun was right. The Med Ship made its final approach to Weald under +Calhoun's own control. He'd made brightness-measurements on his +previous journey and he used them again. They would not be strictly +accurate, because a sunspot could knock all meaning out of any reading +beyond two decimal places. But the first breakout was just far enough +from the Wealdian system for Calhoun to be able to pick out its +planets with the electron telescope at maximum magnification. He could +aim for Weald itself, allowing, of course, for the lag in the apparent +motion of its image because of the limited speed of light. He tried +the briefest of overdrive hops, and came out within the solar system +and well inside any watching patrol. + +That was pure fortune. It continued. He'd broken through the screen of +guard ships in undetectable overdrive. He was within half an hour's +solar system drive of the grain fleet. There was no alarm, at first. +Of course radars spotted the Med Ship as an object, but nobody paid +attention. It was not headed for Weald. It was probably assumed to be +a guard boat itself. Such mistakes do happen. + +Again from the storage space from which supplies had been removed, +Calhoun produced vacuum suits. The four first students went out, each +escorting a less-accustomed neophyte and all fastened firmly together +with space ropes. They warmed the interiors of four ships and went on +to others. Presently there were eight ships making ready for an +interstellar journey, each with a scared but resolute new pilot +familiarizing himself with its controls. There were sixteen ships. +Twenty. Twenty-three. + +A guard ship came humming out from Weald. It would be armed, of +course. It came droning, droning up the forty-odd thousand miles from +the planet. Calhoun swore. He could not call his students and tell +them what was toward. The guard ship would overhear. He could not +trust untried young men to act rationally if they were unaware and the +guard ship arrived and matter-of-factly attempted to board one of +them. + +Then he was inspired. He called Murgatroyd, placed him before the +communicator, and set it at voice-only transmission. This was familiar +enough, to Murgatroyd. He'd often seen Calhoun use a communicator. + +"_Chee!_" shrilled Murgatroyd. "_Chee-chee!_" + +A startled voice came out of the speaker: "What's that?" + +"_Chee_," said Murgatroyd zestfully. + +The communicator was talking to him. Murgatroyd adored three things, +in order. One was Calhoun. The second was coffee. The third was +pretending to converse like a human being. The speaker said +explosively, "You there, identify yourself!" + +"_Chee-chee-chee-chee!_" observed Murgatroyd. He wriggled with +pleasure and added, reasonably enough, "_Chee!_" + +The communicator bawled, "Calling ground! Calling ground! Listen to +this! Something that ain't human's talking at me on a communicator! +Listen in an' tell me what to do!" + +Murgatroyd interposed with another shrill, "_Chee!_" + +Then Calhoun pulled the Med Ship slowly away from the clump of +still-lifeless grain ships. It was highly improbable that the guard +boat would carry an electron telescope. Most likely it would have only +an echo-radar, and so could determine only that an object of some sort +moved of its own accord in space. Calhoun let the Med Ship accelerate. +That would be final evidence. The grain ships were between Weald and +its sun. Even electron telescopes on the ground--and electron +telescopes were ultimately optical telescopes with electronic +amplification--could not get a good image of the ship through sunlit +atmosphere. + +"_Chee?_" asked Murgatroyd solicitously. "_Chee-chee-chee?_" + +"Is it blueskins?" shakily demanded the voice from the guard boat. +"Ground! Ground! Is it blueskins?" + +A heavy, authoritative voice came in with much greater volume. "That's +no human voice," it said harshly. "Approach its ship and send back an +image. Don't fire first unless it heads for ground." + +The guard ship swerved and headed for the Med Ship. It was still a +very long way off. + +"_Chee-chee_," said Murgatroyd encouragingly. + +Calhoun changed the Med Ship's course. The guard ship changed course +too. Calhoun let it draw nearer, but only a little. He led it away +from the fleet of grain ships. + +He swung his electron telescope on them. He saw a spacesuited figure +outside one, safely roped, however. It was easy to guess that someone +had meant to return to the Med Ship for orders or to make a report, +and found the Med Ship gone. He'd go back inside and turn on a +communicator. + +"_Chee!_" said Murgatroyd. + +The heavy voice boomed. "You there! This is a human-occupied world! If +you come in peace, cut your drive and let our guard ship approach!" + +Murgatroyd replied in an interested but doubtful tone. The booming +voice bellowed. Another voice of higher authority took over. +Murgatroyd was entranced that so many people wanted to talk to him. He +made what for him was practically an oration. The last voice spoke +persuasively and suavely. + +"_Chee-chee-chee-chee_," said Murgatroyd. + +One of the grain ships flickered and ceased to be. It had gone into +overdrive. Another. And another. Suddenly they began to flick out of +sight by twos and threes. + +"_Chee_," said Murgatroyd with a note of finality. + +The last grain ship vanished. + +"Calling guard ship," said Calhoun dryly. "This is Med Ship _Aesclipus +Twenty_. I called here a couple of weeks ago. You've been talking to +my _tormal_, Murgatroyd." + +A pause. A blank pause. Then profanity of deep and savage +intemperance. + +"I've been on Dara," said Calhoun. + +Dead silence fell. + +"There's a famine there," said Calhoun deliberately. "So the grain +ships you've had in orbit have been taken away by men from +Dara--blueskins if you like--to feed themselves and their families. +They've been dying of hunger and they don't like it." + +There was a single burst of the unprintable. Then the formerly suave +voice said waspishly, "Well? The Med Service will hear of your +interference!" + +"Yes," said Calhoun. "I'll report it myself. I have a message for you. +Dara is ready to pay for every ounce of grain and for the ships it was +stored in. They'll pay in heavy metals--irridium, uranium, that sort +of thing." + +The suave voice fairly curdled. + +"As if we'd allow anything that was ever on Dara to touch ground +here!" + +"Ah! But there can be sterilization. To begin with metals, uranium +melts at 1150 deg. centigrade, and tungsten at 3370 deg. and irridium at +2350 deg.. You could load such things and melt them down in space and then +tow them home. And you can actually sterilize a lot of other useful +materials!" + +The suave voice was infuriated: "I'll report this! You'll suffer for +this!" + +Calhoun said pleasantly, "I'm sure that what I say is being recorded, +so that I'll add that it's perfectly practical for Wealdians to land +on Dara, take whatever property they think wise--to pay for damage +done by blueskins, of course--and get back to Wealdian ships with +absolutely no danger of carrying contagion. If you'll make sure the +recording's clear...." + +He described, clearly and specifically, exactly how a man could be +outfitted to walk into any area of any conceivable contagion, do +whatever seemed necessary in the way of looting--but Calhoun did not +use the word--and then return to his fellows with no risk whatever of +bringing back infection. He gave exact details. + +Then he said, "My radar says you've four ships converging on me to +blast me out of space. I sign off." + +The Med Ship disappeared from normal space, and entered that +improbably stressed area of extension which it formed about itself and +in which physical constants were wildly strange. For one thing, the +speed of light in overdrive-stressed space had not been measured yet. +It was too high. For another, a ship could travel very many times +186,000 miles per second in overdrive. + +The Med Ship did just that. There was nobody but Calhoun and +Murgatroyd on board. There was companionable silence, with only the +small threshold-of-perception sounds which one did not often notice. + +Calhoun luxuriated in regained privacy. For seven days he'd had +twenty-four other human beings crowded into the two cabins of the +ship, with never so much as one yard of space between himself and +someone else. One need not be snobbish to wish to be alone sometimes! + +Murgatroyd licked his whiskers thoughtfully. + +"I hope," said Calhoun, "that things work out right. But they may +remember on Dara that I'm responsible for some ten million bushels of +grain reaching them. Maybe, just possibly, they'll listen to me and +act sensibly. After all, there's only one way to break a famine. Not +with ten million bushels for a whole planet! And certainly not with +bombs!" + +Driving direct, without pausing for practising, the Med Ship could +arrive at Dara in a little more than five days. Calhoun looked forward +to relaxation. As a beginning he made ready to give himself an +adequate meal for the first time since first landing on Dara. Then, +presently, he sat down to a double meal of Darian famine-rations, +which were far from appetizing. But there wasn't anything else on +board. + +He had some pleasure later, though, envisioning what went on in the +normal, non-overdrive universe. Suns flared, and comets hurtled on +their way, and clouds formed and dropped down rain, and all sorts of +celestial and meteorological phenomena took place. On Weald, +obviously, there would be purest panic. + +The vanishing of the grain fleet wouldn't be charged against +twenty-four men. A Darian fleet would be suspected, and with the +suspicion would come terror, and with terror a governmental crisis. +Then there'd be a frantic seizure of any craft that could take to +space, and the agitated improvisation of a space fleet. + +But besides that, biological-warfare technicians would examine +Calhoun's instructions for equipment by which armed men could be +landed on a plague-stricken planet and then safely taken off again. +Military and governmental officials would come to the eminently sane +conclusion that while Calhoun could not well take active measures +against blueskins, as a sane and proper citizen of the galaxy he would +be on the side of law and order and propriety and justice--in short, +of Weald. So they ordered sample anticontagion suits made according to +Calhoun's directions, and they had them tested. They worked admirably. + +On Dara, while Calhoun journeyed placidly back to it, grain was +distributed lavishly, and everybody on the planet had their cereal +ration almost doubled. It was still not a comfortable ration, but the +relief was great. There was considerable gratitude felt for Calhoun, +which as usual included a lively anticipation of further favors to +come. Maril was interviewed repeatedly, as the person best able to +discuss him, and she did his reputation no harm. That was all that +happened on Dara.... + +No. There was something else. A very curious thing, too. There was a +spread of mild symptoms which nobody could exactly call a disease. +They lasted only a few hours. A person felt slightly feverish, and ran +a temperature which peaked at 30.9 deg. centigrade, and drank more water +than usual. Then his temperature went back to normal and he forgot all +about it. There have always been such trivial epidemics. They are +rarely recorded, because few people think to go to a doctor. That was +the case here. + +Calhoun looked ahead a little, too. Presently the fleet of grain ships +would arrive and unload and lift again for Orede, and this time they +would make an infinity of slaughter among wild cattle herds, and bring +back incredible quantities of fresh-slaughtered frozen beef. Almost +everybody would get to taste meat again, which would be most +gratifying. + +Then, the industries of Dara would labor at government-required tasks. +An astonishing amount of fissionable material would be fashioned into +bombs--a concession by Calhoun--and plastic factories would make an +astonishing number of plastic sag-suits. And large shipments of heavy +metals in ingots would be made to the planet's capital city and there +would be some guns and minor items. + +Perhaps somebody could have predicted any of these items in advance, +but it was unlikely that anyone did. Nobody but Calhoun, however, +would ever have put them together and hoped very urgently that things +would work out. He could see a promising total result. In fact, in the +Med Ship hurtling through space, on the fourth day of his journey, he +thought of an improvement that could be made in the sum of all those +happenings when they got mixed together. + +He got back to Dara. Maril came to the Med Ship. Murgatroyd greeted +her with enthusiasm. + +"Something strange has happened," said Maril, very much subdued. "I +told you that sometimes blueskin markings fade out on children, and +then neither they nor their children ever have markings again." + +"Yes," said Calhoun. "I remember that you told me." + +"And you were reminded of a group of viruses on Tralee. You said they +only took hold of people in terribly bad physical condition, but then +they could be passed on from mother to child, until sometimes they +died out." + +Calhoun blinked. + +"Yes?" + +"Korvan," said Maril very carefully. "Has worked out an idea that +that's what happens to the blueskin markings on Darians. He thinks +that people almost dead of the plague could get the virus, and if they +recovered from the plague pass the virus on and be blueskins." + +"Interesting," said Calhoun, noncommittally. + +"And when we went to Weald," said Maril very carefully indeed, "you +were working with some culture material. You wrote quite a lot about +it in the ship's log. You gave yourself an injection. Remember? And +Murgatroyd? You wrote down your temperature, and Murgatroyd's?" She +moistened her lips. "You said that if infection passed between us, +something would be very infectious indeed?" + +"This is a long discussion," said Calhoun. "Does it arrive at a +point?" + +"It does," said Maril. "Thousands of people are having their +pigment-spots fade away. Not only children but grownups. And Korvan +has found out that it always seems to happen after a day when they +felt feverish and very thirsty, and then felt all right again. You +tried out something that made you feverish and thirsty. I had it too, +in the ship. Korvan thinks there's been an epidemic of something that +is obliterating the blue spots on everybody that catches it. There are +always trivial epidemics that nobody notices. Korvan's found evidence +of one that's making _blueskin_ no longer a word with any meaning." + +"Remarkable!" said Calhoun. + +"Did you do it?" asked Maril. "Did you start a harmless epidemic that +wipes out the virus that makes blueskins?" + +Calhoun said in feigned astonishment, "How can you think such a thing, +Maril?" + +"Because I was there," said Maril. She said, somehow desperately, "I +know you did it! But the question is, are you going to tell? When +people find they're not blueskins any longer, when there's no such +thing as a blueskin any longer, will you tell them why?" + +"Naturally not," said Calhoun. "Why?" Then he guessed. "Has Korvan--" + +"He thinks," said Maril, "that he thought it up all by himself. He's +found the proof. He's very proud. I'd have to tell him how the ideas +got into his head if you were going to tell. And he'd be ashamed and +angry." + +Calhoun considered, staring at her. + +"How it happened doesn't matter," he said at last. "The idea of +anybody doing it deliberately would be disturbing, too. It shouldn't +get about. So it seems much the best thing for Korvan to discover +what's happened to the blueskin pigment, and how it happened. But not +why." + +She read his face carefully. + +"You aren't doing it as a favor to me," she decided. "You'd rather it +was that way." + +She looked at him for a long time, until he squirmed. Then she nodded +and went away. + +An hour later the Wealdian space fleet was reported massed in space +and driving for Dara. + + * * * * * + + + + +8 + + +There were small scout ships which came on ahead of the main fleet. +They'd originally been guard boats, intended for solar system duty +only and quite incapable of overdrive. They'd come from Weald in the +cargo holds of the liners now transformed into fighting ships. The +scouts swept low, transmitting fine-screen images back to the fleet, +of all they might see before they were shot down. They found the +landing-grid. It contained nothing larger than Calhoun's Med Ship, +_Aesclipus Twenty_. + +They searched here and there. They flittered to and fro, scanning wide +bands of the surface of Dara. The planet's cities and highways and +industrial centers were wholly open to inspection from the sky. It +looked as if the scouts hunted most busily for the fleet of former +grain ships which Calhoun had said the blueskins had seized and rushed +away. If the scouts looked for them, they did not find them. + +Dara offered no opposition to the ships. Nothing rose to space to +oppose or to resist their search. They went darting over every portion +of the hungry planet, land and seas alike, and there was no sign of +military preparedness against their coming. The huge ships of the main +fleet waited while the scouts reported monotonously that they saw no +sign of the stolen fleet. But the stolen fleet was the only means by +which the planet could be defended. There could be no point in a +pitched battle in emptiness. But a fleet with a planet to back it +might be dangerous. + +Hours passed. The Wealdian main fleet waited. There was no offensive +movement by the fleet. There was no defensive action from the ground. +With fusion-bombs certain to be involved in any actual conflict, there +was something like an embarrassed pause. The Wealdian ships were ready +to bomb. They were less anxious to be vaporized by possible suicide +dashes of defending ships which might blow themselves up near contact +with their enemies. + +But a fleet cannot travel some light-years through space to make a +mere threat. And the Wealdian fleet was furnished with the material +for total devastation. It could drop bombs from hundreds, or +thousands, or even tens of thousands of miles away. It could cover the +world of Dara with mushroom clouds springing up and spreading to make +a continuous pall of atomic-fusion products. And they could settle +down and kill every living thing not destroyed by the explosions +themselves. Even the creatures of the deepest oceans would die of +deadly, purposely-contrived fallout particles. + +The Wealdian fleet contemplated its own destructiveness. It found no +capacity for defense on Dara. It moved forward. + +But then a message went out from the capital city of Dara. It said +that a ship in overdrive had carried word to a Darian fleet in space. +The Darian fleet now hurtled toward Weald. It was a fleet of +thirty-seven giant ships. They carried such-and-such bombs in +such-and-such quantities. Unless its orders were countermanded, it +would deliver those bombs on Weald, set to explode. If Weald bombed +Dara, the orders could not be withdrawn. So Weald could bomb Dara. It +could destroy all life on the pariah planet. But Weald would die with +it. + +The fleet ceased its advance. The situation was a stalemate with pure +desperation on one side and pure frustration on the other. This was no +way to end the war. Neither planet could trust the other, even for +minutes. If they did not destroy each other simultaneously, as now was +possible, each would expect the other to launch an unwarned attack at +some other moment. Ultimately one or the other must perish, and the +survivor would be the one most skilled in treachery. + +But then the pariah planet made a new proposal. It would send a +messenger ship to stop its own fleet's bombardment if Weald would +accept payment of the grain ships and their cargos. It would pay in +ingots of irridium and uranium and tungsten, and gold if Weald wished +it, for all damages Weald might claim. + +It would even pay indemnity for the miners of Orede, who had died by +accident but perhaps in some sense through its fault. It would pay. +But if it were bombed, Weald must spout atomic fire and the fleet of +Weald would have no home planet to return to. + +This proposal seemed both craven and foolish. It would allow the fleet +of Weald to loot and then betray Dara. But it was Calhoun's idea. It +seemed plausible to the admirals of Weald. They felt only contempt for +blueskins. Contemptuously, they accepted the semi-surrender. + +The broadcast waves of Dara told of agreement, and wild and fierce +resentment filled the pariah planet's people. There was almost +revolution to insist upon resistance, however hopeless and however +fatal. But not all of Dara realized that a vital change had come about +in the state of things on Dara. The enemy fleet had not a hint of it. + +In menacing array, the invading fleet spread itself about the skies of +Dara, well beyond the atmosphere. Harsh voices talked with increasing +arrogance to the landing-grid staff. A monster ship of Weald came +heavily down, riding the landing-grid's force-fields. It touched +gently. Its occupants were apprehensive, but hungry for the loot they +had been assured was theirs. The ship's outer hull would be sterilized +before it returned to Weald, of course. And there was adequate +protection for the landing-party. + +Men came out of the ship's ports. They wore the double, transparent +sag-suits Calhoun had suggested, which had been painstakingly tested, +and which were perfect protection against contagion. They were double +garments of plastic, with air tanks inside the inner flexible +envelope. + +Men wearing such sag-suits could walk about on Dara. They could work +on Dara. They could loot with impunity and all contamination must +remain outside the suits, and on their return to their ships they +would simply stand in the airlocks while corrosive gases swirled +around them, killing any possible organism of disease. Then, for extra +assurance, when air from Weald filled the airlock again, the men would +burn the outer plastic covering and step into the ship without ever +having come within two layers of plastic of infection. + +What loot they gathered, obviously, could be decontaminated before it +was returned to Weald. Metals could be melted, if necessary. Gems +could be sterilized. It was a most satisfactory discovery, to realize +that blueskins could be not only scorned but robbed. There was only +one bit of irrelevant information the space fleet of Weald did not +have. + +That information was that the people of Dara weren't blueskins any +longer. There'd been a trivial epidemic.... + +The sag-suited men of Weald went zestfully about their business. They +took over the landing-grid's operation, driving the Darian operators +away. For the first time in history the operators of a landing-grid +wore make-up to look like they did have blue pigment in their skins. +They didn't. The Wealdian landing-party tested the grid's operation. +They brought down another giant ship. Then another. And another. + +Parties in the shiny sag-suits spread through the city. There were the +huge stockpiles of precious metals, brought in readiness to be +surrendered and carried away. Some men set to work to load these into +the holds of the ships of Weald. Some went forthrightly after personal +loot. + +They came upon very few Darians. Those they saw kept sullenly away +from them. They entered shops and took what they fancied. They +zestfully removed the treasure of banks. + +Triumphant and scornful reports went up to the hovering great ships. +The blueskins, said the reports, were spiritless and cowardly. They +permitted themselves to be robbed. They kept out of the way. It had +been observed that the population was streaming out of the city, +fleeing because they feared the ships' landing-parties. The blueskins +had abjectly produced all they'd promised of precious metals, but +there was more to be taken. + +More ships came down, and more. Some of the first, heavily loaded, +were lifted to emptiness again and the process of decontamination of +their hulls began. There was jealousy among the ships in space for +those upon the ground. The first-landed ships had had their choice of +loot. There were squabblings about priorities, now that the navy of +Weald plainly had a license to steal. There was confusion among the +members of the landing-parties. Discipline disappeared. Men in plastic +sag-suits roved about as individuals, seeking what they might loot. + +There were armed and alerted landing-parties around the grid itself, +of course, but the capital city of Dara lay open. Men coming back with +loot found their ships already lifted off to make room for others. +They were pushed into re-embarking-parties of other ships. There were +more and more men to be found on ships where they did not belong, and +more and more not to be found where they did. + +By the time half the fleet had been aground, there was no longer any +pretense of holding a ship down until all its crew returned. There +were too many other ships' companies clamoring for their turn to loot. +The rosters of many ships, indeed, bore no particular relationship to +the men actually on board. + +There were less than fifteen ships whose to-be-fumigated holds were +still emptied, when the watchful government of Dara broadcast a new +message to the invaders. It requested that the looting stop. No matter +what payment Weald claimed, it had taken payment five times over. Now +was time to stop. + +It was amusing. The space admiral of Weald ordered his ships alerted +for action. The message ship, ordering the Darian fleet away from +Weald, had been sent off long since. No other ship could get away now! +The Darians could take their choice: accept the consequences of +surrender, or the fleet would rise to throw down bombs. + +Calhoun was asking politely to be taken to the Wealdian admiral when +the trouble began. It wasn't on the ground, at all. Everything was +under splendid control where a landing force occupied the grid and all +the ground immediately about it. The space admiral had headquarters in +the landing-grid office. Reports came in, orders were issued, +admirably crisp salutes were exchanged among sag-suited men. +Everything was in perfect shape there. + +But there was panic among the ships in space. Communicators gave off +horrified, panic-stricken yells. There were screamings. Intelligible +communications ceased. Ships plunged crazily this way and that. Some +vanished in overdrive. At least one plunged at full power into a +Darian ocean. + +The space admiral found himself in command of fifteen ships only out +of all his former force. The rest of the fleet went through a period +of hysterical madness. In some ships it lasted for minutes only. In +others it went on for half an hour or more. Then they hung overhead, +but did not reply to calls. + +Calhoun arrived at the spaceport with Murgatroyd riding on his +shoulder. A bewildered officer in a sag-suit halted him. + +"I've come," said Calhoun, "to speak to the admiral. My name is +Calhoun and I'm Med Service, and I think I met the admiral at a +banquet a few weeks ago. He'll remember me." + +"You'll have to wait," protested the officer. "There's some trouble--" + +"Yes," said Calhoun. "I know about it. I helped design it. I want to +explain it to the admiral. He needs to know what's happened, if he's +to take appropriate measures." + +There were jitterings. Many men in sag-suits had still no idea that +anything had gone wrong. Some appeared, brightly carrying loot. Some +hung eagerly around the airlocks of ships on the grid tarmac, waiting +their turns to stand in corrosive gases for the decontamination of +their suits, when they would burn the outer layers and step, aseptic +and happy, into a Wealdian ship again. There they could think how rich +they were going to be back on Weald. + +But the situation aloft was bewildering and very, very ominous. There +was strident argument. Presently Calhoun stood before the Wealdian +admiral. + +"I came to explain something," said Calhoun pleasantly. "The situation +has changed. You've noticed it, I'm sure." + +The admiral glared at him through two layers of plastic, which covered +him almost like a gift-wrapped parcel. + +"Be quick!" he rasped. + +"First," said Calhoun, "there are no more blueskins. An epidemic of +something or other has made the blue patches on the skins of Darians +fade out. There have always been some who didn't have blue patches. +Now nobody has them." + +"Nonsense!" rasped the admiral. "And what has that got to do with this +situation?" + +"Why, everything," said Calhoun mildly. "It seems that Darians can +pass for Wealdians whenever they please. That they _are_ passing for +Wealdians. That they've been mixing with your men, wearing sag-suits +exactly like the one you're wearing now. They've been going aboard +your ships in the confusion of returning looters. There's not a ship +now aloft, which has been aground today, which hasn't from one to +fifteen Darians--no longer blueskins--on board." + +The admiral roared. Then his face turned gray. + +"You can't take your fleet back to Weald," said Calhoun gently, "if +you believe its crews have been exposed to carriers of the Dara +plague. You wouldn't be allowed to land, anyhow." + +The admiral said through stiff lips, "I'll blast--" + +"No," said Calhoun, again gently. "When you ordered all ships alerted +for action, the Darians on each ship released panic gas. They only +needed tiny, pocket-sized containers of the gas for the job. They had +them. They only needed to use air tanks from their sag-suits to +protect themselves against the gas. They kept them handy. + +"On nearly all your ships aloft your crews are crazy from panic gas. +They'll stay that way until the air is changed. Darians have +barricaded themselves in the control rooms of most if not all your +ships. You haven't got a fleet. The few ships who will obey your +orders--if they drop one bomb, our fleet off Weald will drop fifty. + +"I don't think you'd better order offensive action. Instead, I think +you'd better have your fleet medical officers come and learn some of +the facts of life. There's no need for war between Dara and Weald, but +if you insist...." + +The admiral made a choking noise. He could have ordered Calhoun +killed, but there was a certain appalling fact. The men aground from +the fleet were breathing Wealdian air from tanks. It would last so +long only. If they were taken on board the still obedient ships +overhead, Darians would unquestionably be mixed with them. There was +no way to take off the parties now aground without exposing them to +contact with Darians, on the ground or in the ships. There was no way +to sort out the Darians. + +"I--I will give the orders," said the admiral thickly. "I do not know +what you devils plan, but--I do not know how to stop you." + +"All that's necessary," said Calhoun warmly, "is an open mind. There's +a misunderstanding to be cleared up, and some principles of planetary +health practises to be explained, and a certain amount of prejudice +that has to be thrown away. But nobody need die of changing their +minds. The Interstellar Medical Service has proved that over and +over!" + +Murgatroyd, perched on his shoulder, felt that it was time to take +part in the conversation. He said, "_Chee-chee!_" + +"Yes," agreed Calhoun. "We do want to get the job done. We're behind +schedule now." + + * * * * * + +It was not, of course, possible for Calhoun to leave immediately. He +had to preside at various meetings of the medical officers of the +fleet and the health officials of Dara. He had to make explanations, +and correct misapprehensions, and delicately suggest such biological +experiments as would prove to the doctors of Weald that there was no +longer a plague on Dara, whatever had been the case three generations +before. + +He had to sit by while an extremely self-confident young Darian +doctor--one of his names was Korvan--rather condescendingly +demonstrated that the former blue pigmentation was a viral product +quite unconnected with the plague, and that it had been wiped out by a +very trivial epidemic of such and such. + +Calhoun regarded that young man with a detached interest. Maril +thought him wonderful, even if she had to give him the material for +his work. He agreed with her that he was wonderful. Calhoun shrugged +and went on with his own work. + +The return of loot, mutual, full, and complete agreement that Darians +were no longer carriers of plague, if they had ever been--unless Weald +convinced other worlds of this, Weald itself would join Dara in +isolation from neighboring worlds. A messenger ship had to recall the +twenty-seven ships once floating in orbit about Weald. Most of them +would be used for some time, to bring beef from Orede. Some would haul +more grain from Weald. It would be paid for. There would be a need for +commercial missions to be exchanged between Weald and Dara. There +would have to be.... + +It was a full week before he could go to the little Med Ship and +prepare for departure. Even then there were matters to be attended to. +All the food-supplies that had been removed could not be replaced. +There were biological samples to be replaced and some to be destroyed. + +Maril came to the Med Ship again when he was almost ready to leave. +She did not seem comfortable. + +"I wanted you to meet Korvan," she said regretfully. + +"I met him," said Calhoun. "I think he will be a most prominent +citizen, in time. He has all the talents for it." + +Maril smiled very faintly. + +"But you don't admire him." + +"I wouldn't say that," protested Calhoun. "After all, he is desirable +to you, which is something I couldn't manage." + +"You didn't try," said Maril. "Just as I didn't try to be fascinating +to you. Why?" + +Calhoun spread out his hands. But he looked at Maril with respect. Not +every woman could have faced the fact that a man did not feel impelled +to make passes at her. It is simply a fact that has nothing to do with +desirability or charm or anything else. + +"You're going to marry him," he said. "I hope you'll be very happy." + +"He's the man I want," said Maril frankly. "And I doubt he'll ever +look at another woman. He looks forward to splendid discoveries. I +wish he didn't." + +Calhoun did not ask the obvious question. Instead, he said +thoughtfully, "There's something you could do. It needs to be done. +The Med Service in this sector has been badly handled. There are a +number of discoveries that need to be made. I don't think your Korvan +would relish having things handed to him on a visible silver platter. +But they should be known...." + +Maril said, "I can guess what you mean. I dropped hints about the way +the blueskin markings went away, yes. You've got books for me?" + +Calhoun nodded. He found them. + +"If we had only fallen in love with each other, Maril, we'd be a team! +Too bad! These are a wedding present you'll do well to hide." + +She put her hands in his. + +"I like you almost as much as I like Murgatroyd! Yes! Korvan will +never know, and he'll be a great man." Then she added defensively, +"But I don't think he'll only discover things from hints I drop him. +He'll make wonderful discoveries." + +"Of which," said Calhoun, "the most remarkable is you. Good luck, +Maril!" + +She went away smiling. But she wiped her eyes when she was out of the +ship. + +Presently the Med Ship lifted. Calhoun aimed it for the next planet on +the list of those he was to visit. After this one more he'd return to +sector headquarters with a biting report to make on the way things had +been handled before him. + +"Overdrive coming, Murgatroyd!" + +Then the stars went out and there was silence, and privacy, and a +faint, faint, almost unbearable series of background sounds which kept +the Med Ship from being totally unendurable. + +Long, long days later the ship broke out of overdrive and Calhoun +guided it to a round and sunlit world. In due time he thumbed the +communicator button. + +"Calling ground," he said crisply. "Calling ground! Med Ship +_Aesclipus Twenty_ reporting arrival and asking coordinates for +landing. Purpose of landing is planetary health inspection. Our mass +is fifty standard tons." + +There was a pause while the beamed message went many, many thousands +of miles. Then the speaker said, "_Aesclipus Twenty_, repeat your +identification!" + +Calhoun repeated it patiently. Murgatroyd watched with bright eyes. +Perhaps he hoped to be allowed to have another long conversation with +somebody by communicator. + +"You are warned," said the communicator sternly, "that any deceit or +deception about your identity or purpose in landing will be severely +punished. We take few chances, here! If you wish to land +notwithstanding this warning--" + +"I'm coming in," said Calhoun. "Give me the coordinates." + +He wrote them down. His expression was slightly pained. The Med Ship +drove on, in solar system drive. Murgatroyd said, "_Chee-chee? Chee?_" + +Calhoun sighed. + +"That's right, Murgatroyd! Here we go again!" + + * * * * * + + + + +FEAR RIDES THE ROCKETS + + +The Interstellar Medical Service was just about the only remaining +galactic organization that every one of the hundreds of inhabited +planets respected. So when their service broke down in Star Sector +Twelve, it created a very dangerous situation. + +When Calhoun took his Med ship out of overdrive near that sector's +planet Weald, he was vaguely aware of the risks. But the crisis came +home to him with a crash the moment he radioed in for landing +coordinates. + +"Contamination! Full mobilization! Red alert! Death to blueskins!" +Such were the nature of his greetings. + +And it began to look like a case of the cosmic jitters that only the +most drastic of orbital surgery could cure. + +Murray Leinster, whose real name is Will F. Jenkins, has been +entertaining the public with his exciting fiction for several decades. +Called the dean of modern science-fiction, he was writing these +amazing super-science adventures back in the early twenties before +there ever was such a thing as an all-fantasy magazine. His short +stories, novelettes, and serial novels have appeared in most of the +major American magazines, both slick and pulp, and many have been +reprinted all over the world. He has made a distinguished name for +himself (or rather two names) in the fields of adventure, historical, +western, sea, and suspense stories. + +Ace Books has still available the following Murray Leinster novels: +CITY ON THE MOON (D-277), THE PIRATES OF ZAN and THE MUTANT WEAPON +(D-403), and THE FORGOTTEN PLANET (D-528). + + * * * * * + +Here's a quick checklist of recent releases of +ACE SCIENCE-FICTION BOOKS + +35c + +D-498 GALACTIC DERELICT by Andre Norton + +D-504 MASTER OF THE WORLD by Jules Verne + +D-507 MEETING AT INFINITY by John Brunner + _and_ BEYOND THE SILVER SKY by Kenneth Bulmer + +D-508 MORE MACABRE Edited by Donald A. Wollheim + +D-509 THE BEAST MASTER by Andre Norton + _and_ STAR HUNTER by Andre Norton + +D-516 THE SWORDSMAN OF MARS + by Otis Adelbert Kline + +D-517 BRING BACK YESTERDAY by A. Bertram Chandler + _and_ THE TROUBLE WITH TYCHO by Clifford Simak + +40c + +F-104 MAYDAY ORBIT by Poul Anderson + _and_ NO MAN'S WORLD by Kenneth Bulmer + +F-105 THE BEST FROM FANTASY AND SCIENCE FICTION + Fifth Series. Edited by Anthony Boucher. + +F-108 THE SUN SABOTEURS by Damon Knight + _and_ THE LIGHT OF LILITH by G. McDonald Wallis + +F-109 STORM OVER WARLOCK by Andre Norton + +F-113 REBELS OF THE RED PLANET by Charles Fontenay + _and_ 200 YEARS TO CHRISTMAS by J. T. McIntosh + +If you are missing any of these, they can be obtained directly from +the publisher by sending the indicated sum, plus 5c handling fee, to +Ace Books, Inc. (Sales Dept.), 23 West 47th St., New York 36, N. Y. + + + + + + +End of the Project Gutenberg EBook of This World Is Taboo, by Murray Leinster + +*** END OF THIS PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK THIS WORLD IS TABOO *** + +***** This file should be named 18172.txt or 18172.zip ***** +This and all associated files of various formats will be found in: + http://www.gutenberg.org/1/8/1/7/18172/ + +Produced by Greg Weeks, Sankar Viswanathan, and the Online +Distributed Proofreading Team at http://www.pgdp.net + + +Updated editions will replace the previous one--the old editions +will be renamed. + +Creating the works from public domain print editions means that no +one owns a United States copyright in these works, so the Foundation +(and you!) can copy and distribute it in the United States without +permission and without paying copyright royalties. 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