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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/19471-8.txt b/19471-8.txt new file mode 100644 index 0000000..13b7f2b --- /dev/null +++ b/19471-8.txt @@ -0,0 +1,4881 @@ +The Project Gutenberg EBook of Badge of Infamy, by Lester del Rey + +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: Badge of Infamy + +Author: Lester del Rey + +Release Date: October 5, 2006 [EBook #19471] + +Language: English + +Character set encoding: ISO-8859-1 + +*** START OF THIS PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK BADGE OF INFAMY *** + + + + +Produced by Susan Skinner, Greg Weeks and the Online +Distributed Proofreading Team at http://www.pgdp.net + + + + + + + Transcriber's Note: + +This etext was produced from an Ace Books paperback, 1973. Extensive +research did not uncover any evidence that the U.S. copyright on this +publication was renewed. + + + + +[Illustration: BADGE OF INFAMY + +LESTER DEL REY + +EARTHMEN BECOMING MARTIANS] + + + The computer seemed to work as it should. The speed was + within acceptable limits. He gave up trying to see the + ground and was forced to trust the machinery designed + for amateur pilots. The flare bloomed, and he yanked + down on the little lever. + + It could have been worse. They hit the ground, bounced + twice, and turned over. The ship was a mess when + Feldman freed himself from the elastic straps of the + seat. Chris had shrieked as they hit, but she was + unbuckling herself now. + + He threw her her spacesuit and one of the emergency + bottles of oxygen from the rack. "Hurry up with that. + We've sprung a leak and the pressure's dropping." + + * * * * * + +Turn this book over for a second complete novel. + +[Transcriber's Note: +The second novel is not present in this etext.] + + + * * * * * + + +BADGE OF INFAMY + +By LESTER DEL REY + + + * * * * * + + +ace books +A Division of Charter Communications Inc. +1120 Avenue of the Americas +New York, N.Y. 10036 + + + + +BADGE OF INFAMY + +Copyright © 1963 by Galaxy Publishing Corp. +Copyright © 1957 by Renown Publications, Inc. + +A shorter and earlier version of this story appeared in _Satellite +Science Fiction_ for June, 1957. + + * * * * * + +_First Ace printing: January, 1973_ + + * * * * * + +THE SKY IS FALLING +Copyright © 1954, 1963 by Galaxy Publishing Corp. + + * * * * * + +Printed in U.S.A. + + + + +I + +Pariah + + +The air of the city's cheapest flophouse was thick with the smells of +harsh antiseptic and unwashed bodies. The early Christmas snowstorm had +driven in every bum who could steal or beg the price of admission, and +the long rows of cots were filled with fully clothed figures. Those who +could afford the extra dime were huddled under thin, grimy blankets. + +The pariah who had been Dr. Daniel Feldman enjoyed no such luxury. He +tossed fitfully on a bare cot, bringing his face into the dim light. It +had been a handsome face, but now the black stubble of beard lay over +gaunt features and sunken cheeks. He looked ten years older than his +scant thirty-two, and there were the beginnings of a snarl at the +corners of his mouth. Clothes that had once been expensive were wrinkled +and covered with grime that no amount of cleaning could remove. His +tall, thin body was awkwardly curled up in a vain effort to conserve +heat and one of his hands instinctively clutched at his tiny bag of +possessions. + +He stirred again, and suddenly jerked upright with a protest already +forming on his lips. The ugly surroundings registered on his eyes, and +he stared suspiciously at the other cots. But there was no sign that +anyone had been trying to rob him of his bindle or the precious bag of +cheap tobacco. + +He started to relax back onto the couch when a sound caught his +attention, even over the snoring of the others. It was a low wail, the +sound of a man who can no longer control himself. + +Feldman swung to the cot on his left as the moan hacked off. The man +there was well fed and clean-shaven, but his face was gray with +sickness. He was writhing and clutching his stomach, arching his back +against the misery inside him. + +"Space-stomach?" Feldman diagnosed. + +He had no need of the weak answering nod. He'd treated such cases +several times in the past. The disease was usually caused by the absence +of gravity out in space, but it could be brought on later from abuse of +the weakened internal organs, such as the intake of too much bad liquor. +The man must have been frequenting the wrong space-front bars. + +Now he was obviously dying. Violent peristaltic contractions seemed to +be tearing the intestines out of him, and the paroxysms were coming +faster. His eyes darted to Feldman's tobacco sack and there was animal +appeal in them. + +Feldman hesitated, then reluctantly rolled a smoke. He held the +cigarette while the spaceman took a long, gasping drag on it. He smoked +the remainder himself, letting the harsh tobacco burn against his lungs +and sicken his empty stomach. Then he shrugged and threaded his way +through the narrow aisles toward the attendant. + +"Better get a doctor," he said bitterly, when the young punk looked up +at him. "You've got a man dying of space-stomach on 214." + +The sneer on the kid's face deepened. "Yeah? We don't pay for doctors +every time some wino wants to throw up. Forget it and get back where you +belong, bo." + +"You'll have a corpse on your hands in an hour," Feldman insisted. "I +know space-stomach, damn it." + +The kid turned back to his lottery sheet. "Go treat yourself if you +wanta play doctor. Go on, scram--before I toss you out in the snow!" + +One of Feldman's white-knuckled hands reached for the attendant. Then he +caught himself. He started to turn back, hesitated, and finally faced +the kid again. "I'm not fooling. And I _was_ a doctor," he stated. "My +name is Daniel Feldman." + +The attendant nodded absently, until the words finally penetrated. He +looked up, studied Feldman with surprised curiosity and growing +contempt, and reached for the phone. "Gimme Medical Directory," he +muttered. + +Feldman felt the kid's eyes on his back as he stumbled through the +aisles to his cot again. He slumped down, rolling another cigarette in +hands that shook. The sick man was approaching delirium now, and the +moans were mixed with weak whining sounds of fear. Other men had wakened +and were watching, but nobody made a move to help. + +The retching and writhing of the sick man had begun to weaken, but it +was still not too late to save him. Hot water and skillful massage could +interrupt the paroxysms. In fifteen minutes, Feldman could have stopped +the attack completely. + +He found his feet on the floor and his hands already reaching out. +Savagely he pulled himself back. Sure, he could save the man--and wind +up in the gas chamber! There'd be no mercy for his second offense +against Lobby laws. If the spaceman lived, Feldman might get off with a +flogging--that was standard punishment for a pariah who stepped out of +line. But with his luck, there would be a heart arrest and another juicy +story for the papers. + +Idealism! The Medical Lobby made a lot out of the word. But it wasn't +for him. A pariah had no business thinking of others. + +As Feldman sat there staring, the spaceman grew quieter. Sometimes, even +at this stage, massage could help. It was harder without liberal +supplies of hot water, but the massage was the really important +treatment. It was the trembling of Feldman's hands that stopped him. He +no longer had the strength or the certainty to make the massage +effective. + +He was glaring at his hands in self-disgust when the legal doctor +arrived. The man was old and tired. Probably he had been another +idealist who had wound up defeated, content to leave things up to the +established procedures of the Medical Lobby. He looked it as he bent +over the dying man. + +The doctor turned back at last to the attendant. "Too late. The best I +can do is ease his pain. The call should have been made half an hour +earlier." + +He had obviously never handled space-stomach before. He administered a +hypo that probably held narconal. Feldman watched, his guts tightening +sympathetically for the shock that would be to the sick man. But at +least it would shorten his sufferings. The final seizure lasted only a +minute or so. + +"Hopeless," the doctor said. His eyes were clouded for a moment, and +then he shrugged. "Well, I'll make out a death certificate. Anyone here +know his name?" + +His eyes swung about the cots until they came to rest on Feldman. He +frowned, and a twisted smile curved his lips. + +"Feldman, isn't it? You still look something like your pictures. Do you +know the deceased?" + +Feldman shook his head bitterly. "No. I don't know his name. I don't +even know why he wasn't cyanotic at the end, _if_ it was space-stomach. +Do you, doctor?" + +The old man threw a startled glance at the corpse. Then he shrugged and +nodded to the attendant. "Well, go through his things. If he still has a +space ticket, I can get his name from that." + +The kid began pawing through the bag that had fallen from the cot. He +dragged out a pair of shoes, half a bottle of cheap rum, a wallet and a +bronze space ticket. He wasn't quick enough with the wallet, and the +doctor took it from him. + +"Medical Lobby authorization. If he has any money, it covers my fee and +the rest goes to his own Lobby." There were several bills, all of large +denominations. He turned the ticket over and began filling in the death +certificate. "Arthur Billings. Space Lobby. Crewman. Cause of death, +idiopathic gastroenteritis _and_ delirium tremens." + +There had been no evidence of delirium tremens, but apparently the +doctor felt he had scored a point. He tossed the space ticket toward the +shoes, closed his bag, and prepared to leave. + +"Hey, doc!" The attendant's voice was indignant. "Hey, what about my +reporting fee?" + +The doctor stopped. He glanced at the kid, then toward Feldman, his face +a mixture of speculation and dislike. He took a dollar bill from the +wallet. "That's right," he admitted. "The fee for reporting a solvent +case. Medical Lobby rules apply--even to a man who breaks them." + +The kid's hand was out, but the doctor dropped the dollar onto Feldman's +cot. "There's your fee, pariah." He left, forcing the protesting +attendant to precede him. + +Feldman reached for the bill. It was blood money for letting a man +die--but it meant cigarettes and food--or shelter for another night, if +he could get a mission meal. He no longer could afford pride. Grimly, he +pocketed the bill, staring at the face of the dead man. It looked back +sightlessly, now showing a faint speckling of tiny dots. They caught +Feldman's eyes, and he bent closer. There should be no black dots on the +skin of a man who died of space-stomach. And there should have been +cyanosis.... + +He swore and bent down to find the wrecks of his shoes. He couldn't +worry about anything now but getting away from here before the attendant +made trouble. His eyes rested on the shoes of the dead man--sturdy boots +that would last for another year. They could do the corpse no good; +someone else would steal them if he didn't. But he hesitated, cursing +himself. + +The right boot fitted better than he could have expected, but something +got in the way as he tried to put the left one on. His fingers found the +bronze ticket. He turned it over, considering it. He wasn't ready to +fraud his identity for what he'd heard of life on the spaceships, yet. +But he shoved it into his pocket and finished lacing the boots. + +Outside, the snow was still falling, but it had turned to slush, and the +sidewalk was soggy underfoot. There was going to be no work shoveling +snow, he realized. This would melt before the day was over. Feldman +hunched the suitcoat up, shivering as the cold bit into him. The boots +felt good, though; if he'd had socks, they would have been completely +comfortable. + +He passed a cheap restaurant, and the smell of the synthetics set his +stomach churning. It had been two days since his last real meal, and the +dollar burned in his pocket. But he had to wait. There was a fair +chance this early that he could scavenge something edible. + +He shuffled on. After a while, the cold bothered him less, and he passed +through the hunger spell. He rolled another smoke and sucked at it, +hardly thinking. It was better that way. + +It was much later when the big caduceus set into the sidewalk snapped +him back to awareness of where he'd traveled. His undirected feet had +led him much too far uptown, following old habits. This was the Medical +Lobby building, where he'd spent more than enough time, including three +weeks in custody before they stripped him of all rank and status. + +His eyes wandered to the ornate entrance where he'd first emerged as a +pariah. He'd meant to walk down those steps as if he were still a man. +But each step had drained his resolution, until he'd finally covered his +face and slunk off, knowing himself for what the world had branded him. + +He stood there now, staring at the smug young medical politicians and +the tired old general practitioners filing in and out. One of the latter +halted, fumbled in his pocket and drew out a quarter. + +"Merry Christmas!" he said dully. + +Feldman fingered the coin. Then he saw a gray Medical policeman watching +him, and he knew it was time to move on. Sooner or later, someone would +recognize him here. + +He clutched the quarter and turned to look for a coffee shop that sold +the synthetics to which his metabolism had been switched. No shop would +serve him here, but he could buy coffee and a piece of cake to take out. + +A flurry of motion registered from the corner of his eye, and he glanced +back. + +"Taxi! Taxi!" + +The girl rushing down the steps had a clear soprano voice, cultured and +commanding. The gray Medical uniform seemed molded to her shapely figure +and her red hair glistened in the lights of the street. Her snub nose +and determined mouth weren't the current fashion, but nobody stopped to +think of fashions when they saw her. She didn't have to be the daughter +of the president of Medical Lobby to rule. + +It was Chris--Chris Feldman once, and now Chris Ryan again. + +Feldman swung toward a cab. For a moment, his attitude was automatic and +assured, and the cab stopped before the driver noticed his clothes. He +picked up the bag Chris dropped and swung it onto the front seat. She +was fumbling in her change purse as he turned back to shut the door. + +"Thank you, my good man," she said. She could be gracious, even to a +pariah, when his homage suited her. She dropped two quarters into his +hand, raising her eyes. + +Recognition flowed into them, followed by icy shock. She yanked the cab +door shut and shouted something to the driver. The cab took off with a +rush that left Feldman in a backwash of slush and mud. + +He glanced down at the coins in his hand. It was his lucky day, he +thought bitterly. + +He moved across the street and away, not bothering about the squeal of +brakes and the honking horns. He looked back only once, toward the +glowing sign that topped the building. _Your health is our business!_ +Then the great symbol of the health business faded behind him, and he +stumbled on, sucking incessantly at the cigarettes he rolled. One hand +clutched the bronze badge belonging to the dead man and his stolen +boots drove onward through the melting snow. + +It was Christmas in the year 2100 on the protectorate of Earth. + + + + +II + +Lobby + + +Feldman had set his legs the problem of heading for the great spaceport +and escape from Earth, and he let them take him without further +guidance. His mind was wrapped up in a whirl of the past--his past and +that of the whole planet. Both pasts had in common the growth and sudden +ruin of idealism. + +Idealism! Throughout history, some men had sought the ideal, and most +had called it freedom. Only fools expected absolute freedom, but wise +men dreamed up many systems of relative freedom, including democracy. +They had tried that in America, as the last fling of the dream. It had +been a good attempt, too. + +The men who drew the Constitution had been pretty practical dreamers. +They came to their task after a bitter war and a worse period of wild +chaos, and they had learned where idealism stopped and idiocy began. +They set up a republic with all the elements of democracy that they +considered safe. It had worked well enough to make America the number +one power of the world. But the men who followed the framers of the new +plan were a different sort, without the knowledge of practical limits. + +The privileges their ancestors had earned in blood and care became +automatic rights. Practical men tried to explain that there were no such +rights--that each generation had to pay for its rights with +responsibility. That kind of talk didn't get far. People wanted to hear +about rights, not about duties. + +They took the phrase that all men were created equal and left out the +implied kicker that equality was in the sight of God and before the law. +They wanted an equality with the greatest men without giving up their +drive toward mediocrity, and they meant to have it. In a way, they got +it. + +They got the vote extended to everyone. The man on subsidy or public +dole could vote to demand more. The man who read of nothing beyond sex +crimes could vote on the great political issues of the world. No ability +was needed for his vote. In fact, he was assured that voting alone was +enough to make him a fine and noble citizen. He loved that, if he +bothered to vote at all that year. He became a great man by listing his +unthought, hungry desire for someone to take care of him without +responsibility. So he went out and voted for the man who promised him +most, or who looked most like what his limited dreams felt to be a +father image or son image or hero image. He never bothered later to see +how the men he'd elected had handled the jobs he had given them. + +Someone had to look, of course, and someone did. Organized special +interests stepped in where the mob had failed. Lobbies grew up. There +had always been pressure groups, but now they developed into a third arm +of the government. + +The old Farm Lobby was unbeatable. The big farmers shaped the laws they +wanted. They convinced the little farmers it was for the good of all, +and they made the story stick well enough to swing the farm vote. They +made the laws when it came to food and crops. + +The last of the great lobbies was Space, probably. It was an accident +that grew up so fast it never even knew it wasn't a real part of the +government. It developed during a period of chaos when another country +called Russia got the first hunk of metal above the atmosphere and when +the representatives who had been picked for everything but their grasp +of science and government went into panic over a myth of national +prestige. + +The space effort was turned over to the aircraft industry, which had +never been able to manage itself successfully except under the stimulus +of war or a threat of war. The failing airplane industry became the +space combine overnight, and nobody kept track of how big it was, except +a few sharp operators. + +They worked out a system of subcontracts that spread the profits so wide +that hardly a company of any size in the country wasn't getting a share. +Thus a lot of patriotic, noble voters got their pay from companies in +the lobby block and could be panicked by the lobby at the first mention +of recession. + +So Space Lobby took over completely in its own field. It developed +enough pressure to get whatever appropriations it wanted, even over +Presidential veto. It created the only space experts, which meant that +the men placed in government agencies to regulate it came from its own +ranks. + +The other lobbies learned a lot from Space. + +There had been a medical lobby long before, but it had been a +conservative group, mostly concerned with protecting medical autonomy +and ethics. It also tried to prevent government control of treatment and +payment, feeling that it couldn't trust the people to know where to +stop. But its history was a long series of retreats. + +It fought what it called socialized medicine. But the people wanted +their troubles handled free--which meant by government spending, since +that could be added to the national debt, and thus didn't seem to cost +anything. It lost, and eventually the government paid most medical +costs, with doctors working on a fixed fee. Then quantity of treatment +paid, rather than quality. Competence no longer mattered so much. The +Lobby lost, but didn't know it--because the lowered standards of +competence in the profession lowered the caliber of men running the +political aspects of that profession as exemplified by the Lobby. + +It took a world-wide plague to turn the tide. The plague began in old +China; anything could start there, with more than a billion people +huddled in one area and a few madmen planning to conquer the world. It +might have been a laboratory mutation, but nobody could ever prove it. + +It wiped out two billion people, depopulated Africa and most of Asia, +and wrecked Europe, leaving only America comparatively safe to take +over. An obscure scientist in one of the laboratories run by the Medical +Lobby found a cure before the first waves of the epidemic hit America. +Rutherford Ryan, then head of the Lobby, made sure that Medical Lobby +got all the credit. + +By the time the world recovered, America ran it and the Medical Lobby +was untouchable. Ryan made a deal with Space Lobby, and the two +effectively ran the world. None of the smaller lobbies could buck them, +and neither could the government. + +There was still a president and a congress, as there had been a Senate +under the Roman Caesars. But the two Lobbies ran themselves as they +chose. The real government had become a kind of oligarchy, as it always +did after too much false democracy ruined the ideals of real and +practical self-rule. A man belonged to his Lobby, just as a serf had +belonged to his feudal landlord. + +It was a safe world now. Maybe progress had been halted at about the +level of 1980, but so long as the citizens didn't break the rules of +their lobbies, they had very little to worry about. For that, for +security and the right not to think, most people were willing to leave +well enough alone. + +Some rules seemed harsh, of course, such as the law that all operations +had to be performed in Lobby hospitals. But that could be justified; it +was the only safe kind of surgery and the only way to make sure there +was no unsupervised experimentation, such as that which supposedly +caused the plague. The rule was now an absolute ethic of medicine. It +also made for better fees. + +Feldman's father had stuck by the rule but had questioned it. Feldman +learned not to question in medical school. He scored second in Medical +Ethics only to Christina Ryan. + +He had never figured why she singled him out for her attentions, but he +gloried in both those attentions and the results. He became +automatically a rising young man, the favorite of the daughter of the +Lobby president. He went through internship without a sign of trouble. +Chris humored him in his desire to spend three years of practice in a +poor section loaded with disease, and her father approved; such selfless +dedication was the perfect image projection for a future son-in-law. In +return, he agreed to follow that period by becoming an administrator. A +doctor's doctor, as they put it. + +They were married in April and his office was ready in May, complete +with a staff of eighty. The publicity releases had gone out, and the +Public Relations Lobby that handled news and education was paid to begin +the greatest build-up any young genius ever had. + +They celebrated that, with a little party of some four hundred people +and reporters at Ryan's lodge in Canada. It was to be a gala weekend. + +It was then that Baxter shot himself. + +Baxter had been Feldman's closest friend in the Lobby. He'd come along +to handle press relations and had gotten romantic about the countryside, +never having been out of a city before. He hired a guide and went +hunting, eighty miles beyond the last outpost of civilization. Somehow, +he got his hand on a gun, though only guides were supposed to touch +them, managed to overcome its safety devices, and then pulled the +trigger with the gun pointed the wrong way. + +Chris, Feldman and Harnett from Public Relations had accompanied him on +the trip. They were sitting in a nearby car while Feldman enjoyed the +scenery, Chris made further plans, and Harnett gathered material. There +was also a photographer and writer, but they hadn't been introduced by +name. + +Feldman reached Baxter first. The man was moaning and scared, and he was +bleeding profusely. Only a miracle had saved him from instant death. The +bullet had struck a rib, been deflected and robbed of some of its +energy, and had barely reached the heart. But it had pierced the +pericardium, as best Feldman could guess, and it could be fatal at any +moment. + +He'd reached for a probe without thinking. Chris knocked his hand aside. + +She was right, of course. He couldn't operate outside a hospital. But +they had no phone in the lodge where the guide lived and no way to +summon an ambulance. They'd have to drive Baxter back in the car, which +would almost certainly result in his death. + +When Feldman seemed uncertain, Harnett had given his warning in a low +but vehement voice. "You touch him, Dan, and I'll spread it in every one +of our media. I'll have to. It's the only way to retain public +confidence. There'd be a leak, with all the guides and others here, and +we can't afford that. I like you--you have color. But touch that wound +and I'll crucify you." + +Chris added her own threats. She'd spent years making him the outlet for +all her ambitions, denied because women were still only second-rate +members of Medical Lobby. She couldn't let it go now. And she was +probably genuinely shocked. + +Baxter groaned again and started to bleed more profusely. + +There wasn't much equipment. Feldman operated with a pocketknife +sterilized in a bottle of expensive Scotch and only anodyne tablets in +place of anesthesia. He got the bullet out and sewed up the wound with a +bit of surgical thread he'd been using to tie up a torn good-luck +emblem. The photographer and writer recorded the whole thing. Chris +swore harshly and beat her fists against the bole of a tree. But Baxter +lived. He recovered completely, and was shocked at the heinous thing +that had been done to him. + +They crucified Feldman. + + + + +III + +Spaceman + + +Most crewmen lived rough, ugly lives--and usually, short ones. +Passengers and officers on the big tubs were given the equivalent of +gravity in spinning compartments, but the crews rode "free". The lucky +crewmen lived through their accidents, got space-stomach now and then, +and recovered. Nobody cared about the others. + +Feldman's ticket was work-stamped for the _Navaho_, and nobody +questioned his identity. He suffered through the agony of acceleration +on the shuttle up to the orbital station, then was sick as acceleration +stopped. But he was able to control himself enough to follow other +crewmen down a hall of the station toward the _Navaho_. The big ships +never touched a planet, always docking at the stations. + +A checker met the crew and reached for their badges. He barely glanced +at them, punched a mark for each on his checkoff sheet, and handed them +back. "Deckmen forward, tubemen to the rear," he ordered. "_Navaho_ +blasts in fifteen minutes. Hey, you! You're tubes." + +Feldman grunted. He should have expected it. Tubemen had the lowest lot +of all the crew. Between the killing work, the heat of the tubes, and +occasional doses of radiation, their lives weren't worth the metal value +of their tickets. + +He began pulling himself clumsily along a shaft, dodging freight the +loaders were tossing from hand to hand. A bag hit his head, drawing +blood, and another caught him in the groin. + +"Watch it, bo," a loader yelled at him. "You dent that bag and they'll +brig you. Cantcha see it's got a special courtesy stripe?" + +It had a brilliant green stripe, he saw. It also had a name, printed in +block letters that shouted their identity before he could read the +words. _Dr. Christina Ryan, Southport, Mars._ + +And he'd had to choose this time to leave Earth! + +Suddenly he was glad he was assigned to the tubes. It was the one place +on the ship where he'd be least likely to run into her. As a doctor and +a courtesy passenger, she'd have complete run of the ship, but she'd +hardly bother with the dangerous and unpleasant tube section. + +He dragged his way back, beginning to sweat with the effort. The +_Navaho_ was an old ship. A lot of the handholds were missing, and he +had to throw himself along by erratic leaps. He was gaining proficiency, +but not enough to handle himself if the ship blasted off. Time was +growing short when he reached the aft bunkroom where the other tubemen +were waiting. + +"Ben," one husky introduced himself. "Tube chief. Know how to work +this?" + +Feldman could see that they were assembling a small still. He'd heard of +the phenomenal quantities of beer spacemen drank, and now he realized +what really happened to it. Hard liquor was supposed to be forbidden, +but they made their own. "I can work it," he decided. "I'm--uh--Dan." + +"Okay, Dan." Ben glanced at the clock. "Hit the sacks, boys." + +By the time Feldman could settle into the sacklike hammock, the +_Navaho_ began to shake faintly, and weight piled up. It was mild +compared to that on the shuttle, since the big ships couldn't take high +acceleration. Space had been conquered for more than a century, but the +ships were still flimsy tubs that took months to reach Mars, using +immense amounts of fuel. Only the valuable plant hormones from Mars made +commerce possible at the ridiculously high freight rate. + +Three hours later he began to find out why spacemen didn't seem to fear +dying or turning pariah. The tube quarters had grown insufferably hot +during the long blast, but the main tube-room was blistering as Ben led +the men into it. The chief handed out spacesuits and motioned for Dan. + +"Greenhorn, aincha? Okay, I'll take you with me. We go out in the tubes +and pull the lining. I pry up the stuff, you carry it back here and +stack it." + +They sealed off the tube-room, pumped out the air, and went into the +steaming, mildly radioactive tubes, just big enough for a man on hands +and knees. Beyond the tube mouth was empty space, waiting for the man +who slipped. Ben began ripping out the eroded blocks with a special +tool. Feldman carried them back and stacked them along with others. A +plasma furnace melted them down into new blocks. The work grew +progressively worse as the distance to the tube-room increased. The tube +mouth yawned closer and closer. There were no handholds there--only the +friction of a man's body in the tube. + +Life settled into a dull routine of labor, sleep, and the brief relief +of the crude white mule from the still. + +They were six weeks out and almost finished with the tube cleaning when +Number Two tube blew. Bits of the remaining radioactive fuel must have +collected slowly until they reached blow-point. Feldman in Number One +would have gone sailing out into space, but Ben reacted at once. As the +ship leaped slightly, Feldman brought up sharply against the chief's +braced body. For a second their fate hung in the balance. Then it was +over, and Ben shoved him back, grinning faintly. + +He jerked his thumb and touched helmets briefly. "There they go, Dan." + +The two men who had been working in Number Two were charred lumps, +drifting out into space. + +No further comment was made on it, except that they'd have to work +harder from now on, since they were shorthanded. + +That rest period Feldman came down with a mild attack of +space-stomach--which meant no more drinking for him--and was off work +for a day. Then the pace picked up. The tubes were cleared and they +began laying the new lining for the landing blasts. There was no time +for thought after that. Mars' orbital station lay close when the work +was finished. + +Ben slapped Feldman on the back. "Ya ain't bad for a greenie, Dan. We +all get six-day passes on Mars. Hit the sack now so you won't waste time +sleeping then. We'll hear it when the ship berths." + +Feldman didn't hear it, but the others did. He felt Ben shaking his +shoulder, trying to drag him out of the sack. "Grab your junk, Dan." + +Ben picked up Feldman's nearly empty bag and tossed it toward him, +before his eyes were fully open. He grabbed for it and missed. He +grabbed again, with Ben's laughter in his ears. The bag hit the wall and +fell open, spilling its contents. + +Feldman began gathering it up, but the chief was no longer laughing. A +big hand grabbed up the space ticket suddenly, and there was no +friendliness now on Ben's face. + +"Art Billing's card!" Ben told the other tubemen. "Five trips I made +with Art. He was saving his money, going to buy a farm on Mars. Five +trips and one more to go before he had enough. Now you show up with his +ticket!" + +The tubemen moved forward toward Feldman. There was no indecision. To +them, apparently, trial had been held and sentence passed. + +"Wait a minute," Feldman began. "Billings died of--" + +A fist snaked past his raised hand and connected with his jaw. He +bounced off a wall. A wrench sailed toward him, glanced off his arm, and +ripped at his muscles. Another heavy fist struck. + +Abruptly, Ben's voice cut through their yells. "Hold it!" He shoved +through the group, tossing men backwards. "Stow it! We can take care of +him later. Right now, this is captain's business. You fools want to lose +your leave?" He indicated two of the others. "You two bring him +along--and keep him quiet!" + +The two grabbed Feldman's arms and dragged him along as the chief began +pulling his way forward through the tubes up towards the control section +of the ship. Feldman took a quick glance at their faces and made no +effort to resist; they obviously would have enjoyed any chance to subdue +him. + +They were stopped twice by minor officers, then sent on. They finally +found the captain near the exit lock, apparently assisting the +passengers to leave. Most of them went on into the shuttle, but Chris +Ryan remained behind as the captain listened to Ben's report and +inspected the false ticket. + +Finally the captain turned to Feldman. "You. What's your name?" + +Chris' eyes were squarely on Feldman, cold and furious. "He _was_ Doctor +Daniel Feldman, Captain Marker," she stated. + +Feldman stood paralyzed. He'd been unwilling to face Chris. He wanted to +avoid all the past. But the idea that she would denounce him had never +entered his head. There was no Medical rule involved. She knew that as a +pariah he was forbidden to board a passenger ship, of course. But she'd +been his wife once! + +Marker bowed slightly to her. "Thank you, Dr. Ryan. I should take this +criminal back to Earth in chains, I suppose. But he's hardly worth the +freightage. You men. Want to take him down to Mars and ground him +there?" + +Ben grinned and touched his forelock. "Thank you, sir. We'd enjoy that." + +"Good. His pay reverts to the ship's fund. That's all, men." + +Feldman started to protest, but a fist lashed savagely against his +mouth. + +He made no other protests as they dragged him into the crew shuttle that +took off for Southport. He avoided their eyes and sat hunched over. It +was Ben who finally broke the silence. + +"What happened to Art's money? He had a pile on him." + +"Go to hell!" + +"Give, I said!" Ben twisted his arm back toward his shoulder, applying +increasing pressure. + +"A doctor took it for his fee when Billings died of space-stomach. Damn +you, I couldn't help him!" + +Ben looked at the others. "Med Lobby fee, eh? All the market will take. +Umm. It could be, maybe." He shrugged. "Okay, reasonable doubt. We +won't kill you, bo. Not quite, we won't." + +The shuttle landed and Ben handed out the little helmets and aspirators +that made life possible in Mars' thin air. Outside, the tubemen took +turns holding Feldman and beating him while the passengers disembarked +from their shuttle. As he slumped into unconsciousness, he had a picture +of Chris Ryan's frozen face as she moved steadily toward the port +station. + + + + +IV + +Martian + + +It was night when Feldman came to, and the temperature was dropping +rapidly. He struggled to sit up through a fog of pain. Somewhere in his +bag, he should have an anodyne tablet that would kill any ache. He +finally found the pill and swallowed it, fumbling with the aspirator lip +opening. + +The aspirator meant life to him now, he suddenly realized. He twisted to +stare at the tiny charge-indicator for the battery. It showed +half-charge. Then he saw that someone had attached another battery +beside it. He puzzled briefly over it, but his immediate concern was for +shelter. + +Apparently he was still where he had been knocked out. There was a light +coming from the little station, and he headed toward that, fumbling for +the few quarters that represented his entire fortune. + +Maybe it would have been better if the tubemen had killed him. Batteries +were an absolute necessity here, food and shelter would be expensive, +and he had no skills to earn his way. At most, he had only a day or so +left. But meantime, he had to find warmth before the cold killed him. + +The tiny restaurant in the station was still open, and the air was warm +inside. He pulled off the aspirator, shutting off the battery. + +The counterman didn't even glance up as he entered. Feldman gazed at the +printed menu and flinched. + +"Soup," he ordered. It was the cheapest item he could find. + +The counterman stared at him, obviously spotting his Earth origin. "You +adjusted to synthetics?" + +Feldman nodded. Earth operated on a mixed diet, with synthetics for all +who couldn't afford the natural foods there. But Mars was all synthetic. +Many of the chemicals in food could exist in either of two forms, or +isomers; they were chemically alike, but differently crystallized. +Sometimes either form was digestible, but frequently the body could use +only the isomer to which it was adjusted. + +Martian plants produced different isomers from those on Earth. Since the +synthetic foods turned out to be Mars-normal, that was probably the more +natural form. Research designed to let the early colonists live off +native food here had turned up an enzyme that enabled the body to handle +either isomer. In a few weeks of eating Martian or synthetic food, the +body adapted; without more enzyme, it lost its power to handle +Earth-normal food. + +The cheapness of synthetics and the discovery that many diseases common +to Earth would not attack Mars-normal bodies led to the wide use of +synthetics on Earth. No pariah could have been expected to afford +Earth-normal. + +Feldman finished the soup, and found a cigarette that was smokable. "Any +objections if I sit in the waiting room?" + +He'd expected a rejection, but the counterman only shrugged. The waiting +room was almost dark and the air was chilly, but there was normal +pressure. He found a bench and slumped onto it, lighting his cigarette. +He'd miss the smokes--but probably not for long. He finished the +cigarette reluctantly and sat huddled on the bench, waiting for morning. + +The airlock opened later, and feet sounded on the boards of the +waiting-room floor, but he didn't look up until a thin beam of light hit +him. Then he sighed and nodded. The shoes, made of some odd fiber, +didn't look like those of a cop, but this was Mars. He could see only a +hulking shadow behind the light. + +"You the man who was a medical doctor?" The voice was dry and old. + +"Yeah," Feldman answered. "Once." + +"Good. Thought that space crewman was just lying drunk at first. Come +along, Doc." + +"Why?" It didn't matter, but if they wanted him to move on, they'd have +to push a little harder. + +The light swung up to show the other. He was the shade of old leather +with a bleached patch of sandy hair and the deepest gray eyes Feldman +had ever seen. It was a face that could have belonged to a country +storekeeper in New England, with the same hint of dry humor. The man was +dressed in padded levis and a leather jacket of unguessable age. His +aspirator seemed worn and patched, and one big hand fumbled with it. + +"Because we're friends, Doc," the voice drawled at him. "Because you +might as well come with us as sit here. Maybe we have a job for you." + +Feldman shrugged and stood up. If the man was a Lobby policeman, he was +different from the usual kind. Nothing could be worse than the present +prospects. + +They went out through the doors of the waiting room toward a rattletrap +vehicle. It looked something like a cross between a schoolboy's jalopy +and a scaled-down army tank of former times. The treads were caterpillar +style, and the stubby body was completely enclosed. A tiny airlock +stuck out from the rear. + +Two men were inside, both bearded. The old man grinned at them. "Mark, +Lou, meet Doc Feldman. Sit, Doc. I'm Jake Mullens, and you might say we +were farmers." + +The motor started with a wheeze. The tractor swung about and began +heading away from Southport toward the desert dunes. It shook and +rattled, but it seemed to make good time. + +"I don't know anything about farming," Feldman protested. + +Jake shrugged. "No, of course not. Couple of our friends heard about you +where a spaceman was getting drunk and tipped us off. We know who you +are. Here, try a bracky?" + +Feldman took what seemed to be a cigarette and studied it doubtfully. It +was coarse and fibrous inside, with a thin, hard shell that seemed to be +a natural growth, as if it had been chopped from some vine. He lighted +it, not knowing what to expect. Then he coughed as the bitter, rancid +smoke burned at his throat. He started to throw it down, and hesitated. +Jake was smoking one, and it had killed the craving for tobacco almost +instantly. + +"Some like 'em, most don't," Jake said. "They won't hurt you. Look--see +that? Old Martian ruins. Built by some race a million years ago. Only +half a dozen on Mars." + +It was only a clump of weathered stone buildings in the light from the +tractor, and Feldman had seen better in the stereo shots. It was +interesting only because it connected with the legendary Martian race, +like the canals that showed from space but could not be seen on the +surface of the planet. + +Feldman waited for the other to go on, but Jake was silent. Finally, he +ground out the butt of the weed. "Okay, Jake. What do you want with me?" + +"Consultation, maybe. Ever hear of herb doctors? I'm one of them." + +Feldman knew that the Lobby permitted some leniency here, due to the +scarcity of real medical help. There was only one decent hospital at +Northport, on the opposite side of the planet. + +Jake sighed and reached for another bracky weed. "Yeah, I'm pretty good +with herbs. But I got a sick village on my hands and I can't handle it. +We can't all mortgage our work to pay for a trip to Northport. +Southport's all messed up while the new she-doctor gets her metabolism +changed. Maybe the old guy there would have helped, but he died a couple +months ago. So it looks like you're our only hope." + +"Then you have no hope," Feldman told him sickly. "I'm a pariah, Jake. I +can't do a thing for you." + +"We heard about your argument with the Lobby. News reaches Mars. But +these are mighty sick people, Doc." + +Feldman shook his head. "Better take me back. I'm not allowed to +practice medicine. The charge would be first-degree murder if anything +happened." + +Lou leaned forward. "Shall I talk to him, Jake?" + +The old man grimaced. "Time enough. Let him see what we got first." + +Sand howled against the windshield and the tractor bumped and surged +along. Feldman took another of the weeds and tried to estimate their +course. But he had no idea where they were when the tractor finally +stopped. There was a village of small huts that seemed to be merely +entrances to living quarters dug under the surface. They led him into +one and through a tunnel into a large room filled with simple cots and +the unhappy sounds of sick people. + +Two women were disconsolately trying to attend to the half-dozen +sick--four children and two adults. Their faces brightened as they saw +Jake, then fell. "Eb and Tilda died," they reported. + +Feldman looked at the two figures under the sheets and whistled. The +same black specks he had seen on the face of Billings covered the skins +of the two old people who had died. + +"Funny," Jake said slowly. "They didn't quite act like the others and +they sure died mighty fast. Darn it, I had it figured for that stuff in +the book. Infantile paralysis. How about it, Doc? Sort of like a cold, +stiff sore neck." + +It was clearly polio--one of the diseases that could attack Mars-normal +flesh. Feldman nodded at the symptoms, staring at the sick kids. He +shrugged, finally. "There's a cure for it, but I don't have the serum. +Neither do you, or you wouldn't have brought me here. I couldn't help if +I wanted to." + +"That old book didn't list a cure," Jake told him. "But it said the kids +didn't have to be crippled. There was something about a Kenny treatment. +Doc, does the stuff really cripple for life?" + +Feldman saw one of the boys flinch. He dropped his eyes, remembering the +Lobby's efficient spy service on Earth and wondering what it was like +here. But he knew the outcome. + +"Damn you, Jake!" + +Jake chuckled. "Thought you would. We sure appreciate it. Just tell us +what to do, Doc." + +Feldman began writing down his requirements, trying to remember the +details of the treatment. Exercise, hot compresses, massage. It was +coming back to him. He'd have to do it himself, of course, to get the +feel of it. He couldn't explain it well enough. But he couldn't turn his +back on the kids, either. + +"Maybe I can help," he said doubtfully as he moved toward a cot. + +"No, Doc." Jake's voice wasn't amused any longer, and he held the +younger man back. "You're doing us a favor, and I'll be darned if I'll +let you stick your neck out too far. You can't treat 'em yourself. Mars +is tougher than Earth. You should live under Space Lobby _and_ Medical +Lobby here a while. Oh, maybe they don't mind a few fools like me being +herb doctors, but they'd sure hate to have a man who can do real +medicine outside their hands. You let me do it, or get in the tractor +and I'll have Lou drive you back. Once you start in here, there'll be no +stopping. Believe me." + +Feldman looked at him, seeing the colonials around him for the first +time as people. It had been a long time since he'd been treated as a +fellow human by anyone. + +Jake was right, he knew. Once he put his hand to the bandage, eventually +there'd be no turning back from the scalpel. These people needed medical +help too desperately. Eventually, the news would spread, and the Lobby +police would come for him. Chris couldn't afford to shield him. In fact, +he was sure now that she'd hunt him night and day. + +"Don't be a fool, Jake," he ordered brusquely. He handed his list to one +of the women. "You'll have to learn to do what I do," he told the people +there. "You'll have to work like fools for weeks. But there won't be +many crippled children. I can promise that much!" + +He blinked sharply at the sudden hope in their eyes. But his mind went +on wondering how long it would be before the inevitable would catch up +with him. With luck, maybe a few months. But he hadn't been blessed with +any superabundance of luck. It would probably be less time than he +thought. + + + + +V + +Surgery + + +Doc Feldman's luck was better than he had expected. For an Earth year, +he was a doctor again, moving about from village to village as he was +needed and doing what he could. + +The village had been isolated during the early colonization when Mars +made a feeble attempt to break free of Space Lobby. Their supplies had +been cut off and they had been forced to do for themselves. Now they +were largely self-sufficient. They grew native plants and extracted +hormones in crude little chemical plants. The hormones were traded to +the big chemical plants for a pittance to buy what had to come from +Earth. Other jury-rigged affairs synthesized much of their food. But +mostly they learned to get along on what Mars provided. + +Doc Feldman learned from them. Money was no longer part of his life. He +ate with whatever family needed him and slipped into the life around +him. + +He was learning Martian medicine and finding that his Earth courses were +mostly useless. No wonder the villagers distrusted Lobby doctors. Doc +had his own little laboratory where he had managed to start making +Mars-normal penicillin--a primitive antibiotic, but better than nothing. + +Jake had come to remind him that it was his first anniversary, and now +they were smoking bracky together. + +"Sheer luck, Jake," Doc repeated. "You Martians are tough. But some day +someone is going to die under my care, with the little equipment I have. +Then--" + +Jake nodded slowly. "Maybe, Doc. And maybe some day Mars will break free +of the Lobbies. You'd better pray for that." + +"I've been--" Doc stopped, realizing what he'd started to say. The old +man chuckled. + +"You've been talking rebellion for months, Doc. I hear rumors. Whenever +you get mad, you want us to secede. But you don't really mean it yet. +You can't picture any government but the one you're used to." + +Doc grinned. Jake had a point, but it was not as strong as it would have +been a few months before. The towns under the Lobby were cheap +imitations of Earth, but here, divorced to a large extent from the +lobbies, the villages were making Mars their own. Their ways might be +strange; but they worked. + +Jake shifted his body in the weak sunlight. "Newton village forgot to +report a death on time. I hear Ryan is sweating them out, trying to +prove it was your fault." + +There was no evidence against him yet, Doc was sure. But Chris was out +to prove something, and to get a reputation as a top-flight +administrator. It must have hurt when they shipped her here as head of +the lesser hemisphere of Mars. She'd expected to use Feldman as a front +while she became the actual ruler of the whole Lobby. Now she wanted to +strike back. + +"She's using blackmail," he said, and some of his old bitterness was in +his voice. "Anyone taking treatment from an herb doctor in this section +is cut off from Medical Lobby service. Damn it, Jake, that could mean +letting people die!" + +"Yeah." Jake sighed softly. "It could mean letting people begin to +think about getting rid of the Lobby, too. Well, I gotta help harvest +the bracky. Take it easy on operating for a while, will you, Doc?" + +"All right, Jake. But stop keeping the serious cases a secret. Two men +died last month because you wouldn't call me for surgery. I've broken +all my oaths already. It doesn't matter anymore." + +"It matters, boy. We've been lucky, but some day one case will go to the +hospital and they'll find your former work. Then they'll really be after +you. The less you do the better." + +Doc watched Jake slump off, then turned down into the little root cellar +and back toward the room concealed behind it, where his crude laboratory +lay. For the moment, he was free to work on the mystery of the black +spots. + +He kept running into them--always on the body of someone who died of +something that seemed like a normal disease. Without a microscope, he +was almost helpless, but he had taken specimens and tried to culture +them. Some of his cultures had grown, though they might be nothing but +unknown Martian fungi or bacteria. Mars was dry and almost devoid of +air, but plants and a few smaller insects had survived and adapted. It +wasn't by any means lifeless. + +Without a microscope, he could do little but depend on his files of +cases. But today there was new evidence. A villager had filched an Earth +_Medical Journal_ from the tractor driven by Chris Ryan and forwarded it +to him. He found the black specks mentioned in a single paragraph, under +skin diseases. Investigation of the diet was being made, since all cases +were among people eating synthetics. + +There was another article on aberrant cases--a few strange little +misbehaviors in classical syndromes. He studied that, wondering. It had +to be the same thing. Diet didn't account for the fact that the specks +appeared only when the patient was near death. + +Nor did it account for the hard lump at the base of the neck which he +found in every case he could check. That might be coincidence, but he +doubted it. + +Whatever it was, it aggravated any other disease the patient had and +made seemingly simple diseases turn out to be completely and rapidly +fatal. Once syphilis had been called "The Great Imitator". This gave +promise of being worse. + +He shook his head, cursing his lack of equipment. Each month more people +were dying with these specks--and he was helpless. + +The concealed door broke open suddenly and a boy thrust his head in. +"Doc, there's a man here from Einstein. Says his wife's dying." + +The man was already coming into the room. + +"She's powerful sick, Doc. Had a bellyache, fever, began throwing up. +Pains under her belly, like she's had before. But this time it's awful." + +Doc shot a few questions at him, frowning at what he heard. Then he +began packing the few things that might help. There should be no +appendicitis on Mars. The bugs responsible for that shouldn't have +adapted to Mars-normal. But more and more infections found ways to cross +the border. Gangrene had been able to get by without change, it seemed. +So far, none of the contagious infections except polio and the common +cold had made the jump. + +This sounded like an advanced case, perhaps already involving +peritonitis. + +So far, he'd been lucky with penicillin, but each time he used it with +grave doubts of its action on the Mars-adapted patients. If the appendix +had burst, however, it was the only possible treatment. + +He riffled through his stores; There was ether enough, fortunately. The +villagers had made that for him out of Martian plants, using their +complicated fermentation processes. He yelled for Jake, and the boy +brought the old man back a moment later. + +"Jake, I'll need more of that narcotic stuff. I don't want the woman +writhing and tearing her stitches after the ether wears off." + +"Can't get it, Doc." Jake's eyes seemed to cloud as he said it. +"Distilling plant broke down. Doc, I don't like this case. That woman's +been to the hospital three times. I hear she just got out recently. This +might be a plant, or they figure they can't help her." + +"They're afraid to try anything on Mars-normal flesh. They can't be +proved wrong if they do nothing." Doc finished packing his bag and got +ready to go out. "Jake, either I'm a doctor or I'm not. I can't worry +when a woman may be dying." + +For a second, Jake's expression was stubborn. Then the little crow's +feet around his eyes deepened and the dry chuckle was back in his voice. +"Right, Dr. Feldman." He flipped up his thumb and went off at a +shuffling run toward the tractor. Lou and the man from Einstein followed +Doc into the machine. + +It was a silent ride, except for Doc's questions about the sick woman. +Her husband, George Lynn, was evasive and probably ignorant. He admitted +that Harriet had been to the dispensary and small infirmary that +Southport called a hospital. + +It was the only place in the entire Southern hemisphere where an +operation could be performed legally. Most cases had to go to +Northport, but Chris had been trying to expand. Apparently, she was +determined to make Southport into another major center before she was +called back to Earth. + +Doc wondered why the villagers went there. They had no medical insurance +with the Lobby; they couldn't afford it. Most villagers didn't have the +cash, either. They were forced to mortgage their future work and that of +their families to the drug plants that were run by the Lobby. + +"And they just turned your wife away?" Doc asked. He couldn't quite +believe that of Chris. + +"Well, I dunno. She wouldn't talk much. Twice she went and they gave her +something. Cost every cent I could borrow. Then this last time, they +kept her a couple days before they let me come and get her. But now +she's a lot worse." + +Jake spun about, suddenly tense. "How'd you pay them last time, George?" + +"Why, they didn't ask. I told her she could put up six months from me +and the kids, but nobody said nothing about it. Just gave her back to +me." He frowned slowly, his dull voice uncertain. "They told me they'd +done all they could, not to bring her back. That's why she was so strong +on getting Doc." + +"I don't like it," Jake said flatly. "It stinks. They always charge. +George, did they suggest she get in touch with Doc here?" + +"Maybe they did, maybe not. Harriet did all the talking with them. I +just do what she tells me, and she said to get Doc." + +Jake swore. "It smells like a trap. Are you sure she's sick, George?" + +"I felt her head and she sure had a fever." George Lynn was torn +between his loyalties. "You know me, Doc. You fixed me up that time I +had the red pip. I wouldn't pull nothing on you." + +Doc had a feeling that Jake was probably right, but he vetoed the +suggestion that they stop to look for spies. He had no time for that. If +the woman was really sick, he had to get to her at once, and even that +might be too late. + +He remembered the woman, sickly from other treatment. He'd been forced +to remove her inflamed tonsils a few months before. She'd whined and +complained because he couldn't spend all his time attending her. She was +a nag, a shrew, and a totally selfish woman. But that was her husband's +worry, not his. + +He dashed into the little house when they reached Einstein, and his +first glance confirmed what George Lynn had said. The woman was sick, +all right. She was running a high fever. Much too high. + +She began whining and protesting at his having taken so long, but the +pain soon forced her to stop. + +"There may still be a chance," Doc told her husband brusquely. He threw +the cleanest sheet onto a table and shoved it under the single light. +"Keep out of the way--in the other room, if you can all pile in there. +This isn't exactly aseptic, anyhow. You can boil a lot of water, if you +want to help." + +It would give them something to do and he could use the water to clean +up. There was no time to wait for it, however. He had to sterilize with +alcohol and carbolic acid, and hope. He bent over the woman, ripping her +thin gown across to make room for the operation. + +Then he swore. + +Across her abdomen was the unhealed wound of a previous operation. +They'd worked on her at Southport. They must have removed the appendix +and then been shocked by the signs of infection. They weren't supposed +to release a sick patient, but there was an easy out for them; they +could remove her from the danger of spreading an unknown infection. Some +doctors must have doped her up on sedatives and painkillers and sent her +home, knowing that she would call him. For that matter, they might have +noticed her unrecorded tonsillectomy and considered her fair bait. + +He grabbed the ether and slapped a cone over her nose. She tried to +protest; she never cooperated in anything. But the fumes of the ether he +dipped onto the packing of the cone soon overcame that. + +It was peritonitis, of course. The only thing to do was to go in and +scrape and clean as best he could. It was a rotten job to have to do, +and he should have had help. But he gritted his teeth and began. He +couldn't trust anyone else to hold the instruments, even. + +He cleaned the infection as best he could, knowing there was almost no +chance. He used all the penicillin he dared. Then he began sewing up the +incision. It was all he could do, except for dressing the wound with a +sterile bandage. He reached for one, and stopped. + +While he'd been working, the woman had died, far more quietly than she +had ever lived. + +It was probably the only gracious act of her life. But it was damning to +Doc. They couldn't hide her death, and any investigation would show that +someone had worked on her. To the Lobby, he would be the one who had +murdered her. + +Jake was waiting in the tractor. He took one look at Doc's face and made +no inquiries. + +They were more than a mile away when Jake pointed back. Small in the +distance, but distinct against the sands, a gray Medical Corps tractor +was coming. Either they'd had a spy in the village or they'd guessed the +rate of her infection very closely. They must have hoped to catch Doc in +the act, and they'd barely missed. + +It wouldn't matter. Their pictures and what testimony they could force +from the village should be enough to hang Doc. + + + + +VI + +Research + + +There had been a council the night following the death of Harriet Lynn. +Somehow the word had spread through the villages and the chiefs had +assembled in Jake's village. But they had brought no solution, and in +the long run had been forced to accept Doc's decision. + +"I'm not going to retire and hide," he'd told them, surprised at his own +decision, but grimly determined. "You need me and I need you. I'll move +every day in hopes the Lobby police won't find me, but I won't quit." + +Now he was packing the things he most needed and getting ready to move. +The small bottles in which he was trying to grow his cultures would need +warmth. He shoved them into an inner pocket, and began surveying what +must be left. + +He was heading for his tractor when another battered machine drove up. +It had a girl of about fourteen, with tears streaming down her face. She +held out a pleading hand, and her voice was scared. "It's--it's mama!" + +"Where?" + +"Leibnitz." + +Leibnitz was near enough. Doc started his tractor, motioning for the +girl to lead the way. The little dwelling she led him to was at the edge +of the village, looking more poverty-stricken than most. + +Chris Ryan, and three of the Medical Lobby police were inside, waiting. +The girl's mother was tied to the bed, with a collection of medical +instruments laid out, but apparently the threat had been enough. No +actual injury had been inflicted. Probably none had been intended +seriously. + +"I knew you'd answer that kind of call," Chris said coldly. + +He grinned sickly. They'd wasted no time. "I hear it's more than you'll +do, Chris. Congratulations! My patient died. You're lucky." + +"She was certainly dead when my men took her picture. The print shows +the death grimace clearly." + +"Pretty. Frame it and keep it to comfort you when you feel lonely," he +snapped. + +She struck him across the mouth with the handle of her gun. Then she +twisted out through the door quickly, heading for the tractor that had +been camouflaged to look like those used by the villagers. The three +police led him behind her. + +A shout went up, and people began to rush onto the village street. But +they were too late. By the time they reached Southport, Doc could see a +trail of battered tractors behind, but there was nothing more the people +could do. Chris had her evidence and her prisoner. + + * * * * * + +Judge Ben Wilson might have been Jake's brother. He was older and +grayer, but the same expression lay on his face. He must have been the +family black sheep, since his father had been president of Space Lobby. +Instead of inheriting the position, Wilson had remained on Mars, safely +out of the family's way. + +He dropped the paper he was reading to frown at Chris. "This the +fellow?" + +She began formal charges, but he cut them off. "Your lawyer already had +all that drawn up. I've been expecting you, Doctor. Doctor! Hnnf! You'd +do a lot better home somewhere raising a flock of babies. Well, young +fellow--so you're Feldman. Okay, your trial comes up day after tomorrow. +Be a shame to lock you in Southport jail, a man of your importance. +We'll just keep you here in the pending-trial room. It's a lot more +comfortable." + +Chris had been boiling slowly, and now she seemed to blow her safety +valve. "Judge Wilson, your methods are your own business in local +affairs. But this involves Earth Medical Lobby. I demand--" + +"Tch, _tch_!" The judge stared at her reprovingly. "Young woman, you +don't demand anything. This is Mars. If Space Lobby can stand me, I +guess our friends over at Medical will have to. Or should I hold trial +right now and find Feldman innocent for lack of evidence?" + +"You wouldn't!" Chris cried. Then her face sobered suddenly. "I +apologize. Medical is pleased to leave things in your hands, of course." + +Wilson smiled. "Court's closed for today. Doc, I'll show you your cell. +It's right next to my study, so I'm heading there anyhow." + +He began shucking his robe while Chris went out with the police, her +voice sharp and continual. + +The cell was both reasonably escape-proof and comfortable, Doc saw, and +he tried to thank the judge. + +But the old man waved it aside. "Forget it. I just like to see that +little termagant taken down. But don't count on my being soft. My +methods may be a bit unusual--I always did like the courtroom scenes in +the old books by that fellow Smith--but Space Lobby never had any +reason to reverse my decisions. Anything you need?" + +"Sure," Doc told him, grinning in spite of his bitterness. "A good +biology lab and an electron microscope." + +"Umm. How about a good optical mike and some stains? Just got them in on +the last shipment. Figure they were meant for you anyhow, since Jake +Mullens asked me to order them." + +He went out and came back with the box almost at once. He snorted at +Doc's incredulous thanks and moved off, his bedroom slippers slapping +against the hard floor. + +Doc stared after him. If he were a friend of Jake, willing to invent +some excuse to get a microscope here ... but it didn't matter. Friend or +foe, his death sentence would be equally fatal. And there were other +things to be thought of now. The little microscope was an excellent one, +though only a monocular. + +Doc's hands trembled as he drew his cultures out and began making up a +slide. The sun offered the best source of light near the window, and he +adjusted the instrument. Something began to come into view, but too +faintly to be really visible. + +He remembered the stains, trying to recall his biology courses. More by +luck than skill, his fourth try gave him results. + +Under two thousand powers, he could just see details. There were dozens +of cells in his impure culture, but only one seemed unfamiliar. It was a +long, worm-like thing, sharpened at both ends, with the three separate +nuclei that were typical of Martian life forms. Nearby were a host of +little rodlike squiggles just too small to see clearly. + +Martian life! No Martian bug had ever proved harmful to men. Yet this +was no mutated cell or virus from Earth; it was a new disease, +completely different from all others. It was one where all Earth's +centuries of experience with bacteria would be valueless--the first +Martian disease. Unless this was simply some accidental contamination of +his culture, not common to the other samples. He worked on until the +light was too faint before putting the microscope aside. + +By the time the trial commenced, however, he was sure of the cause of +the disease. It _was_ Martian. Crude as his cultures were, they had +proved that. + +The little courtroom was filled, mostly from the villages. Lou was +there, along with others he had come to know. Then the sight of Jake +caught Doc's eyes. The darned fool had no business there; he could get +too closely mixed into the whole mess. + +"Court's in session," Wilson announced. "Doc, you represented by +counsel?" + +Jake's voice answered. "Your Honor, I represent the defendant. I think +you'll find my credentials in order." + +Chris started to protest, but Wilson grinned. "Never lost your standing +in spite of that little fracas thirty years ago, so far as I know. But +the police thought you were a witness when you came walking in. Figured +you were giving up." + +"I never said so," Jake answered. + +Chris was squirming angrily, but the florid man acting as counsel for +Medical Lobby shook his head, bending over to whisper in her ear. He +straightened. "No objection to counsel for the defense. We recognize his +credentials." + +"You're a fool, Matthews," the judge told him. "Jake was smarter than +half the rest of Legal Lobby before he went native. Still can tie your +tail to a can. Okay, let's start things. I'm too old to dawdle." + +Doc lost track of most of what happened. This was totally unlike +anything on Earth, though it might have been in keeping with the general +casualness of the villages. Maybe the ritualistic routine of the Lobbies +was driving those who could resist to the opposite extreme. + +Chris was the final witness. Matthews drew comment of Feldman's former +crime from her, and Jake made no protest, though Wilson seemed to expect +one. Then she began sewing his shroud. There wasn't a fact that managed +to emerge without slanting, though technically correct. Jake sat +quietly, smiling faintly, and making no protests. + +He got up lazily to cross-examine Chris. "Dr. Ryan, when Daniel Feldman +was examined by the Captain of the _Navaho_ after arriving at Mars +station, did you identify him then as having been Dr. Daniel Feldman?" + +She glanced at Matthews, who seemed puzzled but unconcerned. "That's +correct," she admitted. "But--" + +"And you later saw him delivered to the surface of Mars. Is that also +correct?" When she assented, Jake hesitated. Then he frowned. "What did +you do then? Did you report him or send anyone to look after him or +anything like that?" + +"Certainly not," she answered. "He was no--" + +"You did absolutely nothing about him after you identified him and saw +him delivered here? You're quite sure of that?" + +"I did nothing." + +Jake stood quietly for a moment, then shrugged. "No more questions." + +Matthews finished things in a plea for the salvation of all humanity +from the danger of such men as Daniel Feldman. He was looking smug, as +was Chris. + +Wilson turned to Jake. "Has the defense anything to say?" + +"A few things, Your Honor." Jake stood up, suddenly looking certain and +pleased. "We are happy to admit everything factual the Lobby had +testified. Daniel Feldman performed a surgical operation on Harriet Lynn +in the village of Einstein. But when has it been illegal for a member of +the Medical profession to perform an operation, even with small chance +of success, within an accepted area for such operation? There has been +no evidence adduced that any crime or act of even unethical conduct was +committed." + +That brought Chris and Matthews to their feet. Wilson was relaxed again, +looking as if he'd swallowed a whole cage of canaries. He banged his +gavel down. + +Jake picked up two ragged and dog-eared volumes from his table. "Case of +Harding vs. Southport, 2043, establishes that a Lobby is responsible for +any member on Mars. It is also responsible for informing the authorities +of any criminal conduct on the part of its members or any former member +known to it. Failure to report shall be considered an admission that the +Lobby recognizes the member as one in good standing and accepts +responsibility for that member's conduct. + +"At the time Daniel Feldman arrived, Dr. Christina Ryan was the highest +appointed representative of Medical Lobby in Southport, with full +authority. She identified Feldman as having been a doctor, without +stipulating any change in status. She made no further report to any +authority concerning Daniel Feldman's presence here. It seems obvious +that Medical Lobby at Southport thereby accepted Daniel Feldman as a +doctor in good standing for whose conduct the Lobby accepted full +responsibility." + +Wilson studied the book Jake held out, and nodded. "Seems pretty +clear-cut to me," he agreed, passing the book on to Matthews. "There's +still the charge that Dr. Feldman operated outside a hospital." + +"No reason he shouldn't," Jake said. He handed over the other volume. +"This is the charter for Medical Lobby on Mars. Medical Lobby agrees to +perform all necessary surgical and medical services for the planet, +though at the signing of this charter there was no hospital on Mars. +Necessarily, Medical Lobby agreed to perform surgery outside of any +hospital, then. But to make it plainer, there's a later paragraph--page +181--that defines each hospital zone as extending not less than three +nor more than one hundred miles. Einstein is about one hundred and ten +miles from the nearest hospital at Southport, so Einstein comes under +the original charter provisions. Dr. Feldman was forced by charter +provisions to protect the good name of his Lobby by undertaking any +necessary surgery in Einstein." + +He waited until Matthews had scanned that book, then took it back and +began packing a big bag. Doc saw that his possessions and the microscope +were already in the bag. The old man paid no attention to the arguments +of Matthews before the bench. + +Abruptly Wilson pounded his gavel. "This court finds that Dr. Daniel +Feldman is qualified to practice all the arts and skills of the medical +profession on Mars and that he acted ethically in the performance of his +duties in the case of the deceased Harriet Lynn," he ruled. "The costs +of the case shall be billed to Medical Lobby of Southport." + +He took off his robe and moved rapidly toward his private quarters. +Court was closed. + +Doc got up shakily, not daring to believe fully what he had heard. He +started toward Jake, trying to avoid bumping into Chris. But she would +not be avoided. She stood in front of him, screaming accusations and +threats that reminded him of the only fight they'd ever had during their +brief marriage. + +When she ran down, he finally met her eyes. "You're a helluva doctor," +he told her harshly. "You spend all your time fighting me when there's a +plague out there that may be worse than any disease we've ever known. +Take a look at what lies under the black specks on your corpses. You'll +find the first Martian disease. And maybe if you begin working on that +now, you can learn to be a real doctor in time to do something about it. +But I doubt it." + +She fell back from him then. "Research! You've been doing unauthorized +research!" + +"Prove it," he suggested. "But you'd be a lot smarter to try some +yourself, and to hell with your precious rules." + +He followed Jake out to the tractor. + +Surprisingly, the old man was sweating now. He shook his head at Doc's +look, and his grin was uncertain. + +"Matthews is an incompetent," he said. "They could have had you, Doc. +That charter is so sloppy a man can prove anything by it, and building a +hospital here did bring in Earth rules. Wilson went out on a limb in +letting you go. But I guess we got away with it. Let's get out of here." + +Doc climbed into the tractor more soberly. They had escaped this time. +But there would be another time, and he was pretty sure that would be +Chris' round. He had no intention of giving up his research. + + + + +VII + +Plague + + +Dr. Feldman leaned back from his microscope and lighted another bracky +weed. He glanced about the room and sighed wearily. Maybe he'd been +better off when he had no friends and couldn't risk the safety of others +in an effort to do research that was the highest crime on two worlds. + +The evidence of his work was hidden thirty feet beyond his former +laboratory in Jake's village, with a tunnel that led from another +root-cellar. The theory was the old one that the best place to avoid +discovery was where you had already been discovered. If their spies had +identified his former hangout, they'd never expect to have him set up +research nearby. It was a nice theory, but he wasn't sure of it. + +Jake looked up from a cot where he'd been watching the improvised +culture incubator. "Stop tearing yourself to bits, Doc. We know the +danger and we're still darned glad to have you here working on this." + +"I'm trying to put myself together into a whole man," Doc told him. "But +I seem to come out wholly a fool." + +"Yeah, sure. Sometimes it takes a fool to get things done; wise men wait +too long for the right time. How's the bug hunt?" + +Doc grunted in disgust and swung back to the microscope. Then he gave up +as his tired eyes refused to focus. "Why don't you people revolt?" + +"They tried it twice. But they were just a bunch of pariahs shipped here +to live in peonage. They couldn't do much. The first time Earth cut off +shipments and starved them. Next time the villages had the answer to +that but the cities had to fight for Earth or starve, so they whipped +us. And there's always the threat that Earth could send over unmanned +war rockets loaded with fissionables." + +"So it's hopeless?" + +"So nothing! The Lobbies are poisoning themselves, like cutting off +Medical service until they cut themselves out of a job. It's just a +matter of time. Go back to the bugs, Doc." + +Doc sighed and reached for his notes. "I wish I knew more Martian +history. I've been wondering whether this bug may not have been what +killed off the old Martians. Something had to do it, the way they +disappeared. I wish I knew enough to make an investigation of those +ruins out there." + +"Durwood!" Jake had propped himself on an elbow, staring at Doc in +surprise. + +Doc scowled. "Clive Durwood, you mean? The archeologist who dug up what +little we know about the ruins?" + +"Yeah, before he went back to Earth and started living off his lectures. +He came here again three years ago and dropped dead in Edison on the way +to some other ruins. Heart failure, they called it, though it was more +like the two old farmers who ran themselves to death last month. I saw +him when they buried him. His face looked funny, and I think he had +those little specks, though I may remember wrong." He grimaced. "Mars is +tough, Doc; it has to be. Some of the plant seeds Durwood found in the +ruins grew! Maybe your bugs waited a million years till we came along." + +"What about the farmers? Did they meet Durwood?" + +Jake nodded. "Must have. He lived in their village most of the time." + +Doc went through his notes. He'd asked for reports on all deaths, and he +finally found the account. The two old men had been nervous and fidgety +for weeks. They were twins, living by themselves, and nobody paid much +attention. Then one morning both were seen running wildly in circles. +The village managed to tie them up, but they died of exhaustion shortly +after. + +It wasn't a pretty picture. The disease might have an incubation period +of nearly fifteen years, judging by the length of time it had taken to +hit Durwood. It must spread from person to person during an early +contagious stage, leaving widening circles behind Durwood and those +first infected. When matured, any other sickness would set it off, with +few symptoms of its own. But without help, it still killed its victims, +apparently driving them madly toward frenzied physical effort. + +He studied the culture on a slide again. He'd tried Koch's method to get +a pure strain, splattering the bugs onto a native starchy root and +plucking off individual colonies. About twenty specimens had been +treated with every chemical he could find. So far he'd found a few +things that seemed to stop their growth, but nothing that killed them, +except stuff far too harsh to use in living tissue. + +He had nearly forty cases of deaths that showed symptoms now, and he +went back over them, looking for anything in common that went back ten +to twenty years before death. There were no rashes nor blisters. A few +had had apparent colds, but such were too common to mean anything. + +Only one thing appeared, about fourteen years before their deaths. The +people interviewed about the victims might be vague about most things, +but they remembered the time when "Jim had the jumping headache." + +"Jake," Doc called, "what's jumping headache? Most people seem to have +it some time or other, but I haven't run across a case of it." + +"Sure you have, Doc. Mamie Brander's little girl a few weeks ago. Feels +like your pulse is going to rip your skull off, right here. Can't eat +because chewing drives you crazy. Back of your head, neck and shoulders +swell up for about a week. Then it goes away." + +Then it goes away--for fourteen years, until it comes back to kill! + +Doc stared at his charts in sudden horror. It was a new disease--thought +to be some virus, but not considered dangerous. Selznik's migraine, +according to medical usage; you treated it with hot pads and anodyne, +and it went away easily enough. + +He'd seen hundreds of such cases on Earth. There must be millions who +had been hit by it. The patent-medicine branch of the Lobby had even +brought out something called Nograine to use for self-treatment. + +"Something important?" Jake wanted to know. + +Feldman nodded. "How much weight do you swing in other villages, Jake?" + +"People sort of do me favors when I ask," Jake admitted. "Like swiping +those medical journals from Northport for you, or like Molly Badger +getting that job as maid to spy on Chris Ryan. Name it and I'll do my +best." + +Doc had a vague idea of village politics, but he had more important +things to think of. Most of his foul mood had disappeared with the clue +he'd stumbled on, and his chief worry now was to clinch the facts. + +Feldman considered the problem. "I want a report on every case of +jumping headache in every village--who had it, when, and how old they +were. This place first, but every village you can reach. And I'll want +someone to take a letter to Chris Ryan." + +Jake frowned at that, but went out to issue instructions. Doc sat down +at a battered old typewriter. Writing Chris might do no good, but some +warning had to be gotten through to Earth, where the vast resources of +Medical Lobby could be thrown into the task of finding the cause and +cure of the disease. The connection with Selznik's migraine had to be +reported. If something could blast the Lobby into action, it wouldn't +matter quite so much what they did to him. He wasn't foolish enough to +expect gratitude from them, but he was getting used to the idea that his +days were numbered. The plague was more important than what happened to +him. + +The letter had been dispatched by the time Jake returned. "Here's the +dope for this village. Everybody accounted for except you." + +"Never had it, Jake." Feldman went down the list. "Most of it fourteen +years ago. That fits. About the only exceptions are the kids who seem to +get it between the ages of two and three. Eighty-seven out of +ninety-one!" + +He stared at the figures sickly. Most of the village not only had the +plague but must be near the end of the incubation period. It looked as +if most of the village would be dead before another year passed. + +"Bad?" Jake asked. + +"The first symptom of Martian fever." + +The old man whistled, the lines around his eyes tightening. "Must be +me," he decided. "I'm the guy who must have brought it here, then. I +used to spend a lot of time with Durwood at his diggings!" + +There was a constant commotion all that day and the next as runners went +out to the villages and came back with reports. The variation from +village to village was only slight. Most of Mars seemed to have advanced +cases of Martian fever. + +Without animals for investigation and study, real research was +difficult. Doc also needed an electron microscope. He was reasonably +sure that the disease must travel through the nerves, but he had found +no proof beyond the hard lump at the base of the neck. There it was a +fair-sized organism. Elsewhere he could find nothing, until the black +specks developed. + +His eyes ached from trying to see more than was visible in the +microscope. The tantalizing suggestions of filaments around the nuclei +might be the form of plague that was contagious. They might even be the +true form of the bug, with the bigger cell only a transition stage. +There were a number of diseases that involved complicated changes in the +organisms that caused them. But he couldn't be sure. + +He finally buried his head in his hands, trying to do by pure thought +what he couldn't do in any other way. And even there, he lacked +training. He was a doctor, not a xenobiologist. Research training had +been taboo in school, except for a favored few. + +The reports continued to come in, confirming the danger. They seemed to +have the worst plague on their hands in all human history; and nobody +who could do anything about it even knew of it. + +"Molly reports that your letter got some results," Jake reported. "Chris +Ryan brought home one of the electron microscopes and a bunch of +equipment from the hospital pathology room. Think she'll get anywhere?" + +Doc doubted it. Damn it, he hadn't meant for her to try it, though she +might have authority for routine experiments. But it was like her to +refuse to pass on the word without trying to prove her own suspicion of +him first. + +He tried to comfort himself with the fact that some men were immune, or +seemed so; about three out of a hundred showed no signs. If that +immunity was hereditary, it might save the race. If not.... + +Jake came in at twilight with a grim face. "More news from Molly. The +Lobby is starting out to comb every village with a fault-finder, +starting here. And this hole will show up like a sore thumb. Better +start packing. We gotta be out of here in less than an hour!" + + + + +VIII + +Fool + + +Three days later, Doc saw his first runner. + +The tractor was churning through the sand just before sundown, heading +toward another one-night stand at a new village. Lou was driving, while +Doc and Jake brooded silently in the back, paying no attention to the +colors that were blazoned over the dunes. The cat-and-mouse game was +getting to Doc. There was no real assurance that the village they were +approaching might not be the target the Lobby had chosen for the next +investigation. + +Lou braked the tractor to a sudden halt, and pointed. + +A figure was running frantically over one of the low dunes with the +little red sun behind him. He seemed headed toward them, but as he drew +nearer they could see that he had no definite direction. He simply ran, +pumping his legs frantically as if all the devils of hell were after +him. His body swayed from side to side in exhaustion, but his arms and +legs pumped on. + +"Stop him!" Jake ordered, and Lou swung the tractor. It halted squarely +in the runner's path, and the figure struck against it and toppled. + +The legs went on pumping, digging into the dirt and gravel, but the man +was too far gone to rise. Jake and Lou shoved him through the doors into +the tractor and Doc yanked off his aspirator. + +The man was giving vent to a kind of ululating cry, weakened now almost +to a whine that rose and fell with the motion of his legs. Sweat had +once streaked his haggard face, but it was dry and blanched to a pasty +gray. + +Doc injected enough narcotic to quiet a maddened bull. It had no effect, +except to upset the rhythm of the arms and legs. It took five more +minutes for the man to die. + +The specks were larger this time--the size of periods in twelve-point +type. The lump at the base of the skull was as big as a small hen's egg. + +"From Edison, like the others so far. Jack Kooley," Jake answered Doc's +question. "Durwood spent a lot of time here on his first expedition, so +it's getting the worst of it." + +Doc pulled the aspirator mask back over the man's face and they carried +him out and laid him on a low dune. They couldn't risk returning the +corpse to its people. + +This was only the primary circle of infection, direct from Durwood. The +second circle could be ten times as large, as the infection spread from +one to a few to many. So far it was localized. But it wouldn't stay that +way. + +Doc climbed slowly out of the tractor, lugging his small supplies of +equipment, while Jake made arrangements for them to spend the night in a +deserted house. But the figure of the runner and his own failures to +find more about the disease kept haunting Doc. He began setting up his +equipment grimly. + +"Better get some sleep," Jake suggested. "You're a mite more tired than +you think. Anyhow, I thought you told me you couldn't do any more with +what you've got." + +Feldman looked at the supplies he had spread out, and shook his head +wearily. He'd been over every chemical and combination a dozen times, +without results that showed in the limited magnification of the optical +mike. + +He snapped the case shut and hit the rude table with the heel of his +hand. "There are other supplies. Jake, do you have any signal to get in +touch with Molly at the Ryan house?" + +"Three raps on the rear left window. I'll get Lou." + +"No!" Doc came to his feet, reaching for his jacket. "They're looking +for three men now. It's safer if I go alone--and I'm the only one who +knows what supplies are needed. With luck, I may even get the electron +mike. Got a gun I can borrow?" + +Jake found one somewhere, an old revolver with a few loads. He began +protesting, but Doc overruled him sharply. Three men could no more fight +off the police than one, if they were spotted. He swung toward the +tractor. + +"You'd better start spreading the word on everything we know. If people +realize they're already safe or doomed it'll be better than having them +going crazy to avoid contagion." + +"Most of the villages know already," Jake told him. "And damn it, get +back here, Doc. If you can't make it, turn tail quick, and we'll think +of something else." + +Southport seemed normal enough as Doc drove through its streets. The +stereo house was open, and the little shops were brightly lighted. He +stopped once to pull a copy of Southport's little newspaper from a +dispenser. All was quiet on its front page, too. + +As usual, though, the facts were buried inside. The editorial was +pouring too much oil on the waters in its lauding of the role of +Medical Lobby on Mars for no apparent reason. The death notices no +longer listed the cause of death. Medical knew something was up, at +least, and was worried. + +He parked the tractor behind Chris' house and slipped to the proper +window. Everything was seemingly quiet there. At his knock, the shade +was drawn back, and he caught a brief glimpse of Molly looking out. A +moment later she opened the rear lock to let him into the kitchen. + +"Shh. She's still up, I think. What can I do, Doc?" + +He tried to smile at her. "Hide me until it's safe to get into her +laboratory. I've got to--" + +The inner kitchen was kicked open and Chris stood beyond it, holding a +cocked gun in her hand. + +"It took longer than I expected, Dan," she said quietly. "But after your +letter, I knew you'd swallow the bait. You bloody fool! Did you really +believe I'd start doing research here just because of your imaginings?" + +He slumped slowly back against the sink. "So this is a fool's errand, +then? There never was any equipment here?" + +"The equipment's here--in my office. I guessed your spies would report +it, so it had to be here. But it won't help you now, pariah Feldman!" + +He came from his braced position against the sink like a spring +uncoiling. He expected her to shoot, but hoped the surprise would ruin +her aim. Then it was too late, and his boot hit the gun savagely, +knocking it from her hand. Life in the villages had hardened him +surprisingly. She was comparatively helpless in his hands. A few minutes +later, he had her bound securely with surgical tape Molly brought him. +She raged furiously in the chair where he'd dumped her, then gave up. + +"They'll get you, Daniel Feldman!" Surprisingly, there was no rage in +her voice now. "You won't get away from us. The planet isn't big +enough." + +"I got away from your trial," he reminded her. "And I got away and lived +when you left me without a chance on the ground of the spaceport." + +She laughed harshly. "_You_ got away then? You fool, who do you think +gave you the extra battery so you could live long enough to be helped at +the spaceport? Who hired a fool like Matthews so you wouldn't get the +death sentence you deserved? Who let you get away as an herb doctor for +months before you set yourself up as God and a traitor to mankind +again?" + +It shook him, as it was probably intended to do. How had she known about +the extra battery? He'd always assumed that Ben had returned to give it +to him. But in that case, Chris couldn't know of it. Then he hardened +himself again. In the old days, she'd always had one trump card he +couldn't beat and hadn't expected. But too much was involved for games +now. + +"Any police around, Molly?" he asked. + +Molly came back a minute later to report that everything looked clear +and to show him where the equipment had been set up in Chris' office. It +was all there, including the electron mike--a beautiful little portable +model. There was even a small incubator with its own heat source into +which he immediately transferred the little bottles he'd been keeping +warm against his skin. Most of the equipment had never been unpacked, +which made loading it onto his tractor ridiculously easy. + +"Better come with me now, Molly," he suggested at last. Then he turned +to Chris, who was watching him with almost no expression. "You can +wriggle your chair to the phone in half an hour, I guess. Knock the +phone off and yell for help. It's better than you deserve, unless you +really did leave me that battery." + +"You won't get away with it," she told him again, calmly this time. + +"No," he admitted. "Probably not. But maybe the human race will, if I +have time to find an answer to the plague you won't see under your nose. +But you won't get away with it, either. In the long run, your kind never +do." + +Molly was sniffling as they drove away. It had probably been the best +life she'd known, Doc supposed. Chris could be kind to menials. But now +Molly's work was done, and she'd have to disappear into the villages. He +let her off at the first village and drove on alone. He was itching to +get to the microscope now, hardly able to wait through the long journey +back to Jake. His impatience grew with each mile. + +Finally he gave up. He swung the tractor into a small gulley between +sand dunes, left the motor idling and pulled down the shades the +villagers used for blackout traveling. There was power enough for the +mike here, and the cab was big enough for what he had to do. + +He mounted the mike on the tractor seat and began laying out the +collection of smears and cultures he had brought. It had been years +since he'd made a film for the electron mike, but he found it all came +back to him as he worked. + +His hands were sweating with tension as he inserted the first film into +the chamber. He had the magnetic "lenses" set for twenty thousand power, +but a quick glance showed it was too weak. He raised the power to fifty +thousand. + +The filaments were there, clear and distinct. + +He turned on the little tape recorder that had been part of Chris' +equipment and set the microphone where he could dictate into it without +stopping to make clumsy notes. He readjusted the focus carefully, +carrying on a running commentary. + +Then he gasped. Each of the little filaments carried three tiny darker +sections; each was a cell, complete in itself, with the typical Martian +triple nucleus. + +He put a film with a tiny section of the nerve tissue from a corpse into +the chamber next, and again a quick glance at the screen was enough. The +filaments were there, thickly crowded among nerve cells. They _did_ +travel along the nerves to reach the base of the brain before the larger +lump could form. + +A specimen from one of the black specks was even more interesting. The +filaments were there, but some were changed or changing into tiny, round +cells, also with the triple dark spots of nuclei. Those must be the +final form that was released to infect others. Probably at first these +multiplied directly in epithelial tissue, so that there was a rapid +contagion of infection. Eventually, they must form the filaments that +invaded the nerves and caused the brief bodily reaction that was +Selznik's migraine. Then the body adapted to them and they began to +incubate slowly, developing into the large cells he had first seen. When +"ripe", the big cells broke apart into millions of the tiny round ones +that went back to the nerve endings, causing the black spots and killing +the host. + +He knew his enemy now, at least. + +He reached for the controls, increasing the magnification. He would lose +resolution, but he might find something more at the extreme limits of +the mike. + +Something wet and cold gushed into his face. He jerked back, trying to +wipe it off, but it was already evaporating, and there was a thick, +acrid odor in the cab. He grabbed for his aspirator, then tried to reach +the airlock. But paralysis was already spreading through him, and he +toppled to the floor before he could escape. + +When he came to, it was morning outside, and Chris was waiting inside +the cab with two big Lobby policemen. A hypo in her hand must have been +what revived him. + +She touched the electron microscope with something like affection. "The +Lobby technicians did a good job on this, don't you think, Dan? I warned +you, but you wouldn't listen. And now we've even got your own taped +words to prove you were doing forbidden research. Fool!" + +She shook her head pityingly as the tractor began moving with two others +toward Southport. + +"You and your phony diseases. A little skin disorder, Selznik's +migraine, and a few cases of psychosis to make a new disease. Do you +think Medical Lobby can't check on such simple things? Or didn't you +expect us to hear of your open talk of revolt and realize you were +planning to create some new germ to wipe out the Earth forces. Maybe +those runners of yours were real, mass murderer!" + +She drew out another hypo and shoved the needle into his arm. +Necrosynth--enough to keep him unconscious for twenty-four hours. He +started to curse her, but the drug acted before he could complete the +thought. + + + + +IX + +Judgment + + +Doc woke to see sunlight shining through a heavily barred window that +must be in the official Southport jail. He waited a few minutes for his +head to clear and then sat up; necrosynth left no hangover, at least. + +The sound of steps outside was followed by the squeak of a key in the +lock. "Fifteen minutes, Judge Wilson," a voice said. + +"Thank you, officer." Wilson came into the cell, carrying a tray of +breakfast and a copy of the Northport _Gazette_. He began unloading +bracky weeds from his pocket while Doc attacked the breakfast. + +"They tossed the book at you, Doc," he said. "You haven't got a chance, +and there's nothing the villages can do. Trial's set for tomorrow at +Northport, and it's in closed session. We can't get you off this time." + +Doc nodded. "Thanks for coming, even if there's nothing you can do. I've +been living on borrowed time for a year, anyhow, so I have no right to +kick. But who's 'we'?" + +"The villages. I've been part of their organization for years." The old +man sighed heavily. "You might say a revolution has been going on since +I can remember, though most villagers don't know it. We've just been +waiting our time. Now we've stopped waiting and the rifles will be +coming out--rifles made in village shops. The villages are going to +rebel, even if we're all dead of plague in a month." + +Doc Feldman nodded and reached for the bracky. He knew that this was +their way of trying to make him feel his work hadn't been for nothing, +and he was grateful for Wilson's visit. "It was a good year for me. +Damned good. But time's running short. I'd better brief you on the +latest on the plague." + +Wilson began making notes until Doc was finished. Finally he got up as +steps sounded from the hall. "Anything else?" + +"Just a guess. A lot of Earth germs can't live in Mars-normal flesh; +maybe this can't live in Earth-normal. Tell them so long for me." + +"So long, Doc." He shook hands briefly and was waiting at the door when +the guard opened it. + +An hour later, the Lobby police took Feldman to the Northport shuttle +rocket. They had some trouble on the way; a runner cut down the street, +with the crowds frantically rushing out of his way. Terror was reaching +the cities already. + +Doc flashed a look at Chris. "Mob hysteria. Like flying saucers and +wriggly tops, I suppose?" he asked, before the guard could stop him. + +They locked his legs, but left his hands free in the rocket. He unfolded +the paper Wilson had brought and buried his face in it. Then he swore. +They _were_ explaining the runners as a case of mob hysteria! + +Northport was calmer. Apparently they had yet to have first-hand +experience with the plague. But now nothing seemed quite real to Doc, +even when they locked him into the big Northport jail. The whole ritual +of the Lobbies seemed like a fantasy after the villages. + +It snapped back into focus, however, when they led him into the trial +room of the Medical Lobby building. It was a smaller version of his +trial on Earth. Fear washed in by association. The complete lack of +humanity in the procedure was something from a half-remembered and +horrible past. + +The presiding officer asked the routine question: "Is the prisoner +represented by counsel?" + +Blane, the dapper little prosecutor, arose quickly. "The prisoner is a +pariah, Sir Magistrate." + +"Very well. The court will accept the protective function for the +prisoner. You may proceed." + +_I'll be judge, I'll be jury._ And prosecution and defense. It made for +a lot less trouble. Of course, if Space Lobby had asserted interest, it +would have gone to a supposedly neutral court. But as usual, Space was +happy to leave it in the hands of Medical. + +The tape was played as evidence. Doc frowned. The words were his, but +there had been a lot of editing that subtly changed the import of his +notes. + +"I protest," he challenged. "It's not an accurate version." + +The Lobby magistrate turned a wooden face to him. "Does the prisoner +have a different version to introduce?" + +"No, but--" + +"The evidence is accepted. One of the prisoner's six protests will be +charged against him." + +Blane smiled smoothly and held up a small package. "We wish to introduce +this drug as evidence that the prisoner is a confirmed addict, morally +irresponsible under addiction. This is a package of so-called bracky +weed, a vile and noxious substance found in his possession." + +"It has alkaloids no more harmful than nicotine," Feldman stated +sharply. + +"Do you contend that you find the taste pleasing?" Blane asked. + +"It's bitter, but I've gotten used to it." + +"I've tasted it," the magistrate said. "Evidence accepted. Two +deductions, one for irregularity of presentation." + +Doc shrugged and sat back. He'd tested his rights and found what he +expected. It was hard to see now how he had ever accepted such +procedure. Jake must be right; they'd been in power too long, and were +making the mistake of taking the velvet glove off the iron fist and +flailing about for the sheer pleasure of power. + +It dragged on, while he became a greater and greater monster on the +record. But finally it was over, and the magistrate turned to Feldman. +"You may present your defense." + +"I ask complete freedom of expression," Doc said formally. + +The magistrate nodded. "This is a closed court. Permission granted. The +recording will be scrambled." + +The last bit ruined most of the purpose Doc had in mind. But it was too +late to change. He could only hope that some one of the Medical men +present would remember something of what he said. + +"I have nothing to say for myself," he began. "It would be useless. But +I had to do what I did. There's a plague outside. I've studied that +plague, and I have knowledge which must be used against it...." + +He sat down in three minutes. It had been useless. + +Blane arose, with a smile still plastered on his face. "We, of course, +recognize the existence of a new contagion, but I believe we have +established that this is one disseminated by the prisoner himself, and +probably not directly contagious. There have been many cases of fanatics +ready to destroy humanity to eliminate those they hate. Now, surely, the +prisoner has himself left no question of his attitude. He asserts he has +knowledge and skill greater than the entire Medical Research staff. He +has attempted to intimidate us by threats. He is clearly psychopathic, +and dangerously so. The prosecution rests." + +The guards took Doc into the anteroom, where he was supposed to hear +nothing that went on. But their curiosity was stronger than their +discretion, and the door remained a trifle ajar. + +The magistrate began the discussion. "The case seems firm enough. It's +fortunate Dr. Ryan acted so quickly, with some of the people getting +nervous. Perhaps it might be wise to publicize our verdict." + +"My thought exactly," Blane agreed. "If we show Feldman is responsible +and that Medical is eliminating the source of the infection, it may have +a stabilizing effect." + +"Let's hope so. The sentence will have to be death, of course. We can't +let such a rebellious psychopath live. But this needs something more, it +seems. You've prepared a recommendation, I suppose." + +"There was the case of Albrecht Delier," Blane suggested. "Something +like that should have good publicity impact." + +It struck Doc that they sounded as if they believed themselves--as the +witch-burners had believed in witches. He was sweating when the guards +led him before the bench. + +The magistrate rolled a pen slowly across his fingers as his eyes raked +Feldman. "Pariah Daniel Feldman, you have been found guilty on all +counts. Furthermore, your guilt must be shared by that entire section of +Mars known as the villages. Therefore the entire section shall be banned +and forbidden any and all services of the Medical Lobby for a period of +one year." + +"Sir Magistrate!" One of the members of Southport Hospital staff was on +his feet. "Sir Magistrate, we can't cut them off completely." + +"We must, Dr. Harkness. I appreciate the fine humanitarian tradition of +our Lobby which lies behind your protest, but at such a time as this the +good of the body politic requires drastic measures. Why not see me after +court, and we can discuss it then?" + +He turned back to Feldman, and his face was severe. + +"The same education which has produced such fine young men as Dr. +Harkness was wasted on you and perverted to endanger the whole race. No +punishment can equal your crimes, but there is one previously invoked +for a particularly horrible case, and it seems fitting that you should +be the fourth so sentenced. + +"Daniel Feldman, you are sentenced to be taken in to space beyond +planetary limits, together with all material used by you in the +furtherance of your criminal acts. There you shall be placed into a +spacesuit containing sufficient oxygen for one hour of life, and no +more. You and your contaminated possessions shall then be released into +space, to drift there through all eternity as a warning to other men. + +"This sentence shall be executed at the earliest possible moment, and +Dr. Christina Ryan is hereby commissioned to observe such execution. And +may God have mercy on your soul!" + + + + +X + +Execution + + +The hours of waiting were blurred for Doc. There were periods when fear +clogged his throat and left him gasping with the need to scream and beat +his cell walls. There were also times when it didn't seem to matter, and +when his only thoughts were for the villages and the plague. + +They brought him the papers, where he was painted as a monster beside +whom Jack the Ripper and Albrecht Delier were gentle amateurs. They were +trying to focus all fear and resentment on him. Maybe it was working. +There were screaming crowds outside the jail, and the noise of their +hatred was strong enough to carry through even the atmosphere of Mars. +But there were also signs that the Lobby was worried, as if afraid that +some attempt might still be made to rescue him. + +He'd looked forward to the trip to the airport as a way of judging +public reaction. But apparently the Lobby had no desire to test that. +The guards led him up to the roof of the jail, where a rocket was +waiting. The landing space was too small for one of the station +shuttles, but a little Northport-Southport shuttle was parked there +after what must have been a difficult set-down. The guards tested Doc's +manacles and forced him into the shuttle. + +Inside, Chris was waiting, carrying an official automatic. There was +also a young pilot, looking nervous and unhappy. He was muttering under +his breath as the guards locked Doc's legs to a seat and left. + +"All right," Chris ordered. "Up ship!" + +"I tell you we're overweight with you. I wasn't counting on three for +the trip," the pilot protested. "The only thing that will get this into +orbit with the station is faith. I'm loaded with every drop of fuel +she'll hold and it still isn't enough." + +"That's your problem," Chris told him firmly. "You've got your orders, +and so have I. Up ship!" + +If she had her own worries about the shuttle, she didn't show it. Chris +had never been afraid to do what she felt she should. The pilot stared +at her doubtfully and finally turned back to his controls, still +muttering. + +The shuttle lifted sluggishly, but there was no great difficulty. Doc +could see that there was even some fuel remaining when they slipped into +the tube at the orbital station. Chris went out, and other guards came +in to free him. + +"So long, Dr. Feldman," the pilot called softly as they led him out. +Then the guards shoved him through the airlock into the station. Fifteen +minutes later he was locked into one of the cabins of the _Iroquois_, +with all his possessions stacked beside him. + +He grinned wryly. As an honest worker on the _Navaho_ he'd been treated +like an animal. Now, as a human fiend, he was installed in a luxury +cabin of the finest ship of the fleet, with constant spin to give a +feeling of weight and more room than the entire tube crew had known. + +He roamed the cabin until he found a little collapsible table. He set +the electron microscope up on that and plugged it in. It seemed a shame +that good equipment should be wasted along with his life. He wondered +if they would really throw it out into space with him. Probably they +would. + +He pushed a button on the call board over the table and asked for the +steward. There was a long wait, as if the procedure were being checked +with some authority, but finally he received a surly acknowledgement. +"Steward. Whatcha want?" + +"How's the chance of getting some food?" + +"You're on first-class." + +They could afford it, Doc decided. He wouldn't cost them much, +considering the distance he was going. "Bring me two complete +dinners--one Earth-normal and one Mars-normal." + +"Okay, Feldman. But if you think you can suicide that way, you're wrong. +You may be sick, but you'll be alive when they dump you." + +A sharp click interrupted him. "That's enough, Steward. Captain Everts +speaking. Dr. Feldman, you have my apologies. Until you reach your +destination, you are my passenger and entitled to every consideration of +any other passenger except freedom of movement through the ship. I am +always available for legitimate complaints." + +Feldman shook his head. He'd heard of such men. But he'd thought the +species extinct. + +The steward brought his food in a thoroughly chastened manner. He +managed to find space for it and came to attention. "Is that all--sir?" + +For a moment, as the smell of real steak reached him, Doc regretted the +fact that his metabolism had been switched. Then he shrugged. A little +wouldn't hurt him, though there was no proper nourishment in it. He +squeezed some of the gravy and bits of meat into one of his bottles, +sticking to his purpose; then he fell to on the rest. But after a few +bites, it was queerly unsatisfactory. The seemingly unappealing +Mars-normal ragout suited his current tastes better, after all. + +Once the steward had cleared away the dishes, Doc went to work. It was +better than wasting his time in dread. He might even be able to leave +some notes behind. + +A gong sounded, and a red light warned him that acceleration was due. He +finished with his bottles, put them into the incubator, and piled into +his bunk, swallowing one of the tablets of morphetal the ship furnished. + +Acceleration had ended, and a simple breakfast was waiting when he +awoke. There was also a red flashing light over the call board. He +flipped the switch while reaching for the coffee. + +"Captain Everts," the speaker said. "May I join you in your cabin?" + +"Come ahead," Feldman invited. He cut off the switch and glanced at the +clock on the wall. There were less than eleven hours left to him. + +Everts was a trim man of forty, erect but not rigid. There was neither +friendliness nor hostility in his glance. His words were courteous as +Doc motioned toward the tray of breakfast. "I've already eaten, thank +you." + +He accepted a chair. His voice was apologetic when he began. "This is a +personal matter which I perhaps have no right to bring up. But my wife +is greatly worried about this plague. I violate no confidence in telling +you there is considerable unease, even on Earth, according to messages I +have received. The ship physician believes Mrs. Everts may have the +plague, but isn't sure of the symptoms. I understand you are quite +expert." + +Doc wondered about the physician. Apparently there was another man who +placed his patients above anything else, though he was probably +meticulous about obeying all actual rules. There was no law against +listening to a pariah, at least. + +"When did she have Selznik's migraine?" he asked. + +"About thirteen years ago. We went through it together, shortly after +having our metabolism switched during the food shortage of '88." + +Doc felt carefully at the base of the Captain's skull; the swelling was +there. He asked a few questions, but there could be no doubt. + +"Both of you must have it, Captain, though it won't mature for another +year. I'm sorry." + +"There's no hope, then?" + +Doc studied the man. But Everts wasn't the sort to dicker even for his +life. "Nothing that I've found, Captain. I have a clue, but I'm still +working on it. Perhaps if I could leave a few notes for your +physician--" + +It was Everts' turn to shake his head. "I'm sorry, Dr. Feldman. I have +orders to burn out your cabin when you leave. But thank you." He got to +his feet and left as quietly and erectly as he had entered. + +Doc tore up his notes bitterly. He paced his cabin slowly, reading out +the hours while his eyes lingered on the little bottle of cultures. At +times the fear grew in him, but he mastered it. There was half an hour +left when he began opening the little bottles and making his films. + +He was still not finished when steps echoed down the hall, but he was +reasonably sure of his results. The bug could not grow in Earth-normal +tissue. + +Three men entered the room. One of them, dressed in a spacesuit, held +out another suit to him. The other two began gathering up everything in +the cabin and stowing it neatly into a sack designed to protect freight +for a limited time in a vacuum. + +Doc forced his hands to steadiness with foolish pride and began climbing +into the suit. He reached for the helmet, but the man shook his head, +pointing to the oxygen gauge. There would be exactly one hour's supply +of oxygen when he was thrown out and it still lacked five minutes of the +deadline. + +They marched him down the hallway, to meet Everts coming toward them. +There were still three minutes left when they reached the airlock, with +its inner door already open. The spacesuited man climbed into it and +began strapping down so that the rush of air would not sweep him outward +when the other seal was released. + +Doc had saved one bracky weed. Now he raised it to his lips, fumbling +for a light. + +Everts stepped forward and flipped a lighter. Doc inhaled deeply. Fear +was thick in every muscle, and he needed the smoke desperately. Then he +caught himself. + +"Better change your metabolism back to Earth-normal, Captain Everts," he +said, and his voice was so normal that he hardly recognized it. + +Everts' eyes widened briefly. The man bowed faintly. "Thank you, Dr. +Feldman." + +It was ridiculous, impossible, and yet there was a curious relief at the +formality of it. It was like something from a play, too unreal to affect +his life. + +Everts nodded to the man holding the helmet. Doc dropped his bracky weed +and felt the helmet snap down. A hiss of oxygen reached him and the suit +ballooned out. There was no gravity; the two men handed him up easily to +the one in the airlock while the inner seal began to close. + +There was still ten seconds to go, according to the big chronometer that +had been installed in the lock. The spaceman used it in tying the sack +of possessions firmly to Doc's suit. + +A red light went on. The man caught Doc and held him against the outer +seal. The red light blinked. Four seconds ... three ... two.... + +There was a sudden heavy thudding sound, and the _Iroquois_ seemed to +jerk sideways slightly. The spaceman's face swung around in surprise. + +The red light blinked and stayed on. Zero! + +The outer seal snapped open and the spaceman heaved. Air exploded +outwards, and Doc went with it. He was alone in space, gliding away from +the ship, with oxygen hissing softly through the valve and ticking away +his life. + + + + +XI + +Convert + + +Feldman fought for control of himself, forced himself to think, to hold +onto his sanity. It was sheer stupidity, since nothing could have been +more merciful than to lose this reality. But the will to be himself was +stronger than logic. And bit by bit, he forced the fear and horror away +from him until he could examine his situation. + +He was spinning slowly, so that stars ahead of him seemed to crawl +across his view. The ship was retreating from him already hundreds of +yards away. Mars was a shrunken pill far away. + +Then something blinked to one side. He turned his head to stare. + +A little ship was less than three hundred yards away. He recognized it +as a life raft. Now his spin brought him around to face it, and he saw +it was parallelling his course. The ejection of the life raft must have +caused the thump he'd heard before he was cast adrift. + +It meant someone was trying to save him. It meant _life_! + +He flailed his arms and beat his legs together, senselessly trying to +force himself closer, while trying to guess who could have taken the +chance. No one he could think of could have booked passage on the +_Iroquois_. There wasn't that much free money in the villages. + +Something flashed a hot blue, and the little ship leaped forward. +Whoever was handling it knew nothing about piloting. It picked up too +much speed at too great an angle. + +Again blue spurts came, but this time matters were even worse. Then +there was a long wait before a third try was made. He estimated the +course. It would miss him by a good hundred feet, but it was probably +the best the amateur pilot could do. The ship drifted closer, but to one +side. It would soon pass him completely. + +A spacesuited figure suddenly appeared in the tiny airlock, holding a +coil of rope. The rope shot out, well thrown. But it was too short. It +would pass within ten feet--and might as well have been ten miles for +all the good it would do him. + +Every film he had seen on space seemed to form a mad jumble in his mind, +but he seized on the first idea he could remember. He inhaled deeply and +yanked the oxygen tank free. An automatic seal on the suit cut off the +connection. He aimed the hissing bottle, fumbling for the manual valve. + +It almost worked. It kicked him toward the rope slightly, but most of +the energy was wasted in setting him into a wilder spin. He blinked, +trying to spot the rope. It was within five feet now. + +Again he waited, until he seemed to be in position. This time he threw +the bottle away from it. It added spin to his vertical axis, but the +rope came into view within arm's reach. + +He grasped it, just as his lungs seemed about to burst. He couldn't hold +on long enough to tie the rope.... + +His lungs gave up suddenly, collapsing and then sucking in greedily. +Clean air rushed in, letting his head clear. He'd forgotten that the +inflated suit held enough oxygen for several minutes. + +His body struck the edge of the airlock and a hand jerked him inside. +The outer seal was slammed shut and locked, and there was a hiss of air +entering. + +He threw back his helmet just as Chris Ryan jerked hers off. + +Her voice shook almost hysterically. "Thank God. Dan, I almost gave up!" + +"I liked the air out there better," he told her bitterly. "If you'll +open the lock again, I'll leave. Or am I supposed to believe this is +rescue and that you came along just to save me?" + +"I came along to see you killed, as you know very well. Saving you +wasn't in my orders." + +He grunted and reached for the handle that would release the outer lock. +"Better get back inside if you don't want to blow out with me." + +"It's up to you, Dan," she told him, and there was all the sincerity in +the world in her blue eyes. "I'm on your side now." + +He began counting on his fingers. "Let's see. The spare battery, the +delay in arresting me, the choice of Matthews--" + +"It was all true." Anger began to grow in her eyes. "Dan Feldman, you +get inside this raft! If you don't care about me, you might consider the +people dying of the plague who need you!" + +She'd played her trump, and it took the round. He followed her. + +"All right," he said grudgingly. "Spill your story." + +She held out a copy of a space radiogram, addressed to Mrs. D. E. +Everts, and signed by one of the best doctors on the Lobby Board of +Directors. + + Regret confirm diagnosis. Topsecret. Repeat topsecret. + Martian fever incubates fourteen years, believed highly + fatal. No cure, research beginning immediately. Penalty + violation topsecret, death all concerned. + +"Mrs. Everts rates a topsecret break?" Doc commented dryly. "Come off +it, Chris!" + +"She's the daughter of Elmers of Space Lobby!" Chris answered. She +pointed to the message, underlining words with her finger. "_Fourteen +years._ You couldn't have caused it. _Highly fatal._ And people are +being told it's only a skin disease. _Research beginning._ But you've +already done most of the research. I can see that now. I can see a lot +of things." + +"You've got me beat then," he said. "I can't see how such a reformed +young noblewoman calmly walked over and stole a life raft. I can't see +how your brilliant mind concocted this whole scheme in almost no time. +And to be honest, I can't even see why Medical Lobby decided to save me +at the last minute and sent you to do the job. You didn't have to spy +out knowledge from me. I've been trying all along to get it to your +Research division." + +She sighed and dropped onto a little seat. + +"I can't prove my motives. You'll just have to believe me. But it wasn't +hard to do what I've done. That shuttle pilot was found in a routine +check, stowed away on the life raft. I was with Captain Everts when he +was found, so I discovered how to get into the raft. And I heard his +whole confession. He wasn't the real pilot. He'd come from the villages +to save you. The whole scheme was his. I just used it, hoping I could +reach you." + +As always her story had a convincing element she shouldn't have known. +The pilot's farewell, addressing him as Dr. Feldman, had been too low +for her to hear, but it was something that fitted her story. It was +probably a deliberate clue to give him hope, to assure him the villages +were still trying. It shook his confidence. + +"And your motive--your real motive?" he insisted. + +She swore at him, then began ripping off the spacesuit. She turned her +back, pulling a thin blouse down from her neck. He stared, then reached +out to touch the lump there. + +"So you've had Selznik's migraine and know you're carrying plague. And +you've decided your precious Lobby won't save you?" + +She dropped her eyes, then raised them to meet his defiantly. "I'm not +just scared and selfish. Dad caught it, too, and it must be close to the +time for him. He switched to Mars-normal when he was a liaison agent and +never changed back. Dan, are we all going to have to die? Can't you save +him?" + +Feldman was out of his suit and at the control panel. There was a manual +lever, which Chris must have used before. It might work out here where +there was room to maneuver and nothing to hit. But trying to make a +landing was going to be different. + +"Dan?" she repeated. + +He shrugged. "I don't know. They've started research too late and +they'll be under so much pressure that the real brains won't have a +chance. The topsecret stuff looks bad for research. Maybe there's a +cure. It works in culture bottles, but it may fail in person. When I'm +convinced I'm safe with you, I may tell you about it." + +"Oh." Her voice was low. Then she sighed. "I suppose I can understand +why you hate me, Dan." + +"I don't hate you. I'm too mixed up. Tomorrow maybe, but not now. Shut +up and let me see if I can figure out how to land this thing." + +He found that the fuel tanks were nearly full, but that still didn't +leave much margin. Mars must have been notified by Everts and be ready +to pick the raft up. He had to reach the wastelands away from any of the +shuttle ports. They had no aspirators, however, and they couldn't cover +much territory in the spacesuits they would have to use. It meant he'd +have to land close to a village where he was known. + +He jockeyed the ship around by trial and error, studying the manual that +was lying prominently on the control panel. According to the booklet, +the ship was simple to operate. It was self-leveling in an atmosphere, +and automatic flare computers were supposed to make it possible for an +amateur to judge the rate of descent near the surface. It looked +reassuring--and was probably written with that in mind. + +Finally he reached for the control, hoping he'd figured his landing +orbit reasonably well by simple logic. He smoothed it out in the +following hours as he watched the markings on Mars. When they were near +turnover point, he began cranking the little gyroscope to swing the +ship. It saved fuel to turn without power, and he wasn't sure he could +have turned accurately by blasting. + +He was gaining some proficiency, however, he felt. But now he had to +waste fuel and ruin his orbit again. There was no way to practice +maneuvering without actually doing so. + +In the end, he compromised, leaving a small margin for a bad landing +that would require a second attempt, but with less practice than he +wanted. + +He had located Jake's village through the little telescope when he +finally reached for the main blast control. The thin haze of Mars' +atmosphere came rushing up, while the blast lashed out. Then they were +in the outer fringes of the sky and the blast was beginning to show a +corona that ruined visibility. + +He turned to the flare computer and back to what he could see through +the quartz viewport. He was going to land about half a mile from the +village, as nearly as he could judge. + +The computer seemed to work as it should. The speed was within +acceptable limits. He gave up trying to see the ground and was forced to +trust the machinery designed for amateur pilots. The flare bloomed, and +he yanked down on the little lever. + +It could have been worse. They hit the ground, bounced twice, and turned +over. The ship was a mess when Feldman freed himself from the elastic +straps of the seat. Chris had shrieked as they hit, but she was +unbuckling herself now. + +He threw her her spacesuit and one of the emergency bottles of oxygen +from the rack. "Hurry up with that. We've sprung a leak and the +pressure's dropping." + +They were halfway to the village when a dozen tractors came racing up +and Jake piled out of the lead one to drag the two in with him. + +"Heard about it from the broadcasts and figured you might land around +here. Good to see you, Doc." He started the tractor off at full speed, +back to the wastelands, while Doc stared at the armed men who were +riding the tractors. + +Jake caught his look and nodded. "You're in enemy territory, Doc. +There's a war going on!" + + + + +XII + +War + + +Sometimes it seemed to Doc that war was nothing but an endurance race to +see how many times they could run before they were bombed. He was just +beginning to drop off to sleep after a long trip for the sixth +consecutive day when the little alarm shrilled. He sighed and shook +Chris awake. + +"Again?" she protested. But she got up and began helping him pack. + +Jake came in, his eyes weary, pulling on the old jacket with the big +star on its sleeve. Doc hadn't been too surprised to learn that Jake was +the actual leader of the rebels. "Shuttles spotted taking off this way. +And I still can't find where the leak is. They haven't missed our +location once this week. Here, give me that." + +He took the electron mike that had been among Doc's' possessions, but +Chris recaptured it. "I can manage," she told him, and headed out for +the tractor where Lou was waiting. + +Doc scowled after her. He and Jake had been watching her. She was too +useful to Doc's research to be turned away, but they didn't trust her +yet. So far, however, they had found nothing wrong with her conduct. +Still.... + +He swung suddenly into Jake's tractor. "Just remembered something. How'd +they find me that time I stopped in the tractor to use the mike? I was +pretty well hidden, and no tracks last in the sand long enough for them +to have followed. But they were there when I came to. Somehow, they must +have put a radio tracer on me." + +Jake waited while they lighted up, his eyes suddenly bright. "You mean +something you got from her house was bugged? It figures." + +"And I've still got all the stuff. Now they find wherever we set up +headquarters, though they've always managed to miss my laboratory, even +when they've hit the troops around us. Jake, I think it's the +microscope." Doc managed to push enough junk off one of the seats to +make a cramped bed, and stretched out. "Sure, we figured they sent her +because they want to keep tabs on what I discover. They've finally +gotten scared of the plague, and she's the perfect Judas goat. But they +have to have some way to get in touch with her. I'll bet there's a +tracer in the mike and a switch so she can modulate it or key it to send +out Morse." + +"Yeah," Jake nodded. "Well, she does her own dirty work. I might get to +like her if she was on our side. Okay, Doc. If they've put things into +the mike, I've got a boy who'll find and fix it so she won't guess it's +been touched." + +Doc relaxed. For the moment, there would be no power in the instrument, +nor any excuse for her to use it. But she must have handled some secret +arrangement during the work periods. She used the mike more than he did. +The switch could be camouflaged easily enough. If anyone detected the +signal, they'd probably only think it was some leak in the electrical +circuit. + +Far away, the shuttle rockets had appeared as tiny dots in the sky. They +were standing on their tails a second later, just off the ground, +letting the full force of their blasts bake the area where headquarters +had been. + +Jake watched grimly, driving by something close to instinct. Then he +looked back. "Know anything about a Dr. Harkness?" + +"Not much, except that he protested sealing off the villages. Why?" + +"He and five other doctors were picked up, trying to get through to us. +Claimed they wanted to give us medical help. We can use them, God knows. +I guess I'll have to chance it." + +They stopped at a halfway village and hid the tractors before looking +for a place to rest. Doc found Chris curled up asleep against the +microscope. He had a hard time getting her to leave it in the tractor, +but she was too genuinely tired to put up any real argument. + +Jake reported in the morning before they set out again. "You were right, +Doc. It was a nice job of work. Must have taken the best guys in +Southport to hide the circuit so well. But it's safe now. It just makes +a kind of meaningless static nobody can trace. Maybe we can get you a +permanent lab now." + +Doc debated again having Chris left behind and decided against it. The +Lobby was determined to let him find a cure for them if he could. That +meant Chris would work herself to exhaustion trying to help. Let her +think she was doing it for the Lobby! It was time she was on the +receiving end of a double cross. + +"It's a stinking way to run a war," he decided. + +Jake chuckled without much humor. "It's the war you wanted, remember? +They forced our hand, but it had to come sometime. Right now the Lobby's +fighting to get their hands on your work before we can use it; they're +just using holding tactics, which helps our side. And we're hoping you +get the cure so we can win. With that, maybe we'll whip them." + +It was a crazy war, with each side killing more of its own men than of +the enemy. The runners were increasing, and Jake's army was learning to +shoot the poor devils mercifully and go on. They knew, at least, that +there was no current danger of infection. In the Lobby towns, more were +dying of panic in their efforts to escape the runners. + +Desert towns had joined the villages, reluctantly but inevitably, to +give the rebels nearly three-quarters of the total population. But the +Lobby forces and the few cities held most of the real fighting equipment +and they were ready to wait until Earth could send out unmanned rockets, +loaded with atomics, which could cut through space at ten times normal +speed. + +There were vague lines of battle, but time was the vital factor. The +Lobbies waited to steal a cure for the plague and the villages waited +until they could announce it and demand surrender as its price. + +It looked as if both sides were doomed to disappointment, however. He +and Chris had put in every spare minute between moving and the minimum +of sleep in searching for something that would check the disease. It +couldn't grow in an Earth-normal body, but it didn't die, either. And +there wasn't enough normal food available to permit the switch-over for +more than a handful of people. Even Earth was out of luck, since eighty +percent of her population ate synthetics. There were ways to synthesize +Earth-normal food, but they were still hopelessly inefficient. + +Jake had ordered one of the villages to rebuild their plant for such a +purpose, while another was producing the enzyme that would permit +switching. But it looked hopeless for more than a few of the most +valuable men. + +"No progress?" Jake asked for the hundredth time. + +Doc grinned wryly. "A lot, but no help. We've found a fine accelerator +for the bug. We can speed up its incubation or even make someone already +infected catch it all over again. But we can't slow it down or stop it." + +The new laboratory was still being fitted when they arrived. It had been +dug into one of the few real cliffs in this section of Mars. The power +plant had been installed, complete with a steam plant that would operate +off sunlight in the daytime through a series of heat valves that took in +a lot of warm air and produced smaller amounts hot enough to boil water. + +"I'll see you whenever I can," Jake said. "But mostly, you're going to +be somewhat isolated so they won't trace you. Let them think they goofed +with the shuttles and hit you and Chris. Anything you need?" + +"Guinea pigs," Doc told him sarcastically. It was meant as a joke, +though a highly bitter one. Jake nodded and left them. + +Doc opened the cots as Chris came in, not bothering to unpack the +equipment. "Hit the sack, Chris," he told her. + +She looked at him doubtfully. "You almost said that the way you'd +address a human being, Dan. You're slipping. One of these days you'll +like me again." + +"Maybe." He was too tired to argue. "I doubt it, though. Forget it and +get some sleep." + +She watched him silently until he got up to turn out the light. Then she +sighed heavily. "Dan?" + +"Yeah?" + +"I never got a divorce. The publicity would have been bad. But anyway, +we're still married." + +"That's nice." He swung to face her briefly. "And they found the radio +in the microscope. Better get to sleep, Chris." + +"Oh." It was a quiet exclamation, barely audible. There was a sound that +might have been a sniffle if it had come from anyone else. Then she +rolled over. "All right, Dan. I still want to help you." + +He cursed himself for a stupid fool for telling her. Fatigue was ruining +what judgment he had. From now on, he'd have to watch her every minute. +Or had she really seen the value of the research by now? She wasn't a +fool. It should have registered on even her stubborn mind. But he was +too sleepy to think about it. + +She had breakfast ready in the morning. She made no comment on what had +been said during the night. Instead, she began discussing a way to keep +one of the organic antibiotics from splitting into simpler compounds +when they tried to switch it over to Mars-normal. They were both +hopelessly bad chemists and biologists, but there was no one else to do +the work. + +Chris worked harder than ever during the day. + +Just after sundown, Jake came in with a heavy box. He dropped it onto +the floor. "Mice!" + +Doc ripped off the cover, exposing fine screening. There were at least +six dozen mice inside! + +"Harkness found them," Jake explained. "A hormone extraction plant used +them for testing some of the products. Had them sent by regular +shipments from Earth. Getting them cost a couple of men, but Harkness +claims it's worth it. He's a good man on a raid. Here!" + +He'd gone to the doorway again and came back with another box, this one +crammed with bottles and boxes. "They had quite a laboratory, and +Harkness picked out whatever he thought you could use." + +Chris and Doc were going through it. The labels were engineering ones, +but the chemical formulae were identification enough. There were dozens +of chemicals they hadn't hoped to get. + +"Anything else?" Doc finally asked as they began arranging the supplies. + +"More runners. A lot more. We're still holding things down, but it's +reaching a limit. Panic will start in the camps if this keeps on. But +that's my worry. You stick to yours." + +Several of the new chemicals showed promise in the tubes. But two of +them proved fatal to the mice and the others were completely innocuous +in the little animal's bodies, both to mouse and to germ. The plague was +much hardier in contact with living cells than in the artificial +environment of the culture jars. + +They lost seven mice in two days, but that seemed unimportant; the +females were already living up to their reputations, nearly all +pregnant. Doc didn't know the gestation period, but he remembered that +it was short. + +"Funny they all started at the same time," he commented. "Must have been +shipped out separately or else been kept apart while they were switched +over to Mars-normal. Something interrupted their habits, anyhow." + +A few nights later they learned what it was. There was a horrible +squealing that woke him out of the depths of his sleep. Chris was +already at the light switch. As light came on, they turned to the mouse +box. + +All the animals were charging about in their limited space, their little +legs driving madly and their mouths open. What they lacked in size they +made up in numbers, and the din was terrific. + +But it didn't last. One by one, the mice began dropping to the floor of +the cage. In fifteen minutes, they were all dead! + +It was obviously the plague, contracted after having their metabolism +switched. Women were sterile for some time after Selznik's migraine +struck, and the same must have been true of the mice. They must have +contracted the plague at about the same time and reached fertility +together. Somehow, the plague incubation period had been shortened to +fit their life span; the disease was nothing if not adaptive. + +Chris prepared a slide in dull silence. The familiar cell was there when +Doc looked through the microscope. He picked up one of the little +creatures and cut it open, removing one of the foetuses. + +"Make a film of that," he suggested. + +She worked rapidly, scraping out the almost microscopic brain, +dissolving out the fatty substance, and transferring the result to a +film. This time, even at full magnification, there was no sign of the +filaments that were always present in diseased flesh. The results were +the same for the other samples they made. + +"Something about the very young animal or a secretion from the mother's +organs keeps the bug from working." Doc reached for a bracky weed and +accepted a light from Chris without thinking of it. "Every kid I've +heard about contracted the plague between the second and third year. +None are born with it, none get it earlier. I've suspected this, but now +here's confirmation." + +Chris began preparing specimens, while Doc got busy with tubes of the +culture. They'd have to test various fluids from the tiny bodies, but +there were enough cultures prepared. Then, if the substance only +inhibited growth, there would be a long, slow test; if it killed the +bugs, they might know more quickly. + +Jake came in before the final tests, but waited on them. Doc was +studying a film in the microscope. He suddenly motioned excitedly for +Chris. + +"See the filaments? They're completely disintegrated. And there's one of +the big cells broken open. We've got it! It's in the blood of the +foetus. And it must be in the blood of newborn children, too!" + +Jake looked at the slide, but his face was doubtful. + +"Maybe you've got something, Doc. I hope so. And I hope you can use it." +He shook his head wearily. "We need good news right now. A couple of big +rockets just reached the station and they've been sending shuttles back +and forth a mile a minute. Nobody can figure how they got here so fast +or what they're for. But it doesn't look good for us!" + + + + +XIII + +Susceptibility + + +Doc could feel the tension in the village where GHQ was temporarily +located long before they were close enough for details to register. The +people were gathered in clusters, staring at the sky where the station +must be. A few were pacing up and down, gesticulating with tight sweeps +of their arms. + +One woman suddenly went into even more violent action. She leaped into +the air and then took off at a rapid trot, then a run. Her hands were +tearing at her clothes and her mouth seemed to be working violently. She +was halfway to the top of the nearest dune before a rifle cracked. She +dropped, to twitch once and lie still. + +Almost with her death, another figure leaped from one of the houses, his +face bare of the necessary aspirator. He took off at a violent run, but +he was falling from lack of air before the bullet ended his struggles. + +The people suddenly began to move apart, as if trying to get away from +each other. For weeks they had faced the horror with courage; now it was +finally too much for them. + +Tension mounted as no news came from the cities. Doc noticed that it +seemed to aggravate or speed up the disease. He saw three men shot in +the next half-hour. + +He was trying to calm them with word of a possible cure for the plague, +but their reactions were as curiously dull as those of Jake had been. As +he spoke, they faced him with set expressions. At his mention of the +need for the blood of young children, they turned from him, sullenly +silent. + +Jake came over, nodding unhappily. "It's what I was afraid might happen, +Doc. George Lynn! Tell Doc what's wrong." + +Lynn was reluctant, but he finally stumbled out his explanation. "It +ain't like you, Doc. Comes from that Lobby woman you got. It's her dirty +idea. We've seen the Lobby doctors cutting open our kids, poisoning +their blood, and bleeding them dry. That ain't gonna happen again, Doc. +You tell her it ain't!" + +Doc swore as he realized their ignorance. An unexplained vaccination +looked like poisoning of the blood. But he couldn't understand the +bleeding part until Jake filled him in. + +"Northport infant's wing. Each department has its own blood bank and +donation is compulsory. Southport started it a couple months ago, too." + +The long arm of the Lobby had reached out again. Now if he ever got them +to try the treatment, it would be only after long sessions of preparing +them with the facts, and there was hardly enough time for the crucial +work! + +By afternoon, Judge Ben Wilson reached them. His voice shook with +fatigue as he climbed up to address the crowd through a power megaphone. +"Southport's going crazy." He had to pause for breath between each +sentence. "Earth's pulling back all the important people. They're +packing them into the ships. They're leaving only colonials with no +Earth rights. Those ships left when they decided the plague was coming +from here. They won't let anybody back until the plague is licked. There +won't be an Earth technician on Mars tomorrow." + +"No bombs?" someone called. + +"No bombs. The ships must have started before you rebelled, maybe meant +honestly to save their own kind. But now it's a military action, and +don't think it won't mean trouble. The poor devils in the city bet on +the wrong horse. Now they can't run their food factories or anything +else for long. Not without technicians. They've got to whip you now. Up +to this time, they've been fighting for the Lobbies. Now they'll fight +you for their own bellies to get your supplies. And they've still got +shuttle rockets and fuel for them. Now beat it. I gotta confer with +Jake." + +Doc started after the judge, but Dr. Harkness caught his arm and drew +him aside. Chris followed. + +"I've found another epidemic," Harkness told them. "Over at Marconi. +It's kept me on the run all night, and now half the village is down with +it. Starts like a common cold, runs a fair fever, and the skin breaks +out all over with bright red dots...." + +He went on describing it. Chris began asking him about what medical +supplies he had brought with him, pilfered from Northport hospital. She +seemed to know what it was, but refused to say until she saw the cases. +Doc also preferred to wait. Sometimes things weren't as bad as they +seemed, though usually they were worse. + +Marconi was dead to all outward appearances, with nobody on the streets. +It had been a village of great hopes a week before, since this was where +they had decided to experiment with switching the people back to +Earth-normal. They'd had the best chance of survival of anyone on Mars +until this came up. + +Three people lay on the beds in the first house Harkness led them to. +The room was darkened, and a man was stumbling around, trying to tend +the others, though the little spots showed on his skin. He grinned +weakly. "Hi, Doc. I guess we're making a lot of trouble, ain't we?" + +Chris gave Doc no chance to answer. "Just as I thought. Measles! Plain +old-fashioned measles." + +"Figured so," the sick man said. "Like my brother back on Earth." + +The others looked doubtful, but Doc reassured them. Chris should know; +she'd worked in a swanky hospital where the patients were mostly +Earth-normal. Measles was one of the diseases which was foiled by the +metabolism switch. Well, at least they wouldn't have to be quarantined +here. + +Chris finished treating the family with impersonal efficiency, +discussing the symptoms loudly with Harkness. "It's a good thing it +isn't serious!" + +"No," Harkness answered bitterly. "Not serious. It's only killed five +children and three adults so far!" + +"It would, here," Doc agreed unhappily. He led Chris out of the room on +the pretext of washing his hands. "It's serious enough to force us to +abandon the whole idea of going back to Earth-normal. Measles today, +smallpox, tuberculosis, scarlet fever and everything else tomorrow. +These people have lived Mars-normal so long their natural immunity has +been destroyed. On Earth where the disease was everywhere, kids used to +pick up some immunity with constant exposure, even without what might be +called a case of the disease. Here, the blood has no reason to build +antibodies. They can be killed by things people used to laugh at. How +the disease got here, I don't know. But it's here. So we'll have to +give up the idea of switching back to Earth-normal." + +He gathered up one of the kits and started toward the other houses. "And +Lord knows how long it will take to get the blood for the other +treatment, even if it works." + +They worked as a team for a while, with Harkness frowning as he watched +Chris. Finally the young doctor stopped Chris outside the fifth house. +"These are my patients, Dr. Ryan. I left the Lobby because I didn't +believe colonials were mere livestock. I still feel the same. I +appreciate your help in diagnosis and methods of treatment. But I can't +let you handle my patients this way." + +"Dan!" She swung around with eyes glazing. "Dan, are you going to stand +for that?" + +"I think you'd better wait in the tractor, Chris." + +He was lucky enough to catch the kit she threw at him before its +precious contents spilled. But it wasn't luck that guided his hand to +the back of her skirt hard enough to leave it stinging. + +Her face froze and she stormed out. A moment later they heard the +tractor start off. + +But Doc had no time to think of her. He and Harkness split up and began +covering the streets, house by house, while he passed on the word to +abandon the metabolism switch and go back to Mars-normal. + +Jake sent two other doctors to relieve them late in the evening. Things +were somewhat quieter at GHQ as Doc reported the events at Marconi. + +"Where's Dr. Ryan?" Jake asked at last. + +Doc exchanged glances with Harkness. "She isn't in the lab?" + +"Wasn't there an hour ago." + +Doc cursed himself for letting her go. With the knowledge that the radio +in the mike was disabled, she'd obviously grabbed the first chance to +report back. And with her had gone news of the only cure they had found. + +Jake took it as philosophically as he could, though it was a heavy blow +to his hopes. They spent half the night looking for her tractor, on the +chance that she might have gotten lost or broken down, but there was no +sign of it. + +She was waiting in the laboratory when he returned at dawn. Her face was +dirty and her uniform was a mess. But she was smiling. She got up to +greet him, holding out two large bottles. + +"Infant plasma--straight from Southport. And if you think I had it easy +lying my way in and out of the hospital, you're a fool, Dan Feldman. If +the man who took my place there hadn't been a native idiot, I never +would have gotten away with it." + +The things he had suspected could still be right, he realized. She could +have reported everything to the Lobby. It was a better explanation than +her vague account of bullying her way in and out. But she'd had a rough +drive, and he wanted the plasma. Curiously, he was glad to have her back +with him. He reached out a hand for the bottles. + +She put the bottle on the table and grabbed up a short-bladed knife. +"Not so fast," she cried. Her eyes were blazing now. "Dan Feldman, if +you touch those bottles until you've crawled across the floor on your +face and apologized for the way you treated me the last few days, I'll +cut your damned heart out." + +He shook his head, chuckling at the picture she made. There were times +when he could almost see why he'd married her. + +"All right, Chris," he gave in. "I'll be darned if I'll crawl, but +you've earned an apology. Okay?" + +She sighed uncertainly. Then she nodded and began changing for work. + + + + +XIV + +Immunity + + +They worked through the day in what seemed to be armed truce. There was +no coffee waiting for him when he awoke next, as he'd come to expect, +but he didn't comment. He went to where she was already working, +checking on the results of the plasma on the cultures. + +The response had been slower than with the mouse blood, but now the bugs +seemed to be dead. The filaments were destroyed, and there were no signs +of the big cells. It seemed to be a cure, at least in the culture +bottles. + +"We'll need volunteers," he decided. "There should be animals, but we +don't have any. At least this stuff isn't toxic. We need a natural +immune and someone infected. Two of each, so one can be treated and the +other used for a control. Makes four. Not enough to be sure, but it will +have to do." + +"Two," Chris corrected. "You're not infected, I am." + +"Two others," he agreed. "I'll get them from Jake." + +Most of GHQ was out on the street, but Doc found Jake inside the big +schoolroom where he enjoyed his early morning bracky and coffee. The +chief listened and agreed at once, turning to the others in the room. + +"Who's had the jumping headache? Okay, Swanee. Who never had it?" He +blinked in surprise as three men nodded out of the eight present. "I +guess you go, Tom." + +The two men stood up, tamping out their weeds, and went out with Doc. + +Chris had everything set up. They matched coins to decide who would be +treated. Doc noticed that Chris would get no plasma, while he was +scheduled for everything. He watched her prepare the culture and add the +accelerator that would speed development and make certain he and Tom +were infected, then let her inject it. + +That was all, except for the waiting. To keep conditions more closely +alike, they were to stay there until the tests were finished, not even +eating for fear of upsetting the conditions. Swanee dug out a pack of +worn cards and began to deal while Doc dug out some large pills to use +as chips. + +It was an hour later when the pain began. Doc had just won the pot of +fifty pills and opened his mouth for the expected gloating. He yelled as +an explosion seemed to go off inside his head. Even closing his mouth +was agony. + +A moment later, Tom began to sweat. It got worse, spreading to the whole +area of the back of the head and neck. Doc lay on the cot, envying Chris +and Swanee who had already been infected naturally. He longed +desperately for bracky, and had to keep reminding himself that no drugs +must upset the tests. It was the longest day he had ever spent, and he +began to doubt that he could get through it. He watched the little clock +move from one minute to nine over to half a minute and hung breathless +until it hit the nine. There was no question about whether the infection +had taken. Now they could dull the agony. + +Chris had the anodyne tablets already dissolved in water, and Swanee was +passing out three lighted bracky weeds. It took a few minutes for the +relief of the anodyne, and even that couldn't kill all the pain. But it +didn't matter by comparison. He sucked the weed, mashed it out and began +dealing the cards again. + +They had a plentiful supply of the anodyne and used it liberally during +the night. The test was a speeded-up simulation of the natural course of +the disease, where painkiller would take time to get for most people +here, but would then be used generously. + +Precisely at nine in the morning, Chris began to inject Swanee and Doc +with plasma. + +Now there was no thought of cards. They waited, trying to talk, but with +most of their attention on the clock. Doc had estimated that an hour +should be enough to show results, but it was hard to remember that an +hour was the guess as to the minimum time. + +He winced as Chris took a tiny bit of flesh from his neck. She went to +the other men, and then submitted to his work on herself. Then she began +preparing the slides. + +"Feldman," she read the name of the slide as she inserted it into the +microscope. Then her breath caught sharply. "Only dead cells!" + +It was the same for Swanee and Tom. Each had to look at his own slide +and have it explained before the results could be believed. But at last +Chris bent over her own slide. A minute later she glanced up, nodding. +"What it should be. It checks." + +Tom whooped and went out the door to notify Jake. There was only plasma +for some two hundred injections, but that should yield sufficient proof. +Once salvation was offered, there should be no trouble convincing the +people that blood donations from their children were worthwhile. + +Later, when the last of the plasma had been used, they could finally +relax. Chris slipped off her smock and dropped onto the cot. A tired +smile came onto her lips. "You're forgiven, Dan," she said. A moment +later she was obviously asleep. Doc meant to join her, but it was too +much effort. He leaned his head forward onto his arms, vaguely wondering +why she was calling off the feud. + +It was night outside when he awoke, and he was lying on the cot, though +he still felt cramped and strained. He stirred, groaning, and finally +realized that a hand was on his shoulder shaking him. He looked up to +see Jake above him. Chris was busy with the coffee maker. + +Jake slumped onto the cot beside Doc. "We took Southport," he announced. + +That knocked the sleep out of Doc's system. "You what?" + +"We took it, lock, stock and barrel. I figured the news of your cure +would put guts into the men, and it did. But we'd probably have taken it +anyhow. There wasn't anything to fight for there after Earth pulled out +and the plague really hit. Wilson mistook last-minute panic for fighting +spirit. The poor devils didn't have anything to fight about, once the +Lobby stopped goading them." + +Doc tried to assimilate the news. But once the surprise was gone, he +found it meant very little. Maybe his revolutionary zeal had cooled, +once the Lobby men had pulled out. "We'll need a lot more plasma than +there is in Southport," he said. + +"Not so much, maybe," Jake denied. "Doc, three of the men you injected +were shot down as runners. Your plasma's no good." + +"It takes time to work, Jake. I told you there might be a case or two +that would be too close to the edge. Three is more than I expected; but +it's not impossible." + +"There was plenty of time. They blew after we got back from Southport." +Jack dropped his hand on Doc's shoulder, and his face softened. +"Harkness tested every man you injected. He finished half an hour ago. +Five showed dead bugs. The rest of them weren't helped at all." + +Doc fumbled for a weed, trying to think. But his thoughts refused to +focus. "Five!" + +"Five out of two hundred. That's about average. And what about Tom? He +was jumping around after the test last night, telling how you'd cured +him, how he'd seen the dead bugs; but he never had the jumping headache, +and you never gave him the plasma! He's got dead bugs, though. Harkness +tested him." + +Doc let his realization of his own idiocy sink in until he could believe +it. Jake was right. Tom had never been treated, yet Chris had reported +dead bugs. They'd all been so ready to believe in miracles that no one +had been able to think straight after the long wait. + +"There was a bump on his neck--a small one," he said slowly. "Jake, he +must have caught it, even if he seemed immune. If he was taking anodyne +anyway for something--or unconscious--" + +"He was up in Northport six years ago for a kidney operation," Jake +admitted doubtfully. "We had to chip in to pay for it. But you still +didn't treat him, and he's cured. Face it, Doc, that plasma is no good +inside the body." + +His hand tightened on Doc's shoulder again. "We're not blaming you. We +don't judge a man here except by what he is. Maybe the stuff helps a +little. We'll go on using it when we get it; tell everybody you were a +mite optimistic, so they'll figure it's a gamble, but have a little hope +left. And you keep trying. Something cured it in Tom. Now you find out +what." + +Doc watched him go out numbly, and turned to Chris. + +"It can't be right," she said shakily. "You and Swanee were cured. Maybe +it was the accelerator. It had to be something." + +"You didn't have the accelerator," he accused. + +"No, and I've still got live bugs. I was never supposed to be cured, so +I expected to see just what I saw. How I missed the fact that Tom should +have been like me, I don't know. Damn it, oh, damn it!" + +He's never seen her cry before, except in fury. But she mastered it +almost at once, shaking tears out of her eyes. "All right. Plasma works +in a bottle but not in an adult body. Maybe something works in the body +but not in a bottle." + +"Maybe. And maybe some people are just naturally immune after it reaches +a certain stage. Maybe we ran into coincidence." + +But he didn't believe that, any more than she did. The answer had to be +in the room. He'd taken a massive dose of the disease and been cured in +a few hours. + +Outside the room, the war went on, drawing toward a close. The supposed +partial cure was good propaganda, if nothing else, and Jake was widening +his territory steadily. There was only token resistance against him. He +had the Southport shuttles now to cover huge areas in a hurry. But +inside the room, the battle was less successful. It wasn't the +accelerator. It wasn't the tablets of anodyne. They even tried sweeping +the floor and using the dust without results. + +Then another test in the room, made with four volunteers Jake selected, +yielded complete cures after injections with plain salt water in place +of plasma. + +The plague speeded up again. About four people out of a hundred now +seemed to have caught the disease and cured themselves. They accounted +for what faith was left in Doc's plasma and gave some unfounded hope to +the others. + +Northport fell a week later, putting the whole planet in rebel hands. + +Jake returned, wearier than ever. He'd proved to be one of the natural +immunes, but the weight of the campaign that could only end in a defeat +by the plague left him no room to rejoice in his personal fortune. + +This time he looked completely defeated. And a moment later, Doc saw why +as Jake flipped a flimsy sheet onto the table. It bore the seals of +Space and Medical Lobbies. + +Jake pointed upwards. "The war rockets are there, all right. We knew +they'd come. Now all they want for calling them off is our surrender and +your cure. If they don't get both, they'll blow the planet to bits. We +have two days." + +The rockets could be seen clearly with binoculars. There were more than +enough to destroy all life on the planet. Maybe they'd be used +eventually, anyhow, since the Lobbies wanted no more rebellion. But with +a cure for the plague, he might have bought them off. + +Chris stood beside him, looking as if it were a bitter pill for her, +too. She'd risked herself in the hands of the enemy, had cooperated with +him in everything she'd been taught to oppose, and had worked like a +dog. Now the Lobbies seemed to forget her as a useless tool. They were +falling back on a raw power play and forgetting any earlier schemes. + +"Maybe they'd hold off for a while if I agreed to go to them and share +all my ideas, specimens and notes," he said at last. "Do you think your +Lobby would settle for that, Chris?" + +"I don't know, Dan. I've stopped thinking their way." She seemed almost +apologetic for the admission. + +He dropped an arm over her shoulder and turned with her back to the +laboratory. "Okay, then we've got to find a miracle. We've got two days +ahead of us. At least we can try." + +But he knew he was lying to himself. There wasn't anything he could +think of to try. + + + + +XV + +Decision + + +Two days was never enough time for a miracle. Doc decided as he packed +his notes into a small bag and put it beside his bundle of personal +belongings. He glanced around the room for the last time, and managed a +grin at Jake's gloomy expression. + +"Maybe I can bluff them, or maybe they'll string along for a while," he +said. "Anyhow, now that they've agreed to take me and my notes in place +of the cure we're fresh out of, I've got to be on that shuttle when it +goes back to their men at orbital station." + +Jake nodded. "I don't like selling friends down the river, Doc. But it +wouldn't do you any more good to blow up with the planet, I reckon. They +won't call off the war rockets when they do get you, of course. But +maybe they won't use them, except as a threat to put the Lobbies back +in, stronger than ever." + +He stuck out one of his awkwardly shaped hands, clapped the aspirator +over his face and hurried out. Doc picked up his bags and went toward +the little tractor where Lou was waiting to drive him and Chris back +toward Southport and the shuttle rocket that would be landing for them. +They hadn't mentioned Chris in their demands, but her father must expect +her to return. + +After they had him, he'd be on his own. His best course was probably to +insist on talking only to Ryan at Medical Lobby, and then being +completely honest. The room here would be kept sealed, in case the +Lobby wanted to investigate where he had failed. And his notes were +honest, which was something that could usually be determined. Chris +could testify to that, anyhow, since she'd kept a lot of them for him. + +At best, there would be a chance for some compromise and perhaps some +clue for them that might eventually end the plague. They had enough men +to work on it, and billions in equipment. At worst, he should gain a +little time. + +"Cheer up, Chris," he told her as he climbed through the little airlock. +"Maybe Harkness will turn up the cure before our negotiations break +down. He has the whole of Northport Hospital to play with. They haven't +tried to chase him out of there yet. After all, we almost found +something with no equipment except wild imaginations." + +She shook her head as the tractor began moving. "Shut up! I've got +enough trouble without your coming down with logorrhea. Don't be a +fool." + +"Why change now?" he asked her. "Everything I've done has been because I +am a fool. I guess my luck lasted longer than I could expect. And I'm +still fool enough to think that the solution has to turn up eventually. +We know it has to be in that room. Damn it, we must know it--if we could +only think straight now." + +She reached over and touched his hand, but made no comment. They had +been over that statement of desperation too many times already. But it +kept nagging at him--something in the room, something in the room! +Something so common that nobody noticed it! + +They passed a crowd chasing down a runner. Something in that room could +have saved the unlucky man. It could have saved Mars, perhaps. + +He growled for the hundredth time, cursing his fatigue-numbed mind. Too +little sleep, too much coffee and bracky.... + +He reached for the package of weed, realizing that he would miss it on +Earth, if he ever got there. Like everything here on the planet, he'd +begun by detesting it and wound up finding it the thing he wanted to +keep forever. He lighted the bracky and sat smoking, watching Lou drive. +When the first was finished, he lighted another from the butt. + +She put out a hand and took it away. "Please, Dan. I can stand the +stuff, but I'll never like it, and the tractor's stuffy enough already. +I've taken enough of it. And it keeps reminding me of our test--the +three of you stinking up the place, puffing and blowing that out, while +I couldn't even get a breath of air...." + +She was getting logorrhea herself now and-- + +The answer finally hit him! He jerked around, making a grab for Lou's +shoulder, motioning for the man to head back. + +"Bracky--it has to be! Chris, that's it. Jake picked out the second +group of men from his friends--and they are all cronies because they +hang around so much in their so-called smoking room. The first time, it +killed the bugs for all of us who smoked--and it didn't work for you +because you never learned the habit." + +Lou had the tractor turned and the rheostat all the way to the floor. + +She was sitting up now, but she wasn't fully satisfied. "The percentage +of immunes seems about right. But why do some of the smokers get the +disease while some don't?" + +"Why not? It depends on whether they pick up the habit before or after +the disease gets started. Tom must have got his while he was in +Northport. They wouldn't let him smoke there--if he had the habit +before, for that matter." + +She found no fault with that. He twisted it back and forth in his mind, +trying to find a fault. There seemed to be none. The only trouble was +that they couldn't send a message that bracky was the cure and hope that +Earth would prove it true. No polite note of apology would do after +that. They had to be sure. Too many other ideas had proved wrong +already. + +Jake saw them coming and came running toward the laboratory, but Lou +stopped the tractor before it reached the building and let the older man +in. + +"Get me a dozen men who have the plague. I want the worst cases you +have, and ones that Harkness tested himself," Doc ordered. "And then +start praying that the cure we've got works fast." + +Chris was at the electron mike at once, but one of her hands reached out +for the weed. She began puffing valiantly, making sick faces. Now other +men began coming in, their faces struggling to find hope, but not daring +to believe yet. Jake followed them. + +"We'll test at ten-minute intervals. That will be about two hours for +the last from the group," Doc decided. One of the doctors Harkness had +brought to the villages was busy cutting tiny sections from the lumps on +the men's necks, while Chris ran them through the microscope to make +sure the bugs were still alive. The regular optical mike was strong +enough for that. + +Doc handed each man a bracky weed, with instructions to keep smoking, no +matter how sick it made him. + +There were no results at the end of ten minutes when the first test was +made. The second, at the end of twenty minutes, was still infected with +live bugs. At the half-hour, Chris frowned. + +"I can't be sure--take a look, Dan." + +He bent over, moving the slide to examine another spot. "I think so. The +next one should tell." + +There was no doubt about the fourth test. The bugs were dead, without a +single exception that they could find. + +One by one, the men were tested and went storming out, shouting the +news. For a minute, the gathering crowd was skeptical, remembering the +other failures. Then, abruptly, men were screaming, crying and fighting +for the precious bracky, like the legions of the damned grabbing for +lottery tickets when the prize was a passport to paradise. + +Jake swore as he moved toward the door. "We're low on bracky here. Have +to get a supply from Edison, I guess, and cart it to the shuttle. Enough +for a sample, and to make them want more. It'll be tough, but we'll get +it there in time--by the time the shuttle should be picking you up. Doc, +you've won our war! From now on, if Earth wants to keep her population +up, we'll be a free planet!" + +Chris turned slowly from the microscope, holding a slide in her hands. +"My bugs," she said unbelievingly. "Dan, they're dead!" + +Jake patted her shoulder. "That makes it perfect, girl. Now come on. +We've got to start celebrating a victory!" + + * * * * * + +It was the general feeling of most of the heads of the villages when +they met the next day in Southport, using the courtroom that had been +presided over so long by Judge Ben Wilson. It was victory, and to the +victor belonged the spoils. The bracky had gone out to Earth on a +converted war rocket that could make the trip in less than two weeks, +and one packet had been specially labeled for Captain Everts. But Earth +had already confirmed the cure. The small amounts of the herb found in +the botanical collections had been enough to satisfy all doubts. + +Harkness, Chris and Doc had been fighting against the desire to rob +Earth blind that filled most of the men here for hours now. Now they had +the backing of Jake and Ben Wilson. And now finally they leaned back, +sensing that the argument had been won. + +Bargaining was all right in its place, but it had no place in affairs of +life and death such as this. They had to see that Earth received all the +bracky she needed. It was only right to charge a fair price for it, but +they couldn't restrict it by withholding or overcharging. And they could +still gain their ends without blackmail. + +Martian alkaloids were tricky things, and bracky smoke contained a +number of them. It would take Earth at least ten years to discover and +synthesize the right one--and it would still probably cost more than it +would to import the weed from Mars. As long as the source of that weed +was here, and in the hands of the colonials, there would be no danger of +Earth's bombing the planet. + +Harkness got up to underscore a point Wilson had made. "The plague lived +a million years, and it won't disappear now. The jumping headache, or +Selznick's migraine, is unpleasant enough to make us reasonably sure +that there will be a steady consumption of the weed. Our problem will be +to keep the children from using too much of it, probably." He pulled a +weed out and lighted it, puckering his face as the smoke bit his +tongue. "I'm told that this gets to be an enjoyable habit. If I can +believe that, surely you can believe me when I say we don't have to +bargain with lives." + +The village men were human, and most of them could remember the strain +they had been under when they expected those they loved to die at any +hour. It had made them crave vengeance, but now as they had a chance to +reexamine it, they began to find it harder to impose the horror of any +such threat on others. The final vote was almost unanimous. + +Doc listened as they wrangled over the wording of the message to Earth, +feeling disconnected from it. He passed Chris a bracky and lighted it +for her. She took it automatically, smiling as the smoke hit her lungs. +It was one thing they had in common now, at least. + +Ben Wilson finally read the message. + +"To the people of Earth, greetings! + +"On behalf of the free people of Mars, I have the honor to announce that +this planet hereby declares itself a sovereign and independent world. We +shall continue to regard Earth as our mother, and to consider the health +and welfare of her people in no way second to our own in matters which +affect both planets. We trust that Earth will share this feeling of +mutual friendship. We trust that all strains of hostility will be ended. +The advantages to each from peaceful commerce make any course other than +the most cordial of relations unthinkable. + +"We shall consider proof of such friendship an order by Earth to all +rockets circling this planet that they shall deliver themselves safely +into our hands, in order that we may begin converting them to peaceful +purposes for the trade that is to come. In turn, we pledge that all +efforts will be made to ensure a prompt delivery of those products most +in demand, including the curative bracky plant." + +He turned to Doc then. "You want to sign it, Dr. Feldman? Make it as +acting president or something, until we can get around to voting you +into permanent office." + +"You and Jake fight over the job," Doc told him. "No, Ben, I mean it." + +He got up and moved out into the outer room, where he could avoid the +stares of amazement that were turned to him. He'd never asked for the +honor, and he didn't want it. + +Chris came with him. Her face was shocked and something was slowly +draining out of it as he looked at her. + +"Forget it, Chris," he said. "You're going back to Earth. There is +nothing for you here." + +She hadn't quite given up. "There could be, Dan. You know that." + +"No. No, Chris, I don't think there ever can be. You can't find a man +strong enough to rule who'll be weak enough to let you rule in his +place. It didn't work on Earth, and it won't work here. Forget the +dreams you had of what could be done with a new planet. Those are the +dreams that made a mess of the old one." + +"I'll be back," she told him. "Some day I'll be back." + +He shook his head again. "No. You wouldn't like what you find here. +Freedom is heady stuff, but you have to have a taste for it. You can't +acquire a fondness for it secondhand. And for a while, there's going to +be freedom here. Besides, once you get back to Earth, you'll forget what +happened here." + +She sighed at last. For the first time since he had known her, she +seemed to give in completely. And for that brief moment, he loved what +she could have been, but never would be. + +"All right, Dan," she said quietly. "I can't fight you. I never could, I +see now. I'll take the rocket back. What are you going to do?" + +He hadn't bothered to think, but he knew the answer. "Research. What +else?" + +There would be a lot of research done here. It had been suppressed too +long, and had piled up a back-pressure that would have to be relieved. +And from that research, he suspected, would come the end of the stable +oligarchy of Earth. It could never stand against the changes that would +be pouring out of Mars. + +She put her hands on his shoulders and moved forward to kiss him. He +bent down to meet her, and found her eyes were wet. Maybe his were, too. +Then she broke free. + +"You're a fool, Dan Feldman," she whispered, and began moving down the +hallway and out of the council hall of Mars. + +Doc Feldman nodded slowly as he let her go. He was a fool. He had always +been a fool, and always would be. And that was why he could never take +over leadership here. Fools and idealists should never govern a world. +It took practical men such as Jake to do that. + +But the practical men needed the foolish idealists, too. And maybe for a +time here on Mars their kind of men and his kind of fools could make one +more stab at the ancient puzzle of freedom. + +Outside the war rockets of Earth began landing quietly on the free soil +of Mars. + + +[Transcriber's Note: The following errors in the original have been +corrected in this version: + +Page 5: 'and there was' to 'and there were' + +Page 9: 'ideopathic gastroentiritis' to 'idiopathic gastroenteritis' + +Page 29: 'The cheapness of snythetics' to 'The cheapness of synthetics' + +Page 42: 'huband's' to 'husband's' + +Page 43: 'Southpost' to 'Southport' + +Page 47: 'laywer' to 'lawyer' + +Page 50: 'in a can' to 'to a can' + +Page 118: 'Selnick's' to 'Selznick's' + +] + + * * * * * + + +ANDRE NORTON + +051615 #Beast Master# 75c + +092668 #Catseye# 75c + +123117 #The Crossroads of Time# 60c + +137950 #Dark Piper# 60c + +139923 #Daybreak, 2250 A.D.# 75c + +142323 #Defiant Agents# 75c + +166694 #Dread Companion# 75c + +223651 #Exiles of the Stars# 95c + +272260 #Galactic Derelict# 75c + +337014 #High Sorcery# 75c + +354217 #Huon of the Horn# 60c + +358408 #Ice Crown# 75c + +415513 #Judgment on Janus# 75c + +436725 #Key Out of Time# 75c + +471615 #The Last Planet# 60c + +492363 #Lord of Thunder# 75c + +541011 #Moon of Three Rings# 75c + +577510 #Night of Masks# 60c + +634105 #Operation Time Search# 60c + +638213 #Ordeal In Otherwhere# 60c + +668319 #Plague Ship# 60c + +675553 #Postmarked the Stars# 75c + +_#Available wherever paperbacks are sold or use this coupon.#_ + + * * * * * + +#ace books#, (Dept. 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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: Badge of Infamy + +Author: Lester del Rey + +Release Date: October 5, 2006 [EBook #19471] + +Language: English + +Character set encoding: ISO-8859-1 + +*** START OF THIS PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK BADGE OF INFAMY *** + + + + +Produced by Susan Skinner, Greg Weeks and the Online +Distributed Proofreading Team at http://www.pgdp.net + + + + + + +</pre> + + + +<p class='tr center'>Transcriber's Note:<br /> +This etext was produced from an Ace Books paperback, 1973. Extensive research +did not uncover any evidence that the U.S. copyright on this publication +was renewed.</p> + +<hr style="width: 65%;" /> + +<div class="figcenter" style="width: 600px;"> +<img src="images/cover.jpg" width="600" height="1025" alt="BADGE OF INFAMY + +LESTER DEL REY + +EARTHMEN BECOMING MARTIANS" title="" /> +</div> + +<hr style="width: 65%;" /> + +<div class="blockquot"><p>The computer seemed to work as it should. The speed +was within acceptable limits. He gave up trying to see +the ground and was forced to trust the machinery designed +for amateur pilots. The flare bloomed, and he +yanked down on the little lever.</p> + +<p>It could have been worse. They hit the ground, +bounced twice, and turned over. The ship was a mess +when Feldman freed himself from the elastic straps of +the seat. Chris had shrieked as they hit, but she was +unbuckling herself now.</p> + +<p>He threw her her spacesuit and one of the emergency +bottles of oxygen from the rack. "Hurry up with that. +We've sprung a leak and the pressure's dropping."</p></div> + +<hr style='width: 25%;' /> + +<p class='center'>Turn this book over for a second complete novel.<br /> +[Transcriber's Note: The second novel is not present in this etext.]</p> + + +<hr style="width: 65%;" /> + +<h1>BADGE OF<br /> +INFAMY</h1> + +<h2>By<br /> +LESTER DEL REY</h2> + + + +<p class='center'><br /><br /> +ace books<br /> +A Division of Charter Communications Inc.<br /> +1120 Avenue of the Americas<br /> +New York, N.Y. 10036<br /> +</p> + + + +<hr style="width: 65%;" /> +<h2>BADGE OF INFAMY</h2> + +<p class='center'> +Copyright © 1963 by Galaxy Publishing Corp.<br /> +Copyright © 1957 by Renown Publications, Inc.<br /> +</p> + +<p class='center'>A shorter and earlier version of this story appeared in +<i>Satellite Science Fiction</i> for June, 1957.</p> + +<hr style='width: 45%;' /> + +<p class='center'><i>First Ace printing: January, 1973</i></p> + +<hr style='width: 45%;' /> + +<p class='center'> +THE SKY IS FALLING<br /> +Copyright © 1954, 1963 by Galaxy Publishing Corp.<br /> +</p> + +<hr style='width: 45%;' /> + +<p class='center'>Printed in U.S.A.<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_5" id="Page_5">[Pg 5]</a></span></p> + + + +<hr style="width: 65%;" /> +<h2><a name="I" id="I"></a>I</h2> + +<h3>Pariah</h3> + + +<p>The air of the city's cheapest flophouse was thick with +the smells of harsh antiseptic and unwashed bodies. The +early Christmas snowstorm had driven in every bum +who could steal or beg the price of admission, and the +long rows of cots were filled with fully clothed figures. +Those who could afford the extra dime were huddled +under thin, grimy blankets.</p> + +<p>The pariah who had been Dr. Daniel Feldman enjoyed +no such luxury. He tossed fitfully on a bare cot, bringing +his face into the dim light. It had been a handsome +face, but now the black stubble of beard lay over gaunt +features and sunken cheeks. He looked ten years older +than his scant thirty-two, and there <ins class="correction" title="Transcriber's Note: Original had 'was'.">were</ins> the beginnings +of a snarl at the corners of his mouth. Clothes that had +once been expensive were wrinkled and covered with +grime that no amount of cleaning could remove. His +tall, thin body was awkwardly curled up in a vain effort +to conserve heat and one of his hands instinctively +clutched at his tiny bag of possessions.</p> + +<p>He stirred again, and suddenly jerked upright with a +protest already forming on his lips. The ugly surroundings +registered on his eyes, and he stared suspiciously +at the other cots. But there was no sign that anyone had +been trying to rob him of his bindle or the precious +bag of cheap tobacco.</p> + +<p>He started to relax back onto the couch when a sound +caught his attention, even over the snoring of the others.<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_6" id="Page_6">[Pg 6]</a></span> +It was a low wail, the sound of a man who can no longer +control himself.</p> + +<p>Feldman swung to the cot on his left as the moan +hacked off. The man there was well fed and clean-shaven, +but his face was gray with sickness. He was +writhing and clutching his stomach, arching his back +against the misery inside him.</p> + +<p>"Space-stomach?" Feldman diagnosed.</p> + +<p>He had no need of the weak answering nod. He'd +treated such cases several times in the past. The disease +was usually caused by the absence of gravity out in +space, but it could be brought on later from abuse of +the weakened internal organs, such as the intake of too +much bad liquor. The man must have been frequenting +the wrong space-front bars.</p> + +<p>Now he was obviously dying. Violent peristaltic contractions +seemed to be tearing the intestines out of him, +and the paroxysms were coming faster. His eyes darted +to Feldman's tobacco sack and there was animal appeal +in them.</p> + +<p>Feldman hesitated, then reluctantly rolled a smoke. He +held the cigarette while the spaceman took a long, gasping +drag on it. He smoked the remainder himself, letting +the harsh tobacco burn against his lungs and sicken +his empty stomach. Then he shrugged and threaded his +way through the narrow aisles toward the attendant.</p> + +<p>"Better get a doctor," he said bitterly, when the young +punk looked up at him. "You've got a man dying of +space-stomach on 214."</p> + +<p>The sneer on the kid's face deepened. "Yeah? We +don't pay for doctors every time some wino wants to +throw up. Forget it and get back where you belong, +bo."</p> + +<p>"You'll have a corpse on your hands in an hour,"<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_7" id="Page_7">[Pg 7]</a></span> +Feldman insisted. "I know space-stomach, damn it."</p> + +<p>The kid turned back to his lottery sheet. "Go treat +yourself if you wanta play doctor. Go on, scram—before +I toss you out in the snow!"</p> + +<p>One of Feldman's white-knuckled hands reached for +the attendant. Then he caught himself. He started to +turn back, hesitated, and finally faced the kid again. +"I'm not fooling. And I <i>was</i> a doctor," he stated. "My +name is Daniel Feldman."</p> + +<p>The attendant nodded absently, until the words finally +penetrated. He looked up, studied Feldman with surprised +curiosity and growing contempt, and reached for +the phone. "Gimme Medical Directory," he muttered.</p> + +<p>Feldman felt the kid's eyes on his back as he stumbled +through the aisles to his cot again. He slumped down, +rolling another cigarette in hands that shook. The sick +man was approaching delirium now, and the moans were +mixed with weak whining sounds of fear. Other men +had wakened and were watching, but nobody made a +move to help.</p> + +<p>The retching and writhing of the sick man had begun +to weaken, but it was still not too late to save him. +Hot water and skillful massage could interrupt the paroxysms. +In fifteen minutes, Feldman could have stopped +the attack completely.</p> + +<p>He found his feet on the floor and his hands already +reaching out. Savagely he pulled himself back. Sure, he +could save the man—and wind up in the gas chamber! +There'd be no mercy for his second offense against +Lobby laws. If the spaceman lived, Feldman might get +off with a flogging—that was standard punishment for +a pariah who stepped out of line. But with his luck, +there would be a heart arrest and another juicy story +for the papers.<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_8" id="Page_8">[Pg 8]</a></span></p> + +<p>Idealism! The Medical Lobby made a lot out of the +word. But it wasn't for him. A pariah had no business +thinking of others.</p> + +<p>As Feldman sat there staring, the spaceman grew +quieter. Sometimes, even at this stage, massage could +help. It was harder without liberal supplies of hot water, +but the massage was the really important treatment. It +was the trembling of Feldman's hands that stopped him. +He no longer had the strength or the certainty to make +the massage effective.</p> + +<p>He was glaring at his hands in self-disgust when the +legal doctor arrived. The man was old and tired. Probably +he had been another idealist who had wound up +defeated, content to leave things up to the established +procedures of the Medical Lobby. He looked it as he +bent over the dying man.</p> + +<p>The doctor turned back at last to the attendant. "Too +late. The best I can do is ease his pain. The call should +have been made half an hour earlier."</p> + +<p>He had obviously never handled space-stomach before. +He administered a hypo that probably held narconal. +Feldman watched, his guts tightening sympathetically +for the shock that would be to the sick man. But +at least it would shorten his sufferings. The final seizure +lasted only a minute or so.</p> + +<p>"Hopeless," the doctor said. His eyes were clouded +for a moment, and then he shrugged. "Well, I'll make +out a death certificate. Anyone here know his name?"</p> + +<p>His eyes swung about the cots until they came to rest +on Feldman. He frowned, and a twisted smile curved +his lips.</p> + +<p>"Feldman, isn't it? You still look something like your +pictures. Do you know the deceased?"</p> + +<p>Feldman shook his head bitterly. "No. I don't know<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_9" id="Page_9">[Pg 9]</a></span> +his name. I don't even know why he wasn't cyanotic at +the end, <i>if</i> it was space-stomach. Do you, doctor?"</p> + +<p>The old man threw a startled glance at the corpse. +Then he shrugged and nodded to the attendant. "Well, +go through his things. If he still has a space ticket, I +can get his name from that."</p> + +<p>The kid began pawing through the bag that had fallen +from the cot. He dragged out a pair of shoes, half a +bottle of cheap rum, a wallet and a bronze space ticket. +He wasn't quick enough with the wallet, and the doctor +took it from him.</p> + +<p>"Medical Lobby authorization. If he has any money, +it covers my fee and the rest goes to his own Lobby." +There were several bills, all of large denominations. He +turned the ticket over and began filling in the death +certificate. "Arthur Billings. Space Lobby. Crewman. +Cause of death, <ins class="correction" title="Transcriber's Note: Original had 'ideopathic gastroentiritis'.">idiopathic gastroenteritis</ins> <i>and</i> delirium +tremens."</p> + +<p>There had been no evidence of delirium tremens, but +apparently the doctor felt he had scored a point. He +tossed the space ticket toward the shoes, closed his bag, +and prepared to leave.</p> + +<p>"Hey, doc!" The attendant's voice was indignant. +"Hey, what about my reporting fee?"</p> + +<p>The doctor stopped. He glanced at the kid, then toward +Feldman, his face a mixture of speculation and +dislike. He took a dollar bill from the wallet. "That's +right," he admitted. "The fee for reporting a solvent +case. Medical Lobby rules apply—even to a man who +breaks them."</p> + +<p>The kid's hand was out, but the doctor dropped the +dollar onto Feldman's cot. "There's your fee, pariah." +He left, forcing the protesting attendant to precede him.</p> + +<p>Feldman reached for the bill. It was blood money for<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_10" id="Page_10">[Pg 10]</a></span> +letting a man die—but it meant cigarettes and food—or +shelter for another night, if he could get a mission meal. +He no longer could afford pride. Grimly, he pocketed +the bill, staring at the face of the dead man. It looked +back sightlessly, now showing a faint speckling of tiny +dots. They caught Feldman's eyes, and he bent closer. +There should be no black dots on the skin of a man +who died of space-stomach. And there should have been +cyanosis....</p> + +<p>He swore and bent down to find the wrecks of his +shoes. He couldn't worry about anything now but getting +away from here before the attendant made trouble. +His eyes rested on the shoes of the dead man—sturdy +boots that would last for another year. They could do +the corpse no good; someone else would steal them if he +didn't. But he hesitated, cursing himself.</p> + +<p>The right boot fitted better than he could have expected, +but something got in the way as he tried to put +the left one on. His fingers found the bronze ticket. He +turned it over, considering it. He wasn't ready to fraud +his identity for what he'd heard of life on the spaceships, +yet. But he shoved it into his pocket and finished +lacing the boots.</p> + +<p>Outside, the snow was still falling, but it had turned +to slush, and the sidewalk was soggy underfoot. There +was going to be no work shoveling snow, he realized. +This would melt before the day was over. Feldman +hunched the suitcoat up, shivering as the cold bit into +him. The boots felt good, though; if he'd had socks, +they would have been completely comfortable.</p> + +<p>He passed a cheap restaurant, and the smell of the +synthetics set his stomach churning. It had been two +days since his last real meal, and the dollar burned in +his pocket. But he had to wait. There was a fair chance<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_11" id="Page_11">[Pg 11]</a></span> +this early that he could scavenge something edible.</p> + +<p>He shuffled on. After a while, the cold bothered him +less, and he passed through the hunger spell. He rolled +another smoke and sucked at it, hardly thinking. It was +better that way.</p> + +<p>It was much later when the big caduceus set into the +sidewalk snapped him back to awareness of where he'd +traveled. His undirected feet had led him much too far +uptown, following old habits. This was the Medical +Lobby building, where he'd spent more than enough +time, including three weeks in custody before they +stripped him of all rank and status.</p> + +<p>His eyes wandered to the ornate entrance where he'd +first emerged as a pariah. He'd meant to walk down +those steps as if he were still a man. But each step had +drained his resolution, until he'd finally covered his face +and slunk off, knowing himself for what the world had +branded him.</p> + +<p>He stood there now, staring at the smug young medical +politicians and the tired old general practitioners +filing in and out. One of the latter halted, fumbled in +his pocket and drew out a quarter.</p> + +<p>"Merry Christmas!" he said dully.</p> + +<p>Feldman fingered the coin. Then he saw a gray Medical +policeman watching him, and he knew it was time +to move on. Sooner or later, someone would recognize +him here.</p> + +<p>He clutched the quarter and turned to look for a coffee +shop that sold the synthetics to which his metabolism +had been switched. No shop would serve him here, +but he could buy coffee and a piece of cake to take out.</p> + +<p>A flurry of motion registered from the corner of his +eye, and he glanced back.<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_12" id="Page_12">[Pg 12]</a></span></p> + +<p>"Taxi! Taxi!"</p> + +<p>The girl rushing down the steps had a clear soprano +voice, cultured and commanding. The gray Medical uniform +seemed molded to her shapely figure and her red +hair glistened in the lights of the street. Her snub nose +and determined mouth weren't the current fashion, but +nobody stopped to think of fashions when they saw her. +She didn't have to be the daughter of the president of +Medical Lobby to rule.</p> + +<p>It was Chris—Chris Feldman once, and now Chris +Ryan again.</p> + +<p>Feldman swung toward a cab. For a moment, his attitude +was automatic and assured, and the cab stopped +before the driver noticed his clothes. He picked up the +bag Chris dropped and swung it onto the front seat. +She was fumbling in her change purse as he turned back +to shut the door.</p> + +<p>"Thank you, my good man," she said. She could be +gracious, even to a pariah, when his homage suited her. +She dropped two quarters into his hand, raising her eyes.</p> + +<p>Recognition flowed into them, followed by icy shock. +She yanked the cab door shut and shouted something to +the driver. The cab took off with a rush that left Feldman +in a backwash of slush and mud.</p> + +<p>He glanced down at the coins in his hand. It was his +lucky day, he thought bitterly.</p> + +<p>He moved across the street and away, not bothering +about the squeal of brakes and the honking horns. He +looked back only once, toward the glowing sign that +topped the building. <i>Your health is our business!</i> Then +the great symbol of the health business faded behind +him, and he stumbled on, sucking incessantly at the +cigarettes he rolled. One hand clutched the bronze<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_13" id="Page_13">[Pg 13]</a></span> +badge belonging to the dead man and his stolen boots +drove onward through the melting snow.</p> + +<p>It was Christmas in the year 2100 on the protectorate +of Earth.<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_14" id="Page_14">[Pg 14]</a></span></p> + + + +<hr style="width: 65%;" /> +<h2><a name="II" id="II"></a>II</h2> + +<h3>Lobby</h3> + + +<p>Feldman had set his legs the problem of heading for +the great spaceport and escape from Earth, and he let +them take him without further guidance. His mind was +wrapped up in a whirl of the past—his past and that of +the whole planet. Both pasts had in common the growth +and sudden ruin of idealism.</p> + +<p>Idealism! Throughout history, some men had sought +the ideal, and most had called it freedom. Only fools expected +absolute freedom, but wise men dreamed up +many systems of relative freedom, including democracy. +They had tried that in America, as the last fling +of the dream. It had been a good attempt, too.</p> + +<p>The men who drew the Constitution had been pretty +practical dreamers. They came to their task after a bitter +war and a worse period of wild chaos, and they had +learned where idealism stopped and idiocy began. They +set up a republic with all the elements of democracy +that they considered safe. It had worked well enough +to make America the number one power of the world. +But the men who followed the framers of the new plan +were a different sort, without the knowledge of practical +limits.</p> + +<p>The privileges their ancestors had earned in blood +and care became automatic rights. Practical men tried +to explain that there were no such rights—that each generation +had to pay for its rights with responsibility. That<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_15" id="Page_15">[Pg 15]</a></span> +kind of talk didn't get far. People wanted to hear about +rights, not about duties.</p> + +<p>They took the phrase that all men were created equal +and left out the implied kicker that equality was in the +sight of God and before the law. They wanted an equality +with the greatest men without giving up their drive +toward mediocrity, and they meant to have it. In a way, +they got it.</p> + +<p>They got the vote extended to everyone. The man +on subsidy or public dole could vote to demand more. +The man who read of nothing beyond sex crimes could +vote on the great political issues of the world. No ability +was needed for his vote. In fact, he was assured +that voting alone was enough to make him a fine and +noble citizen. He loved that, if he bothered to vote at +all that year. He became a great man by listing his unthought, +hungry desire for someone to take care of him +without responsibility. So he went out and voted for +the man who promised him most, or who looked most +like what his limited dreams felt to be a father image or +son image or hero image. He never bothered later to +see how the men he'd elected had handled the jobs he +had given them.</p> + +<p>Someone had to look, of course, and someone did. Organized +special interests stepped in where the mob had +failed. Lobbies grew up. There had always been pressure +groups, but now they developed into a third arm +of the government.</p> + +<p>The old Farm Lobby was unbeatable. The big farmers +shaped the laws they wanted. They convinced the +little farmers it was for the good of all, and they made +the story stick well enough to swing the farm vote. +They made the laws when it came to food and crops.</p> + +<p>The last of the great lobbies was Space, probably. It<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_16" id="Page_16">[Pg 16]</a></span> +was an accident that grew up so fast it never even knew +it wasn't a real part of the government. It developed +during a period of chaos when another country called +Russia got the first hunk of metal above the atmosphere +and when the representatives who had been picked for +everything but their grasp of science and government +went into panic over a myth of national prestige.</p> + +<p>The space effort was turned over to the aircraft industry, +which had never been able to manage itself successfully +except under the stimulus of war or a threat +of war. The failing airplane industry became the space +combine overnight, and nobody kept track of how big +it was, except a few sharp operators.</p> + +<p>They worked out a system of subcontracts that spread +the profits so wide that hardly a company of any size in +the country wasn't getting a share. Thus a lot of patriotic, +noble voters got their pay from companies in the +lobby block and could be panicked by the lobby at the +first mention of recession.</p> + +<p>So Space Lobby took over completely in its own field. +It developed enough pressure to get whatever appropriations +it wanted, even over Presidential veto. It created +the only space experts, which meant that the men placed +in government agencies to regulate it came from its own +ranks.</p> + +<p>The other lobbies learned a lot from Space.</p> + +<p>There had been a medical lobby long before, but it +had been a conservative group, mostly concerned with +protecting medical autonomy and ethics. It also tried to +prevent government control of treatment and payment, +feeling that it couldn't trust the people to know where +to stop. But its history was a long series of retreats.</p> + +<p>It fought what it called socialized medicine. But the +people wanted their troubles handled free—which meant<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_17" id="Page_17">[Pg 17]</a></span> +by government spending, since that could be added to +the national debt, and thus didn't seem to cost anything. +It lost, and eventually the government paid most medical +costs, with doctors working on a fixed fee. Then +quantity of treatment paid, rather than quality. Competence +no longer mattered so much. The Lobby lost, +but didn't know it—because the lowered standards of +competence in the profession lowered the caliber of +men running the political aspects of that profession as +exemplified by the Lobby.</p> + +<p>It took a world-wide plague to turn the tide. The +plague began in old China; anything could start there, +with more than a billion people huddled in one area +and a few madmen planning to conquer the world. It +might have been a laboratory mutation, but nobody +could ever prove it.</p> + +<p>It wiped out two billion people, depopulated Africa +and most of Asia, and wrecked Europe, leaving only +America comparatively safe to take over. An obscure +scientist in one of the laboratories run by the Medical +Lobby found a cure before the first waves of the epidemic +hit America. Rutherford Ryan, then head of the +Lobby, made sure that Medical Lobby got all the credit.</p> + +<p>By the time the world recovered, America ran it and +the Medical Lobby was untouchable. Ryan made a deal +with Space Lobby, and the two effectively ran the +world. None of the smaller lobbies could buck them, +and neither could the government.</p> + +<p>There was still a president and a congress, as there +had been a Senate under the Roman Caesars. But the +two Lobbies ran themselves as they chose. The real +government had become a kind of oligarchy, as it always +did after too much false democracy ruined the +ideals of real and practical self-rule. A man belonged to<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_18" id="Page_18">[Pg 18]</a></span> +his Lobby, just as a serf had belonged to his feudal landlord.</p> + +<p>It was a safe world now. Maybe progress had been +halted at about the level of 1980, but so long as the citizens +didn't break the rules of their lobbies, they had +very little to worry about. For that, for security and the +right not to think, most people were willing to leave +well enough alone.</p> + +<p>Some rules seemed harsh, of course, such as the law +that all operations had to be performed in Lobby hospitals. +But that could be justified; it was the only safe +kind of surgery and the only way to make sure there +was no unsupervised experimentation, such as that which +supposedly caused the plague. The rule was now an absolute +ethic of medicine. It also made for better fees.</p> + +<p>Feldman's father had stuck by the rule but had questioned +it. Feldman learned not to question in medical +school. He scored second in Medical Ethics only to +Christina Ryan.</p> + +<p>He had never figured why she singled him out for her +attentions, but he gloried in both those attentions and +the results. He became automatically a rising young +man, the favorite of the daughter of the Lobby president. +He went through internship without a sign of +trouble. Chris humored him in his desire to spend three +years of practice in a poor section loaded with disease, +and her father approved; such selfless dedication was +the perfect image projection for a future son-in-law. In +return, he agreed to follow that period by becoming +an administrator. A doctor's doctor, as they put it.</p> + +<p>They were married in April and his office was ready +in May, complete with a staff of eighty. The publicity +releases had gone out, and the Public Relations Lobby +that handled news and education was paid to begin the<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_19" id="Page_19">[Pg 19]</a></span> +greatest build-up any young genius ever had.</p> + +<p>They celebrated that, with a little party of some four +hundred people and reporters at Ryan's lodge in Canada. +It was to be a gala weekend.</p> + +<p>It was then that Baxter shot himself.</p> + +<p>Baxter had been Feldman's closest friend in the Lobby. +He'd come along to handle press relations and had gotten +romantic about the countryside, never having been +out of a city before. He hired a guide and went hunting, +eighty miles beyond the last outpost of civilization. +Somehow, he got his hand on a gun, though only guides +were supposed to touch them, managed to overcome its +safety devices, and then pulled the trigger with the gun +pointed the wrong way.</p> + +<p>Chris, Feldman and Harnett from Public Relations +had accompanied him on the trip. They were sitting in +a nearby car while Feldman enjoyed the scenery, Chris +made further plans, and Harnett gathered material. +There was also a photographer and writer, but they +hadn't been introduced by name.</p> + +<p>Feldman reached Baxter first. The man was moaning +and scared, and he was bleeding profusely. Only a miracle +had saved him from instant death. The bullet had +struck a rib, been deflected and robbed of some of its +energy, and had barely reached the heart. But it had +pierced the pericardium, as best Feldman could guess, +and it could be fatal at any moment.</p> + +<p>He'd reached for a probe without thinking. Chris +knocked his hand aside.</p> + +<p>She was right, of course. He couldn't operate outside +a hospital. But they had no phone in the lodge where +the guide lived and no way to summon an ambulance. +They'd have to drive Baxter back in the car, which +would almost certainly result in his death.<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_20" id="Page_20">[Pg 20]</a></span></p> + +<p>When Feldman seemed uncertain, Harnett had given +his warning in a low but vehement voice. "You touch +him, Dan, and I'll spread it in every one of our media. +I'll have to. It's the only way to retain public confidence. +There'd be a leak, with all the guides and others here, +and we can't afford that. I like you—you have color. But +touch that wound and I'll crucify you."</p> + +<p>Chris added her own threats. She'd spent years making +him the outlet for all her ambitions, denied because +women were still only second-rate members of Medical +Lobby. She couldn't let it go now. And she was +probably genuinely shocked.</p> + +<p>Baxter groaned again and started to bleed more profusely.</p> + +<p>There wasn't much equipment. Feldman operated with +a pocketknife sterilized in a bottle of expensive Scotch +and only anodyne tablets in place of anesthesia. He got +the bullet out and sewed up the wound with a bit of +surgical thread he'd been using to tie up a torn good-luck +emblem. The photographer and writer recorded +the whole thing. Chris swore harshly and beat her fists +against the bole of a tree. But Baxter lived. He recovered +completely, and was shocked at the heinous thing +that had been done to him.</p> + +<p>They crucified Feldman.<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_21" id="Page_21">[Pg 21]</a></span></p> + + + +<hr style="width: 65%;" /> +<h2><a name="III" id="III"></a>III</h2> + +<h3>Spaceman</h3> + + +<p>Most crewmen lived rough, ugly lives—and usually, +short ones. Passengers and officers on the big tubs were +given the equivalent of gravity in spinning compartments, +but the crews rode "free". The lucky crewmen +lived through their accidents, got space-stomach now +and then, and recovered. Nobody cared about the +others.</p> + +<p>Feldman's ticket was work-stamped for the <i>Navaho</i>, +and nobody questioned his identity. He suffered through +the agony of acceleration on the shuttle up to the orbital +station, then was sick as acceleration stopped. But +he was able to control himself enough to follow other +crewmen down a hall of the station toward the <i>Navaho</i>. +The big ships never touched a planet, always docking +at the stations.</p> + +<p>A checker met the crew and reached for their badges. +He barely glanced at them, punched a mark for each +on his checkoff sheet, and handed them back. "Deckmen +forward, tubemen to the rear," he ordered. "<i>Navaho</i> +blasts in fifteen minutes. Hey, you! You're tubes."</p> + +<p>Feldman grunted. He should have expected it. Tubemen +had the lowest lot of all the crew. Between the +killing work, the heat of the tubes, and occasional doses +of radiation, their lives weren't worth the metal value +of their tickets.</p> + +<p>He began pulling himself clumsily along a shaft, dodg<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_22" id="Page_22">[Pg 22]</a></span>ing +freight the loaders were tossing from hand to hand. +A bag hit his head, drawing blood, and another caught +him in the groin.</p> + +<p>"Watch it, bo," a loader yelled at him. "You dent that +bag and they'll brig you. Cantcha see it's got a special +courtesy stripe?"</p> + +<p>It had a brilliant green stripe, he saw. It also had a +name, printed in block letters that shouted their identity +before he could read the words. <i>Dr. Christina Ryan, +Southport, Mars.</i></p> + +<p>And he'd had to choose this time to leave Earth!</p> + +<p>Suddenly he was glad he was assigned to the tubes. It +was the one place on the ship where he'd be least likely +to run into her. As a doctor and a courtesy passenger, +she'd have complete run of the ship, but she'd hardly +bother with the dangerous and unpleasant tube section.</p> + +<p>He dragged his way back, beginning to sweat with +the effort. The <i>Navaho</i> was an old ship. A lot of the +handholds were missing, and he had to throw himself +along by erratic leaps. He was gaining proficiency, but +not enough to handle himself if the ship blasted off. +Time was growing short when he reached the aft bunkroom +where the other tubemen were waiting.</p> + +<p>"Ben," one husky introduced himself. "Tube chief. +Know how to work this?"</p> + +<p>Feldman could see that they were assembling a small +still. He'd heard of the phenomenal quantities of beer +spacemen drank, and now he realized what really happened +to it. Hard liquor was supposed to be forbidden, +but they made their own. "I can work it," he decided. +"I'm—uh—Dan."</p> + +<p>"Okay, Dan." Ben glanced at the clock. "Hit the +sacks, boys."</p> + +<p>By the time Feldman could settle into the sacklike<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_23" id="Page_23">[Pg 23]</a></span> +hammock, the <i>Navaho</i> began to shake faintly, and +weight piled up. It was mild compared to that on the +shuttle, since the big ships couldn't take high acceleration. +Space had been conquered for more than a century, +but the ships were still flimsy tubs that took months to +reach Mars, using immense amounts of fuel. Only the +valuable plant hormones from Mars made commerce +possible at the ridiculously high freight rate.</p> + +<p>Three hours later he began to find out why spacemen +didn't seem to fear dying or turning pariah. The tube +quarters had grown insufferably hot during the long +blast, but the main tube-room was blistering as Ben led +the men into it. The chief handed out spacesuits and +motioned for Dan.</p> + +<p>"Greenhorn, aincha? Okay, I'll take you with me. We +go out in the tubes and pull the lining. I pry up the +stuff, you carry it back here and stack it."</p> + +<p>They sealed off the tube-room, pumped out the air, +and went into the steaming, mildly radioactive tubes, +just big enough for a man on hands and knees. Beyond +the tube mouth was empty space, waiting for the man +who slipped. Ben began ripping out the eroded blocks +with a special tool. Feldman carried them back and +stacked them along with others. A plasma furnace +melted them down into new blocks. The work grew +progressively worse as the distance to the tube-room +increased. The tube mouth yawned closer and closer. +There were no handholds there—only the friction of a +man's body in the tube.</p> + +<p>Life settled into a dull routine of labor, sleep, and the +brief relief of the crude white mule from the still.</p> + +<p>They were six weeks out and almost finished with +the tube cleaning when Number Two tube blew. Bits +of the remaining radioactive fuel must have collected<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_24" id="Page_24">[Pg 24]</a></span> +slowly until they reached blow-point. Feldman in Number +One would have gone sailing out into space, but +Ben reacted at once. As the ship leaped slightly, Feldman +brought up sharply against the chief's braced body. +For a second their fate hung in the balance. Then it was +over, and Ben shoved him back, grinning faintly.</p> + +<p>He jerked his thumb and touched helmets briefly. +"There they go, Dan."</p> + +<p>The two men who had been working in Number +Two were charred lumps, drifting out into space.</p> + +<p>No further comment was made on it, except that +they'd have to work harder from now on, since they +were shorthanded.</p> + +<p>That rest period Feldman came down with a mild +attack of space-stomach—which meant no more drinking +for him—and was off work for a day. Then the +pace picked up. The tubes were cleared and they began +laying the new lining for the landing blasts. There +was no time for thought after that. Mars' orbital station +lay close when the work was finished.</p> + +<p>Ben slapped Feldman on the back. "Ya ain't bad for +a greenie, Dan. We all get six-day passes on Mars. Hit +the sack now so you won't waste time sleeping then. +We'll hear it when the ship berths."</p> + +<p>Feldman didn't hear it, but the others did. He felt +Ben shaking his shoulder, trying to drag him out of +the sack. "Grab your junk, Dan."</p> + +<p>Ben picked up Feldman's nearly empty bag and +tossed it toward him, before his eyes were fully open. +He grabbed for it and missed. He grabbed again, with +Ben's laughter in his ears. The bag hit the wall and +fell open, spilling its contents.</p> + +<p>Feldman began gathering it up, but the chief was no +longer laughing. A big hand grabbed up the space<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_25" id="Page_25">[Pg 25]</a></span> +ticket suddenly, and there was no friendliness now on +Ben's face.</p> + +<p>"Art Billing's card!" Ben told the other tubemen. +"Five trips I made with Art. He was saving his money, +going to buy a farm on Mars. Five trips and one more +to go before he had enough. Now you show up with +his ticket!"</p> + +<p>The tubemen moved forward toward Feldman. There +was no indecision. To them, apparently, trial had been +held and sentence passed.</p> + +<p>"Wait a minute," Feldman began. "Billings died of—"</p> + +<p>A fist snaked past his raised hand and connected with +his jaw. He bounced off a wall. A wrench sailed toward +him, glanced off his arm, and ripped at his muscles. Another +heavy fist struck.</p> + +<p>Abruptly, Ben's voice cut through their yells. "Hold +it!" He shoved through the group, tossing men backwards. +"Stow it! We can take care of him later. Right +now, this is captain's business. You fools want to lose +your leave?" He indicated two of the others. "You two +bring him along—and keep him quiet!"</p> + +<p>The two grabbed Feldman's arms and dragged him +along as the chief began pulling his way forward +through the tubes up towards the control section of the +ship. Feldman took a quick glance at their faces and +made no effort to resist; they obviously would have enjoyed +any chance to subdue him.</p> + +<p>They were stopped twice by minor officers, then sent +on. They finally found the captain near the exit lock, +apparently assisting the passengers to leave. Most of +them went on into the shuttle, but Chris Ryan remained +behind as the captain listened to Ben's report +and inspected the false ticket.<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_26" id="Page_26">[Pg 26]</a></span></p> + +<p>Finally the captain turned to Feldman. "You. What's +your name?"</p> + +<p>Chris' eyes were squarely on Feldman, cold and furious. +"He <i>was</i> Doctor Daniel Feldman, Captain Marker," +she stated.</p> + +<p>Feldman stood paralyzed. He'd been unwilling to face +Chris. He wanted to avoid all the past. But the idea +that she would denounce him had never entered his +head. There was no Medical rule involved. She knew +that as a pariah he was forbidden to board a passenger +ship, of course. But she'd been his wife once!</p> + +<p>Marker bowed slightly to her. "Thank you, Dr. Ryan. +I should take this criminal back to Earth in chains, I +suppose. But he's hardly worth the freightage. You men. +Want to take him down to Mars and ground him there?"</p> + +<p>Ben grinned and touched his forelock. "Thank you, +sir. We'd enjoy that."</p> + +<p>"Good. His pay reverts to the ship's fund. That's all, +men."</p> + +<p>Feldman started to protest, but a fist lashed savagely +against his mouth.</p> + +<p>He made no other protests as they dragged him into +the crew shuttle that took off for Southport. He avoided +their eyes and sat hunched over. It was Ben who finally +broke the silence.</p> + +<p>"What happened to Art's money? He had a pile on +him."</p> + +<p>"Go to hell!"</p> + +<p>"Give, I said!" Ben twisted his arm back toward his +shoulder, applying increasing pressure.</p> + +<p>"A doctor took it for his fee when Billings died of +space-stomach. Damn you, I couldn't help him!"</p> + +<p>Ben looked at the others. "Med Lobby fee, eh? All +the market will take. Umm. It could be, maybe." He<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_27" id="Page_27">[Pg 27]</a></span> +shrugged. "Okay, reasonable doubt. We won't kill you, +bo. Not quite, we won't."</p> + +<p>The shuttle landed and Ben handed out the little helmets +and aspirators that made life possible in Mars' +thin air. Outside, the tubemen took turns holding Feldman +and beating him while the passengers disembarked +from their shuttle. As he slumped into unconsciousness, +he had a picture of Chris Ryan's frozen face as she +moved steadily toward the port station.<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_28" id="Page_28">[Pg 28]</a></span></p> + + + +<hr style="width: 65%;" /> +<h2><a name="IV" id="IV"></a>IV</h2> + +<h3>Martian</h3> + + +<p>It was night when Feldman came to, and the temperature +was dropping rapidly. He struggled to sit up +through a fog of pain. Somewhere in his bag, he should +have an anodyne tablet that would kill any ache. He +finally found the pill and swallowed it, fumbling with +the aspirator lip opening.</p> + +<p>The aspirator meant life to him now, he suddenly realized. +He twisted to stare at the tiny charge-indicator +for the battery. It showed half-charge. Then he saw that +someone had attached another battery beside it. He puzzled +briefly over it, but his immediate concern was for +shelter.</p> + +<p>Apparently he was still where he had been knocked +out. There was a light coming from the little station, +and he headed toward that, fumbling for the few quarters +that represented his entire fortune.</p> + +<p>Maybe it would have been better if the tubemen had +killed him. Batteries were an absolute necessity here, +food and shelter would be expensive, and he had no +skills to earn his way. At most, he had only a day or so +left. But meantime, he had to find warmth before the +cold killed him.</p> + +<p>The tiny restaurant in the station was still open, and +the air was warm inside. He pulled off the aspirator, +shutting off the battery.</p> + +<p>The counterman didn't even glance up as he entered. +Feldman gazed at the printed menu and flinched.<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_29" id="Page_29">[Pg 29]</a></span></p> + +<p>"Soup," he ordered. It was the cheapest item he could +find.</p> + +<p>The counterman stared at him, obviously spotting his +Earth origin. "You adjusted to synthetics?"</p> + +<p>Feldman nodded. Earth operated on a mixed diet, +with synthetics for all who couldn't afford the natural +foods there. But Mars was all synthetic. Many of the +chemicals in food could exist in either of two forms, or +isomers; they were chemically alike, but differently crystallized. +Sometimes either form was digestible, but frequently +the body could use only the isomer to which it +was adjusted.</p> + +<p>Martian plants produced different isomers from those +on Earth. Since the synthetic foods turned out to be +Mars-normal, that was probably the more natural form. +Research designed to let the early colonists live off native +food here had turned up an enzyme that enabled +the body to handle either isomer. In a few weeks of eating +Martian or synthetic food, the body adapted; without +more enzyme, it lost its power to handle Earth-normal +food.</p> + +<p>The cheapness of <ins class="correction" title="Transcriber's Note: Original had 'snythetics'.">synthetics</ins> and the discovery that +many diseases common to Earth would not attack Mars-normal +bodies led to the wide use of synthetics on +Earth. No pariah could have been expected to afford +Earth-normal.</p> + +<p>Feldman finished the soup, and found a cigarette +that was smokable. "Any objections if I sit in the waiting +room?"</p> + +<p>He'd expected a rejection, but the counterman only +shrugged. The waiting room was almost dark and the +air was chilly, but there was normal pressure. He found +a bench and slumped onto it, lighting his cigarette. +He'd miss the smokes—but probably not for long. He<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_30" id="Page_30">[Pg 30]</a></span> +finished the cigarette reluctantly and sat huddled on the +bench, waiting for morning.</p> + +<p>The airlock opened later, and feet sounded on the +boards of the waiting-room floor, but he didn't look up +until a thin beam of light hit him. Then he sighed and +nodded. The shoes, made of some odd fiber, didn't look +like those of a cop, but this was Mars. He could see +only a hulking shadow behind the light.</p> + +<p>"You the man who was a medical doctor?" The voice +was dry and old.</p> + +<p>"Yeah," Feldman answered. "Once."</p> + +<p>"Good. Thought that space crewman was just lying +drunk at first. Come along, Doc."</p> + +<p>"Why?" It didn't matter, but if they wanted him to +move on, they'd have to push a little harder.</p> + +<p>The light swung up to show the other. He was the +shade of old leather with a bleached patch of sandy hair +and the deepest gray eyes Feldman had ever seen. It +was a face that could have belonged to a country storekeeper +in New England, with the same hint of dry humor. +The man was dressed in padded levis and a leather +jacket of unguessable age. His aspirator seemed worn +and patched, and one big hand fumbled with it.</p> + +<p>"Because we're friends, Doc," the voice drawled at +him. "Because you might as well come with us as sit +here. Maybe we have a job for you."</p> + +<p>Feldman shrugged and stood up. If the man was a +Lobby policeman, he was different from the usual kind. +Nothing could be worse than the present prospects.</p> + +<p>They went out through the doors of the waiting room +toward a rattletrap vehicle. It looked something like a +cross between a schoolboy's jalopy and a scaled-down +army tank of former times. The treads were caterpillar +style, and the stubby body was completely enclosed. A<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_31" id="Page_31">[Pg 31]</a></span> +tiny airlock stuck out from the rear.</p> + +<p>Two men were inside, both bearded. The old man +grinned at them. "Mark, Lou, meet Doc Feldman. Sit, +Doc. I'm Jake Mullens, and you might say we were +farmers."</p> + +<p>The motor started with a wheeze. The tractor swung +about and began heading away from Southport toward +the desert dunes. It shook and rattled, but it seemed to +make good time.</p> + +<p>"I don't know anything about farming," Feldman protested.</p> + +<p>Jake shrugged. "No, of course not. Couple of our +friends heard about you where a spaceman was getting +drunk and tipped us off. We know who you are. Here, +try a bracky?"</p> + +<p>Feldman took what seemed to be a cigarette and +studied it doubtfully. It was coarse and fibrous inside, +with a thin, hard shell that seemed to be a natural +growth, as if it had been chopped from some vine. He +lighted it, not knowing what to expect. Then he +coughed as the bitter, rancid smoke burned at his throat. +He started to throw it down, and hesitated. Jake was +smoking one, and it had killed the craving for tobacco +almost instantly.</p> + +<p>"Some like 'em, most don't," Jake said. "They won't +hurt you. Look—see that? Old Martian ruins. Built by +some race a million years ago. Only half a dozen on +Mars."</p> + +<p>It was only a clump of weathered stone buildings in +the light from the tractor, and Feldman had seen better +in the stereo shots. It was interesting only because it +connected with the legendary Martian race, like the canals +that showed from space but could not be seen on +the surface of the planet.<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_32" id="Page_32">[Pg 32]</a></span></p> + +<p>Feldman waited for the other to go on, but Jake was +silent. Finally, he ground out the butt of the weed. +"Okay, Jake. What do you want with me?"</p> + +<p>"Consultation, maybe. Ever hear of herb doctors? I'm +one of them."</p> + +<p>Feldman knew that the Lobby permitted some leniency +here, due to the scarcity of real medical help. +There was only one decent hospital at Northport, on +the opposite side of the planet.</p> + +<p>Jake sighed and reached for another bracky weed. +"Yeah, I'm pretty good with herbs. But I got a sick +village on my hands and I can't handle it. We can't all +mortgage our work to pay for a trip to Northport. +Southport's all messed up while the new she-doctor gets +her metabolism changed. Maybe the old guy there +would have helped, but he died a couple months ago. +So it looks like you're our only hope."</p> + +<p>"Then you have no hope," Feldman told him sickly. +"I'm a pariah, Jake. I can't do a thing for you."</p> + +<p>"We heard about your argument with the Lobby. +News reaches Mars. But these are mighty sick people, +Doc."</p> + +<p>Feldman shook his head. "Better take me back. I'm +not allowed to practice medicine. The charge would be +first-degree murder if anything happened."</p> + +<p>Lou leaned forward. "Shall I talk to him, Jake?"</p> + +<p>The old man grimaced. "Time enough. Let him see +what we got first."</p> + +<p>Sand howled against the windshield and the tractor +bumped and surged along. Feldman took another of the +weeds and tried to estimate their course. But he had no +idea where they were when the tractor finally stopped. +There was a village of small huts that seemed to be +merely entrances to living quarters dug under the sur<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_33" id="Page_33">[Pg 33]</a></span>face. +They led him into one and through a tunnel into +a large room filled with simple cots and the unhappy +sounds of sick people.</p> + +<p>Two women were disconsolately trying to attend to +the half-dozen sick—four children and two adults. Their +faces brightened as they saw Jake, then fell. "Eb and +Tilda died," they reported.</p> + +<p>Feldman looked at the two figures under the sheets +and whistled. The same black specks he had seen on the +face of Billings covered the skins of the two old people +who had died.</p> + +<p>"Funny," Jake said slowly. "They didn't quite act like +the others and they sure died mighty fast. Darn it, I +had it figured for that stuff in the book. Infantile paralysis. +How about it, Doc? Sort of like a cold, stiff +sore neck."</p> + +<p>It was clearly polio—one of the diseases that could attack +Mars-normal flesh. Feldman nodded at the symptoms, +staring at the sick kids. He shrugged, finally. +"There's a cure for it, but I don't have the serum. Neither +do you, or you wouldn't have brought me here. I +couldn't help if I wanted to."</p> + +<p>"That old book didn't list a cure," Jake told him. +"But it said the kids didn't have to be crippled. There +was something about a Kenny treatment. Doc, does the +stuff really cripple for life?"</p> + +<p>Feldman saw one of the boys flinch. He dropped his +eyes, remembering the Lobby's efficient spy service on +Earth and wondering what it was like here. But he knew +the outcome.</p> + +<p>"Damn you, Jake!"</p> + +<p>Jake chuckled. "Thought you would. We sure appreciate +it. Just tell us what to do, Doc."</p> + +<p>Feldman began writing down his requirements, try<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_34" id="Page_34">[Pg 34]</a></span>ing +to remember the details of the treatment. Exercise, +hot compresses, massage. It was coming back to him. +He'd have to do it himself, of course, to get the feel +of it. He couldn't explain it well enough. But he couldn't +turn his back on the kids, either.</p> + +<p>"Maybe I can help," he said doubtfully as he moved +toward a cot.</p> + +<p>"No, Doc." Jake's voice wasn't amused any longer, +and he held the younger man back. "You're doing us a +favor, and I'll be darned if I'll let you stick your neck +out too far. You can't treat 'em yourself. Mars is +tougher than Earth. You should live under Space Lobby +<i>and</i> Medical Lobby here a while. Oh, maybe they +don't mind a few fools like me being herb doctors, but +they'd sure hate to have a man who can do real medicine +outside their hands. You let me do it, or get in +the tractor and I'll have Lou drive you back. Once you +start in here, there'll be no stopping. Believe me."</p> + +<p>Feldman looked at him, seeing the colonials around +him for the first time as people. It had been a long time +since he'd been treated as a fellow human by anyone.</p> + +<p>Jake was right, he knew. Once he put his hand to the +bandage, eventually there'd be no turning back from +the scalpel. These people needed medical help too desperately. +Eventually, the news would spread, and the +Lobby police would come for him. Chris couldn't afford +to shield him. In fact, he was sure now that she'd +hunt him night and day.</p> + +<p>"Don't be a fool, Jake," he ordered brusquely. He +handed his list to one of the women. "You'll have to +learn to do what I do," he told the people there. "You'll +have to work like fools for weeks. But there won't be +many crippled children. I can promise that much!"</p> + +<p>He blinked sharply at the sudden hope in their eyes.<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_35" id="Page_35">[Pg 35]</a></span> +But his mind went on wondering how long it would +be before the inevitable would catch up with him. With +luck, maybe a few months. But he hadn't been blessed +with any superabundance of luck. It would probably be +less time than he thought.<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_36" id="Page_36">[Pg 36]</a></span></p> + + + +<hr style="width: 65%;" /> +<h2><a name="V" id="V"></a>V</h2> + +<h3>Surgery</h3> + + +<p>Doc Feldman's luck was better than he had expected. +For an Earth year, he was a doctor again, moving about +from village to village as he was needed and doing what +he could.</p> + +<p>The village had been isolated during the early colonization +when Mars made a feeble attempt to break free +of Space Lobby. Their supplies had been cut off and +they had been forced to do for themselves. Now they +were largely self-sufficient. They grew native plants and +extracted hormones in crude little chemical plants. The +hormones were traded to the big chemical plants for a +pittance to buy what had to come from Earth. Other +jury-rigged affairs synthesized much of their food. But +mostly they learned to get along on what Mars provided.</p> + +<p>Doc Feldman learned from them. Money was no +longer part of his life. He ate with whatever family +needed him and slipped into the life around him.</p> + +<p>He was learning Martian medicine and finding that +his Earth courses were mostly useless. No wonder the +villagers distrusted Lobby doctors. Doc had his own little +laboratory where he had managed to start making +Mars-normal penicillin—a primitive antibiotic, but better +than nothing.</p> + +<p>Jake had come to remind him that it was his first anniversary, +and now they were smoking bracky together.<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_37" id="Page_37">[Pg 37]</a></span></p> + +<p>"Sheer luck, Jake," Doc repeated. "You Martians are +tough. But some day someone is going to die under my +care, with the little equipment I have. Then—"</p> + +<p>Jake nodded slowly. "Maybe, Doc. And maybe some +day Mars will break free of the Lobbies. You'd better +pray for that."</p> + +<p>"I've been—" Doc stopped, realizing what he'd +started to say. The old man chuckled.</p> + +<p>"You've been talking rebellion for months, Doc. I +hear rumors. Whenever you get mad, you want us to +secede. But you don't really mean it yet. You can't picture +any government but the one you're used to."</p> + +<p>Doc grinned. Jake had a point, but it was not as +strong as it would have been a few months before. The +towns under the Lobby were cheap imitations of Earth, +but here, divorced to a large extent from the lobbies, +the villages were making Mars their own. Their ways +might be strange; but they worked.</p> + +<p>Jake shifted his body in the weak sunlight. "Newton +village forgot to report a death on time. I hear Ryan +is sweating them out, trying to prove it was your fault."</p> + +<p>There was no evidence against him yet, Doc was sure. +But Chris was out to prove something, and to get a +reputation as a top-flight administrator. It must have +hurt when they shipped her here as head of the lesser +hemisphere of Mars. She'd expected to use Feldman as +a front while she became the actual ruler of the whole +Lobby. Now she wanted to strike back.</p> + +<p>"She's using blackmail," he said, and some of his old +bitterness was in his voice. "Anyone taking treatment +from an herb doctor in this section is cut off from Medical +Lobby service. Damn it, Jake, that could mean letting +people die!"</p> + +<p>"Yeah." Jake sighed softly. "It could mean letting<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_38" id="Page_38">[Pg 38]</a></span> +people begin to think about getting rid of the Lobby, +too. Well, I gotta help harvest the bracky. Take it easy +on operating for a while, will you, Doc?"</p> + +<p>"All right, Jake. But stop keeping the serious cases a +secret. Two men died last month because you wouldn't +call me for surgery. I've broken all my oaths already. +It doesn't matter anymore."</p> + +<p>"It matters, boy. We've been lucky, but some day one +case will go to the hospital and they'll find your former +work. Then they'll really be after you. The less you do +the better."</p> + +<p>Doc watched Jake slump off, then turned down into +the little root cellar and back toward the room concealed +behind it, where his crude laboratory lay. For +the moment, he was free to work on the mystery of the +black spots.</p> + +<p>He kept running into them—always on the body of +someone who died of something that seemed like a normal +disease. Without a microscope, he was almost helpless, +but he had taken specimens and tried to culture +them. Some of his cultures had grown, though they +might be nothing but unknown Martian fungi or bacteria. +Mars was dry and almost devoid of air, but plants +and a few smaller insects had survived and adapted. It +wasn't by any means lifeless.</p> + +<p>Without a microscope, he could do little but depend +on his files of cases. But today there was new evidence. +A villager had filched an Earth <i>Medical Journal</i> from +the tractor driven by Chris Ryan and forwarded it to +him. He found the black specks mentioned in a single +paragraph, under skin diseases. Investigation of the diet +was being made, since all cases were among people +eating synthetics.</p> + +<p>There was another article on aberrant cases—a few<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_39" id="Page_39">[Pg 39]</a></span> +strange little misbehaviors in classical syndromes. He +studied that, wondering. It had to be the same thing. +Diet didn't account for the fact that the specks appeared +only when the patient was near death.</p> + +<p>Nor did it account for the hard lump at the base of +the neck which he found in every case he could check. +That might be coincidence, but he doubted it.</p> + +<p>Whatever it was, it aggravated any other disease the +patient had and made seemingly simple diseases turn out +to be completely and rapidly fatal. Once syphilis had +been called "The Great Imitator". This gave promise of +being worse.</p> + +<p>He shook his head, cursing his lack of equipment. +Each month more people were dying with these specks—and +he was helpless.</p> + +<p>The concealed door broke open suddenly and a boy +thrust his head in. "Doc, there's a man here from Einstein. +Says his wife's dying."</p> + +<p>The man was already coming into the room.</p> + +<p>"She's powerful sick, Doc. Had a bellyache, fever, +began throwing up. Pains under her belly, like she's +had before. But this time it's awful."</p> + +<p>Doc shot a few questions at him, frowning at what +he heard. Then he began packing the few things that +might help. There should be no appendicitis on Mars. +The bugs responsible for that shouldn't have adapted +to Mars-normal. But more and more infections found +ways to cross the border. Gangrene had been able to get +by without change, it seemed. So far, none of the contagious +infections except polio and the common cold +had made the jump.</p> + +<p>This sounded like an advanced case, perhaps already +involving peritonitis.</p> + +<p>So far, he'd been lucky with penicillin, but each time<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_40" id="Page_40">[Pg 40]</a></span> +he used it with grave doubts of its action on the Mars-adapted +patients. If the appendix had burst, however, it +was the only possible treatment.</p> + +<p>He riffled through his stores; There was ether enough, +fortunately. The villagers had made that for him out of +Martian plants, using their complicated fermentation +processes. He yelled for Jake, and the boy brought the +old man back a moment later.</p> + +<p>"Jake, I'll need more of that narcotic stuff. I don't +want the woman writhing and tearing her stitches after +the ether wears off."</p> + +<p>"Can't get it, Doc." Jake's eyes seemed to cloud as he +said it. "Distilling plant broke down. Doc, I don't like +this case. That woman's been to the hospital three times. +I hear she just got out recently. This might be a plant, +or they figure they can't help her."</p> + +<p>"They're afraid to try anything on Mars-normal flesh. +They can't be proved wrong if they do nothing." Doc +finished packing his bag and got ready to go out. "Jake, +either I'm a doctor or I'm not. I can't worry when a +woman may be dying."</p> + +<p>For a second, Jake's expression was stubborn. Then +the little crow's feet around his eyes deepened and the +dry chuckle was back in his voice. "Right, Dr. Feldman." +He flipped up his thumb and went off at a shuffling +run toward the tractor. Lou and the man from +Einstein followed Doc into the machine.</p> + +<p>It was a silent ride, except for Doc's questions about +the sick woman. Her husband, George Lynn, was evasive +and probably ignorant. He admitted that Harriet +had been to the dispensary and small infirmary that +Southport called a hospital.</p> + +<p>It was the only place in the entire Southern hemisphere +where an operation could be performed legally.<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_41" id="Page_41">[Pg 41]</a></span> +Most cases had to go to Northport, but Chris had been +trying to expand. Apparently, she was determined to +make Southport into another major center before she +was called back to Earth.</p> + +<p>Doc wondered why the villagers went there. They +had no medical insurance with the Lobby; they couldn't +afford it. Most villagers didn't have the cash, either. +They were forced to mortgage their future work and +that of their families to the drug plants that were run +by the Lobby.</p> + +<p>"And they just turned your wife away?" Doc asked. +He couldn't quite believe that of Chris.</p> + +<p>"Well, I dunno. She wouldn't talk much. Twice she +went and they gave her something. Cost every cent I +could borrow. Then this last time, they kept her a couple +days before they let me come and get her. But +now she's a lot worse."</p> + +<p>Jake spun about, suddenly tense. "How'd you pay +them last time, George?"</p> + +<p>"Why, they didn't ask. I told her she could put up +six months from me and the kids, but nobody said nothing +about it. Just gave her back to me." He frowned +slowly, his dull voice uncertain. "They told me they'd +done all they could, not to bring her back. That's why +she was so strong on getting Doc."</p> + +<p>"I don't like it," Jake said flatly. "It stinks. They always +charge. George, did they suggest she get in touch +with Doc here?"</p> + +<p>"Maybe they did, maybe not. Harriet did all the talking +with them. I just do what she tells me, and she said +to get Doc."</p> + +<p>Jake swore. "It smells like a trap. Are you sure she's +sick, George?"</p> + +<p>"I felt her head and she sure had a fever." George<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_42" id="Page_42">[Pg 42]</a></span> +Lynn was torn between his loyalties. "You know me, +Doc. You fixed me up that time I had the red pip. I +wouldn't pull nothing on you."</p> + +<p>Doc had a feeling that Jake was probably right, but +he vetoed the suggestion that they stop to look for spies. +He had no time for that. If the woman was really sick, +he had to get to her at once, and even that might be +too late.</p> + +<p>He remembered the woman, sickly from other treatment. +He'd been forced to remove her inflamed tonsils +a few months before. She'd whined and complained because +he couldn't spend all his time attending her. She +was a nag, a shrew, and a totally selfish woman. But that +was her <ins class="correction" title="Transcriber's Note: Original had 'huband's'.">husband's</ins> worry, not his.</p> + +<p>He dashed into the little house when they reached +Einstein, and his first glance confirmed what George +Lynn had said. The woman was sick, all right. She was +running a high fever. Much too high.</p> + +<p>She began whining and protesting at his having taken +so long, but the pain soon forced her to stop.</p> + +<p>"There may still be a chance," Doc told her husband +brusquely. He threw the cleanest sheet onto a table and +shoved it under the single light. "Keep out of the way—in +the other room, if you can all pile in there. This +isn't exactly aseptic, anyhow. You can boil a lot of water, +if you want to help."</p> + +<p>It would give them something to do and he could +use the water to clean up. There was no time to wait +for it, however. He had to sterilize with alcohol and +carbolic acid, and hope. He bent over the woman, ripping +her thin gown across to make room for the operation.</p> + +<p>Then he swore.</p> + +<p>Across her abdomen was the unhealed wound of a<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_43" id="Page_43">[Pg 43]</a></span> +previous operation. They'd worked on her at <ins class="correction" title="Transcriber's Note: Original had 'Southpost'.">Southport</ins>. +They must have removed the appendix and then +been shocked by the signs of infection. They weren't +supposed to release a sick patient, but there was an easy +out for them; they could remove her from the danger +of spreading an unknown infection. Some doctors must +have doped her up on sedatives and painkillers and sent +her home, knowing that she would call him. +For that matter, they might have noticed her unrecorded +tonsillectomy and considered her fair bait.</p> + +<p>He grabbed the ether and slapped a cone over her +nose. She tried to protest; she never cooperated in anything. +But the fumes of the ether he dipped onto the +packing of the cone soon overcame that.</p> + +<p>It was peritonitis, of course. The only thing to do was +to go in and scrape and clean as best he could. It was +a rotten job to have to do, and he should have had +help. But he gritted his teeth and began. He couldn't +trust anyone else to hold the instruments, even.</p> + +<p>He cleaned the infection as best he could, knowing +there was almost no chance. He used all the penicillin +he dared. Then he began sewing up the incision. It +was all he could do, except for dressing the wound with +a sterile bandage. He reached for one, and stopped.</p> + +<p>While he'd been working, the woman had died, far +more quietly than she had ever lived.</p> + +<p>It was probably the only gracious act of her life. +But it was damning to Doc. They couldn't hide her +death, and any investigation would show that someone +had worked on her. To the Lobby, he would be the +one who had murdered her.</p> + +<p>Jake was waiting in the tractor. He took one look at +Doc's face and made no inquiries.</p> + +<p>They were more than a mile away when Jake pointed<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_44" id="Page_44">[Pg 44]</a></span> +back. Small in the distance, but distinct against the +sands, a gray Medical Corps tractor was coming. Either +they'd had a spy in the village or they'd guessed the +rate of her infection very closely. They must have +hoped to catch Doc in the act, and they'd barely +missed.</p> + +<p>It wouldn't matter. Their pictures and what testimony +they could force from the village should be +enough to hang Doc.<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_45" id="Page_45">[Pg 45]</a></span></p> + + + +<hr style="width: 65%;" /> +<h2><a name="VI" id="VI"></a>VI</h2> + +<h3>Research</h3> + + +<p>There had been a council the night following the +death of Harriet Lynn. Somehow the word had spread +through the villages and the chiefs had assembled in +Jake's village. But they had brought no solution, and +in the long run had been forced to accept Doc's decision.</p> + +<p>"I'm not going to retire and hide," he'd told them, +surprised at his own decision, but grimly determined. +"You need me and I need you. I'll move every +day in hopes the Lobby police won't find me, but I +won't quit."</p> + +<p>Now he was packing the things he most needed and +getting ready to move. The small bottles in which he +was trying to grow his cultures would need warmth. +He shoved them into an inner pocket, and began surveying +what must be left.</p> + +<p>He was heading for his tractor when another battered +machine drove up. It had a girl of about fourteen, with +tears streaming down her face. She held out a pleading +hand, and her voice was scared. "It's—it's mama!"</p> + +<p>"Where?"</p> + +<p>"Leibnitz."</p> + +<p>Leibnitz was near enough. Doc started his tractor, +motioning for the girl to lead the way. The little dwelling +she led him to was at the edge of the village, looking +more poverty-stricken than most.<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_46" id="Page_46">[Pg 46]</a></span></p> + +<p>Chris Ryan, and three of the Medical Lobby police +were inside, waiting. The girl's mother was tied to the +bed, with a collection of medical instruments laid +out, but apparently the threat had been enough. No +actual injury had been inflicted. Probably none had +been intended seriously.</p> + +<p>"I knew you'd answer that kind of call," Chris said +coldly.</p> + +<p>He grinned sickly. They'd wasted no time. "I hear +it's more than you'll do, Chris. Congratulations! My patient +died. You're lucky."</p> + +<p>"She was certainly dead when my men took her picture. +The print shows the death grimace clearly."</p> + +<p>"Pretty. Frame it and keep it to comfort you when +you feel lonely," he snapped.</p> + +<p>She struck him across the mouth with the handle of +her gun. Then she twisted out through the door +quickly, heading for the tractor that had been camouflaged +to look like those used by the villagers. The three +police led him behind her.</p> + +<p>A shout went up, and people began to rush onto the +village street. But they were too late. By the time they +reached Southport, Doc could see a trail of battered +tractors behind, but there was nothing more the people +could do. Chris had her evidence and her prisoner.</p> + +<hr style='width: 45%;' /> + +<p>Judge Ben Wilson might have been Jake's brother. +He was older and grayer, but the same expression lay +on his face. He must have been the family black sheep, +since his father had been president of Space Lobby. Instead +of inheriting the position, Wilson had remained +on Mars, safely out of the family's way.</p> + +<p>He dropped the paper he was reading to frown at +Chris. "This the fellow?"<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_47" id="Page_47">[Pg 47]</a></span></p> + +<p>She began formal charges, but he cut them off. "Your +<ins class="correction" title="Transcriber's Note: Original had 'laywer'.">lawyer</ins> already had all that drawn up. I've been expecting +you, Doctor. Doctor! Hnnf! You'd do a lot better +home somewhere raising a flock of babies. Well, young +fellow—so you're Feldman. Okay, your trial comes up +day after tomorrow. Be a shame to lock you in Southport +jail, a man of your importance. We'll just keep +you here in the pending-trial room. It's a lot more comfortable."</p> + +<p>Chris had been boiling slowly, and now she seemed +to blow her safety valve. "Judge Wilson, your methods +are your own business in local affairs. But this involves +Earth Medical Lobby. I demand—"</p> + +<p>"Tch, <i>tch</i>!" The judge stared at her reprovingly. +"Young woman, you don't demand anything. This is +Mars. If Space Lobby can stand me, I guess our friends +over at Medical will have to. Or should I hold trial +right now and find Feldman innocent for lack of evidence?"</p> + +<p>"You wouldn't!" Chris cried. Then her face sobered +suddenly. "I apologize. Medical is pleased to leave +things in your hands, of course."</p> + +<p>Wilson smiled. "Court's closed for today. Doc, I'll +show you your cell. It's right next to my study, so I'm +heading there anyhow."</p> + +<p>He began shucking his robe while Chris went out +with the police, her voice sharp and continual.</p> + +<p>The cell was both reasonably escape-proof and comfortable, +Doc saw, and he tried to thank the judge.</p> + +<p>But the old man waved it aside. "Forget it. I just like +to see that little termagant taken down. But don't count +on my being soft. My methods may be a bit unusual—I +always did like the courtroom scenes in the old +books by that fellow Smith—but Space Lobby never<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_48" id="Page_48">[Pg 48]</a></span> +had any reason to reverse my decisions. Anything you +need?"</p> + +<p>"Sure," Doc told him, grinning in spite of his bitterness. +"A good biology lab and an electron microscope."</p> + +<p>"Umm. How about a good optical mike and some +stains? Just got them in on the last shipment. Figure +they were meant for you anyhow, since Jake Mullens +asked me to order them."</p> + +<p>He went out and came back with the box almost at +once. He snorted at Doc's incredulous thanks and +moved off, his bedroom slippers slapping against the +hard floor.</p> + +<p>Doc stared after him. If he were a friend of Jake, +willing to invent some excuse to get a microscope here +... but it didn't matter. Friend or foe, his death sentence +would be equally fatal. And there were other +things to be thought of now. The little microscope was +an excellent one, though only a monocular.</p> + +<p>Doc's hands trembled as he drew his cultures out and +began making up a slide. The sun offered the best +source of light near the window, and he adjusted the +instrument. Something began to come into view, but +too faintly to be really visible.</p> + +<p>He remembered the stains, trying to recall his biology +courses. More by luck than skill, his fourth try gave him +results.</p> + +<p>Under two thousand powers, he could just see details. +There were dozens of cells in his impure culture, +but only one seemed unfamiliar. It was a long, worm-like +thing, sharpened at both ends, with the three separate +nuclei that were typical of Martian life forms. +Nearby were a host of little rodlike squiggles just too +small to see clearly.</p> + +<p>Martian life! No Martian bug had ever proved harm<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_49" id="Page_49">[Pg 49]</a></span>ful +to men. Yet this was no mutated cell or virus from +Earth; it was a new disease, completely different from +all others. It was one where all Earth's centuries of experience +with bacteria would be valueless—the first +Martian disease. Unless this was simply some accidental +contamination of his culture, not common to the other +samples. He worked on until the light was too faint +before putting the microscope aside.</p> + +<p>By the time the trial commenced, however, he was +sure of the cause of the disease. It <i>was</i> Martian. Crude +as his cultures were, they had proved that.</p> + +<p>The little courtroom was filled, mostly from the villages. +Lou was there, along with others he had come to +know. Then the sight of Jake caught Doc's eyes. The +darned fool had no business there; he could get too +closely mixed into the whole mess.</p> + +<p>"Court's in session," Wilson announced. "Doc, you +represented by counsel?"</p> + +<p>Jake's voice answered. "Your Honor, I represent the +defendant. I think you'll find my credentials in order."</p> + +<p>Chris started to protest, but Wilson grinned. "Never +lost your standing in spite of that little fracas thirty +years ago, so far as I know. But the police thought you +were a witness when you came walking in. Figured you +were giving up."</p> + +<p>"I never said so," Jake answered.</p> + +<p>Chris was squirming angrily, but the florid man acting +as counsel for Medical Lobby shook his head, bending +over to whisper in her ear. He straightened. "No objection +to counsel for the defense. We recognize his +credentials."</p> + +<p>"You're a fool, Matthews," the judge told him. "Jake +was smarter than half the rest of Legal Lobby before +he went native. Still can tie your tail <ins class="correction" title="Transcriber's Note: Original had 'in'.">to</ins> a can. Okay,<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_50" id="Page_50">[Pg 50]</a></span> +let's start things. I'm too old to dawdle."</p> + +<p>Doc lost track of most of what happened. This was +totally unlike anything on Earth, though it might have +been in keeping with the general casualness of the villages. +Maybe the ritualistic routine of the Lobbies was +driving those who could resist to the opposite extreme.</p> + +<p>Chris was the final witness. Matthews drew comment +of Feldman's former crime from her, and Jake made +no protest, though Wilson seemed to expect one. Then +she began sewing his shroud. There wasn't a fact that +managed to emerge without slanting, though technically +correct. Jake sat quietly, smiling faintly, and making +no protests.</p> + +<p>He got up lazily to cross-examine Chris. "Dr. Ryan, +when Daniel Feldman was examined by the Captain of +the <i>Navaho</i> after arriving at Mars station, did you identify +him then as having been Dr. Daniel Feldman?"</p> + +<p>She glanced at Matthews, who seemed puzzled but +unconcerned. "That's correct," she admitted. "But—"</p> + +<p>"And you later saw him delivered to the surface of +Mars. Is that also correct?" When she assented, Jake +hesitated. Then he frowned. "What did you do then? +Did you report him or send anyone to look after him +or anything like that?"</p> + +<p>"Certainly not," she answered. "He was no—"</p> + +<p>"You did absolutely nothing about him after you +identified him and saw him delivered here? You're quite +sure of that?"</p> + +<p>"I did nothing."</p> + +<p>Jake stood quietly for a moment, then shrugged. "No +more questions."</p> + +<p>Matthews finished things in a plea for the salvation +of all humanity from the danger of such men as Daniel +Feldman. He was looking smug, as was Chris.<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_51" id="Page_51">[Pg 51]</a></span></p> + +<p>Wilson turned to Jake. "Has the defense anything to +say?"</p> + +<p>"A few things, Your Honor." Jake stood up, suddenly +looking certain and pleased. "We are happy to +admit everything factual the Lobby had testified. Daniel +Feldman performed a surgical operation on Harriet +Lynn in the village of Einstein. But when has it been +illegal for a member of the Medical profession to +perform an operation, even with small chance of success, +within an accepted area for such operation? There +has been no evidence adduced that any crime or act of +even unethical conduct was committed."</p> + +<p>That brought Chris and Matthews to their feet. Wilson +was relaxed again, looking as if he'd swallowed a +whole cage of canaries. He banged his gavel down.</p> + +<p>Jake picked up two ragged and dog-eared volumes +from his table. "Case of Harding vs. Southport, 2043, +establishes that a Lobby is responsible for any member +on Mars. It is also responsible for informing the authorities +of any criminal conduct on the part of its +members or any former member known to it. Failure to +report shall be considered an admission that the Lobby +recognizes the member as one in good standing and +accepts responsibility for that member's conduct.</p> + +<p>"At the time Daniel Feldman arrived, Dr. Christina +Ryan was the highest appointed representative of Medical +Lobby in Southport, with full authority. She identified +Feldman as having been a doctor, without stipulating +any change in status. She made no further report +to any authority concerning Daniel Feldman's presence +here. It seems obvious that Medical Lobby at Southport +thereby accepted Daniel Feldman as a doctor in good +standing for whose conduct the Lobby accepted full +responsibility."<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_52" id="Page_52">[Pg 52]</a></span></p> + +<p>Wilson studied the book Jake held out, and nodded. +"Seems pretty clear-cut to me," he agreed, passing the +book on to Matthews. "There's still the charge that Dr. +Feldman operated outside a hospital."</p> + +<p>"No reason he shouldn't," Jake said. He handed over +the other volume. "This is the charter for Medical +Lobby on Mars. Medical Lobby agrees to perform all +necessary surgical and medical services for the planet, +though at the signing of this charter there was no hospital +on Mars. Necessarily, Medical Lobby agreed to +perform surgery outside of any hospital, then. But to +make it plainer, there's a later paragraph—page 181—that +defines each hospital zone as extending not less than +three nor more than one hundred miles. Einstein is +about one hundred and ten miles from the nearest hospital +at Southport, so Einstein comes under the original +charter provisions. Dr. Feldman was forced by charter +provisions to protect the good name of his Lobby by +undertaking any necessary surgery in Einstein."</p> + +<p>He waited until Matthews had scanned that book, +then took it back and began packing a big bag. Doc +saw that his possessions and the microscope were already +in the bag. The old man paid no attention to the +arguments of Matthews before the bench.</p> + +<p>Abruptly Wilson pounded his gavel. "This court finds +that Dr. Daniel Feldman is qualified to practice all the +arts and skills of the medical profession on Mars and +that he acted ethically in the performance of his duties +in the case of the deceased Harriet Lynn," he ruled. +"The costs of the case shall be billed to Medical Lobby +of Southport."</p> + +<p>He took off his robe and moved rapidly toward his +private quarters. Court was closed.</p> + +<p>Doc got up shakily, not daring to believe fully what<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_53" id="Page_53">[Pg 53]</a></span> +he had heard. He started toward Jake, trying to avoid +bumping into Chris. But she would not be avoided. She +stood in front of him, screaming accusations and threats +that reminded him of the only fight they'd ever had +during their brief marriage.</p> + +<p>When she ran down, he finally met her eyes. "You're +a helluva doctor," he told her harshly. "You spend all +your time fighting me when there's a plague out there +that may be worse than any disease we've ever known. +Take a look at what lies under the black specks on your +corpses. You'll find the first Martian disease. And +maybe if you begin working on that now, you can learn +to be a real doctor in time to do something about it. +But I doubt it."</p> + +<p>She fell back from him then. "Research! You've been +doing unauthorized research!"</p> + +<p>"Prove it," he suggested. "But you'd be a lot smarter +to try some yourself, and to hell with your precious +rules."</p> + +<p>He followed Jake out to the tractor.</p> + +<p>Surprisingly, the old man was sweating now. He +shook his head at Doc's look, and his grin was uncertain.</p> + +<p>"Matthews is an incompetent," he said. "They could +have had you, Doc. That charter is so sloppy a man +can prove anything by it, and building a hospital here +did bring in Earth rules. Wilson went out on a limb in +letting you go. But I guess we got away with it. Let's +get out of here."</p> + +<p>Doc climbed into the tractor more soberly. They had +escaped this time. But there would be another time, +and he was pretty sure that would be Chris' round. He +had no intention of giving up his research.<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_54" id="Page_54">[Pg 54]</a></span></p> + + + +<hr style="width: 65%;" /> +<h2><a name="VII" id="VII"></a>VII</h2> + +<h3>Plague</h3> + + +<p>Dr. Feldman leaned back from his microscope and +lighted another bracky weed. He glanced about the +room and sighed wearily. Maybe he'd been better off +when he had no friends and couldn't risk the safety of +others in an effort to do research that was the highest +crime on two worlds.</p> + +<p>The evidence of his work was hidden thirty feet beyond +his former laboratory in Jake's village, with a +tunnel that led from another root-cellar. The theory was +the old one that the best place to avoid discovery was +where you had already been discovered. If their spies +had identified his former hangout, they'd never expect +to have him set up research nearby. It was a nice theory, +but he wasn't sure of it.</p> + +<p>Jake looked up from a cot where he'd been watching +the improvised culture incubator. "Stop tearing yourself +to bits, Doc. We know the danger and we're still +darned glad to have you here working on this."</p> + +<p>"I'm trying to put myself together into a whole man," +Doc told him. "But I seem to come out wholly a fool."</p> + +<p>"Yeah, sure. Sometimes it takes a fool to get things +done; wise men wait too long for the right time. How's +the bug hunt?"</p> + +<p>Doc grunted in disgust and swung back to the microscope. +Then he gave up as his tired eyes refused to +focus. "Why don't you people revolt?"<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_55" id="Page_55">[Pg 55]</a></span></p> + +<p>"They tried it twice. But they were just a bunch of +pariahs shipped here to live in peonage. They couldn't +do much. The first time Earth cut off shipments and +starved them. Next time the villages had the answer +to that but the cities had to fight for Earth or starve, +so they whipped us. And there's always the threat that +Earth could send over unmanned war rockets loaded +with fissionables."</p> + +<p>"So it's hopeless?"</p> + +<p>"So nothing! The Lobbies are poisoning themselves, +like cutting off Medical service until they cut themselves +out of a job. It's just a matter of time. Go back +to the bugs, Doc."</p> + +<p>Doc sighed and reached for his notes. "I wish I knew +more Martian history. I've been wondering whether this +bug may not have been what killed off the old Martians. +Something had to do it, the way they disappeared. +I wish I knew enough to make an investigation of those +ruins out there."</p> + +<p>"Durwood!" Jake had propped himself on an elbow, +staring at Doc in surprise.</p> + +<p>Doc scowled. "Clive Durwood, you mean? The archeologist +who dug up what little we know about the +ruins?"</p> + +<p>"Yeah, before he went back to Earth and started living +off his lectures. He came here again three years ago +and dropped dead in Edison on the way to some other +ruins. Heart failure, they called it, though it was more +like the two old farmers who ran themselves to death +last month. I saw him when they buried him. His face +looked funny, and I think he had those little specks, +though I may remember wrong." He grimaced. "Mars +is tough, Doc; it has to be. Some of the plant seeds +Durwood found in the ruins grew! Maybe your bugs<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_56" id="Page_56">[Pg 56]</a></span> +waited a million years till we came along."</p> + +<p>"What about the farmers? Did they meet Durwood?"</p> + +<p>Jake nodded. "Must have. He lived in their village +most of the time."</p> + +<p>Doc went through his notes. He'd asked for reports +on all deaths, and he finally found the account. The +two old men had been nervous and fidgety for weeks. +They were twins, living by themselves, and nobody +paid much attention. Then one morning both were +seen running wildly in circles. The village managed to +tie them up, but they died of exhaustion shortly after.</p> + +<p>It wasn't a pretty picture. The disease might have an +incubation period of nearly fifteen years, judging by +the length of time it had taken to hit Durwood. It must +spread from person to person during an early contagious +stage, leaving widening circles behind Durwood +and those first infected. When matured, any other sickness +would set it off, with few symptoms of its own. +But without help, it still killed its victims, apparently +driving them madly toward frenzied physical effort.</p> + +<p>He studied the culture on a slide again. He'd tried +Koch's method to get a pure strain, splattering the bugs +onto a native starchy root and plucking off individual +colonies. About twenty specimens had been treated +with every chemical he could find. So far he'd found a +few things that seemed to stop their growth, but nothing +that killed them, except stuff far too harsh to use +in living tissue.</p> + +<p>He had nearly forty cases of deaths that showed +symptoms now, and he went back over them, looking +for anything in common that went back ten to twenty +years before death. There were no rashes nor blisters. +A few had had apparent colds, but such were too common +to mean anything.<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_57" id="Page_57">[Pg 57]</a></span></p> + +<p>Only one thing appeared, about fourteen years before +their deaths. The people interviewed about the victims +might be vague about most things, but they remembered +the time when "Jim had the jumping headache."</p> + +<p>"Jake," Doc called, "what's jumping headache? Most +people seem to have it some time or other, but I haven't +run across a case of it."</p> + +<p>"Sure you have, Doc. Mamie Brander's little girl a +few weeks ago. Feels like your pulse is going to rip +your skull off, right here. Can't eat because chewing +drives you crazy. Back of your head, neck and shoulders +swell up for about a week. Then it goes away."</p> + +<p>Then it goes away—for fourteen years, until it comes +back to kill!</p> + +<p>Doc stared at his charts in sudden horror. It was a +new disease—thought to be some virus, but not considered +dangerous. Selznik's migraine, according to medical +usage; you treated it with hot pads and anodyne, +and it went away easily enough.</p> + +<p>He'd seen hundreds of such cases on Earth. There +must be millions who had been hit by it. The patent-medicine +branch of the Lobby had even brought out +something called Nograine to use for self-treatment.</p> + +<p>"Something important?" Jake wanted to know.</p> + +<p>Feldman nodded. "How much weight do you swing +in other villages, Jake?"</p> + +<p>"People sort of do me favors when I ask," Jake admitted. +"Like swiping those medical journals from +Northport for you, or like Molly Badger getting that +job as maid to spy on Chris Ryan. Name it and I'll do +my best."</p> + +<p>Doc had a vague idea of village politics, but he had +more important things to think of. Most of his foul +mood had disappeared with the clue he'd stumbled on,<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_58" id="Page_58">[Pg 58]</a></span> +and his chief worry now was to clinch the facts.</p> + +<p>Feldman considered the problem. "I want a report on +every case of jumping headache in every village—who +had it, when, and how old they were. This place first, +but every village you can reach. And I'll want someone +to take a letter to Chris Ryan."</p> + +<p>Jake frowned at that, but went out to issue instructions. +Doc sat down at a battered old typewriter. Writing +Chris might do no good, but some warning had to +be gotten through to Earth, where the vast resources +of Medical Lobby could be thrown into the task of +finding the cause and cure of the disease. The connection +with Selznik's migraine had to be reported. If something +could blast the Lobby into action, it wouldn't matter +quite so much what they did to him. He wasn't +foolish enough to expect gratitude from them, but he +was getting used to the idea that his days were numbered. +The plague was more important than what happened +to him.</p> + +<p>The letter had been dispatched by the time Jake returned. +"Here's the dope for this village. Everybody +accounted for except you."</p> + +<p>"Never had it, Jake." Feldman went down the list. +"Most of it fourteen years ago. That fits. About the +only exceptions are the kids who seem to get it between +the ages of two and three. Eighty-seven out of ninety-one!"</p> + +<p>He stared at the figures sickly. Most of the village +not only had the plague but must be near the end of +the incubation period. It looked as if most of the village +would be dead before another year passed.</p> + +<p>"Bad?" Jake asked.</p> + +<p>"The first symptom of Martian fever."</p> + +<p>The old man whistled, the lines around his eyes tight<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_59" id="Page_59">[Pg 59]</a></span>ening. +"Must be me," he decided. "I'm the guy who +must have brought it here, then. I used to spend a lot +of time with Durwood at his diggings!"</p> + +<p>There was a constant commotion all that day and the +next as runners went out to the villages and came back +with reports. The variation from village to village was +only slight. Most of Mars seemed to have advanced cases +of Martian fever.</p> + +<p>Without animals for investigation and study, real research +was difficult. Doc also needed an electron microscope. +He was reasonably sure that the disease must +travel through the nerves, but he had found no proof +beyond the hard lump at the base of the neck. There +it was a fair-sized organism. Elsewhere he could find +nothing, until the black specks developed.</p> + +<p>His eyes ached from trying to see more than was +visible in the microscope. The tantalizing suggestions +of filaments around the nuclei might be the form of +plague that was contagious. They might even be the +true form of the bug, with the bigger cell only a transition +stage. There were a number of diseases that involved +complicated changes in the organisms that +caused them. But he couldn't be sure.</p> + +<p>He finally buried his head in his hands, trying to do +by pure thought what he couldn't do in any other way. +And even there, he lacked training. He was a doctor, +not a xenobiologist. Research training had been taboo +in school, except for a favored few.</p> + +<p>The reports continued to come in, confirming the +danger. They seemed to have the worst plague on their +hands in all human history; and nobody who could do +anything about it even knew of it.</p> + +<p>"Molly reports that your letter got some results," +Jake reported. "Chris Ryan brought home one of the<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_60" id="Page_60">[Pg 60]</a></span> +electron microscopes and a bunch of equipment from +the hospital pathology room. Think she'll get anywhere?"</p> + +<p>Doc doubted it. Damn it, he hadn't meant for her to +try it, though she might have authority for routine experiments. +But it was like her to refuse to pass on the +word without trying to prove her own suspicion of +him first.</p> + +<p>He tried to comfort himself with the fact that some +men were immune, or seemed so; about three out of a +hundred showed no signs. If that immunity was hereditary, +it might save the race. If not....</p> + +<p>Jake came in at twilight with a grim face. "More +news from Molly. The Lobby is starting out to comb +every village with a fault-finder, starting here. And this +hole will show up like a sore thumb. Better start packing. +We gotta be out of here in less than an hour!"<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_61" id="Page_61">[Pg 61]</a></span></p> + + + +<hr style="width: 65%;" /> +<h2><a name="VIII" id="VIII"></a>VIII</h2> + +<h3>Fool</h3> + + +<p>Three days later, Doc saw his first runner.</p> + +<p>The tractor was churning through the sand just before +sundown, heading toward another one-night stand +at a new village. Lou was driving, while Doc and Jake +brooded silently in the back, paying no attention to the +colors that were blazoned over the dunes. The cat-and-mouse +game was getting to Doc. There was no real assurance +that the village they were approaching might +not be the target the Lobby had chosen for the next +investigation.</p> + +<p>Lou braked the tractor to a sudden halt, and pointed.</p> + +<p>A figure was running frantically over one of the low +dunes with the little red sun behind him. He seemed +headed toward them, but as he drew nearer they could +see that he had no definite direction. He simply ran, +pumping his legs frantically as if all the devils of hell +were after him. His body swayed from side to side in +exhaustion, but his arms and legs pumped on.</p> + +<p>"Stop him!" Jake ordered, and Lou swung the tractor. +It halted squarely in the runner's path, and the figure +struck against it and toppled.</p> + +<p>The legs went on pumping, digging into the dirt and +gravel, but the man was too far gone to rise. Jake and +Lou shoved him through the doors into the tractor and +Doc yanked off his aspirator.</p> + +<p>The man was giving vent to a kind of ululating cry,<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_62" id="Page_62">[Pg 62]</a></span> +weakened now almost to a whine that rose and fell with +the motion of his legs. Sweat had once streaked his +haggard face, but it was dry and blanched to a pasty +gray.</p> + +<p>Doc injected enough narcotic to quiet a maddened +bull. It had no effect, except to upset the rhythm of the +arms and legs. It took five more minutes for the man +to die.</p> + +<p>The specks were larger this time—the size of periods +in twelve-point type. The lump at the base of the skull +was as big as a small hen's egg.</p> + +<p>"From Edison, like the others so far. Jack Kooley," +Jake answered Doc's question. "Durwood spent a lot of +time here on his first expedition, so it's getting the worst +of it."</p> + +<p>Doc pulled the aspirator mask back over the man's +face and they carried him out and laid him on a low +dune. They couldn't risk returning the corpse to its +people.</p> + +<p>This was only the primary circle of infection, direct +from Durwood. The second circle could be ten times +as large, as the infection spread from one to a few to +many. So far it was localized. But it wouldn't stay that +way.</p> + +<p>Doc climbed slowly out of the tractor, lugging his +small supplies of equipment, while Jake made arrangements +for them to spend the night in a deserted house. +But the figure of the runner and his own failures to +find more about the disease kept haunting Doc. He +began setting up his equipment grimly.</p> + +<p>"Better get some sleep," Jake suggested. "You're a +mite more tired than you think. Anyhow, I thought +you told me you couldn't do any more with what you've +got."<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_63" id="Page_63">[Pg 63]</a></span></p> + +<p>Feldman looked at the supplies he had spread out, +and shook his head wearily. He'd been over every +chemical and combination a dozen times, without results +that showed in the limited magnification of the optical +mike.</p> + +<p>He snapped the case shut and hit the rude table with +the heel of his hand. "There are other supplies. Jake, +do you have any signal to get in touch with Molly +at the Ryan house?"</p> + +<p>"Three raps on the rear left window. I'll get Lou."</p> + +<p>"No!" Doc came to his feet, reaching for his jacket. +"They're looking for three men now. It's safer if I go +alone—and I'm the only one who knows what supplies +are needed. With luck, I may even get the electron mike. +Got a gun I can borrow?"</p> + +<p>Jake found one somewhere, an old revolver with a +few loads. He began protesting, but Doc overruled him +sharply. Three men could no more fight off the police +than one, if they were spotted. He swung toward the +tractor.</p> + +<p>"You'd better start spreading the word on everything +we know. If people realize they're already safe or +doomed it'll be better than having them going crazy to +avoid contagion."</p> + +<p>"Most of the villages know already," Jake told him. +"And damn it, get back here, Doc. If you can't make +it, turn tail quick, and we'll think of something else."</p> + +<p>Southport seemed normal enough as Doc drove +through its streets. The stereo house was open, and the +little shops were brightly lighted. He stopped once to +pull a copy of Southport's little newspaper from a dispenser. +All was quiet on its front page, too.</p> + +<p>As usual, though, the facts were buried inside. The +editorial was pouring too much oil on the waters in its<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_64" id="Page_64">[Pg 64]</a></span> +lauding of the role of Medical Lobby on Mars for no +apparent reason. The death notices no longer listed the +cause of death. Medical knew something was up, at least, +and was worried.</p> + +<p>He parked the tractor behind Chris' house and slipped +to the proper window. Everything was seemingly quiet +there. At his knock, the shade was drawn back, and he +caught a brief glimpse of Molly looking out. A moment +later she opened the rear lock to let him into the +kitchen.</p> + +<p>"Shh. She's still up, I think. What can I do, Doc?"</p> + +<p>He tried to smile at her. "Hide me until it's safe to +get into her laboratory. I've got to—"</p> + +<p>The inner kitchen was kicked open and Chris stood +beyond it, holding a cocked gun in her hand.</p> + +<p>"It took longer than I expected, Dan," she said +quietly. "But after your letter, I knew you'd swallow the +bait. You bloody fool! Did you really believe I'd start +doing research here just because of your imaginings?"</p> + +<p>He slumped slowly back against the sink. "So this is +a fool's errand, then? There never was any equipment +here?"</p> + +<p>"The equipment's here—in my office. I guessed your +spies would report it, so it had to be here. But it won't +help you now, pariah Feldman!"</p> + +<p>He came from his braced position against the sink +like a spring uncoiling. He expected her to shoot, but +hoped the surprise would ruin her aim. Then it was +too late, and his boot hit the gun savagely, knocking it +from her hand. Life in the villages had hardened him +surprisingly. She was comparatively helpless in his +hands. A few minutes later, he had her bound securely +with surgical tape Molly brought him. She raged furiously +in the chair where he'd dumped her, then gave up.<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_65" id="Page_65">[Pg 65]</a></span></p> + +<p>"They'll get you, Daniel Feldman!" Surprisingly, +there was no rage in her voice now. "You won't get +away from us. The planet isn't big enough."</p> + +<p>"I got away from your trial," he reminded her. "And +I got away and lived when you left me without a +chance on the ground of the spaceport."</p> + +<p>She laughed harshly. "<i>You</i> got away then? You fool, +who do you think gave you the extra battery so you +could live long enough to be helped at the spaceport? +Who hired a fool like Matthews so you wouldn't get the +death sentence you deserved? Who let you get away +as an herb doctor for months before you set yourself +up as God and a traitor to mankind again?"</p> + +<p>It shook him, as it was probably intended to do. How +had she known about the extra battery? He'd always +assumed that Ben had returned to give it to him. But +in that case, Chris couldn't know of it. Then he hardened +himself again. In the old days, she'd always had +one trump card he couldn't beat and hadn't expected. +But too much was involved for games now.</p> + +<p>"Any police around, Molly?" he asked.</p> + +<p>Molly came back a minute later to report that everything +looked clear and to show him where the equipment +had been set up in Chris' office. It was all there, +including the electron mike—a beautiful little portable +model. There was even a small incubator with its own +heat source into which he immediately transferred the +little bottles he'd been keeping warm against his skin. +Most of the equipment had never been unpacked, which +made loading it onto his tractor ridiculously easy.</p> + +<p>"Better come with me now, Molly," he suggested at +last. Then he turned to Chris, who was watching him +with almost no expression. "You can wriggle your chair +to the phone in half an hour, I guess. Knock the phone<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_66" id="Page_66">[Pg 66]</a></span> +off and yell for help. It's better than you deserve, unless +you really did leave me that battery."</p> + +<p>"You won't get away with it," she told him again, +calmly this time.</p> + +<p>"No," he admitted. "Probably not. But maybe the +human race will, if I have time to find an answer to the +plague you won't see under your nose. But you won't +get away with it, either. In the long run, your kind +never do."</p> + +<p>Molly was sniffling as they drove away. It had probably +been the best life she'd known, Doc supposed. +Chris could be kind to menials. But now Molly's work +was done, and she'd have to disappear into the villages. +He let her off at the first village and drove on alone. +He was itching to get to the microscope now, hardly +able to wait through the long journey back to Jake. +His impatience grew with each mile.</p> + +<p>Finally he gave up. He swung the tractor into a small +gulley between sand dunes, left the motor idling and +pulled down the shades the villagers used for blackout +traveling. There was power enough for the mike here, +and the cab was big enough for what he had to do.</p> + +<p>He mounted the mike on the tractor seat and began +laying out the collection of smears and cultures he had +brought. It had been years since he'd made a film for +the electron mike, but he found it all came back to him +as he worked.</p> + +<p>His hands were sweating with tension as he inserted +the first film into the chamber. He had the magnetic +"lenses" set for twenty thousand power, but a quick +glance showed it was too weak. He raised the power +to fifty thousand.</p> + +<p>The filaments were there, clear and distinct.</p> + +<p>He turned on the little tape recorder that had been<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_67" id="Page_67">[Pg 67]</a></span> +part of Chris' equipment and set the microphone where +he could dictate into it without stopping to make +clumsy notes. He readjusted the focus carefully, carrying +on a running commentary.</p> + +<p>Then he gasped. Each of the little filaments carried +three tiny darker sections; each was a cell, complete in itself, +with the typical Martian triple nucleus.</p> + +<p>He put a film with a tiny section of the nerve tissue +from a corpse into the chamber next, and again a quick +glance at the screen was enough. The filaments were +there, thickly crowded among nerve cells. They <i>did</i> +travel along the nerves to reach the base of the brain +before the larger lump could form.</p> + +<p>A specimen from one of the black specks was even +more interesting. The filaments were there, but some +were changed or changing into tiny, round cells, also +with the triple dark spots of nuclei. Those must be the +final form that was released to infect others. Probably +at first these multiplied directly in epithelial tissue, so +that there was a rapid contagion of infection. Eventually, +they must form the filaments that invaded the +nerves and caused the brief bodily reaction that was +Selznik's migraine. Then the body adapted to them and +they began to incubate slowly, developing into the +large cells he had first seen. When "ripe", the big cells +broke apart into millions of the tiny round ones that +went back to the nerve endings, causing the black spots +and killing the host.</p> + +<p>He knew his enemy now, at least.</p> + +<p>He reached for the controls, increasing the magnification. +He would lose resolution, but he might find +something more at the extreme limits of the mike.</p> + +<p>Something wet and cold gushed into his face. He +jerked back, trying to wipe it off, but it was already<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_68" id="Page_68">[Pg 68]</a></span> +evaporating, and there was a thick, acrid odor in the +cab. He grabbed for his aspirator, then tried to reach +the airlock. But paralysis was already spreading through +him, and he toppled to the floor before he could escape.</p> + +<p>When he came to, it was morning outside, and Chris +was waiting inside the cab with two big Lobby policemen. +A hypo in her hand must have been what revived +him.</p> + +<p>She touched the electron microscope with something +like affection. "The Lobby technicians did a good job +on this, don't you think, Dan? I warned you, but you +wouldn't listen. And now we've even got your own +taped words to prove you were doing forbidden research. +Fool!"</p> + +<p>She shook her head pityingly as the tractor began +moving with two others toward Southport.</p> + +<p>"You and your phony diseases. A little skin disorder, +Selznik's migraine, and a few cases of psychosis to make +a new disease. Do you think Medical Lobby can't check +on such simple things? Or didn't you expect us to hear +of your open talk of revolt and realize you were planning +to create some new germ to wipe out the Earth +forces. Maybe those runners of yours were real, mass +murderer!"</p> + +<p>She drew out another hypo and shoved the needle +into his arm. Necrosynth—enough to keep him unconscious +for twenty-four hours. He started to curse her, +but the drug acted before he could complete the +thought.<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_69" id="Page_69">[Pg 69]</a></span></p> + + + +<hr style="width: 65%;" /> +<h2><a name="IX" id="IX"></a>IX</h2> + +<h3>Judgment</h3> + + +<p>Doc woke to see sunlight shining through a heavily +barred window that must be in the official Southport +jail. He waited a few minutes for his head to clear and +then sat up; necrosynth left no hangover, at least.</p> + +<p>The sound of steps outside was followed by the +squeak of a key in the lock. "Fifteen minutes, Judge +Wilson," a voice said.</p> + +<p>"Thank you, officer." Wilson came into the cell, carrying +a tray of breakfast and a copy of the Northport +<i>Gazette</i>. He began unloading bracky weeds from his +pocket while Doc attacked the breakfast.</p> + +<p>"They tossed the book at you, Doc," he said. "You +haven't got a chance, and there's nothing the villages +can do. Trial's set for tomorrow at Northport, and it's +in closed session. We can't get you off this time."</p> + +<p>Doc nodded. "Thanks for coming, even if there's +nothing you can do. I've been living on borrowed time +for a year, anyhow, so I have no right to kick. But +who's 'we'?"</p> + +<p>"The villages. I've been part of their organization for +years." The old man sighed heavily. "You might say a +revolution has been going on since I can remember, +though most villagers don't know it. We've just been +waiting our time. Now we've stopped waiting and the +rifles will be coming out—rifles made in village shops.<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_70" id="Page_70">[Pg 70]</a></span> +The villages are going to rebel, even if we're all dead +of plague in a month."</p> + +<p>Doc Feldman nodded and reached for the bracky. He +knew that this was their way of trying to make him +feel his work hadn't been for nothing, and he was grateful +for Wilson's visit. "It was a good year for me. +Damned good. But time's running short. I'd better brief +you on the latest on the plague."</p> + +<p>Wilson began making notes until Doc was finished. +Finally he got up as steps sounded from the hall. "Anything +else?"</p> + +<p>"Just a guess. A lot of Earth germs can't live in Mars-normal +flesh; maybe this can't live in Earth-normal. Tell +them so long for me."</p> + +<p>"So long, Doc." He shook hands briefly and was waiting +at the door when the guard opened it.</p> + +<p>An hour later, the Lobby police took Feldman to the +Northport shuttle rocket. They had some trouble on +the way; a runner cut down the street, with the crowds +frantically rushing out of his way. Terror was reaching +the cities already.</p> + +<p>Doc flashed a look at Chris. "Mob hysteria. Like flying +saucers and wriggly tops, I suppose?" he asked, before +the guard could stop him.</p> + +<p>They locked his legs, but left his hands free in the +rocket. He unfolded the paper Wilson had brought and +buried his face in it. Then he swore. They <i>were</i> explaining +the runners as a case of mob hysteria!</p> + +<p>Northport was calmer. Apparently they had yet to +have first-hand experience with the plague. But now +nothing seemed quite real to Doc, even when they +locked him into the big Northport jail. The whole ritual +of the Lobbies seemed like a fantasy after the villages.<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_71" id="Page_71">[Pg 71]</a></span></p> + +<p>It snapped back into focus, however, when they led +him into the trial room of the Medical Lobby building. +It was a smaller version of his trial on Earth. Fear +washed in by association. The complete lack of humanity +in the procedure was something from a half-remembered +and horrible past.</p> + +<p>The presiding officer asked the routine question: "Is +the prisoner represented by counsel?"</p> + +<p>Blane, the dapper little prosecutor, arose quickly. +"The prisoner is a pariah, Sir Magistrate."</p> + +<p>"Very well. The court will accept the protective +function for the prisoner. You may proceed."</p> + +<p><i>I'll be judge, I'll be jury.</i> And prosecution and defense. +It made for a lot less trouble. Of course, if Space +Lobby had asserted interest, it would have gone to a +supposedly neutral court. But as usual, Space was happy +to leave it in the hands of Medical.</p> + +<p>The tape was played as evidence. Doc frowned. The +words were his, but there had been a lot of editing +that subtly changed the import of his notes.</p> + +<p>"I protest," he challenged. "It's not an accurate version."</p> + +<p>The Lobby magistrate turned a wooden face to him. +"Does the prisoner have a different version to introduce?"</p> + +<p>"No, but—"</p> + +<p>"The evidence is accepted. One of the prisoner's six +protests will be charged against him."</p> + +<p>Blane smiled smoothly and held up a small package. +"We wish to introduce this drug as evidence that the +prisoner is a confirmed addict, morally irresponsible +under addiction. This is a package of so-called bracky +weed, a vile and noxious substance found in his possession."<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_72" id="Page_72">[Pg 72]</a></span></p> + +<p>"It has alkaloids no more harmful than nicotine," +Feldman stated sharply.</p> + +<p>"Do you contend that you find the taste pleasing?" +Blane asked.</p> + +<p>"It's bitter, but I've gotten used to it."</p> + +<p>"I've tasted it," the magistrate said. "Evidence accepted. +Two deductions, one for irregularity of presentation."</p> + +<p>Doc shrugged and sat back. He'd tested his rights +and found what he expected. It was hard to see now +how he had ever accepted such procedure. Jake must +be right; they'd been in power too long, and were making +the mistake of taking the velvet glove off the iron +fist and flailing about for the sheer pleasure of power.</p> + +<p>It dragged on, while he became a greater and greater +monster on the record. But finally it was over, and the +magistrate turned to Feldman. "You may present your +defense."</p> + +<p>"I ask complete freedom of expression," Doc said +formally.</p> + +<p>The magistrate nodded. "This is a closed court. Permission +granted. The recording will be scrambled."</p> + +<p>The last bit ruined most of the purpose Doc had in +mind. But it was too late to change. He could only hope +that some one of the Medical men present would remember +something of what he said.</p> + +<p>"I have nothing to say for myself," he began. "It +would be useless. But I had to do what I did. There's +a plague outside. I've studied that plague, and I have +knowledge which must be used against it...."</p> + +<p>He sat down in three minutes. It had been useless.</p> + +<p>Blane arose, with a smile still plastered on his face. +"We, of course, recognize the existence of a new contagion, +but I believe we have established that this is one<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_73" id="Page_73">[Pg 73]</a></span> +disseminated by the prisoner himself, and probably not +directly contagious. There have been many cases of fanatics +ready to destroy humanity to eliminate those +they hate. Now, surely, the prisoner has himself left no +question of his attitude. He asserts he has knowledge +and skill greater than the entire Medical Research staff. +He has attempted to intimidate us by threats. He is +clearly psychopathic, and dangerously so. The prosecution +rests."</p> + +<p>The guards took Doc into the anteroom, where he +was supposed to hear nothing that went on. But their +curiosity was stronger than their discretion, and the +door remained a trifle ajar.</p> + +<p>The magistrate began the discussion. "The case seems +firm enough. It's fortunate Dr. Ryan acted so quickly, +with some of the people getting nervous. Perhaps it +might be wise to publicize our verdict."</p> + +<p>"My thought exactly," Blane agreed. "If we show +Feldman is responsible and that Medical is eliminating +the source of the infection, it may have a stabilizing +effect."</p> + +<p>"Let's hope so. The sentence will have to be death, +of course. We can't let such a rebellious psychopath +live. But this needs something more, it seems. You've +prepared a recommendation, I suppose."</p> + +<p>"There was the case of Albrecht Delier," Blane suggested. +"Something like that should have good publicity +impact."</p> + +<p>It struck Doc that they sounded as if they believed +themselves—as the witch-burners had believed in +witches. He was sweating when the guards led him before +the bench.</p> + +<p>The magistrate rolled a pen slowly across his fingers +as his eyes raked Feldman. "Pariah Daniel Feldman, you<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_74" id="Page_74">[Pg 74]</a></span> +have been found guilty on all counts. Furthermore, your +guilt must be shared by that entire section of Mars +known as the villages. Therefore the entire section shall +be banned and forbidden any and all services of the +Medical Lobby for a period of one year."</p> + +<p>"Sir Magistrate!" One of the members of Southport +Hospital staff was on his feet. "Sir Magistrate, we can't +cut them off completely."</p> + +<p>"We must, Dr. Harkness. I appreciate the fine humanitarian +tradition of our Lobby which lies behind +your protest, but at such a time as this the good of the +body politic requires drastic measures. Why not see me +after court, and we can discuss it then?"</p> + +<p>He turned back to Feldman, and his face was severe.</p> + +<p>"The same education which has produced such fine +young men as Dr. Harkness was wasted on you and +perverted to endanger the whole race. No punishment +can equal your crimes, but there is one previously invoked +for a particularly horrible case, and it seems fitting +that you should be the fourth so sentenced.</p> + +<p>"Daniel Feldman, you are sentenced to be taken in +to space beyond planetary limits, together with all material +used by you in the furtherance of your criminal +acts. There you shall be placed into a spacesuit containing +sufficient oxygen for one hour of life, and no more. +You and your contaminated possessions shall then be +released into space, to drift there through all eternity as +a warning to other men.</p> + +<p>"This sentence shall be executed at the earliest possible +moment, and Dr. Christina Ryan is hereby commissioned +to observe such execution. And may God +have mercy on your soul!"<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_75" id="Page_75">[Pg 75]</a></span></p> + + + +<hr style="width: 65%;" /> +<h2><a name="X" id="X"></a>X</h2> + +<h3>Execution</h3> + + +<p>The hours of waiting were blurred for Doc. There +were periods when fear clogged his throat and left him +gasping with the need to scream and beat his cell walls. +There were also times when it didn't seem to matter, +and when his only thoughts were for the villages and +the plague.</p> + +<p>They brought him the papers, where he was painted +as a monster beside whom Jack the Ripper and Albrecht +Delier were gentle amateurs. They were trying +to focus all fear and resentment on him. Maybe it was +working. There were screaming crowds outside the jail, +and the noise of their hatred was strong enough to carry +through even the atmosphere of Mars. But there were +also signs that the Lobby was worried, as if afraid that +some attempt might still be made to rescue him.</p> + +<p>He'd looked forward to the trip to the airport as a +way of judging public reaction. But apparently the +Lobby had no desire to test that. The guards led him +up to the roof of the jail, where a rocket was waiting. +The landing space was too small for one of the station +shuttles, but a little Northport-Southport shuttle was +parked there after what must have been a difficult set-down. +The guards tested Doc's manacles and forced +him into the shuttle.</p> + +<p>Inside, Chris was waiting, carrying an official automatic. +There was also a young pilot, looking nervous<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_76" id="Page_76">[Pg 76]</a></span> +and unhappy. He was muttering under his breath as +the guards locked Doc's legs to a seat and left.</p> + +<p>"All right," Chris ordered. "Up ship!"</p> + +<p>"I tell you we're overweight with you. I wasn't counting +on three for the trip," the pilot protested. "The +only thing that will get this into orbit with the station +is faith. I'm loaded with every drop of fuel she'll hold +and it still isn't enough."</p> + +<p>"That's your problem," Chris told him firmly. +"You've got your orders, and so have I. Up ship!"</p> + +<p>If she had her own worries about the shuttle, she +didn't show it. Chris had never been afraid to do what +she felt she should. The pilot stared at her doubtfully +and finally turned back to his controls, still muttering.</p> + +<p>The shuttle lifted sluggishly, but there was no great +difficulty. Doc could see that there was even some fuel +remaining when they slipped into the tube at the orbital +station. Chris went out, and other guards came +in to free him.</p> + +<p>"So long, Dr. Feldman," the pilot called softly as they +led him out. Then the guards shoved him through the +airlock into the station. Fifteen minutes later he was +locked into one of the cabins of the <i>Iroquois</i>, with all +his possessions stacked beside him.</p> + +<p>He grinned wryly. As an honest worker on the +<i>Navaho</i> he'd been treated like an animal. Now, as a human +fiend, he was installed in a luxury cabin of the +finest ship of the fleet, with constant spin to give a feeling +of weight and more room than the entire tube crew +had known.</p> + +<p>He roamed the cabin until he found a little collapsible +table. He set the electron microscope up on that and +plugged it in. It seemed a shame that good equipment +should be wasted along with his life. He wondered if<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_77" id="Page_77">[Pg 77]</a></span> +they would really throw it out into space with him. +Probably they would.</p> + +<p>He pushed a button on the call board over the table +and asked for the steward. There was a long wait, as +if the procedure were being checked with some authority, +but finally he received a surly acknowledgement. +"Steward. Whatcha want?"</p> + +<p>"How's the chance of getting some food?"</p> + +<p>"You're on first-class."</p> + +<p>They could afford it, Doc decided. He wouldn't cost +them much, considering the distance he was going. +"Bring me two complete dinners—one Earth-normal +and one Mars-normal."</p> + +<p>"Okay, Feldman. But if you think you can suicide +that way, you're wrong. You may be sick, but you'll +be alive when they dump you."</p> + +<p>A sharp click interrupted him. "That's enough, Steward. +Captain Everts speaking. Dr. Feldman, you have +my apologies. Until you reach your destination, you +are my passenger and entitled to every consideration of +any other passenger except freedom of movement +through the ship. I am always available for legitimate +complaints."</p> + +<p>Feldman shook his head. He'd heard of such men. +But he'd thought the species extinct.</p> + +<p>The steward brought his food in a thoroughly chastened +manner. He managed to find space for it and +came to attention. "Is that all—sir?"</p> + +<p>For a moment, as the smell of real steak reached him, +Doc regretted the fact that his metabolism had been +switched. Then he shrugged. A little wouldn't hurt him, +though there was no proper nourishment in it. He +squeezed some of the gravy and bits of meat into one +of his bottles, sticking to his purpose; then he fell to<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_78" id="Page_78">[Pg 78]</a></span> +on the rest. But after a few bites, it was queerly unsatisfactory. +The seemingly unappealing Mars-normal +ragout suited his current tastes better, after all.</p> + +<p>Once the steward had cleared away the dishes, Doc +went to work. It was better than wasting his time in +dread. He might even be able to leave some notes behind.</p> + +<p>A gong sounded, and a red light warned him that +acceleration was due. He finished with his bottles, put +them into the incubator, and piled into his bunk, swallowing +one of the tablets of morphetal the ship furnished.</p> + +<p>Acceleration had ended, and a simple breakfast was +waiting when he awoke. There was also a red flashing +light over the call board. He flipped the switch while +reaching for the coffee.</p> + +<p>"Captain Everts," the speaker said. "May I join you +in your cabin?"</p> + +<p>"Come ahead," Feldman invited. He cut off the switch +and glanced at the clock on the wall. There were less +than eleven hours left to him.</p> + +<p>Everts was a trim man of forty, erect but not rigid. +There was neither friendliness nor hostility in his +glance. His words were courteous as Doc motioned toward +the tray of breakfast. "I've already eaten, thank +you."</p> + +<p>He accepted a chair. His voice was apologetic when +he began. "This is a personal matter which I perhaps +have no right to bring up. But my wife is greatly worried +about this plague. I violate no confidence in telling +you there is considerable unease, even on Earth, according +to messages I have received. The ship physician believes +Mrs. Everts may have the plague, but isn't sure +of the symptoms. I understand you are quite expert."<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_79" id="Page_79">[Pg 79]</a></span></p> + +<p>Doc wondered about the physician. Apparently there +was another man who placed his patients above anything +else, though he was probably meticulous about +obeying all actual rules. There was no law against listening +to a pariah, at least.</p> + +<p>"When did she have Selznik's migraine?" he asked.</p> + +<p>"About thirteen years ago. We went through it together, +shortly after having our metabolism switched +during the food shortage of '88."</p> + +<p>Doc felt carefully at the base of the Captain's skull; +the swelling was there. He asked a few questions, but +there could be no doubt.</p> + +<p>"Both of you must have it, Captain, though it won't +mature for another year. I'm sorry."</p> + +<p>"There's no hope, then?"</p> + +<p>Doc studied the man. But Everts wasn't the sort to +dicker even for his life. "Nothing that I've found, Captain. +I have a clue, but I'm still working on it. Perhaps +if I could leave a few notes for your physician—"</p> + +<p>It was Everts' turn to shake his head. "I'm sorry, Dr. +Feldman. I have orders to burn out your cabin when +you leave. But thank you." He got to his feet and left +as quietly and erectly as he had entered.</p> + +<p>Doc tore up his notes bitterly. He paced his cabin +slowly, reading out the hours while his eyes lingered on +the little bottle of cultures. At times the fear grew in +him, but he mastered it. There was half an hour left +when he began opening the little bottles and making his +films.</p> + +<p>He was still not finished when steps echoed down +the hall, but he was reasonably sure of his results. The +bug could not grow in Earth-normal tissue.</p> + +<p>Three men entered the room. One of them, dressed +in a spacesuit, held out another suit to him. The other<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_80" id="Page_80">[Pg 80]</a></span> +two began gathering up everything in the cabin and +stowing it neatly into a sack designed to protect freight +for a limited time in a vacuum.</p> + +<p>Doc forced his hands to steadiness with foolish pride +and began climbing into the suit. He reached for the +helmet, but the man shook his head, pointing to the +oxygen gauge. There would be exactly one hour's supply +of oxygen when he was thrown out and it still +lacked five minutes of the deadline.</p> + +<p>They marched him down the hallway, to meet Everts +coming toward them. There were still three minutes +left when they reached the airlock, with its inner door +already open. The spacesuited man climbed into it and +began strapping down so that the rush of air would not +sweep him outward when the other seal was released.</p> + +<p>Doc had saved one bracky weed. Now he raised it +to his lips, fumbling for a light.</p> + +<p>Everts stepped forward and flipped a lighter. Doc inhaled +deeply. Fear was thick in every muscle, and he +needed the smoke desperately. Then he caught himself.</p> + +<p>"Better change your metabolism back to Earth-normal, +Captain Everts," he said, and his voice was so normal +that he hardly recognized it.</p> + +<p>Everts' eyes widened briefly. The man bowed faintly. +"Thank you, Dr. Feldman."</p> + +<p>It was ridiculous, impossible, and yet there was a curious +relief at the formality of it. It was like something +from a play, too unreal to affect his life.</p> + +<p>Everts nodded to the man holding the helmet. Doc +dropped his bracky weed and felt the helmet snap +down. A hiss of oxygen reached him and the suit ballooned +out. There was no gravity; the two men handed +him up easily to the one in the airlock while the inner +seal began to close.<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_81" id="Page_81">[Pg 81]</a></span></p> + +<p>There was still ten seconds to go, according to the +big chronometer that had been installed in the lock. The +spaceman used it in tying the sack of possessions firmly +to Doc's suit.</p> + +<p>A red light went on. The man caught Doc and held +him against the outer seal. The red light blinked. Four +seconds ... three ... two....</p> + +<p>There was a sudden heavy thudding sound, and the +<i>Iroquois</i> seemed to jerk sideways slightly. The spaceman's +face swung around in surprise.</p> + +<p>The red light blinked and stayed on. Zero!</p> + +<p>The outer seal snapped open and the spaceman +heaved. Air exploded outwards, and Doc went +with it. He was alone in space, gliding away from the +ship, with oxygen hissing softly through the valve and +ticking away his life.<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_82" id="Page_82">[Pg 82]</a></span></p> + + + +<hr style="width: 65%;" /> +<h2><a name="XI" id="XI"></a>XI</h2> + +<h3>Convert</h3> + + +<p>Feldman fought for control of himself, forced himself +to think, to hold onto his sanity. It was sheer stupidity, +since nothing could have been more merciful than +to lose this reality. But the will to be himself was +stronger than logic. And bit by bit, he forced the fear +and horror away from him until he could examine his +situation.</p> + +<p>He was spinning slowly, so that stars ahead of him +seemed to crawl across his view. The ship was retreating +from him already hundreds of yards away. Mars +was a shrunken pill far away.</p> + +<p>Then something blinked to one side. He turned his +head to stare.</p> + +<p>A little ship was less than three hundred yards away. +He recognized it as a life raft. Now his spin brought +him around to face it, and he saw it was parallelling +his course. The ejection of the life raft must have +caused the thump he'd heard before he was cast adrift.</p> + +<p>It meant someone was trying to save him. It meant +<i>life</i>!</p> + +<p>He flailed his arms and beat his legs together, senselessly +trying to force himself closer, while trying to +guess who could have taken the chance. No one he +could think of could have booked passage on the <i>Iroquois</i>. +There wasn't that much free money in the villages.<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_83" id="Page_83">[Pg 83]</a></span></p> + +<p>Something flashed a hot blue, and the little ship leaped +forward. Whoever was handling it knew nothing about +piloting. It picked up too much speed at too great an +angle.</p> + +<p>Again blue spurts came, but this time matters were +even worse. Then there was a long wait before a third +try was made. He estimated the course. It would miss +him by a good hundred feet, but it was probably the best +the amateur pilot could do. The ship drifted closer, but +to one side. It would soon pass him completely.</p> + +<p>A spacesuited figure suddenly appeared in the tiny +airlock, holding a coil of rope. The rope shot out, well +thrown. But it was too short. It would pass within ten +feet—and might as well have been ten miles for all the +good it would do him.</p> + +<p>Every film he had seen on space seemed to form a +mad jumble in his mind, but he seized on the first idea +he could remember. He inhaled deeply and yanked the +oxygen tank free. An automatic seal on the suit cut off +the connection. He aimed the hissing bottle, fumbling +for the manual valve.</p> + +<p>It almost worked. It kicked him toward the rope +slightly, but most of the energy was wasted in setting +him into a wilder spin. He blinked, trying to spot the +rope. It was within five feet now.</p> + +<p>Again he waited, until he seemed to be in position. +This time he threw the bottle away from it. It added +spin to his vertical axis, but the rope came into view +within arm's reach.</p> + +<p>He grasped it, just as his lungs seemed about to burst. +He couldn't hold on long enough to tie the rope....</p> + +<p>His lungs gave up suddenly, collapsing and then sucking +in greedily. Clean air rushed in, letting his head<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_84" id="Page_84">[Pg 84]</a></span> +clear. He'd forgotten that the inflated suit held enough +oxygen for several minutes.</p> + +<p>His body struck the edge of the airlock and a hand +jerked him inside. The outer seal was slammed shut and +locked, and there was a hiss of air entering.</p> + +<p>He threw back his helmet just as Chris Ryan jerked +hers off.</p> + +<p>Her voice shook almost hysterically. "Thank God. +Dan, I almost gave up!"</p> + +<p>"I liked the air out there better," he told her bitterly. +"If you'll open the lock again, I'll leave. Or am I supposed +to believe this is rescue and that you came along +just to save me?"</p> + +<p>"I came along to see you killed, as you know very +well. Saving you wasn't in my orders."</p> + +<p>He grunted and reached for the handle that would +release the outer lock. "Better get back inside if you +don't want to blow out with me."</p> + +<p>"It's up to you, Dan," she told him, and there was +all the sincerity in the world in her blue eyes. "I'm on +your side now."</p> + +<p>He began counting on his fingers. "Let's see. The +spare battery, the delay in arresting me, the choice of +Matthews—"</p> + +<p>"It was all true." Anger began to grow in her eyes. +"Dan Feldman, you get inside this raft! If you don't +care about me, you might consider the people dying of +the plague who need you!"</p> + +<p>She'd played her trump, and it took the round. He +followed her.</p> + +<p>"All right," he said grudgingly. "Spill your story."</p> + +<p>She held out a copy of a space radiogram, addressed +to Mrs. D. E. Everts, and signed by one of the best +doctors on the Lobby Board of Directors.<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_85" id="Page_85">[Pg 85]</a></span></p> + +<div class="blockquot"><p>Regret confirm diagnosis. Topsecret. Repeat +topsecret. Martian fever incubates fourteen years, +believed highly fatal. No cure, research beginning +immediately. Penalty violation topsecret, death all +concerned.</p></div> + +<p>"Mrs. Everts rates a topsecret break?" Doc commented +dryly. "Come off it, Chris!"</p> + +<p>"She's the daughter of Elmers of Space Lobby!" +Chris answered. She pointed to the message, underlining +words with her finger. "<i>Fourteen years.</i> You +couldn't have caused it. <i>Highly fatal.</i> And people are +being told it's only a skin disease. <i>Research beginning.</i> +But you've already done most of the research. I can +see that now. I can see a lot of things."</p> + +<p>"You've got me beat then," he said. "I can't see how +such a reformed young noblewoman calmly walked +over and stole a life raft. I can't see how your brilliant +mind concocted this whole scheme in almost no time. +And to be honest, I can't even see why Medical Lobby +decided to save me at the last minute and sent you to +do the job. You didn't have to spy out knowledge from +me. I've been trying all along to get it to your Research +division."</p> + +<p>She sighed and dropped onto a little seat.</p> + +<p>"I can't prove my motives. You'll just have to believe +me. But it wasn't hard to do what I've done. That shuttle +pilot was found in a routine check, stowed away on +the life raft. I was with Captain Everts when he was +found, so I discovered how to get into the raft. And I +heard his whole confession. He wasn't the real pilot. +He'd come from the villages to save you. The whole +scheme was his. I just used it, hoping I could reach +you."<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_86" id="Page_86">[Pg 86]</a></span></p> + +<p>As always her story had a convincing element she +shouldn't have known. The pilot's farewell, addressing +him as Dr. Feldman, had been too low for her to hear, +but it was something that fitted her story. It was probably +a deliberate clue to give him hope, to assure him +the villages were still trying. It shook his confidence.</p> + +<p>"And your motive—your real motive?" he insisted.</p> + +<p>She swore at him, then began ripping off the spacesuit. +She turned her back, pulling a thin blouse down +from her neck. He stared, then reached out to touch +the lump there.</p> + +<p>"So you've had Selznik's migraine and know you're +carrying plague. And you've decided your precious +Lobby won't save you?"</p> + +<p>She dropped her eyes, then raised them to meet his +defiantly. "I'm not just scared and selfish. Dad caught +it, too, and it must be close to the time for him. He +switched to Mars-normal when he was a liaison agent +and never changed back. Dan, are we all going to have +to die? Can't you save him?"</p> + +<p>Feldman was out of his suit and at the control panel. +There was a manual lever, which Chris must have used +before. It might work out here where there was room +to maneuver and nothing to hit. But trying to make a +landing was going to be different.</p> + +<p>"Dan?" she repeated.</p> + +<p>He shrugged. "I don't know. They've started research +too late and they'll be under so much pressure +that the real brains won't have a chance. The topsecret +stuff looks bad for research. Maybe there's a cure. It +works in culture bottles, but it may fail in person. When +I'm convinced I'm safe with you, I may tell you about +it."</p> + +<p>"Oh." Her voice was low. Then she sighed. "I sup<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_87" id="Page_87">[Pg 87]</a></span>pose +I can understand why you hate me, Dan."</p> + +<p>"I don't hate you. I'm too mixed up. Tomorrow +maybe, but not now. Shut up and let me see if I can +figure out how to land this thing."</p> + +<p>He found that the fuel tanks were nearly full, but +that still didn't leave much margin. Mars must have been +notified by Everts and be ready to pick the raft up. He +had to reach the wastelands away from any of the shuttle +ports. They had no aspirators, however, and they +couldn't cover much territory in the spacesuits they +would have to use. It meant he'd have to land close to +a village where he was known.</p> + +<p>He jockeyed the ship around by trial and error, +studying the manual that was lying prominently on the +control panel. According to the booklet, the ship was +simple to operate. It was self-leveling in an atmosphere, +and automatic flare computers were supposed to make +it possible for an amateur to judge the rate of descent +near the surface. It looked reassuring—and was probably +written with that in mind.</p> + +<p>Finally he reached for the control, hoping he'd figured +his landing orbit reasonably well by simple logic. +He smoothed it out in the following hours as he +watched the markings on Mars. When they were near +turnover point, he began cranking the little gyroscope +to swing the ship. It saved fuel to turn without power, +and he wasn't sure he could have turned accurately by +blasting.</p> + +<p>He was gaining some proficiency, however, he felt. +But now he had to waste fuel and ruin his orbit again. +There was no way to practice maneuvering without actually +doing so.</p> + +<p>In the end, he compromised, leaving a small margin +for a bad landing that would require a second attempt,<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_88" id="Page_88">[Pg 88]</a></span> +but with less practice than he wanted.</p> + +<p>He had located Jake's village through the little telescope +when he finally reached for the main blast control. +The thin haze of Mars' atmosphere came rushing +up, while the blast lashed out. Then they were in the +outer fringes of the sky and the blast was beginning to +show a corona that ruined visibility.</p> + +<p>He turned to the flare computer and back to what +he could see through the quartz viewport. He was going +to land about half a mile from the village, as nearly +as he could judge.</p> + +<p>The computer seemed to work as it should. The +speed was within acceptable limits. He gave up trying +to see the ground and was forced to trust the machinery +designed for amateur pilots. The flare bloomed, and +he yanked down on the little lever.</p> + +<p>It could have been worse. They hit the ground, +bounced twice, and turned over. The ship was a mess +when Feldman freed himself from the elastic straps of +the seat. Chris had shrieked as they hit, but she was unbuckling +herself now.</p> + +<p>He threw her her spacesuit and one of the emergency +bottles of oxygen from the rack. "Hurry up with +that. We've sprung a leak and the pressure's dropping."</p> + +<p>They were halfway to the village when a dozen tractors +came racing up and Jake piled out of the lead one +to drag the two in with him.</p> + +<p>"Heard about it from the broadcasts and figured you +might land around here. Good to see you, Doc." He +started the tractor off at full speed, back to the wastelands, +while Doc stared at the armed men who were +riding the tractors.</p> + +<p>Jake caught his look and nodded. "You're in enemy +territory, Doc. There's a war going on!"<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_89" id="Page_89">[Pg 89]</a></span></p> + + + +<hr style="width: 65%;" /> +<h2><a name="XII" id="XII"></a>XII</h2> + +<h3>War</h3> + + +<p>Sometimes it seemed to Doc that war was nothing +but an endurance race to see how many times they +could run before they were bombed. He was just beginning +to drop off to sleep after a long trip for the +sixth consecutive day when the little alarm shrilled. He +sighed and shook Chris awake.</p> + +<p>"Again?" she protested. But she got up and began +helping him pack.</p> + +<p>Jake came in, his eyes weary, pulling on the old +jacket with the big star on its sleeve. Doc hadn't been +too surprised to learn that Jake was the actual leader of +the rebels. "Shuttles spotted taking off this way. And I +still can't find where the leak is. They haven't missed +our location once this week. Here, give me that."</p> + +<p>He took the electron mike that had been among Doc's' +possessions, but Chris recaptured it. "I can manage," +she told him, and headed out for the tractor where Lou +was waiting.</p> + +<p>Doc scowled after her. He and Jake had been watching +her. She was too useful to Doc's research to be +turned away, but they didn't trust her yet. So far, however, +they had found nothing wrong with her conduct. +Still....</p> + +<p>He swung suddenly into Jake's tractor. "Just remembered +something. How'd they find me that time I +stopped in the tractor to use the mike? I was pretty<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_90" id="Page_90">[Pg 90]</a></span> +well hidden, and no tracks last in the sand long enough +for them to have followed. But they were there when +I came to. Somehow, they must have put a radio tracer +on me."</p> + +<p>Jake waited while they lighted up, his eyes suddenly +bright. "You mean something you got from her house +was bugged? It figures."</p> + +<p>"And I've still got all the stuff. Now they find wherever +we set up headquarters, though they've always +managed to miss my laboratory, even when they've hit +the troops around us. Jake, I think it's the microscope." +Doc managed to push enough junk off one of the seats +to make a cramped bed, and stretched out. "Sure, we +figured they sent her because they want to keep tabs +on what I discover. They've finally gotten scared of the +plague, and she's the perfect Judas goat. But they have +to have some way to get in touch with her. I'll bet +there's a tracer in the mike and a switch so she can +modulate it or key it to send out Morse."</p> + +<p>"Yeah," Jake nodded. "Well, she does her own dirty +work. I might get to like her if she was on our side. +Okay, Doc. If they've put things into the mike, I've got +a boy who'll find and fix it so she won't guess it's been +touched."</p> + +<p>Doc relaxed. For the moment, there would be no +power in the instrument, nor any excuse for her to use +it. But she must have handled some secret arrangement +during the work periods. She used the mike more than +he did. The switch could be camouflaged easily enough. +If anyone detected the signal, they'd probably only +think it was some leak in the electrical circuit.</p> + +<p>Far away, the shuttle rockets had appeared as tiny +dots in the sky. They were standing on their tails a second +later, just off the ground, letting the full force of<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_91" id="Page_91">[Pg 91]</a></span> +their blasts bake the area where headquarters had been.</p> + +<p>Jake watched grimly, driving by something close to +instinct. Then he looked back. "Know anything about +a Dr. Harkness?"</p> + +<p>"Not much, except that he protested sealing off the +villages. Why?"</p> + +<p>"He and five other doctors were picked up, trying to +get through to us. Claimed they wanted to give us medical +help. We can use them, God knows. I guess I'll +have to chance it."</p> + +<p>They stopped at a halfway village and hid the tractors +before looking for a place to rest. Doc found Chris +curled up asleep against the microscope. He had a hard +time getting her to leave it in the tractor, but she was +too genuinely tired to put up any real argument.</p> + +<p>Jake reported in the morning before they set out +again. "You were right, Doc. It was a nice job of work. +Must have taken the best guys in Southport to hide the +circuit so well. But it's safe now. It just makes a kind +of meaningless static nobody can trace. Maybe we can +get you a permanent lab now."</p> + +<p>Doc debated again having Chris left behind and decided +against it. The Lobby was determined to let him +find a cure for them if he could. That meant Chris +would work herself to exhaustion trying to help. Let +her think she was doing it for the Lobby! It was time +she was on the receiving end of a double cross.</p> + +<p>"It's a stinking way to run a war," he decided.</p> + +<p>Jake chuckled without much humor. "It's the war +you wanted, remember? They forced our hand, but it +had to come sometime. Right now the Lobby's fighting +to get their hands on your work before we can use it; +they're just using holding tactics, which helps our side. +And we're hoping you get the cure so we can win.<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_92" id="Page_92">[Pg 92]</a></span> +With that, maybe we'll whip them."</p> + +<p>It was a crazy war, with each side killing more of its +own men than of the enemy. The runners were increasing, +and Jake's army was learning to shoot the poor +devils mercifully and go on. They knew, at least, that +there was no current danger of infection. In the Lobby +towns, more were dying of panic in their efforts to escape +the runners.</p> + +<p>Desert towns had joined the villages, reluctantly but +inevitably, to give the rebels nearly three-quarters of +the total population. But the Lobby forces and the few +cities held most of the real fighting equipment and they +were ready to wait until Earth could send out unmanned +rockets, loaded with atomics, which could cut +through space at ten times normal speed.</p> + +<p>There were vague lines of battle, but time was the +vital factor. The Lobbies waited to steal a cure for the +plague and the villages waited until they could announce +it and demand surrender as its price.</p> + +<p>It looked as if both sides were doomed to disappointment, +however. He and Chris had put in every spare +minute between moving and the minimum of sleep in +searching for something that would check the disease. +It couldn't grow in an Earth-normal body, but it didn't +die, either. And there wasn't enough normal food available +to permit the switch-over for more than a handful +of people. Even Earth was out of luck, since eighty percent +of her population ate synthetics. There were ways +to synthesize Earth-normal food, but they were still +hopelessly inefficient.</p> + +<p>Jake had ordered one of the villages to rebuild their +plant for such a purpose, while another was producing +the enzyme that would permit switching. But it looked +hopeless for more than a few of the most valuable men.<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_93" id="Page_93">[Pg 93]</a></span></p> + +<p>"No progress?" Jake asked for the hundredth time.</p> + +<p>Doc grinned wryly. "A lot, but no help. We've found +a fine accelerator for the bug. We can speed up its incubation +or even make someone already infected catch +it all over again. But we can't slow it down or stop it."</p> + +<p>The new laboratory was still being fitted when they +arrived. It had been dug into one of the few real cliffs +in this section of Mars. The power plant had been installed, +complete with a steam plant that would operate +off sunlight in the daytime through a series of heat +valves that took in a lot of warm air and produced +smaller amounts hot enough to boil water.</p> + +<p>"I'll see you whenever I can," Jake said. "But mostly, +you're going to be somewhat isolated so they won't +trace you. Let them think they goofed with the shuttles +and hit you and Chris. Anything you need?"</p> + +<p>"Guinea pigs," Doc told him sarcastically. It was +meant as a joke, though a highly bitter one. Jake +nodded and left them.</p> + +<p>Doc opened the cots as Chris came in, not bothering +to unpack the equipment. "Hit the sack, Chris," he told +her.</p> + +<p>She looked at him doubtfully. "You almost said that +the way you'd address a human being, Dan. You're +slipping. One of these days you'll like me again."</p> + +<p>"Maybe." He was too tired to argue. "I doubt it, +though. Forget it and get some sleep."</p> + +<p>She watched him silently until he got up to turn out +the light. Then she sighed heavily. "Dan?"</p> + +<p>"Yeah?"</p> + +<p>"I never got a divorce. The publicity would have +been bad. But anyway, we're still married."</p> + +<p>"That's nice." He swung to face her briefly. "And<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_94" id="Page_94">[Pg 94]</a></span> +they found the radio in the microscope. Better get to +sleep, Chris."</p> + +<p>"Oh." It was a quiet exclamation, barely audible. +There was a sound that might have been a sniffle if it +had come from anyone else. Then she rolled over. "All +right, Dan. I still want to help you."</p> + +<p>He cursed himself for a stupid fool for telling her. +Fatigue was ruining what judgment he had. From now +on, he'd have to watch her every minute. Or had she +really seen the value of the research by now? She +wasn't a fool. It should have registered on even her +stubborn mind. But he was too sleepy to think about it.</p> + +<p>She had breakfast ready in the morning. She made +no comment on what had been said during the night. +Instead, she began discussing a way to keep one of the +organic antibiotics from splitting into simpler compounds +when they tried to switch it over to Mars-normal. +They were both hopelessly bad chemists and biologists, +but there was no one else to do the work.</p> + +<p>Chris worked harder than ever during the day.</p> + +<p>Just after sundown, Jake came in with a heavy box. +He dropped it onto the floor. "Mice!"</p> + +<p>Doc ripped off the cover, exposing fine screening. +There were at least six dozen mice inside!</p> + +<p>"Harkness found them," Jake explained. "A hormone +extraction plant used them for testing some of the products. +Had them sent by regular shipments from Earth. +Getting them cost a couple of men, but Harkness claims +it's worth it. He's a good man on a raid. Here!"</p> + +<p>He'd gone to the doorway again and came back with +another box, this one crammed with bottles and boxes. +"They had quite a laboratory, and Harkness picked out +whatever he thought you could use."</p> + +<p>Chris and Doc were going through it. The labels<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_95" id="Page_95">[Pg 95]</a></span> +were engineering ones, but the chemical formulae were +identification enough. There were dozens of chemicals +they hadn't hoped to get.</p> + +<p>"Anything else?" Doc finally asked as they began +arranging the supplies.</p> + +<p>"More runners. A lot more. We're still holding things +down, but it's reaching a limit. Panic will start in the +camps if this keeps on. But that's my worry. You stick +to yours."</p> + +<p>Several of the new chemicals showed promise in the +tubes. But two of them proved fatal to the mice and +the others were completely innocuous in the little animal's +bodies, both to mouse and to germ. The plague +was much hardier in contact with living cells than in +the artificial environment of the culture jars.</p> + +<p>They lost seven mice in two days, but that seemed +unimportant; the females were already living up to their +reputations, nearly all pregnant. Doc didn't know the +gestation period, but he remembered that it was short.</p> + +<p>"Funny they all started at the same time," he commented. +"Must have been shipped out separately or +else been kept apart while they were switched over to +Mars-normal. Something interrupted their habits, anyhow."</p> + +<p>A few nights later they learned what it was. There +was a horrible squealing that woke him out of the +depths of his sleep. Chris was already at the light +switch. As light came on, they turned to the mouse +box.</p> + +<p>All the animals were charging about in their limited +space, their little legs driving madly and their mouths +open. What they lacked in size they made up in numbers, +and the din was terrific.</p> + +<p>But it didn't last. One by one, the mice began drop<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_96" id="Page_96">[Pg 96]</a></span>ping +to the floor of the cage. In fifteen minutes, they +were all dead!</p> + +<p>It was obviously the plague, contracted after having +their metabolism switched. Women were sterile for +some time after Selznik's migraine struck, and the same +must have been true of the mice. They must have contracted +the plague at about the same time and reached +fertility together. Somehow, the plague incubation period +had been shortened to fit their life span; the disease +was nothing if not adaptive.</p> + +<p>Chris prepared a slide in dull silence. The familiar +cell was there when Doc looked through the microscope. +He picked up one of the little creatures and cut +it open, removing one of the foetuses.</p> + +<p>"Make a film of that," he suggested.</p> + +<p>She worked rapidly, scraping out the almost microscopic +brain, dissolving out the fatty substance, and +transferring the result to a film. This time, even at full +magnification, there was no sign of the filaments that +were always present in diseased flesh. The results were +the same for the other samples they made.</p> + +<p>"Something about the very young animal or a secretion +from the mother's organs keeps the bug from +working." Doc reached for a bracky weed and accepted +a light from Chris without thinking of it. "Every kid +I've heard about contracted the plague between the second +and third year. None are born with it, none get it +earlier. I've suspected this, but now here's confirmation."</p> + +<p>Chris began preparing specimens, while Doc got +busy with tubes of the culture. They'd have to test +various fluids from the tiny bodies, but there were +enough cultures prepared. Then, if the substance only +inhibited growth, there would be a long, slow test; if<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_97" id="Page_97">[Pg 97]</a></span> +it killed the bugs, they might know more quickly.</p> + +<p>Jake came in before the final tests, but waited on +them. Doc was studying a film in the microscope. He +suddenly motioned excitedly for Chris.</p> + +<p>"See the filaments? They're completely disintegrated. +And there's one of the big cells broken open. We've +got it! It's in the blood of the foetus. And it must be +in the blood of newborn children, too!"</p> + +<p>Jake looked at the slide, but his face was doubtful.</p> + +<p>"Maybe you've got something, Doc. I hope so. And +I hope you can use it." He shook his head wearily. +"We need good news right now. A couple of big rockets +just reached the station and they've been sending +shuttles back and forth a mile a minute. Nobody can +figure how they got here so fast or what they're for. +But it doesn't look good for us!"<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_98" id="Page_98">[Pg 98]</a></span></p> + + + +<hr style="width: 65%;" /> +<h2><a name="XIII" id="XIII"></a>XIII</h2> + +<h3>Susceptibility</h3> + + +<p>Doc could feel the tension in the village where GHQ +was temporarily located long before they were close +enough for details to register. The people were gathered +in clusters, staring at the sky where the station +must be. A few were pacing up and down, gesticulating +with tight sweeps of their arms.</p> + +<p>One woman suddenly went into even more violent +action. She leaped into the air and then took off at a +rapid trot, then a run. Her hands were tearing at her +clothes and her mouth seemed to be working violently. +She was halfway to the top of the nearest dune before +a rifle cracked. She dropped, to twitch once and lie +still.</p> + +<p>Almost with her death, another figure leaped from +one of the houses, his face bare of the necessary aspirator. +He took off at a violent run, but he was falling +from lack of air before the bullet ended his struggles.</p> + +<p>The people suddenly began to move apart, as if trying +to get away from each other. For weeks they had +faced the horror with courage; now it was finally too +much for them.</p> + +<p>Tension mounted as no news came from the cities. +Doc noticed that it seemed to aggravate or speed up +the disease. He saw three men shot in the next half-hour.<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_99" id="Page_99">[Pg 99]</a></span></p> + +<p>He was trying to calm them with word of a possible +cure for the plague, but their reactions were as curiously +dull as those of Jake had been. As he spoke, they +faced him with set expressions. At his mention of the +need for the blood of young children, they turned from +him, sullenly silent.</p> + +<p>Jake came over, nodding unhappily. "It's what I was +afraid might happen, Doc. George Lynn! Tell Doc +what's wrong."</p> + +<p>Lynn was reluctant, but he finally stumbled out his +explanation. "It ain't like you, Doc. Comes from that +Lobby woman you got. It's her dirty idea. We've seen +the Lobby doctors cutting open our kids, poisoning +their blood, and bleeding them dry. That ain't gonna +happen again, Doc. You tell her it ain't!"</p> + +<p>Doc swore as he realized their ignorance. An unexplained +vaccination looked like poisoning of the blood. +But he couldn't understand the bleeding part until Jake +filled him in.</p> + +<p>"Northport infant's wing. Each department has its +own blood bank and donation is compulsory. Southport +started it a couple months ago, too."</p> + +<p>The long arm of the Lobby had reached out again. +Now if he ever got them to try the treatment, it would +be only after long sessions of preparing them with the +facts, and there was hardly enough time for the crucial +work!</p> + +<p>By afternoon, Judge Ben Wilson reached them. His +voice shook with fatigue as he climbed up to address +the crowd through a power megaphone. "Southport's +going crazy." He had to pause for breath between each +sentence. "Earth's pulling back all the important people. +They're packing them into the ships. They're leaving +only colonials with no Earth rights. Those ships left<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_100" id="Page_100">[Pg 100]</a></span> +when they decided the plague was coming from here. +They won't let anybody back until the plague is licked. +There won't be an Earth technician on Mars tomorrow."</p> + +<p>"No bombs?" someone called.</p> + +<p>"No bombs. The ships must have started before you +rebelled, maybe meant honestly to save their own kind. +But now it's a military action, and don't think it won't +mean trouble. The poor devils in the city bet on the +wrong horse. Now they can't run their food factories +or anything else for long. Not without technicians. +They've got to whip you now. Up to this time, they've +been fighting for the Lobbies. Now they'll fight you +for their own bellies to get your supplies. And they've +still got shuttle rockets and fuel for them. Now beat it. +I gotta confer with Jake."</p> + +<p>Doc started after the judge, but Dr. Harkness caught +his arm and drew him aside. Chris followed.</p> + +<p>"I've found another epidemic," Harkness told them. +"Over at Marconi. It's kept me on the run all night, +and now half the village is down with it. Starts like a +common cold, runs a fair fever, and the skin breaks out +all over with bright red dots...."</p> + +<p>He went on describing it. Chris began asking him +about what medical supplies he had brought with him, +pilfered from Northport hospital. She seemed to know +what it was, but refused to say until she saw the cases. +Doc also preferred to wait. Sometimes things weren't +as bad as they seemed, though usually they were worse.</p> + +<p>Marconi was dead to all outward appearances, with +nobody on the streets. It had been a village of great +hopes a week before, since this was where they had +decided to experiment with switching the people back +to Earth-normal. They'd had the best chance of sur<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_101" id="Page_101">[Pg 101]</a></span>vival +of anyone on Mars until this came up.</p> + +<p>Three people lay on the beds in the first house Harkness +led them to. The room was darkened, and a man +was stumbling around, trying to tend the others, though +the little spots showed on his skin. He grinned weakly. +"Hi, Doc. I guess we're making a lot of trouble, ain't +we?"</p> + +<p>Chris gave Doc no chance to answer. "Just as I +thought. Measles! Plain old-fashioned measles."</p> + +<p>"Figured so," the sick man said. "Like my brother +back on Earth."</p> + +<p>The others looked doubtful, but Doc reassured them. +Chris should know; she'd worked in a swanky hospital +where the patients were mostly Earth-normal. Measles +was one of the diseases which was foiled by the metabolism +switch. Well, at least they wouldn't have to be +quarantined here.</p> + +<p>Chris finished treating the family with impersonal efficiency, +discussing the symptoms loudly with Harkness. +"It's a good thing it isn't serious!"</p> + +<p>"No," Harkness answered bitterly. "Not serious. It's +only killed five children and three adults so far!"</p> + +<p>"It would, here," Doc agreed unhappily. He led Chris +out of the room on the pretext of washing his hands. +"It's serious enough to force us to abandon the whole +idea of going back to Earth-normal. Measles today, +smallpox, tuberculosis, scarlet fever and everything else +tomorrow. These people have lived Mars-normal so long +their natural immunity has been destroyed. On Earth +where the disease was everywhere, kids used to pick +up some immunity with constant exposure, even without +what might be called a case of the disease. Here, +the blood has no reason to build antibodies. They can +be killed by things people used to laugh at. How the<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_102" id="Page_102">[Pg 102]</a></span> +disease got here, I don't know. But it's here. So we'll +have to give up the idea of switching back to Earth-normal."</p> + +<p>He gathered up one of the kits and started toward +the other houses. "And Lord knows how long it will +take to get the blood for the other treatment, even if +it works."</p> + +<p>They worked as a team for a while, with Harkness +frowning as he watched Chris. Finally the young doctor +stopped Chris outside the fifth house. "These are +my patients, Dr. Ryan. I left the Lobby because I didn't +believe colonials were mere livestock. I still feel the +same. I appreciate your help in diagnosis and methods +of treatment. But I can't let you handle my patients +this way."</p> + +<p>"Dan!" She swung around with eyes glazing. "Dan, +are you going to stand for that?"</p> + +<p>"I think you'd better wait in the tractor, Chris."</p> + +<p>He was lucky enough to catch the kit she threw at +him before its precious contents spilled. But it wasn't +luck that guided his hand to the back of her skirt hard +enough to leave it stinging.</p> + +<p>Her face froze and she stormed out. A moment later +they heard the tractor start off.</p> + +<p>But Doc had no time to think of her. He and Harkness +split up and began covering the streets, house by +house, while he passed on the word to abandon the metabolism +switch and go back to Mars-normal.</p> + +<p>Jake sent two other doctors to relieve them late in +the evening. Things were somewhat quieter at GHQ +as Doc reported the events at Marconi.</p> + +<p>"Where's Dr. Ryan?" Jake asked at last.</p> + +<p>Doc exchanged glances with Harkness. "She isn't in +the lab?"<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_103" id="Page_103">[Pg 103]</a></span></p> + +<p>"Wasn't there an hour ago."</p> + +<p>Doc cursed himself for letting her go. With the +knowledge that the radio in the mike was disabled, +she'd obviously grabbed the first chance to report back. +And with her had gone news of the only cure they +had found.</p> + +<p>Jake took it as philosophically as he could, though it +was a heavy blow to his hopes. They spent half the +night looking for her tractor, on the chance that she +might have gotten lost or broken down, but there was +no sign of it.</p> + +<p>She was waiting in the laboratory when he returned +at dawn. Her face was dirty and her uniform was a +mess. But she was smiling. She got up to greet him, +holding out two large bottles.</p> + +<p>"Infant plasma—straight from Southport. And if you +think I had it easy lying my way in and out of the +hospital, you're a fool, Dan Feldman. If the man who +took my place there hadn't been a native idiot, I never +would have gotten away with it."</p> + +<p>The things he had suspected could still be right, he +realized. She could have reported everything to the +Lobby. It was a better explanation than her vague account +of bullying her way in and out. But she'd had a +rough drive, and he wanted the plasma. Curiously, he +was glad to have her back with him. He reached out a +hand for the bottles.</p> + +<p>She put the bottle on the table and grabbed up a +short-bladed knife. "Not so fast," she cried. Her eyes +were blazing now. "Dan Feldman, if you touch those +bottles until you've crawled across the floor on your +face and apologized for the way you treated me the last +few days, I'll cut your damned heart out."</p> + +<p>He shook his head, chuckling at the picture she<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_104" id="Page_104">[Pg 104]</a></span> +made. There were times when he could almost see why +he'd married her.</p> + +<p>"All right, Chris," he gave in. "I'll be darned if I'll +crawl, but you've earned an apology. Okay?"</p> + +<p>She sighed uncertainly. Then she nodded and began +changing for work.<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_105" id="Page_105">[Pg 105]</a></span></p> + + + +<hr style="width: 65%;" /> +<h2><a name="XIV" id="XIV"></a>XIV</h2> + +<h3>Immunity</h3> + + +<p>They worked through the day in what seemed to be +armed truce. There was no coffee waiting for him when +he awoke next, as he'd come to expect, but he didn't +comment. He went to where she was already working, +checking on the results of the plasma on the cultures.</p> + +<p>The response had been slower than with the mouse +blood, but now the bugs seemed to be dead. The filaments +were destroyed, and there were no signs of the +big cells. It seemed to be a cure, at least in the culture +bottles.</p> + +<p>"We'll need volunteers," he decided. "There should +be animals, but we don't have any. At least this stuff +isn't toxic. We need a natural immune and someone infected. +Two of each, so one can be treated and the +other used for a control. Makes four. Not enough to +be sure, but it will have to do."</p> + +<p>"Two," Chris corrected. "You're not infected, I am."</p> + +<p>"Two others," he agreed. "I'll get them from Jake."</p> + +<p>Most of GHQ was out on the street, but Doc found +Jake inside the big schoolroom where he enjoyed his +early morning bracky and coffee. The chief listened +and agreed at once, turning to the others in the room.</p> + +<p>"Who's had the jumping headache? Okay, Swanee. +Who never had it?" He blinked in surprise as three men +nodded out of the eight present. "I guess you go, Tom."<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_106" id="Page_106">[Pg 106]</a></span></p> + +<p>The two men stood up, tamping out their weeds, and +went out with Doc.</p> + +<p>Chris had everything set up. They matched coins to +decide who would be treated. Doc noticed that Chris +would get no plasma, while he was scheduled for everything. +He watched her prepare the culture and add the +accelerator that would speed development and make +certain he and Tom were infected, then let her inject it.</p> + +<p>That was all, except for the waiting. To keep conditions +more closely alike, they were to stay there until +the tests were finished, not even eating for fear of upsetting +the conditions. Swanee dug out a pack of worn +cards and began to deal while Doc dug out some large +pills to use as chips.</p> + +<p>It was an hour later when the pain began. Doc had +just won the pot of fifty pills and opened his mouth +for the expected gloating. He yelled as an explosion +seemed to go off inside his head. Even closing his +mouth was agony.</p> + +<p>A moment later, Tom began to sweat. It got worse, +spreading to the whole area of the back of the head +and neck. Doc lay on the cot, envying Chris and Swanee +who had already been infected naturally. He longed +desperately for bracky, and had to keep reminding himself +that no drugs must upset the tests. It was the longest +day he had ever spent, and he began to doubt that +he could get through it. He watched the little clock +move from one minute to nine over to half a minute +and hung breathless until it hit the nine. There was +no question about whether the infection had taken. +Now they could dull the agony.</p> + +<p>Chris had the anodyne tablets already dissolved in +water, and Swanee was passing out three lighted bracky +weeds. It took a few minutes for the relief of the<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_107" id="Page_107">[Pg 107]</a></span> +anodyne, and even that couldn't kill all the pain. But +it didn't matter by comparison. He sucked the weed, +mashed it out and began dealing the cards again.</p> + +<p>They had a plentiful supply of the anodyne and used +it liberally during the night. The test was a speeded-up +simulation of the natural course of the disease, where +painkiller would take time to get for most people here, +but would then be used generously.</p> + +<p>Precisely at nine in the morning, Chris began to inject +Swanee and Doc with plasma.</p> + +<p>Now there was no thought of cards. They waited, +trying to talk, but with most of their attention on the +clock. Doc had estimated that an hour should be enough +to show results, but it was hard to remember that an +hour was the guess as to the minimum time.</p> + +<p>He winced as Chris took a tiny bit of flesh from his +neck. She went to the other men, and then submitted +to his work on herself. Then she began preparing the +slides.</p> + +<p>"Feldman," she read the name of the slide as she inserted +it into the microscope. Then her breath caught +sharply. "Only dead cells!"</p> + +<p>It was the same for Swanee and Tom. Each had to +look at his own slide and have it explained before the +results could be believed. But at last Chris bent over +her own slide. A minute later she glanced up, nodding. +"What it should be. It checks."</p> + +<p>Tom whooped and went out the door to notify Jake. +There was only plasma for some two hundred injections, +but that should yield sufficient proof. Once salvation +was offered, there should be no trouble convincing +the people that blood donations from their children +were worthwhile.</p> + +<p>Later, when the last of the plasma had been used,<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_108" id="Page_108">[Pg 108]</a></span> +they could finally relax. Chris slipped off her smock +and dropped onto the cot. A tired smile came onto her +lips. "You're forgiven, Dan," she said. A moment later +she was obviously asleep. Doc meant to join her, but +it was too much effort. He leaned his head forward +onto his arms, vaguely wondering why she was calling +off the feud.</p> + +<p>It was night outside when he awoke, and he was lying +on the cot, though he still felt cramped and +strained. He stirred, groaning, and finally realized that +a hand was on his shoulder shaking him. He looked up +to see Jake above him. Chris was busy with the coffee +maker.</p> + +<p>Jake slumped onto the cot beside Doc. "We took +Southport," he announced.</p> + +<p>That knocked the sleep out of Doc's system. "You +what?"</p> + +<p>"We took it, lock, stock and barrel. I figured the +news of your cure would put guts into the men, and +it did. But we'd probably have taken it anyhow. There +wasn't anything to fight for there after Earth pulled out +and the plague really hit. Wilson mistook last-minute +panic for fighting spirit. The poor devils didn't have +anything to fight about, once the Lobby stopped goading +them."</p> + +<p>Doc tried to assimilate the news. But once the surprise +was gone, he found it meant very little. Maybe +his revolutionary zeal had cooled, once the Lobby men +had pulled out. "We'll need a lot more plasma than +there is in Southport," he said.</p> + +<p>"Not so much, maybe," Jake denied. "Doc, three of +the men you injected were shot down as runners. Your +plasma's no good."</p> + +<p>"It takes time to work, Jake. I told you there might<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_109" id="Page_109">[Pg 109]</a></span> +be a case or two that would be too close to the edge. +Three is more than I expected; but it's not impossible."</p> + +<p>"There was plenty of time. They blew after we got +back from Southport." Jack dropped his hand on Doc's +shoulder, and his face softened. "Harkness tested every +man you injected. He finished half an hour ago. Five +showed dead bugs. The rest of them weren't helped +at all."</p> + +<p>Doc fumbled for a weed, trying to think. But his +thoughts refused to focus. "Five!"</p> + +<p>"Five out of two hundred. That's about average. And +what about Tom? He was jumping around after the +test last night, telling how you'd cured him, how he'd +seen the dead bugs; but he never had the jumping +headache, and you never gave him the plasma! He's got +dead bugs, though. Harkness tested him."</p> + +<p>Doc let his realization of his own idiocy sink in until +he could believe it. Jake was right. Tom had never +been treated, yet Chris had reported dead bugs. They'd +all been so ready to believe in miracles that no one had +been able to think straight after the long wait.</p> + +<p>"There was a bump on his neck—a small one," he +said slowly. "Jake, he must have caught it, even if he +seemed immune. If he was taking anodyne anyway for +something—or unconscious—"</p> + +<p>"He was up in Northport six years ago for a kidney +operation," Jake admitted doubtfully. "We had to chip +in to pay for it. But you still didn't treat him, and he's +cured. Face it, Doc, that plasma is no good inside the +body."</p> + +<p>His hand tightened on Doc's shoulder again. "We're +not blaming you. We don't judge a man here except by +what he is. Maybe the stuff helps a little. We'll go on<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_110" id="Page_110">[Pg 110]</a></span> +using it when we get it; tell everybody you were a mite +optimistic, so they'll figure it's a gamble, but have a little +hope left. And you keep trying. Something cured +it in Tom. Now you find out what."</p> + +<p>Doc watched him go out numbly, and turned to +Chris.</p> + +<p>"It can't be right," she said shakily. "You and Swanee +were cured. Maybe it was the accelerator. It had to be +something."</p> + +<p>"You didn't have the accelerator," he accused.</p> + +<p>"No, and I've still got live bugs. I was never supposed +to be cured, so I expected to see just what I saw. +How I missed the fact that Tom should have been +like me, I don't know. Damn it, oh, damn it!"</p> + +<p>He's never seen her cry before, except in fury. But +she mastered it almost at once, shaking tears out of her +eyes. "All right. Plasma works in a bottle but not in +an adult body. Maybe something works in the body +but not in a bottle."</p> + +<p>"Maybe. And maybe some people are just naturally +immune after it reaches a certain stage. Maybe we ran +into coincidence."</p> + +<p>But he didn't believe that, any more than she did. +The answer had to be in the room. He'd taken a massive +dose of the disease and been cured in a few hours.</p> + +<p>Outside the room, the war went on, drawing toward +a close. The supposed partial cure was good propaganda, +if nothing else, and Jake was widening his territory +steadily. There was only token resistance against +him. He had the Southport shuttles now to cover huge +areas in a hurry. But inside the room, the battle was +less successful. It wasn't the accelerator. It wasn't the +tablets of anodyne. They even tried sweeping the floor +and using the dust without results.<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_111" id="Page_111">[Pg 111]</a></span></p> + +<p>Then another test in the room, made with four volunteers +Jake selected, yielded complete cures after injections +with plain salt water in place of plasma.</p> + +<p>The plague speeded up again. About four people out +of a hundred now seemed to have caught the disease +and cured themselves. They accounted for what faith +was left in Doc's plasma and gave some unfounded hope +to the others.</p> + +<p>Northport fell a week later, putting the whole planet +in rebel hands.</p> + +<p>Jake returned, wearier than ever. He'd proved to be +one of the natural immunes, but the weight of the +campaign that could only end in a defeat by the plague +left him no room to rejoice in his personal fortune.</p> + +<p>This time he looked completely defeated. And a moment +later, Doc saw why as Jake flipped a flimsy sheet +onto the table. It bore the seals of Space and Medical +Lobbies.</p> + +<p>Jake pointed upwards. "The war rockets are there, +all right. We knew they'd come. Now all they want +for calling them off is our surrender and your cure. +If they don't get both, they'll blow the planet to bits. +We have two days."</p> + +<p>The rockets could be seen clearly with binoculars. +There were more than enough to destroy all life on the +planet. Maybe they'd be used eventually, anyhow, since +the Lobbies wanted no more rebellion. But with a cure +for the plague, he might have bought them off.</p> + +<p>Chris stood beside him, looking as if it were a bitter +pill for her, too. She'd risked herself in the hands of +the enemy, had cooperated with him in everything +she'd been taught to oppose, and had worked like a dog. +Now the Lobbies seemed to forget her as a useless tool. +They were falling back on a raw power play and for<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_112" id="Page_112">[Pg 112]</a></span>getting +any earlier schemes.</p> + +<p>"Maybe they'd hold off for a while if I agreed to go +to them and share all my ideas, specimens and notes," +he said at last. "Do you think your Lobby would settle +for that, Chris?"</p> + +<p>"I don't know, Dan. I've stopped thinking their way." +She seemed almost apologetic for the admission.</p> + +<p>He dropped an arm over her shoulder and turned +with her back to the laboratory. "Okay, then we've got +to find a miracle. We've got two days ahead of us. At +least we can try."</p> + +<p>But he knew he was lying to himself. There wasn't +anything he could think of to try.<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_113" id="Page_113">[Pg 113]</a></span></p> + + + +<hr style="width: 65%;" /> +<h2><a name="XV" id="XV"></a>XV</h2> + +<h3>Decision</h3> + + +<p>Two days was never enough time for a miracle. Doc +decided as he packed his notes into a small bag and +put it beside his bundle of personal belongings. He +glanced around the room for the last time, and managed +a grin at Jake's gloomy expression.</p> + +<p>"Maybe I can bluff them, or maybe they'll string +along for a while," he said. "Anyhow, now that they've +agreed to take me and my notes in place of the cure +we're fresh out of, I've got to be on that shuttle when +it goes back to their men at orbital station."</p> + +<p>Jake nodded. "I don't like selling friends down the +river, Doc. But it wouldn't do you any more good to +blow up with the planet, I reckon. They won't call off +the war rockets when they do get you, of course. But +maybe they won't use them, except as a threat to put +the Lobbies back in, stronger than ever."</p> + +<p>He stuck out one of his awkwardly shaped hands, +clapped the aspirator over his face and hurried out. +Doc picked up his bags and went toward the little tractor +where Lou was waiting to drive him and Chris back +toward Southport and the shuttle rocket that would be +landing for them. They hadn't mentioned Chris in their +demands, but her father must expect her to return.</p> + +<p>After they had him, he'd be on his own. His best +course was probably to insist on talking only to Ryan +at Medical Lobby, and then being completely honest.<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_114" id="Page_114">[Pg 114]</a></span> +The room here would be kept sealed, in case the Lobby +wanted to investigate where he had failed. And his notes +were honest, which was something that could usually +be determined. Chris could testify to that, anyhow, +since she'd kept a lot of them for him.</p> + +<p>At best, there would be a chance for some compromise +and perhaps some clue for them that might eventually +end the plague. They had enough men to work +on it, and billions in equipment. At worst, he should +gain a little time.</p> + +<p>"Cheer up, Chris," he told her as he climbed through +the little airlock. "Maybe Harkness will turn up the +cure before our negotiations break down. He has the +whole of Northport Hospital to play with. They +haven't tried to chase him out of there yet. After all, +we almost found something with no equipment except +wild imaginations."</p> + +<p>She shook her head as the tractor began moving. +"Shut up! I've got enough trouble without your coming +down with logorrhea. Don't be a fool."</p> + +<p>"Why change now?" he asked her. "Everything I've +done has been because I am a fool. I guess my luck +lasted longer than I could expect. And I'm still fool +enough to think that the solution has to turn up eventually. +We know it has to be in that room. Damn it, +we must know it—if we could only think straight now."</p> + +<p>She reached over and touched his hand, but made +no comment. They had been over that statement of +desperation too many times already. But it kept nagging +at him—something in the room, something in the +room! Something so common that nobody noticed it!</p> + +<p>They passed a crowd chasing down a runner. Something +in that room could have saved the unlucky man. +It could have saved Mars, perhaps.<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_115" id="Page_115">[Pg 115]</a></span></p> + +<p>He growled for the hundredth time, cursing his fatigue-numbed +mind. Too little sleep, too much coffee +and bracky....</p> + +<p>He reached for the package of weed, realizing that +he would miss it on Earth, if he ever got there. Like +everything here on the planet, he'd begun by detesting +it and wound up finding it the thing he wanted to +keep forever. He lighted the bracky and sat smoking, +watching Lou drive. When the first was finished, he +lighted another from the butt.</p> + +<p>She put out a hand and took it away. "Please, Dan. +I can stand the stuff, but I'll never like it, and the tractor's +stuffy enough already. I've taken enough of it. +And it keeps reminding me of our test—the three of +you stinking up the place, puffing and blowing that +out, while I couldn't even get a breath of air...."</p> + +<p>She was getting logorrhea herself now and—</p> + +<p>The answer finally hit him! He jerked around, making +a grab for Lou's shoulder, motioning for the man +to head back.</p> + +<p>"Bracky—it has to be! Chris, that's it. Jake picked +out the second group of men from his friends—and +they are all cronies because they hang around so much +in their so-called smoking room. The first time, it killed +the bugs for all of us who smoked—and it didn't work +for you because you never learned the habit."</p> + +<p>Lou had the tractor turned and the rheostat all the +way to the floor.</p> + +<p>She was sitting up now, but she wasn't fully satisfied. +"The percentage of immunes seems about right. But +why do some of the smokers get the disease while some +don't?"</p> + +<p>"Why not? It depends on whether they pick up the +habit before or after the disease gets started. Tom must<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_116" id="Page_116">[Pg 116]</a></span> +have got his while he was in Northport. They wouldn't +let him smoke there—if he had the habit before, for +that matter."</p> + +<p>She found no fault with that. He twisted it back and +forth in his mind, trying to find a fault. There seemed +to be none. The only trouble was that they couldn't +send a message that bracky was the cure and hope that +Earth would prove it true. No polite note of apology +would do after that. They had to be sure. Too many +other ideas had proved wrong already.</p> + +<p>Jake saw them coming and came running toward the +laboratory, but Lou stopped the tractor before it +reached the building and let the older man in.</p> + +<p>"Get me a dozen men who have the plague. I want +the worst cases you have, and ones that Harkness tested +himself," Doc ordered. "And then start praying that +the cure we've got works fast."</p> + +<p>Chris was at the electron mike at once, but one of +her hands reached out for the weed. She began puffing +valiantly, making sick faces. Now other men began +coming in, their faces struggling to find hope, but not +daring to believe yet. Jake followed them.</p> + +<p>"We'll test at ten-minute intervals. That will be about +two hours for the last from the group," Doc decided. +One of the doctors Harkness had brought to the villages +was busy cutting tiny sections from the lumps on +the men's necks, while Chris ran them through the microscope +to make sure the bugs were still alive. The +regular optical mike was strong enough for that.</p> + +<p>Doc handed each man a bracky weed, with instructions +to keep smoking, no matter how sick it made him.</p> + +<p>There were no results at the end of ten minutes +when the first test was made. The second, at the end of +twenty minutes, was still infected with live bugs. At<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_117" id="Page_117">[Pg 117]</a></span> +the half-hour, Chris frowned.</p> + +<p>"I can't be sure—take a look, Dan."</p> + +<p>He bent over, moving the slide to examine another +spot. "I think so. The next one should tell."</p> + +<p>There was no doubt about the fourth test. The bugs +were dead, without a single exception that they could +find.</p> + +<p>One by one, the men were tested and went storming +out, shouting the news. For a minute, the gathering +crowd was skeptical, remembering the other failures. +Then, abruptly, men were screaming, crying and fighting +for the precious bracky, like the legions of the +damned grabbing for lottery tickets when the prize was +a passport to paradise.</p> + +<p>Jake swore as he moved toward the door. "We're low +on bracky here. Have to get a supply from Edison, +I guess, and cart it to the shuttle. Enough for a sample, +and to make them want more. It'll be tough, but +we'll get it there in time—by the time the shuttle should +be picking you up. Doc, you've won our war! From +now on, if Earth wants to keep her population up, we'll +be a free planet!"</p> + +<p>Chris turned slowly from the microscope, holding a +slide in her hands. "My bugs," she said unbelievingly. +"Dan, they're dead!"</p> + +<p>Jake patted her shoulder. "That makes it perfect, +girl. Now come on. We've got to start celebrating a +victory!"</p> + +<hr style='width: 45%;' /> + +<p>It was the general feeling of most of the heads of the +villages when they met the next day in Southport, using +the courtroom that had been presided over so long by +Judge Ben Wilson. It was victory, and to the victor +belonged the spoils. The bracky had gone out to Earth<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_118" id="Page_118">[Pg 118]</a></span> +on a converted war rocket that could make the trip in +less than two weeks, and one packet had been specially +labeled for Captain Everts. But Earth had already confirmed +the cure. The small amounts of the herb found +in the botanical collections had been enough to satisfy +all doubts.</p> + +<p>Harkness, Chris and Doc had been fighting against +the desire to rob Earth blind that filled most of the +men here for hours now. Now they had the backing +of Jake and Ben Wilson. And now finally they leaned +back, sensing that the argument had been won.</p> + +<p>Bargaining was all right in its place, but it had no +place in affairs of life and death such as this. They +had to see that Earth received all the bracky she +needed. It was only right to charge a fair price for it, +but they couldn't restrict it by withholding or overcharging. +And they could still gain their ends without +blackmail.</p> + +<p>Martian alkaloids were tricky things, and bracky +smoke contained a number of them. It would take Earth +at least ten years to discover and synthesize the right +one—and it would still probably cost more than it +would to import the weed from Mars. As long as the +source of that weed was here, and in the hands of the +colonials, there would be no danger of Earth's bombing +the planet.</p> + +<p>Harkness got up to underscore a point Wilson had +made. "The plague lived a million years, and it won't +disappear now. The jumping headache, or <ins class="correction" title="Transcriber's Note: Original had 'Selnick's'.">Selznick's</ins> migraine, +is unpleasant enough to make us reasonably sure +that there will be a steady consumption of the weed. +Our problem will be to keep the children from using +too much of it, probably." He pulled a weed out and +lighted it, puckering his face as the smoke bit his<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_119" id="Page_119">[Pg 119]</a></span> +tongue. "I'm told that this gets to be an enjoyable habit. +If I can believe that, surely you can believe me when +I say we don't have to bargain with lives."</p> + +<p>The village men were human, and most of them +could remember the strain they had been under when +they expected those they loved to die at any hour. It +had made them crave vengeance, but now as they had +a chance to reexamine it, they began to find it harder +to impose the horror of any such threat on others. The +final vote was almost unanimous.</p> + +<p>Doc listened as they wrangled over the wording of +the message to Earth, feeling disconnected from it. He +passed Chris a bracky and lighted it for her. She took +it automatically, smiling as the smoke hit her lungs. It +was one thing they had in common now, at least.</p> + +<p>Ben Wilson finally read the message.</p> + +<p>"To the people of Earth, greetings!</p> + +<p>"On behalf of the free people of Mars, I have the +honor to announce that this planet hereby declares itself +a sovereign and independent world. We shall continue +to regard Earth as our mother, and to consider +the health and welfare of her people in no way second +to our own in matters which affect both planets. We +trust that Earth will share this feeling of mutual friendship. +We trust that all strains of hostility will be ended. +The advantages to each from peaceful commerce make +any course other than the most cordial of relations unthinkable.</p> + +<p>"We shall consider proof of such friendship an order +by Earth to all rockets circling this planet that they +shall deliver themselves safely into our hands, in order +that we may begin converting them to peaceful purposes +for the trade that is to come. In turn, we pledge +that all efforts will be made to ensure a prompt de<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_120" id="Page_120">[Pg 120]</a></span>livery +of those products most in demand, including the +curative bracky plant."</p> + +<p>He turned to Doc then. "You want to sign it, Dr. +Feldman? Make it as acting president or something, until +we can get around to voting you into permanent +office."</p> + +<p>"You and Jake fight over the job," Doc told him. +"No, Ben, I mean it."</p> + +<p>He got up and moved out into the outer room, where +he could avoid the stares of amazement that were +turned to him. He'd never asked for the honor, and he +didn't want it.</p> + +<p>Chris came with him. Her face was shocked and +something was slowly draining out of it as he looked +at her.</p> + +<p>"Forget it, Chris," he said. "You're going back to +Earth. There is nothing for you here."</p> + +<p>She hadn't quite given up. "There could be, Dan. +You know that."</p> + +<p>"No. No, Chris, I don't think there ever can be. You +can't find a man strong enough to rule who'll be weak +enough to let you rule in his place. It didn't work on +Earth, and it won't work here. Forget the dreams you +had of what could be done with a new planet. Those +are the dreams that made a mess of the old one."</p> + +<p>"I'll be back," she told him. "Some day I'll be back."</p> + +<p>He shook his head again. "No. You wouldn't like +what you find here. Freedom is heady stuff, but you +have to have a taste for it. You can't acquire a fondness +for it secondhand. And for a while, there's going +to be freedom here. Besides, once you get back to +Earth, you'll forget what happened here."</p> + +<p>She sighed at last. For the first time since he had +known her, she seemed to give in completely. And for<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_121" id="Page_121">[Pg 121]</a></span> +that brief moment, he loved what she could have been, +but never would be.</p> + +<p>"All right, Dan," she said quietly. "I can't fight you. +I never could, I see now. I'll take the rocket back. +What are you going to do?"</p> + +<p>He hadn't bothered to think, but he knew the answer. +"Research. What else?"</p> + +<p>There would be a lot of research done here. It had +been suppressed too long, and had piled up a back-pressure +that would have to be relieved. And from that +research, he suspected, would come the end of the stable +oligarchy of Earth. It could never stand against the +changes that would be pouring out of Mars.</p> + +<p>She put her hands on his shoulders and moved forward +to kiss him. He bent down to meet her, and +found her eyes were wet. Maybe his were, too. Then +she broke free.</p> + +<p>"You're a fool, Dan Feldman," she whispered, and +began moving down the hallway and out of the council +hall of Mars.</p> + +<p>Doc Feldman nodded slowly as he let her go. He +was a fool. He had always been a fool, and always +would be. And that was why he could never take over +leadership here. Fools and idealists should never govern +a world. It took practical men such as Jake to do that.</p> + +<p>But the practical men needed the foolish idealists, too. +And maybe for a time here on Mars their kind of men +and his kind of fools could make one more stab at the +ancient puzzle of freedom.</p> + +<p>Outside the war rockets of Earth began landing +quietly on the free soil of Mars.</p> + + +<hr style='width: 65%;' /> + + +<h2>ANDRE NORTON</h2> + + + +<div class='center'> +<table border="0" cellpadding="4" cellspacing="0" summary=""> +<tr><td align='left'>051615</td><td align='left'><b>Beast Master</b> 75c</td></tr> +<tr><td align='left'>092668</td><td align='left'><b>Catseye</b> 75c</td></tr> +<tr><td align='left'>123117</td><td align='left'><b>The Crossroads of Time</b> 60c</td></tr> +<tr><td align='left'>137950</td><td align='left'><b>Dark Piper</b> 60c</td></tr> +<tr><td align='left'>139923</td><td align='left'><b>Daybreak, 2250 A.D.</b> 75c</td></tr> +<tr><td align='left'>142323</td><td align='left'><b>Defiant Agents</b> 75c</td></tr> +<tr><td align='left'>166694</td><td align='left'><b>Dread Companion</b> 75c</td></tr> +<tr><td align='left'>223651</td><td align='left'><b>Exiles of the Stars</b> 95c</td></tr> +<tr><td align='left'>272260</td><td align='left'><b>Galactic Derelict</b> 75c</td></tr> +<tr><td align='left'>337014</td><td align='left'><b>High Sorcery</b> 75c</td></tr> +<tr><td align='left'>354217</td><td align='left'><b>Huon of the Horn</b> 60c</td></tr> +<tr><td align='left'>358408</td><td align='left'><b>Ice Crown</b> 75c</td></tr> +<tr><td align='left'>415513</td><td align='left'><b>Judgment on Janus</b> 75c</td></tr> +<tr><td align='left'>436725</td><td align='left'><b>Key Out of Time</b> 75c</td></tr> +<tr><td align='left'>471615</td><td align='left'><b>The Last Planet</b> 60c</td></tr> +<tr><td align='left'>492363</td><td align='left'><b>Lord of Thunder</b> 75c</td></tr> +<tr><td align='left'>541011</td><td align='left'><b>Moon of Three Rings</b> 75c</td></tr> +<tr><td align='left'>577510</td><td align='left'><b>Night of Masks</b> 60c</td></tr> +<tr><td align='left'>634105</td><td align='left'><b>Operation Time Search</b> 60c</td></tr> +<tr><td align='left'>638213</td><td align='left'><b>Ordeal In Otherwhere</b> 60c</td></tr> +<tr><td align='left'>668319</td><td align='left'><b>Plague Ship</b> 60c</td></tr> +<tr><td align='left'>675553</td><td align='left'><b>Postmarked the Stars</b> 75c</td></tr> +</table></div> + + +<p class='center'><i><b>Available wherever paperbacks are sold or use this coupon.</b></i></p> + +<hr style='width: 45%;' /> + +<p> +<b>ace books</b>, (Dept. MM) Box 576, Times Square Station<br /> +New York, N.Y. 10036<br /> +<br /> +Please send me titles checked above.<br /> +<br /> +I enclose $__________________Add 15¢ handling fee per copy.<br /> +<br /> +Name_________________________________________________<br /> +<br /> +Address______________________________________________<br /> +<br /> +City____________________State_____________Zip________<br /> +<br /> +Please allow 4 weeks for delivery. 24C<br /> +</p> + +<hr style="width: 65%;" /> +<h2>ANDRE NORTON</h2> + + + +<div class='center'> +<table border="0" cellpadding="4" cellspacing="0" summary=""> +<tr><td align='left'>696823</td><td align='left'><b>Quest Crosstime</b> 75c</td></tr> +<tr><td align='left'>749812</td><td align='left'><b>Sargasso of Space</b> 75c</td></tr> +<tr><td align='left'>756957</td><td align='left'><b>Sea Siege</b> 75c</td></tr> +<tr><td align='left'>758318</td><td align='left'><b>Secret of the Lost Race</b> 75c</td></tr> +<tr><td align='left'>759910</td><td align='left'><b>Shadow Hawk</b> 75c</td></tr> +<tr><td align='left'>768010</td><td align='left'><b>The Sioux Spaceman</b> 60c</td></tr> +<tr><td align='left'>775510</td><td align='left'><b>Sorceress of Witch World</b> 75c</td></tr> +<tr><td align='left'>780114</td><td align='left'><b>Star Born</b> 75c</td></tr> +<tr><td align='left'>780718</td><td align='left'><b>Star Gate</b> 60c</td></tr> +<tr><td align='left'>781914</td><td align='left'><b>Star Hunter & Voodoo Planet</b> 60c</td></tr> +<tr><td align='left'>784314</td><td align='left'><b>The Stars Are Ours</b> 75c</td></tr> +<tr><td align='left'>787416</td><td align='left'><b>Storm over Warlock</b> 60c</td></tr> +<tr><td align='left'>808014</td><td align='left'><b>Three Against the Witch World</b> 75c</td></tr> +<tr><td align='left'>812511</td><td align='left'><b>The Time Traders</b> 60c</td></tr> +<tr><td align='left'>840009</td><td align='left'><b>Unchartered Stars</b> 75c</td></tr> +<tr><td align='left'>873190</td><td align='left'><b>Warlock of the Witch World</b> 60c</td></tr> +<tr><td align='left'>878710</td><td align='left'><b>Web of the Witch World</b> 75c</td></tr> +<tr><td align='left'>897017</td><td align='left'><b>Witch World</b> 60c</td></tr> +<tr><td align='left'>925511</td><td align='left'><b>The X Factor</b> 75c</td></tr> +<tr><td align='left'>942516</td><td align='left'><b>Year of the Unicorn</b> 60c</td></tr> +<tr><td align='left'>959619</td><td align='left'><b>The Zero Stone</b> 75c</td></tr> +</table></div> + + +<p class='center'><i><b>Available wherever paperbacks are sold or use this coupon.</b></i></p> + +<hr style='width: 45%;' /> + +<p> +<b>ace books</b>, (Dept. MM) Box 576, Times Square Station<br /> +New York, N.Y. 10036<br /> +<br /> +Please send me titles checked above.<br /> +<br /> +I enclose $__________________Add 15¢ handling fee per copy.<br /> +<br /> +Name_________________________________________________<br /> +<br /> +Address______________________________________________<br /> +<br /> +City____________________State_____________Zip________<br /> +<br /> +Please allow 4 weeks for delivery. 25B<br /> +</p> + +<hr style="width: 65%;" /> +<h3><i>Don't miss these exciting adventures of</i></h3> + +<h2><b>PERRY RHODAN</b></h2> + +<p class='center'><b>Just 75c Each</b></p> + + +<div class='center'> +<table border="0" cellpadding="4" cellspacing="0" summary=""> +<tr><td align='left'>659938 <b>Perry Rhodan #1</b></td></tr> +<tr><td align='left'><b>Enterprise Stardust</b> Scheer & Ernsting</td></tr> +<tr><td align='left'>659946 <b>Perry Rhodan #2</b></td></tr> +<tr><td align='left'><b>The Radiant Dome</b> Scheer & Ernsting</td></tr> +<tr><td align='left'>659953 <b>Perry Rhodan #3</b></td></tr> +<tr><td align='left'><b>Galactic Alarm</b> Mahr & Shols</td></tr> +<tr><td align='left'>659961 <b>Perry Rhodan #4</b></td></tr> +<tr><td align='left'><b>Invasion from Space</b> Ernsting & Mahr</td></tr> +<tr><td align='left'>659979 <b>Perry Rhodan #5</b></td></tr> +<tr><td align='left'><b>The Vega Sector</b> Scheer & Mahr</td></tr> +<tr><td align='left'>659987 <b>Perry Rhodan #6</b></td></tr> +<tr><td align='left'><b>Secret of the Time Vault</b> Darlton</td></tr> +<tr><td align='left'>659995 <b>Perry Rhodan #7</b></td></tr> +<tr><td align='left'><b>Fortress of the Six Moons</b> Scheer</td></tr> +<tr><td align='left'>660001 <b>Perry Rhodan #8</b></td></tr> +<tr><td align='left'><b>The Galactic Riddle</b> Darlton</td></tr> +<tr><td align='left'>659789 <b>Perry Rhodan #9</b></td></tr> +<tr><td align='left'><b>Quest through Space and Time</b> Darlton</td></tr> +<tr><td align='left'>660027 <b>Perry Rhodan #10</b></td></tr> +<tr><td align='left'><b>The Ghosts of Gol</b> Mahr</td></tr> +<tr><td align='left'>659805 <b>Perry Rhodan #11</b></td></tr> +<tr><td align='left'><b>Planet of the Dying Sun</b> Mahr</td></tr> +</table></div> + +<p class='center'><i><b>Available wherever paperbacks are sold or use this coupon.</b></i></p> + +<hr style='width: 45%;' /> + +<p> +<b>ace books</b>, (Dept. MM) Box 576, Times Square Station<br /> +New York, N.Y. 10036<br /> +<br /> +Please send me titles checked above.<br /> +<br /> +I enclose $__________________Add 15¢ handling fee per copy.<br /> +<br /> +Name_________________________________________________<br /> +<br /> +Address______________________________________________<br /> +<br /> +City____________________State_____________Zip________<br /> +<br /> +Please allow 4 weeks for delivery. 32A<br /> +</p> +<hr style="width: 65%;" /> + +<h3>Don't miss these exciting adventures of</h3> + +<h2>PERRY RHODAN</h2> + +<p class='center'><b>Just 75c Each</b></p> + + +<div class='center'> +<table border="0" cellpadding="4" cellspacing="0" summary=""> +<tr><td align='left'>659813 <b>Perry Rhodan #12</b></td></tr> +<tr><td align='left'><b>Rebels of Tuglan</b> Darlton</td></tr> +<tr><td align='left'>659821 <b>Perry Rhodan #13</b></td></tr> +<tr><td align='left'><b>The Immortal Unknown</b> Darlton</td></tr> +<tr><td align='left'>659839 <b>Perry Rhodan #14</b></td></tr> +<tr><td align='left'><b>Venus in Danger</b> Mahr</td></tr> +<tr><td align='left'>659847 <b>Perry Rhodan #15</b></td></tr> +<tr><td align='left'><b>Escape To Venus</b> Mahr</td></tr> +<tr><td align='left'>659862 <b>Perry Rhodan #16</b></td></tr> +<tr><td align='left'><b>Secret Barrier X</b> Shols</td></tr> +<tr><td align='left'>659870 <b>Perry Rhodan #17</b></td></tr> +<tr><td align='left'><b>The Venus Trap</b> Mahr</td></tr> +<tr><td align='left'>659888 <b>Perry Rhodan #18</b></td></tr> +<tr><td align='left'><b>Menace of the Mutant Master</b> Mahr</td></tr> +<tr><td align='left'>659904 <b>Perry Rhodan #19</b></td></tr> +<tr><td align='left'><b>Mutants vs. Mutants</b> Darlton</td></tr> +</table></div> + +<p class='center'><i><b>Available wherever paperbacks are sold or use this coupon.</b></i></p> + +<hr style='width: 45%;' /> + +<p> +<b>ace books</b>, (Dept. MM) Box 576, Times Square Station<br /> +New York, N.Y. 10036<br /> +<br /> +Please send me titles checked above.<br /> +<br /> +I enclose $__________________Add 15¢ handling fee per copy.<br /> +<br /> +Name_________________________________________________<br /> +<br /> +Address______________________________________________<br /> +<br /> +City____________________State_____________Zip________<br /> +<br /> +Please allow 4 weeks for delivery. 31B<br /> +</p> +<hr style="width: 65%;" /> + +<h2>Great Science Fiction +Collections</h2> + + +<div class='center'> +<table border="0" cellpadding="4" cellspacing="0" summary=""> +<tr><td align='left'>054551 <b>The Best from Fantasy and SF 16th Series</b> 95c</td></tr> +<tr><td align='left'>054569 <b>The Best from Fantasy and SF 17th Series</b> 95c</td></tr> +<tr><td align='left'>054577 <b>The Best from Fantasy and SF 18th Series</b> 75c</td></tr> +<tr><td align='left'>206706 <b>England Swings SF</b> $1.25</td></tr> +<tr><td align='left'>363317 <b>The Second "If" Reader</b> 95c</td></tr> +<tr><td align='left'>572701 <b>New Worlds of Fantasy</b> 75c</td></tr> +<tr><td align='left'>572719 <b>New Worlds of Fantasy 2</b> 75c</td></tr> +<tr><td align='left'>572727 <b>New Worlds of Fantasy 3</b> 75c</td></tr> +<tr><td align='left'>629402 <b>On Our Way to the Future</b> 75c</td></tr> +<tr><td align='left'>806992 <b>This Side of Infinity</b> 75c</td></tr> +<tr><td align='left'>846006 <b>Universe 1</b> 75c</td></tr> +<tr><td align='left'>846014 <b>Universe 2</b> 95c</td></tr> +<tr><td align='left'>913533 <b>World's Best 1st Series</b> 95c</td></tr> +<tr><td align='left'>913541 <b>World's Best 2nd Series</b> 95c</td></tr> +<tr><td align='left'>913558 <b>World's Best 3rd Series</b> 95c</td></tr> +<tr><td align='left'>913566 <b>World's Best 4th Series</b> 95c</td></tr> +<tr><td align='left'>913525 <b>World's Best Science Fiction 1969</b> 95c</td></tr> +<tr><td align='left'>913574 <b>World's Best Science Fiction 1970</b> 95c</td></tr> +<tr><td align='left'>913582 <b>World's Best Science Fiction 1971</b> 95c</td></tr> +<tr><td align='left'>913590 <b>Best Science Fiction for 1972</b> 95c</td></tr> +</table></div> + +<p class='center'><i><b>Available wherever paperbacks are sold or use this coupon.</b></i></p> + +<hr style="width: 45%;" /> + +<p> +<b>ace books</b>, (Dept. MM) Box 576, Times Square Station<br /> +New York, N.Y. 10036<br /> +<br /> +Please send me titles checked above.<br /> +<br /> +I enclose $__________________Add 15¢ handling fee per copy.<br /> +<br /> +Name_________________________________________________<br /> +<br /> +Address______________________________________________<br /> +<br /> +City____________________State_____________Zip________<br /> +<br /> +Please allow 4 weeks for delivery. 12-72-34A<br /> +</p> + +<hr style="width: 65%;" /> +<h2>Frank +Herbert</h2> + + +<div class='center'> +<table border="0" cellpadding="4" cellspacing="0" summary=""> +<tr><td align='left'>172619 <b>Dune</b> $1.25</td></tr> +<tr><td align='left'>302612 <b>Green Brain</b> 60c</td></tr> +<tr><td align='left'>909267 <b>The Worlds of Frank Herbert</b> 95c</td></tr> +</table></div> + + +<h2>URSULA LEGUIN</h2> + + +<div class='center'> +<table border="0" cellpadding="4" cellspacing="0" summary=""> +<tr><td align='left'>107011 <b>City of Illusion</b> 60c</td></tr> +<tr><td align='left'>478008 <b>Left Hand of Darkness</b> 95c</td></tr> +<tr><td align='left'>732917 <b>Rocannon's World</b> 75c</td></tr> +</table></div> + + +<h2>Samuel R. Delany</h2> + + +<div class='center'> +<table border="0" cellpadding="4" cellspacing="0" summary=""> +<tr><td align='left'>045914 <b>Babel 17</b> 60c</td></tr> +<tr><td align='left'>047225 <b>Ballad of Beta 2</b> 60c</td></tr> +<tr><td align='left'>196816 <b>Einstein Intersection</b> 75c</td></tr> +<tr><td align='left'>226415 <b>Fall of the Towers</b> $1.25</td></tr> +<tr><td align='left'>390211 <b>Jewels of Aptor</b> 75c</td></tr> +</table></div> + +<p class='center'><i><b>Available wherever paperbacks are sold or use this coupon.</b></i></p> + +<hr style='width: 45%;' /> + +<p> +<b>ace books</b>, (Dept. 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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: Badge of Infamy + +Author: Lester del Rey + +Release Date: October 5, 2006 [EBook #19471] + +Language: English + +Character set encoding: ASCII + +*** START OF THIS PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK BADGE OF INFAMY *** + + + + +Produced by Susan Skinner, Greg Weeks and the Online +Distributed Proofreading Team at http://www.pgdp.net + + + + + + + Transcriber's Note: + +This etext was produced from an Ace Books paperback, 1973. Extensive +research did not uncover any evidence that the U.S. copyright on this +publication was renewed. + + + + +[Illustration: BADGE OF INFAMY + +LESTER DEL REY + +EARTHMEN BECOMING MARTIANS] + + + The computer seemed to work as it should. The speed was + within acceptable limits. He gave up trying to see the + ground and was forced to trust the machinery designed + for amateur pilots. The flare bloomed, and he yanked + down on the little lever. + + It could have been worse. They hit the ground, bounced + twice, and turned over. The ship was a mess when + Feldman freed himself from the elastic straps of the + seat. Chris had shrieked as they hit, but she was + unbuckling herself now. + + He threw her her spacesuit and one of the emergency + bottles of oxygen from the rack. "Hurry up with that. + We've sprung a leak and the pressure's dropping." + + * * * * * + +Turn this book over for a second complete novel. + +[Transcriber's Note: +The second novel is not present in this etext.] + + + * * * * * + + +BADGE OF INFAMY + +By LESTER DEL REY + + + * * * * * + + +ace books +A Division of Charter Communications Inc. +1120 Avenue of the Americas +New York, N.Y. 10036 + + + + +BADGE OF INFAMY + +Copyright (C) 1963 by Galaxy Publishing Corp. +Copyright (C) 1957 by Renown Publications, Inc. + +A shorter and earlier version of this story appeared in _Satellite +Science Fiction_ for June, 1957. + + * * * * * + +_First Ace printing: January, 1973_ + + * * * * * + +THE SKY IS FALLING +Copyright (C) 1954, 1963 by Galaxy Publishing Corp. + + * * * * * + +Printed in U.S.A. + + + + +I + +Pariah + + +The air of the city's cheapest flophouse was thick with the smells of +harsh antiseptic and unwashed bodies. The early Christmas snowstorm had +driven in every bum who could steal or beg the price of admission, and +the long rows of cots were filled with fully clothed figures. Those who +could afford the extra dime were huddled under thin, grimy blankets. + +The pariah who had been Dr. Daniel Feldman enjoyed no such luxury. He +tossed fitfully on a bare cot, bringing his face into the dim light. It +had been a handsome face, but now the black stubble of beard lay over +gaunt features and sunken cheeks. He looked ten years older than his +scant thirty-two, and there were the beginnings of a snarl at the +corners of his mouth. Clothes that had once been expensive were wrinkled +and covered with grime that no amount of cleaning could remove. His +tall, thin body was awkwardly curled up in a vain effort to conserve +heat and one of his hands instinctively clutched at his tiny bag of +possessions. + +He stirred again, and suddenly jerked upright with a protest already +forming on his lips. The ugly surroundings registered on his eyes, and +he stared suspiciously at the other cots. But there was no sign that +anyone had been trying to rob him of his bindle or the precious bag of +cheap tobacco. + +He started to relax back onto the couch when a sound caught his +attention, even over the snoring of the others. It was a low wail, the +sound of a man who can no longer control himself. + +Feldman swung to the cot on his left as the moan hacked off. The man +there was well fed and clean-shaven, but his face was gray with +sickness. He was writhing and clutching his stomach, arching his back +against the misery inside him. + +"Space-stomach?" Feldman diagnosed. + +He had no need of the weak answering nod. He'd treated such cases +several times in the past. The disease was usually caused by the absence +of gravity out in space, but it could be brought on later from abuse of +the weakened internal organs, such as the intake of too much bad liquor. +The man must have been frequenting the wrong space-front bars. + +Now he was obviously dying. Violent peristaltic contractions seemed to +be tearing the intestines out of him, and the paroxysms were coming +faster. His eyes darted to Feldman's tobacco sack and there was animal +appeal in them. + +Feldman hesitated, then reluctantly rolled a smoke. He held the +cigarette while the spaceman took a long, gasping drag on it. He smoked +the remainder himself, letting the harsh tobacco burn against his lungs +and sicken his empty stomach. Then he shrugged and threaded his way +through the narrow aisles toward the attendant. + +"Better get a doctor," he said bitterly, when the young punk looked up +at him. "You've got a man dying of space-stomach on 214." + +The sneer on the kid's face deepened. "Yeah? We don't pay for doctors +every time some wino wants to throw up. Forget it and get back where you +belong, bo." + +"You'll have a corpse on your hands in an hour," Feldman insisted. "I +know space-stomach, damn it." + +The kid turned back to his lottery sheet. "Go treat yourself if you +wanta play doctor. Go on, scram--before I toss you out in the snow!" + +One of Feldman's white-knuckled hands reached for the attendant. Then he +caught himself. He started to turn back, hesitated, and finally faced +the kid again. "I'm not fooling. And I _was_ a doctor," he stated. "My +name is Daniel Feldman." + +The attendant nodded absently, until the words finally penetrated. He +looked up, studied Feldman with surprised curiosity and growing +contempt, and reached for the phone. "Gimme Medical Directory," he +muttered. + +Feldman felt the kid's eyes on his back as he stumbled through the +aisles to his cot again. He slumped down, rolling another cigarette in +hands that shook. The sick man was approaching delirium now, and the +moans were mixed with weak whining sounds of fear. Other men had wakened +and were watching, but nobody made a move to help. + +The retching and writhing of the sick man had begun to weaken, but it +was still not too late to save him. Hot water and skillful massage could +interrupt the paroxysms. In fifteen minutes, Feldman could have stopped +the attack completely. + +He found his feet on the floor and his hands already reaching out. +Savagely he pulled himself back. Sure, he could save the man--and wind +up in the gas chamber! There'd be no mercy for his second offense +against Lobby laws. If the spaceman lived, Feldman might get off with a +flogging--that was standard punishment for a pariah who stepped out of +line. But with his luck, there would be a heart arrest and another juicy +story for the papers. + +Idealism! The Medical Lobby made a lot out of the word. But it wasn't +for him. A pariah had no business thinking of others. + +As Feldman sat there staring, the spaceman grew quieter. Sometimes, even +at this stage, massage could help. It was harder without liberal +supplies of hot water, but the massage was the really important +treatment. It was the trembling of Feldman's hands that stopped him. He +no longer had the strength or the certainty to make the massage +effective. + +He was glaring at his hands in self-disgust when the legal doctor +arrived. The man was old and tired. Probably he had been another +idealist who had wound up defeated, content to leave things up to the +established procedures of the Medical Lobby. He looked it as he bent +over the dying man. + +The doctor turned back at last to the attendant. "Too late. The best I +can do is ease his pain. The call should have been made half an hour +earlier." + +He had obviously never handled space-stomach before. He administered a +hypo that probably held narconal. Feldman watched, his guts tightening +sympathetically for the shock that would be to the sick man. But at +least it would shorten his sufferings. The final seizure lasted only a +minute or so. + +"Hopeless," the doctor said. His eyes were clouded for a moment, and +then he shrugged. "Well, I'll make out a death certificate. Anyone here +know his name?" + +His eyes swung about the cots until they came to rest on Feldman. He +frowned, and a twisted smile curved his lips. + +"Feldman, isn't it? You still look something like your pictures. Do you +know the deceased?" + +Feldman shook his head bitterly. "No. I don't know his name. I don't +even know why he wasn't cyanotic at the end, _if_ it was space-stomach. +Do you, doctor?" + +The old man threw a startled glance at the corpse. Then he shrugged and +nodded to the attendant. "Well, go through his things. If he still has a +space ticket, I can get his name from that." + +The kid began pawing through the bag that had fallen from the cot. He +dragged out a pair of shoes, half a bottle of cheap rum, a wallet and a +bronze space ticket. He wasn't quick enough with the wallet, and the +doctor took it from him. + +"Medical Lobby authorization. If he has any money, it covers my fee and +the rest goes to his own Lobby." There were several bills, all of large +denominations. He turned the ticket over and began filling in the death +certificate. "Arthur Billings. Space Lobby. Crewman. Cause of death, +idiopathic gastroenteritis _and_ delirium tremens." + +There had been no evidence of delirium tremens, but apparently the +doctor felt he had scored a point. He tossed the space ticket toward the +shoes, closed his bag, and prepared to leave. + +"Hey, doc!" The attendant's voice was indignant. "Hey, what about my +reporting fee?" + +The doctor stopped. He glanced at the kid, then toward Feldman, his face +a mixture of speculation and dislike. He took a dollar bill from the +wallet. "That's right," he admitted. "The fee for reporting a solvent +case. Medical Lobby rules apply--even to a man who breaks them." + +The kid's hand was out, but the doctor dropped the dollar onto Feldman's +cot. "There's your fee, pariah." He left, forcing the protesting +attendant to precede him. + +Feldman reached for the bill. It was blood money for letting a man +die--but it meant cigarettes and food--or shelter for another night, if +he could get a mission meal. He no longer could afford pride. Grimly, he +pocketed the bill, staring at the face of the dead man. It looked back +sightlessly, now showing a faint speckling of tiny dots. They caught +Feldman's eyes, and he bent closer. There should be no black dots on the +skin of a man who died of space-stomach. And there should have been +cyanosis.... + +He swore and bent down to find the wrecks of his shoes. He couldn't +worry about anything now but getting away from here before the attendant +made trouble. His eyes rested on the shoes of the dead man--sturdy boots +that would last for another year. They could do the corpse no good; +someone else would steal them if he didn't. But he hesitated, cursing +himself. + +The right boot fitted better than he could have expected, but something +got in the way as he tried to put the left one on. His fingers found the +bronze ticket. He turned it over, considering it. He wasn't ready to +fraud his identity for what he'd heard of life on the spaceships, yet. +But he shoved it into his pocket and finished lacing the boots. + +Outside, the snow was still falling, but it had turned to slush, and the +sidewalk was soggy underfoot. There was going to be no work shoveling +snow, he realized. This would melt before the day was over. Feldman +hunched the suitcoat up, shivering as the cold bit into him. The boots +felt good, though; if he'd had socks, they would have been completely +comfortable. + +He passed a cheap restaurant, and the smell of the synthetics set his +stomach churning. It had been two days since his last real meal, and the +dollar burned in his pocket. But he had to wait. There was a fair +chance this early that he could scavenge something edible. + +He shuffled on. After a while, the cold bothered him less, and he passed +through the hunger spell. He rolled another smoke and sucked at it, +hardly thinking. It was better that way. + +It was much later when the big caduceus set into the sidewalk snapped +him back to awareness of where he'd traveled. His undirected feet had +led him much too far uptown, following old habits. This was the Medical +Lobby building, where he'd spent more than enough time, including three +weeks in custody before they stripped him of all rank and status. + +His eyes wandered to the ornate entrance where he'd first emerged as a +pariah. He'd meant to walk down those steps as if he were still a man. +But each step had drained his resolution, until he'd finally covered his +face and slunk off, knowing himself for what the world had branded him. + +He stood there now, staring at the smug young medical politicians and +the tired old general practitioners filing in and out. One of the latter +halted, fumbled in his pocket and drew out a quarter. + +"Merry Christmas!" he said dully. + +Feldman fingered the coin. Then he saw a gray Medical policeman watching +him, and he knew it was time to move on. Sooner or later, someone would +recognize him here. + +He clutched the quarter and turned to look for a coffee shop that sold +the synthetics to which his metabolism had been switched. No shop would +serve him here, but he could buy coffee and a piece of cake to take out. + +A flurry of motion registered from the corner of his eye, and he glanced +back. + +"Taxi! Taxi!" + +The girl rushing down the steps had a clear soprano voice, cultured and +commanding. The gray Medical uniform seemed molded to her shapely figure +and her red hair glistened in the lights of the street. Her snub nose +and determined mouth weren't the current fashion, but nobody stopped to +think of fashions when they saw her. She didn't have to be the daughter +of the president of Medical Lobby to rule. + +It was Chris--Chris Feldman once, and now Chris Ryan again. + +Feldman swung toward a cab. For a moment, his attitude was automatic and +assured, and the cab stopped before the driver noticed his clothes. He +picked up the bag Chris dropped and swung it onto the front seat. She +was fumbling in her change purse as he turned back to shut the door. + +"Thank you, my good man," she said. She could be gracious, even to a +pariah, when his homage suited her. She dropped two quarters into his +hand, raising her eyes. + +Recognition flowed into them, followed by icy shock. She yanked the cab +door shut and shouted something to the driver. The cab took off with a +rush that left Feldman in a backwash of slush and mud. + +He glanced down at the coins in his hand. It was his lucky day, he +thought bitterly. + +He moved across the street and away, not bothering about the squeal of +brakes and the honking horns. He looked back only once, toward the +glowing sign that topped the building. _Your health is our business!_ +Then the great symbol of the health business faded behind him, and he +stumbled on, sucking incessantly at the cigarettes he rolled. One hand +clutched the bronze badge belonging to the dead man and his stolen +boots drove onward through the melting snow. + +It was Christmas in the year 2100 on the protectorate of Earth. + + + + +II + +Lobby + + +Feldman had set his legs the problem of heading for the great spaceport +and escape from Earth, and he let them take him without further +guidance. His mind was wrapped up in a whirl of the past--his past and +that of the whole planet. Both pasts had in common the growth and sudden +ruin of idealism. + +Idealism! Throughout history, some men had sought the ideal, and most +had called it freedom. Only fools expected absolute freedom, but wise +men dreamed up many systems of relative freedom, including democracy. +They had tried that in America, as the last fling of the dream. It had +been a good attempt, too. + +The men who drew the Constitution had been pretty practical dreamers. +They came to their task after a bitter war and a worse period of wild +chaos, and they had learned where idealism stopped and idiocy began. +They set up a republic with all the elements of democracy that they +considered safe. It had worked well enough to make America the number +one power of the world. But the men who followed the framers of the new +plan were a different sort, without the knowledge of practical limits. + +The privileges their ancestors had earned in blood and care became +automatic rights. Practical men tried to explain that there were no such +rights--that each generation had to pay for its rights with +responsibility. That kind of talk didn't get far. People wanted to hear +about rights, not about duties. + +They took the phrase that all men were created equal and left out the +implied kicker that equality was in the sight of God and before the law. +They wanted an equality with the greatest men without giving up their +drive toward mediocrity, and they meant to have it. In a way, they got +it. + +They got the vote extended to everyone. The man on subsidy or public +dole could vote to demand more. The man who read of nothing beyond sex +crimes could vote on the great political issues of the world. No ability +was needed for his vote. In fact, he was assured that voting alone was +enough to make him a fine and noble citizen. He loved that, if he +bothered to vote at all that year. He became a great man by listing his +unthought, hungry desire for someone to take care of him without +responsibility. So he went out and voted for the man who promised him +most, or who looked most like what his limited dreams felt to be a +father image or son image or hero image. He never bothered later to see +how the men he'd elected had handled the jobs he had given them. + +Someone had to look, of course, and someone did. Organized special +interests stepped in where the mob had failed. Lobbies grew up. There +had always been pressure groups, but now they developed into a third arm +of the government. + +The old Farm Lobby was unbeatable. The big farmers shaped the laws they +wanted. They convinced the little farmers it was for the good of all, +and they made the story stick well enough to swing the farm vote. They +made the laws when it came to food and crops. + +The last of the great lobbies was Space, probably. It was an accident +that grew up so fast it never even knew it wasn't a real part of the +government. It developed during a period of chaos when another country +called Russia got the first hunk of metal above the atmosphere and when +the representatives who had been picked for everything but their grasp +of science and government went into panic over a myth of national +prestige. + +The space effort was turned over to the aircraft industry, which had +never been able to manage itself successfully except under the stimulus +of war or a threat of war. The failing airplane industry became the +space combine overnight, and nobody kept track of how big it was, except +a few sharp operators. + +They worked out a system of subcontracts that spread the profits so wide +that hardly a company of any size in the country wasn't getting a share. +Thus a lot of patriotic, noble voters got their pay from companies in +the lobby block and could be panicked by the lobby at the first mention +of recession. + +So Space Lobby took over completely in its own field. It developed +enough pressure to get whatever appropriations it wanted, even over +Presidential veto. It created the only space experts, which meant that +the men placed in government agencies to regulate it came from its own +ranks. + +The other lobbies learned a lot from Space. + +There had been a medical lobby long before, but it had been a +conservative group, mostly concerned with protecting medical autonomy +and ethics. It also tried to prevent government control of treatment and +payment, feeling that it couldn't trust the people to know where to +stop. But its history was a long series of retreats. + +It fought what it called socialized medicine. But the people wanted +their troubles handled free--which meant by government spending, since +that could be added to the national debt, and thus didn't seem to cost +anything. It lost, and eventually the government paid most medical +costs, with doctors working on a fixed fee. Then quantity of treatment +paid, rather than quality. Competence no longer mattered so much. The +Lobby lost, but didn't know it--because the lowered standards of +competence in the profession lowered the caliber of men running the +political aspects of that profession as exemplified by the Lobby. + +It took a world-wide plague to turn the tide. The plague began in old +China; anything could start there, with more than a billion people +huddled in one area and a few madmen planning to conquer the world. It +might have been a laboratory mutation, but nobody could ever prove it. + +It wiped out two billion people, depopulated Africa and most of Asia, +and wrecked Europe, leaving only America comparatively safe to take +over. An obscure scientist in one of the laboratories run by the Medical +Lobby found a cure before the first waves of the epidemic hit America. +Rutherford Ryan, then head of the Lobby, made sure that Medical Lobby +got all the credit. + +By the time the world recovered, America ran it and the Medical Lobby +was untouchable. Ryan made a deal with Space Lobby, and the two +effectively ran the world. None of the smaller lobbies could buck them, +and neither could the government. + +There was still a president and a congress, as there had been a Senate +under the Roman Caesars. But the two Lobbies ran themselves as they +chose. The real government had become a kind of oligarchy, as it always +did after too much false democracy ruined the ideals of real and +practical self-rule. A man belonged to his Lobby, just as a serf had +belonged to his feudal landlord. + +It was a safe world now. Maybe progress had been halted at about the +level of 1980, but so long as the citizens didn't break the rules of +their lobbies, they had very little to worry about. For that, for +security and the right not to think, most people were willing to leave +well enough alone. + +Some rules seemed harsh, of course, such as the law that all operations +had to be performed in Lobby hospitals. But that could be justified; it +was the only safe kind of surgery and the only way to make sure there +was no unsupervised experimentation, such as that which supposedly +caused the plague. The rule was now an absolute ethic of medicine. It +also made for better fees. + +Feldman's father had stuck by the rule but had questioned it. Feldman +learned not to question in medical school. He scored second in Medical +Ethics only to Christina Ryan. + +He had never figured why she singled him out for her attentions, but he +gloried in both those attentions and the results. He became +automatically a rising young man, the favorite of the daughter of the +Lobby president. He went through internship without a sign of trouble. +Chris humored him in his desire to spend three years of practice in a +poor section loaded with disease, and her father approved; such selfless +dedication was the perfect image projection for a future son-in-law. In +return, he agreed to follow that period by becoming an administrator. A +doctor's doctor, as they put it. + +They were married in April and his office was ready in May, complete +with a staff of eighty. The publicity releases had gone out, and the +Public Relations Lobby that handled news and education was paid to begin +the greatest build-up any young genius ever had. + +They celebrated that, with a little party of some four hundred people +and reporters at Ryan's lodge in Canada. It was to be a gala weekend. + +It was then that Baxter shot himself. + +Baxter had been Feldman's closest friend in the Lobby. He'd come along +to handle press relations and had gotten romantic about the countryside, +never having been out of a city before. He hired a guide and went +hunting, eighty miles beyond the last outpost of civilization. Somehow, +he got his hand on a gun, though only guides were supposed to touch +them, managed to overcome its safety devices, and then pulled the +trigger with the gun pointed the wrong way. + +Chris, Feldman and Harnett from Public Relations had accompanied him on +the trip. They were sitting in a nearby car while Feldman enjoyed the +scenery, Chris made further plans, and Harnett gathered material. There +was also a photographer and writer, but they hadn't been introduced by +name. + +Feldman reached Baxter first. The man was moaning and scared, and he was +bleeding profusely. Only a miracle had saved him from instant death. The +bullet had struck a rib, been deflected and robbed of some of its +energy, and had barely reached the heart. But it had pierced the +pericardium, as best Feldman could guess, and it could be fatal at any +moment. + +He'd reached for a probe without thinking. Chris knocked his hand aside. + +She was right, of course. He couldn't operate outside a hospital. But +they had no phone in the lodge where the guide lived and no way to +summon an ambulance. They'd have to drive Baxter back in the car, which +would almost certainly result in his death. + +When Feldman seemed uncertain, Harnett had given his warning in a low +but vehement voice. "You touch him, Dan, and I'll spread it in every one +of our media. I'll have to. It's the only way to retain public +confidence. There'd be a leak, with all the guides and others here, and +we can't afford that. I like you--you have color. But touch that wound +and I'll crucify you." + +Chris added her own threats. She'd spent years making him the outlet for +all her ambitions, denied because women were still only second-rate +members of Medical Lobby. She couldn't let it go now. And she was +probably genuinely shocked. + +Baxter groaned again and started to bleed more profusely. + +There wasn't much equipment. Feldman operated with a pocketknife +sterilized in a bottle of expensive Scotch and only anodyne tablets in +place of anesthesia. He got the bullet out and sewed up the wound with a +bit of surgical thread he'd been using to tie up a torn good-luck +emblem. The photographer and writer recorded the whole thing. Chris +swore harshly and beat her fists against the bole of a tree. But Baxter +lived. He recovered completely, and was shocked at the heinous thing +that had been done to him. + +They crucified Feldman. + + + + +III + +Spaceman + + +Most crewmen lived rough, ugly lives--and usually, short ones. +Passengers and officers on the big tubs were given the equivalent of +gravity in spinning compartments, but the crews rode "free". The lucky +crewmen lived through their accidents, got space-stomach now and then, +and recovered. Nobody cared about the others. + +Feldman's ticket was work-stamped for the _Navaho_, and nobody +questioned his identity. He suffered through the agony of acceleration +on the shuttle up to the orbital station, then was sick as acceleration +stopped. But he was able to control himself enough to follow other +crewmen down a hall of the station toward the _Navaho_. The big ships +never touched a planet, always docking at the stations. + +A checker met the crew and reached for their badges. He barely glanced +at them, punched a mark for each on his checkoff sheet, and handed them +back. "Deckmen forward, tubemen to the rear," he ordered. "_Navaho_ +blasts in fifteen minutes. Hey, you! You're tubes." + +Feldman grunted. He should have expected it. Tubemen had the lowest lot +of all the crew. Between the killing work, the heat of the tubes, and +occasional doses of radiation, their lives weren't worth the metal value +of their tickets. + +He began pulling himself clumsily along a shaft, dodging freight the +loaders were tossing from hand to hand. A bag hit his head, drawing +blood, and another caught him in the groin. + +"Watch it, bo," a loader yelled at him. "You dent that bag and they'll +brig you. Cantcha see it's got a special courtesy stripe?" + +It had a brilliant green stripe, he saw. It also had a name, printed in +block letters that shouted their identity before he could read the +words. _Dr. Christina Ryan, Southport, Mars._ + +And he'd had to choose this time to leave Earth! + +Suddenly he was glad he was assigned to the tubes. It was the one place +on the ship where he'd be least likely to run into her. As a doctor and +a courtesy passenger, she'd have complete run of the ship, but she'd +hardly bother with the dangerous and unpleasant tube section. + +He dragged his way back, beginning to sweat with the effort. The +_Navaho_ was an old ship. A lot of the handholds were missing, and he +had to throw himself along by erratic leaps. He was gaining proficiency, +but not enough to handle himself if the ship blasted off. Time was +growing short when he reached the aft bunkroom where the other tubemen +were waiting. + +"Ben," one husky introduced himself. "Tube chief. Know how to work +this?" + +Feldman could see that they were assembling a small still. He'd heard of +the phenomenal quantities of beer spacemen drank, and now he realized +what really happened to it. Hard liquor was supposed to be forbidden, +but they made their own. "I can work it," he decided. "I'm--uh--Dan." + +"Okay, Dan." Ben glanced at the clock. "Hit the sacks, boys." + +By the time Feldman could settle into the sacklike hammock, the +_Navaho_ began to shake faintly, and weight piled up. It was mild +compared to that on the shuttle, since the big ships couldn't take high +acceleration. Space had been conquered for more than a century, but the +ships were still flimsy tubs that took months to reach Mars, using +immense amounts of fuel. Only the valuable plant hormones from Mars made +commerce possible at the ridiculously high freight rate. + +Three hours later he began to find out why spacemen didn't seem to fear +dying or turning pariah. The tube quarters had grown insufferably hot +during the long blast, but the main tube-room was blistering as Ben led +the men into it. The chief handed out spacesuits and motioned for Dan. + +"Greenhorn, aincha? Okay, I'll take you with me. We go out in the tubes +and pull the lining. I pry up the stuff, you carry it back here and +stack it." + +They sealed off the tube-room, pumped out the air, and went into the +steaming, mildly radioactive tubes, just big enough for a man on hands +and knees. Beyond the tube mouth was empty space, waiting for the man +who slipped. Ben began ripping out the eroded blocks with a special +tool. Feldman carried them back and stacked them along with others. A +plasma furnace melted them down into new blocks. The work grew +progressively worse as the distance to the tube-room increased. The tube +mouth yawned closer and closer. There were no handholds there--only the +friction of a man's body in the tube. + +Life settled into a dull routine of labor, sleep, and the brief relief +of the crude white mule from the still. + +They were six weeks out and almost finished with the tube cleaning when +Number Two tube blew. Bits of the remaining radioactive fuel must have +collected slowly until they reached blow-point. Feldman in Number One +would have gone sailing out into space, but Ben reacted at once. As the +ship leaped slightly, Feldman brought up sharply against the chief's +braced body. For a second their fate hung in the balance. Then it was +over, and Ben shoved him back, grinning faintly. + +He jerked his thumb and touched helmets briefly. "There they go, Dan." + +The two men who had been working in Number Two were charred lumps, +drifting out into space. + +No further comment was made on it, except that they'd have to work +harder from now on, since they were shorthanded. + +That rest period Feldman came down with a mild attack of +space-stomach--which meant no more drinking for him--and was off work +for a day. Then the pace picked up. The tubes were cleared and they +began laying the new lining for the landing blasts. There was no time +for thought after that. Mars' orbital station lay close when the work +was finished. + +Ben slapped Feldman on the back. "Ya ain't bad for a greenie, Dan. We +all get six-day passes on Mars. Hit the sack now so you won't waste time +sleeping then. We'll hear it when the ship berths." + +Feldman didn't hear it, but the others did. He felt Ben shaking his +shoulder, trying to drag him out of the sack. "Grab your junk, Dan." + +Ben picked up Feldman's nearly empty bag and tossed it toward him, +before his eyes were fully open. He grabbed for it and missed. He +grabbed again, with Ben's laughter in his ears. The bag hit the wall and +fell open, spilling its contents. + +Feldman began gathering it up, but the chief was no longer laughing. A +big hand grabbed up the space ticket suddenly, and there was no +friendliness now on Ben's face. + +"Art Billing's card!" Ben told the other tubemen. "Five trips I made +with Art. He was saving his money, going to buy a farm on Mars. Five +trips and one more to go before he had enough. Now you show up with his +ticket!" + +The tubemen moved forward toward Feldman. There was no indecision. To +them, apparently, trial had been held and sentence passed. + +"Wait a minute," Feldman began. "Billings died of--" + +A fist snaked past his raised hand and connected with his jaw. He +bounced off a wall. A wrench sailed toward him, glanced off his arm, and +ripped at his muscles. Another heavy fist struck. + +Abruptly, Ben's voice cut through their yells. "Hold it!" He shoved +through the group, tossing men backwards. "Stow it! We can take care of +him later. Right now, this is captain's business. You fools want to lose +your leave?" He indicated two of the others. "You two bring him +along--and keep him quiet!" + +The two grabbed Feldman's arms and dragged him along as the chief began +pulling his way forward through the tubes up towards the control section +of the ship. Feldman took a quick glance at their faces and made no +effort to resist; they obviously would have enjoyed any chance to subdue +him. + +They were stopped twice by minor officers, then sent on. They finally +found the captain near the exit lock, apparently assisting the +passengers to leave. Most of them went on into the shuttle, but Chris +Ryan remained behind as the captain listened to Ben's report and +inspected the false ticket. + +Finally the captain turned to Feldman. "You. What's your name?" + +Chris' eyes were squarely on Feldman, cold and furious. "He _was_ Doctor +Daniel Feldman, Captain Marker," she stated. + +Feldman stood paralyzed. He'd been unwilling to face Chris. He wanted to +avoid all the past. But the idea that she would denounce him had never +entered his head. There was no Medical rule involved. She knew that as a +pariah he was forbidden to board a passenger ship, of course. But she'd +been his wife once! + +Marker bowed slightly to her. "Thank you, Dr. Ryan. I should take this +criminal back to Earth in chains, I suppose. But he's hardly worth the +freightage. You men. Want to take him down to Mars and ground him +there?" + +Ben grinned and touched his forelock. "Thank you, sir. We'd enjoy that." + +"Good. His pay reverts to the ship's fund. That's all, men." + +Feldman started to protest, but a fist lashed savagely against his +mouth. + +He made no other protests as they dragged him into the crew shuttle that +took off for Southport. He avoided their eyes and sat hunched over. It +was Ben who finally broke the silence. + +"What happened to Art's money? He had a pile on him." + +"Go to hell!" + +"Give, I said!" Ben twisted his arm back toward his shoulder, applying +increasing pressure. + +"A doctor took it for his fee when Billings died of space-stomach. Damn +you, I couldn't help him!" + +Ben looked at the others. "Med Lobby fee, eh? All the market will take. +Umm. It could be, maybe." He shrugged. "Okay, reasonable doubt. We +won't kill you, bo. Not quite, we won't." + +The shuttle landed and Ben handed out the little helmets and aspirators +that made life possible in Mars' thin air. Outside, the tubemen took +turns holding Feldman and beating him while the passengers disembarked +from their shuttle. As he slumped into unconsciousness, he had a picture +of Chris Ryan's frozen face as she moved steadily toward the port +station. + + + + +IV + +Martian + + +It was night when Feldman came to, and the temperature was dropping +rapidly. He struggled to sit up through a fog of pain. Somewhere in his +bag, he should have an anodyne tablet that would kill any ache. He +finally found the pill and swallowed it, fumbling with the aspirator lip +opening. + +The aspirator meant life to him now, he suddenly realized. He twisted to +stare at the tiny charge-indicator for the battery. It showed +half-charge. Then he saw that someone had attached another battery +beside it. He puzzled briefly over it, but his immediate concern was for +shelter. + +Apparently he was still where he had been knocked out. There was a light +coming from the little station, and he headed toward that, fumbling for +the few quarters that represented his entire fortune. + +Maybe it would have been better if the tubemen had killed him. Batteries +were an absolute necessity here, food and shelter would be expensive, +and he had no skills to earn his way. At most, he had only a day or so +left. But meantime, he had to find warmth before the cold killed him. + +The tiny restaurant in the station was still open, and the air was warm +inside. He pulled off the aspirator, shutting off the battery. + +The counterman didn't even glance up as he entered. Feldman gazed at the +printed menu and flinched. + +"Soup," he ordered. It was the cheapest item he could find. + +The counterman stared at him, obviously spotting his Earth origin. "You +adjusted to synthetics?" + +Feldman nodded. Earth operated on a mixed diet, with synthetics for all +who couldn't afford the natural foods there. But Mars was all synthetic. +Many of the chemicals in food could exist in either of two forms, or +isomers; they were chemically alike, but differently crystallized. +Sometimes either form was digestible, but frequently the body could use +only the isomer to which it was adjusted. + +Martian plants produced different isomers from those on Earth. Since the +synthetic foods turned out to be Mars-normal, that was probably the more +natural form. Research designed to let the early colonists live off +native food here had turned up an enzyme that enabled the body to handle +either isomer. In a few weeks of eating Martian or synthetic food, the +body adapted; without more enzyme, it lost its power to handle +Earth-normal food. + +The cheapness of synthetics and the discovery that many diseases common +to Earth would not attack Mars-normal bodies led to the wide use of +synthetics on Earth. No pariah could have been expected to afford +Earth-normal. + +Feldman finished the soup, and found a cigarette that was smokable. "Any +objections if I sit in the waiting room?" + +He'd expected a rejection, but the counterman only shrugged. The waiting +room was almost dark and the air was chilly, but there was normal +pressure. He found a bench and slumped onto it, lighting his cigarette. +He'd miss the smokes--but probably not for long. He finished the +cigarette reluctantly and sat huddled on the bench, waiting for morning. + +The airlock opened later, and feet sounded on the boards of the +waiting-room floor, but he didn't look up until a thin beam of light hit +him. Then he sighed and nodded. The shoes, made of some odd fiber, +didn't look like those of a cop, but this was Mars. He could see only a +hulking shadow behind the light. + +"You the man who was a medical doctor?" The voice was dry and old. + +"Yeah," Feldman answered. "Once." + +"Good. Thought that space crewman was just lying drunk at first. Come +along, Doc." + +"Why?" It didn't matter, but if they wanted him to move on, they'd have +to push a little harder. + +The light swung up to show the other. He was the shade of old leather +with a bleached patch of sandy hair and the deepest gray eyes Feldman +had ever seen. It was a face that could have belonged to a country +storekeeper in New England, with the same hint of dry humor. The man was +dressed in padded levis and a leather jacket of unguessable age. His +aspirator seemed worn and patched, and one big hand fumbled with it. + +"Because we're friends, Doc," the voice drawled at him. "Because you +might as well come with us as sit here. Maybe we have a job for you." + +Feldman shrugged and stood up. If the man was a Lobby policeman, he was +different from the usual kind. Nothing could be worse than the present +prospects. + +They went out through the doors of the waiting room toward a rattletrap +vehicle. It looked something like a cross between a schoolboy's jalopy +and a scaled-down army tank of former times. The treads were caterpillar +style, and the stubby body was completely enclosed. A tiny airlock +stuck out from the rear. + +Two men were inside, both bearded. The old man grinned at them. "Mark, +Lou, meet Doc Feldman. Sit, Doc. I'm Jake Mullens, and you might say we +were farmers." + +The motor started with a wheeze. The tractor swung about and began +heading away from Southport toward the desert dunes. It shook and +rattled, but it seemed to make good time. + +"I don't know anything about farming," Feldman protested. + +Jake shrugged. "No, of course not. Couple of our friends heard about you +where a spaceman was getting drunk and tipped us off. We know who you +are. Here, try a bracky?" + +Feldman took what seemed to be a cigarette and studied it doubtfully. It +was coarse and fibrous inside, with a thin, hard shell that seemed to be +a natural growth, as if it had been chopped from some vine. He lighted +it, not knowing what to expect. Then he coughed as the bitter, rancid +smoke burned at his throat. He started to throw it down, and hesitated. +Jake was smoking one, and it had killed the craving for tobacco almost +instantly. + +"Some like 'em, most don't," Jake said. "They won't hurt you. Look--see +that? Old Martian ruins. Built by some race a million years ago. Only +half a dozen on Mars." + +It was only a clump of weathered stone buildings in the light from the +tractor, and Feldman had seen better in the stereo shots. It was +interesting only because it connected with the legendary Martian race, +like the canals that showed from space but could not be seen on the +surface of the planet. + +Feldman waited for the other to go on, but Jake was silent. Finally, he +ground out the butt of the weed. "Okay, Jake. What do you want with me?" + +"Consultation, maybe. Ever hear of herb doctors? I'm one of them." + +Feldman knew that the Lobby permitted some leniency here, due to the +scarcity of real medical help. There was only one decent hospital at +Northport, on the opposite side of the planet. + +Jake sighed and reached for another bracky weed. "Yeah, I'm pretty good +with herbs. But I got a sick village on my hands and I can't handle it. +We can't all mortgage our work to pay for a trip to Northport. +Southport's all messed up while the new she-doctor gets her metabolism +changed. Maybe the old guy there would have helped, but he died a couple +months ago. So it looks like you're our only hope." + +"Then you have no hope," Feldman told him sickly. "I'm a pariah, Jake. I +can't do a thing for you." + +"We heard about your argument with the Lobby. News reaches Mars. But +these are mighty sick people, Doc." + +Feldman shook his head. "Better take me back. I'm not allowed to +practice medicine. The charge would be first-degree murder if anything +happened." + +Lou leaned forward. "Shall I talk to him, Jake?" + +The old man grimaced. "Time enough. Let him see what we got first." + +Sand howled against the windshield and the tractor bumped and surged +along. Feldman took another of the weeds and tried to estimate their +course. But he had no idea where they were when the tractor finally +stopped. There was a village of small huts that seemed to be merely +entrances to living quarters dug under the surface. They led him into +one and through a tunnel into a large room filled with simple cots and +the unhappy sounds of sick people. + +Two women were disconsolately trying to attend to the half-dozen +sick--four children and two adults. Their faces brightened as they saw +Jake, then fell. "Eb and Tilda died," they reported. + +Feldman looked at the two figures under the sheets and whistled. The +same black specks he had seen on the face of Billings covered the skins +of the two old people who had died. + +"Funny," Jake said slowly. "They didn't quite act like the others and +they sure died mighty fast. Darn it, I had it figured for that stuff in +the book. Infantile paralysis. How about it, Doc? Sort of like a cold, +stiff sore neck." + +It was clearly polio--one of the diseases that could attack Mars-normal +flesh. Feldman nodded at the symptoms, staring at the sick kids. He +shrugged, finally. "There's a cure for it, but I don't have the serum. +Neither do you, or you wouldn't have brought me here. I couldn't help if +I wanted to." + +"That old book didn't list a cure," Jake told him. "But it said the kids +didn't have to be crippled. There was something about a Kenny treatment. +Doc, does the stuff really cripple for life?" + +Feldman saw one of the boys flinch. He dropped his eyes, remembering the +Lobby's efficient spy service on Earth and wondering what it was like +here. But he knew the outcome. + +"Damn you, Jake!" + +Jake chuckled. "Thought you would. We sure appreciate it. Just tell us +what to do, Doc." + +Feldman began writing down his requirements, trying to remember the +details of the treatment. Exercise, hot compresses, massage. It was +coming back to him. He'd have to do it himself, of course, to get the +feel of it. He couldn't explain it well enough. But he couldn't turn his +back on the kids, either. + +"Maybe I can help," he said doubtfully as he moved toward a cot. + +"No, Doc." Jake's voice wasn't amused any longer, and he held the +younger man back. "You're doing us a favor, and I'll be darned if I'll +let you stick your neck out too far. You can't treat 'em yourself. Mars +is tougher than Earth. You should live under Space Lobby _and_ Medical +Lobby here a while. Oh, maybe they don't mind a few fools like me being +herb doctors, but they'd sure hate to have a man who can do real +medicine outside their hands. You let me do it, or get in the tractor +and I'll have Lou drive you back. Once you start in here, there'll be no +stopping. Believe me." + +Feldman looked at him, seeing the colonials around him for the first +time as people. It had been a long time since he'd been treated as a +fellow human by anyone. + +Jake was right, he knew. Once he put his hand to the bandage, eventually +there'd be no turning back from the scalpel. These people needed medical +help too desperately. Eventually, the news would spread, and the Lobby +police would come for him. Chris couldn't afford to shield him. In fact, +he was sure now that she'd hunt him night and day. + +"Don't be a fool, Jake," he ordered brusquely. He handed his list to one +of the women. "You'll have to learn to do what I do," he told the people +there. "You'll have to work like fools for weeks. But there won't be +many crippled children. I can promise that much!" + +He blinked sharply at the sudden hope in their eyes. But his mind went +on wondering how long it would be before the inevitable would catch up +with him. With luck, maybe a few months. But he hadn't been blessed with +any superabundance of luck. It would probably be less time than he +thought. + + + + +V + +Surgery + + +Doc Feldman's luck was better than he had expected. For an Earth year, +he was a doctor again, moving about from village to village as he was +needed and doing what he could. + +The village had been isolated during the early colonization when Mars +made a feeble attempt to break free of Space Lobby. Their supplies had +been cut off and they had been forced to do for themselves. Now they +were largely self-sufficient. They grew native plants and extracted +hormones in crude little chemical plants. The hormones were traded to +the big chemical plants for a pittance to buy what had to come from +Earth. Other jury-rigged affairs synthesized much of their food. But +mostly they learned to get along on what Mars provided. + +Doc Feldman learned from them. Money was no longer part of his life. He +ate with whatever family needed him and slipped into the life around +him. + +He was learning Martian medicine and finding that his Earth courses were +mostly useless. No wonder the villagers distrusted Lobby doctors. Doc +had his own little laboratory where he had managed to start making +Mars-normal penicillin--a primitive antibiotic, but better than nothing. + +Jake had come to remind him that it was his first anniversary, and now +they were smoking bracky together. + +"Sheer luck, Jake," Doc repeated. "You Martians are tough. But some day +someone is going to die under my care, with the little equipment I have. +Then--" + +Jake nodded slowly. "Maybe, Doc. And maybe some day Mars will break free +of the Lobbies. You'd better pray for that." + +"I've been--" Doc stopped, realizing what he'd started to say. The old +man chuckled. + +"You've been talking rebellion for months, Doc. I hear rumors. Whenever +you get mad, you want us to secede. But you don't really mean it yet. +You can't picture any government but the one you're used to." + +Doc grinned. Jake had a point, but it was not as strong as it would have +been a few months before. The towns under the Lobby were cheap +imitations of Earth, but here, divorced to a large extent from the +lobbies, the villages were making Mars their own. Their ways might be +strange; but they worked. + +Jake shifted his body in the weak sunlight. "Newton village forgot to +report a death on time. I hear Ryan is sweating them out, trying to +prove it was your fault." + +There was no evidence against him yet, Doc was sure. But Chris was out +to prove something, and to get a reputation as a top-flight +administrator. It must have hurt when they shipped her here as head of +the lesser hemisphere of Mars. She'd expected to use Feldman as a front +while she became the actual ruler of the whole Lobby. Now she wanted to +strike back. + +"She's using blackmail," he said, and some of his old bitterness was in +his voice. "Anyone taking treatment from an herb doctor in this section +is cut off from Medical Lobby service. Damn it, Jake, that could mean +letting people die!" + +"Yeah." Jake sighed softly. "It could mean letting people begin to +think about getting rid of the Lobby, too. Well, I gotta help harvest +the bracky. Take it easy on operating for a while, will you, Doc?" + +"All right, Jake. But stop keeping the serious cases a secret. Two men +died last month because you wouldn't call me for surgery. I've broken +all my oaths already. It doesn't matter anymore." + +"It matters, boy. We've been lucky, but some day one case will go to the +hospital and they'll find your former work. Then they'll really be after +you. The less you do the better." + +Doc watched Jake slump off, then turned down into the little root cellar +and back toward the room concealed behind it, where his crude laboratory +lay. For the moment, he was free to work on the mystery of the black +spots. + +He kept running into them--always on the body of someone who died of +something that seemed like a normal disease. Without a microscope, he +was almost helpless, but he had taken specimens and tried to culture +them. Some of his cultures had grown, though they might be nothing but +unknown Martian fungi or bacteria. Mars was dry and almost devoid of +air, but plants and a few smaller insects had survived and adapted. It +wasn't by any means lifeless. + +Without a microscope, he could do little but depend on his files of +cases. But today there was new evidence. A villager had filched an Earth +_Medical Journal_ from the tractor driven by Chris Ryan and forwarded it +to him. He found the black specks mentioned in a single paragraph, under +skin diseases. Investigation of the diet was being made, since all cases +were among people eating synthetics. + +There was another article on aberrant cases--a few strange little +misbehaviors in classical syndromes. He studied that, wondering. It had +to be the same thing. Diet didn't account for the fact that the specks +appeared only when the patient was near death. + +Nor did it account for the hard lump at the base of the neck which he +found in every case he could check. That might be coincidence, but he +doubted it. + +Whatever it was, it aggravated any other disease the patient had and +made seemingly simple diseases turn out to be completely and rapidly +fatal. Once syphilis had been called "The Great Imitator". This gave +promise of being worse. + +He shook his head, cursing his lack of equipment. Each month more people +were dying with these specks--and he was helpless. + +The concealed door broke open suddenly and a boy thrust his head in. +"Doc, there's a man here from Einstein. Says his wife's dying." + +The man was already coming into the room. + +"She's powerful sick, Doc. Had a bellyache, fever, began throwing up. +Pains under her belly, like she's had before. But this time it's awful." + +Doc shot a few questions at him, frowning at what he heard. Then he +began packing the few things that might help. There should be no +appendicitis on Mars. The bugs responsible for that shouldn't have +adapted to Mars-normal. But more and more infections found ways to cross +the border. Gangrene had been able to get by without change, it seemed. +So far, none of the contagious infections except polio and the common +cold had made the jump. + +This sounded like an advanced case, perhaps already involving +peritonitis. + +So far, he'd been lucky with penicillin, but each time he used it with +grave doubts of its action on the Mars-adapted patients. If the appendix +had burst, however, it was the only possible treatment. + +He riffled through his stores; There was ether enough, fortunately. The +villagers had made that for him out of Martian plants, using their +complicated fermentation processes. He yelled for Jake, and the boy +brought the old man back a moment later. + +"Jake, I'll need more of that narcotic stuff. I don't want the woman +writhing and tearing her stitches after the ether wears off." + +"Can't get it, Doc." Jake's eyes seemed to cloud as he said it. +"Distilling plant broke down. Doc, I don't like this case. That woman's +been to the hospital three times. I hear she just got out recently. This +might be a plant, or they figure they can't help her." + +"They're afraid to try anything on Mars-normal flesh. They can't be +proved wrong if they do nothing." Doc finished packing his bag and got +ready to go out. "Jake, either I'm a doctor or I'm not. I can't worry +when a woman may be dying." + +For a second, Jake's expression was stubborn. Then the little crow's +feet around his eyes deepened and the dry chuckle was back in his voice. +"Right, Dr. Feldman." He flipped up his thumb and went off at a +shuffling run toward the tractor. Lou and the man from Einstein followed +Doc into the machine. + +It was a silent ride, except for Doc's questions about the sick woman. +Her husband, George Lynn, was evasive and probably ignorant. He admitted +that Harriet had been to the dispensary and small infirmary that +Southport called a hospital. + +It was the only place in the entire Southern hemisphere where an +operation could be performed legally. Most cases had to go to +Northport, but Chris had been trying to expand. Apparently, she was +determined to make Southport into another major center before she was +called back to Earth. + +Doc wondered why the villagers went there. They had no medical insurance +with the Lobby; they couldn't afford it. Most villagers didn't have the +cash, either. They were forced to mortgage their future work and that of +their families to the drug plants that were run by the Lobby. + +"And they just turned your wife away?" Doc asked. He couldn't quite +believe that of Chris. + +"Well, I dunno. She wouldn't talk much. Twice she went and they gave her +something. Cost every cent I could borrow. Then this last time, they +kept her a couple days before they let me come and get her. But now +she's a lot worse." + +Jake spun about, suddenly tense. "How'd you pay them last time, George?" + +"Why, they didn't ask. I told her she could put up six months from me +and the kids, but nobody said nothing about it. Just gave her back to +me." He frowned slowly, his dull voice uncertain. "They told me they'd +done all they could, not to bring her back. That's why she was so strong +on getting Doc." + +"I don't like it," Jake said flatly. "It stinks. They always charge. +George, did they suggest she get in touch with Doc here?" + +"Maybe they did, maybe not. Harriet did all the talking with them. I +just do what she tells me, and she said to get Doc." + +Jake swore. "It smells like a trap. Are you sure she's sick, George?" + +"I felt her head and she sure had a fever." George Lynn was torn +between his loyalties. "You know me, Doc. You fixed me up that time I +had the red pip. I wouldn't pull nothing on you." + +Doc had a feeling that Jake was probably right, but he vetoed the +suggestion that they stop to look for spies. He had no time for that. If +the woman was really sick, he had to get to her at once, and even that +might be too late. + +He remembered the woman, sickly from other treatment. He'd been forced +to remove her inflamed tonsils a few months before. She'd whined and +complained because he couldn't spend all his time attending her. She was +a nag, a shrew, and a totally selfish woman. But that was her husband's +worry, not his. + +He dashed into the little house when they reached Einstein, and his +first glance confirmed what George Lynn had said. The woman was sick, +all right. She was running a high fever. Much too high. + +She began whining and protesting at his having taken so long, but the +pain soon forced her to stop. + +"There may still be a chance," Doc told her husband brusquely. He threw +the cleanest sheet onto a table and shoved it under the single light. +"Keep out of the way--in the other room, if you can all pile in there. +This isn't exactly aseptic, anyhow. You can boil a lot of water, if you +want to help." + +It would give them something to do and he could use the water to clean +up. There was no time to wait for it, however. He had to sterilize with +alcohol and carbolic acid, and hope. He bent over the woman, ripping her +thin gown across to make room for the operation. + +Then he swore. + +Across her abdomen was the unhealed wound of a previous operation. +They'd worked on her at Southport. They must have removed the appendix +and then been shocked by the signs of infection. They weren't supposed +to release a sick patient, but there was an easy out for them; they +could remove her from the danger of spreading an unknown infection. Some +doctors must have doped her up on sedatives and painkillers and sent her +home, knowing that she would call him. For that matter, they might have +noticed her unrecorded tonsillectomy and considered her fair bait. + +He grabbed the ether and slapped a cone over her nose. She tried to +protest; she never cooperated in anything. But the fumes of the ether he +dipped onto the packing of the cone soon overcame that. + +It was peritonitis, of course. The only thing to do was to go in and +scrape and clean as best he could. It was a rotten job to have to do, +and he should have had help. But he gritted his teeth and began. He +couldn't trust anyone else to hold the instruments, even. + +He cleaned the infection as best he could, knowing there was almost no +chance. He used all the penicillin he dared. Then he began sewing up the +incision. It was all he could do, except for dressing the wound with a +sterile bandage. He reached for one, and stopped. + +While he'd been working, the woman had died, far more quietly than she +had ever lived. + +It was probably the only gracious act of her life. But it was damning to +Doc. They couldn't hide her death, and any investigation would show that +someone had worked on her. To the Lobby, he would be the one who had +murdered her. + +Jake was waiting in the tractor. He took one look at Doc's face and made +no inquiries. + +They were more than a mile away when Jake pointed back. Small in the +distance, but distinct against the sands, a gray Medical Corps tractor +was coming. Either they'd had a spy in the village or they'd guessed the +rate of her infection very closely. They must have hoped to catch Doc in +the act, and they'd barely missed. + +It wouldn't matter. Their pictures and what testimony they could force +from the village should be enough to hang Doc. + + + + +VI + +Research + + +There had been a council the night following the death of Harriet Lynn. +Somehow the word had spread through the villages and the chiefs had +assembled in Jake's village. But they had brought no solution, and in +the long run had been forced to accept Doc's decision. + +"I'm not going to retire and hide," he'd told them, surprised at his own +decision, but grimly determined. "You need me and I need you. I'll move +every day in hopes the Lobby police won't find me, but I won't quit." + +Now he was packing the things he most needed and getting ready to move. +The small bottles in which he was trying to grow his cultures would need +warmth. He shoved them into an inner pocket, and began surveying what +must be left. + +He was heading for his tractor when another battered machine drove up. +It had a girl of about fourteen, with tears streaming down her face. She +held out a pleading hand, and her voice was scared. "It's--it's mama!" + +"Where?" + +"Leibnitz." + +Leibnitz was near enough. Doc started his tractor, motioning for the +girl to lead the way. The little dwelling she led him to was at the edge +of the village, looking more poverty-stricken than most. + +Chris Ryan, and three of the Medical Lobby police were inside, waiting. +The girl's mother was tied to the bed, with a collection of medical +instruments laid out, but apparently the threat had been enough. No +actual injury had been inflicted. Probably none had been intended +seriously. + +"I knew you'd answer that kind of call," Chris said coldly. + +He grinned sickly. They'd wasted no time. "I hear it's more than you'll +do, Chris. Congratulations! My patient died. You're lucky." + +"She was certainly dead when my men took her picture. The print shows +the death grimace clearly." + +"Pretty. Frame it and keep it to comfort you when you feel lonely," he +snapped. + +She struck him across the mouth with the handle of her gun. Then she +twisted out through the door quickly, heading for the tractor that had +been camouflaged to look like those used by the villagers. The three +police led him behind her. + +A shout went up, and people began to rush onto the village street. But +they were too late. By the time they reached Southport, Doc could see a +trail of battered tractors behind, but there was nothing more the people +could do. Chris had her evidence and her prisoner. + + * * * * * + +Judge Ben Wilson might have been Jake's brother. He was older and +grayer, but the same expression lay on his face. He must have been the +family black sheep, since his father had been president of Space Lobby. +Instead of inheriting the position, Wilson had remained on Mars, safely +out of the family's way. + +He dropped the paper he was reading to frown at Chris. "This the +fellow?" + +She began formal charges, but he cut them off. "Your lawyer already had +all that drawn up. I've been expecting you, Doctor. Doctor! Hnnf! You'd +do a lot better home somewhere raising a flock of babies. Well, young +fellow--so you're Feldman. Okay, your trial comes up day after tomorrow. +Be a shame to lock you in Southport jail, a man of your importance. +We'll just keep you here in the pending-trial room. It's a lot more +comfortable." + +Chris had been boiling slowly, and now she seemed to blow her safety +valve. "Judge Wilson, your methods are your own business in local +affairs. But this involves Earth Medical Lobby. I demand--" + +"Tch, _tch_!" The judge stared at her reprovingly. "Young woman, you +don't demand anything. This is Mars. If Space Lobby can stand me, I +guess our friends over at Medical will have to. Or should I hold trial +right now and find Feldman innocent for lack of evidence?" + +"You wouldn't!" Chris cried. Then her face sobered suddenly. "I +apologize. Medical is pleased to leave things in your hands, of course." + +Wilson smiled. "Court's closed for today. Doc, I'll show you your cell. +It's right next to my study, so I'm heading there anyhow." + +He began shucking his robe while Chris went out with the police, her +voice sharp and continual. + +The cell was both reasonably escape-proof and comfortable, Doc saw, and +he tried to thank the judge. + +But the old man waved it aside. "Forget it. I just like to see that +little termagant taken down. But don't count on my being soft. My +methods may be a bit unusual--I always did like the courtroom scenes in +the old books by that fellow Smith--but Space Lobby never had any +reason to reverse my decisions. Anything you need?" + +"Sure," Doc told him, grinning in spite of his bitterness. "A good +biology lab and an electron microscope." + +"Umm. How about a good optical mike and some stains? Just got them in on +the last shipment. Figure they were meant for you anyhow, since Jake +Mullens asked me to order them." + +He went out and came back with the box almost at once. He snorted at +Doc's incredulous thanks and moved off, his bedroom slippers slapping +against the hard floor. + +Doc stared after him. If he were a friend of Jake, willing to invent +some excuse to get a microscope here ... but it didn't matter. Friend or +foe, his death sentence would be equally fatal. And there were other +things to be thought of now. The little microscope was an excellent one, +though only a monocular. + +Doc's hands trembled as he drew his cultures out and began making up a +slide. The sun offered the best source of light near the window, and he +adjusted the instrument. Something began to come into view, but too +faintly to be really visible. + +He remembered the stains, trying to recall his biology courses. More by +luck than skill, his fourth try gave him results. + +Under two thousand powers, he could just see details. There were dozens +of cells in his impure culture, but only one seemed unfamiliar. It was a +long, worm-like thing, sharpened at both ends, with the three separate +nuclei that were typical of Martian life forms. Nearby were a host of +little rodlike squiggles just too small to see clearly. + +Martian life! No Martian bug had ever proved harmful to men. Yet this +was no mutated cell or virus from Earth; it was a new disease, +completely different from all others. It was one where all Earth's +centuries of experience with bacteria would be valueless--the first +Martian disease. Unless this was simply some accidental contamination of +his culture, not common to the other samples. He worked on until the +light was too faint before putting the microscope aside. + +By the time the trial commenced, however, he was sure of the cause of +the disease. It _was_ Martian. Crude as his cultures were, they had +proved that. + +The little courtroom was filled, mostly from the villages. Lou was +there, along with others he had come to know. Then the sight of Jake +caught Doc's eyes. The darned fool had no business there; he could get +too closely mixed into the whole mess. + +"Court's in session," Wilson announced. "Doc, you represented by +counsel?" + +Jake's voice answered. "Your Honor, I represent the defendant. I think +you'll find my credentials in order." + +Chris started to protest, but Wilson grinned. "Never lost your standing +in spite of that little fracas thirty years ago, so far as I know. But +the police thought you were a witness when you came walking in. Figured +you were giving up." + +"I never said so," Jake answered. + +Chris was squirming angrily, but the florid man acting as counsel for +Medical Lobby shook his head, bending over to whisper in her ear. He +straightened. "No objection to counsel for the defense. We recognize his +credentials." + +"You're a fool, Matthews," the judge told him. "Jake was smarter than +half the rest of Legal Lobby before he went native. Still can tie your +tail to a can. Okay, let's start things. I'm too old to dawdle." + +Doc lost track of most of what happened. This was totally unlike +anything on Earth, though it might have been in keeping with the general +casualness of the villages. Maybe the ritualistic routine of the Lobbies +was driving those who could resist to the opposite extreme. + +Chris was the final witness. Matthews drew comment of Feldman's former +crime from her, and Jake made no protest, though Wilson seemed to expect +one. Then she began sewing his shroud. There wasn't a fact that managed +to emerge without slanting, though technically correct. Jake sat +quietly, smiling faintly, and making no protests. + +He got up lazily to cross-examine Chris. "Dr. Ryan, when Daniel Feldman +was examined by the Captain of the _Navaho_ after arriving at Mars +station, did you identify him then as having been Dr. Daniel Feldman?" + +She glanced at Matthews, who seemed puzzled but unconcerned. "That's +correct," she admitted. "But--" + +"And you later saw him delivered to the surface of Mars. Is that also +correct?" When she assented, Jake hesitated. Then he frowned. "What did +you do then? Did you report him or send anyone to look after him or +anything like that?" + +"Certainly not," she answered. "He was no--" + +"You did absolutely nothing about him after you identified him and saw +him delivered here? You're quite sure of that?" + +"I did nothing." + +Jake stood quietly for a moment, then shrugged. "No more questions." + +Matthews finished things in a plea for the salvation of all humanity +from the danger of such men as Daniel Feldman. He was looking smug, as +was Chris. + +Wilson turned to Jake. "Has the defense anything to say?" + +"A few things, Your Honor." Jake stood up, suddenly looking certain and +pleased. "We are happy to admit everything factual the Lobby had +testified. Daniel Feldman performed a surgical operation on Harriet Lynn +in the village of Einstein. But when has it been illegal for a member of +the Medical profession to perform an operation, even with small chance +of success, within an accepted area for such operation? There has been +no evidence adduced that any crime or act of even unethical conduct was +committed." + +That brought Chris and Matthews to their feet. Wilson was relaxed again, +looking as if he'd swallowed a whole cage of canaries. He banged his +gavel down. + +Jake picked up two ragged and dog-eared volumes from his table. "Case of +Harding vs. Southport, 2043, establishes that a Lobby is responsible for +any member on Mars. It is also responsible for informing the authorities +of any criminal conduct on the part of its members or any former member +known to it. Failure to report shall be considered an admission that the +Lobby recognizes the member as one in good standing and accepts +responsibility for that member's conduct. + +"At the time Daniel Feldman arrived, Dr. Christina Ryan was the highest +appointed representative of Medical Lobby in Southport, with full +authority. She identified Feldman as having been a doctor, without +stipulating any change in status. She made no further report to any +authority concerning Daniel Feldman's presence here. It seems obvious +that Medical Lobby at Southport thereby accepted Daniel Feldman as a +doctor in good standing for whose conduct the Lobby accepted full +responsibility." + +Wilson studied the book Jake held out, and nodded. "Seems pretty +clear-cut to me," he agreed, passing the book on to Matthews. "There's +still the charge that Dr. Feldman operated outside a hospital." + +"No reason he shouldn't," Jake said. He handed over the other volume. +"This is the charter for Medical Lobby on Mars. Medical Lobby agrees to +perform all necessary surgical and medical services for the planet, +though at the signing of this charter there was no hospital on Mars. +Necessarily, Medical Lobby agreed to perform surgery outside of any +hospital, then. But to make it plainer, there's a later paragraph--page +181--that defines each hospital zone as extending not less than three +nor more than one hundred miles. Einstein is about one hundred and ten +miles from the nearest hospital at Southport, so Einstein comes under +the original charter provisions. Dr. Feldman was forced by charter +provisions to protect the good name of his Lobby by undertaking any +necessary surgery in Einstein." + +He waited until Matthews had scanned that book, then took it back and +began packing a big bag. Doc saw that his possessions and the microscope +were already in the bag. The old man paid no attention to the arguments +of Matthews before the bench. + +Abruptly Wilson pounded his gavel. "This court finds that Dr. Daniel +Feldman is qualified to practice all the arts and skills of the medical +profession on Mars and that he acted ethically in the performance of his +duties in the case of the deceased Harriet Lynn," he ruled. "The costs +of the case shall be billed to Medical Lobby of Southport." + +He took off his robe and moved rapidly toward his private quarters. +Court was closed. + +Doc got up shakily, not daring to believe fully what he had heard. He +started toward Jake, trying to avoid bumping into Chris. But she would +not be avoided. She stood in front of him, screaming accusations and +threats that reminded him of the only fight they'd ever had during their +brief marriage. + +When she ran down, he finally met her eyes. "You're a helluva doctor," +he told her harshly. "You spend all your time fighting me when there's a +plague out there that may be worse than any disease we've ever known. +Take a look at what lies under the black specks on your corpses. You'll +find the first Martian disease. And maybe if you begin working on that +now, you can learn to be a real doctor in time to do something about it. +But I doubt it." + +She fell back from him then. "Research! You've been doing unauthorized +research!" + +"Prove it," he suggested. "But you'd be a lot smarter to try some +yourself, and to hell with your precious rules." + +He followed Jake out to the tractor. + +Surprisingly, the old man was sweating now. He shook his head at Doc's +look, and his grin was uncertain. + +"Matthews is an incompetent," he said. "They could have had you, Doc. +That charter is so sloppy a man can prove anything by it, and building a +hospital here did bring in Earth rules. Wilson went out on a limb in +letting you go. But I guess we got away with it. Let's get out of here." + +Doc climbed into the tractor more soberly. They had escaped this time. +But there would be another time, and he was pretty sure that would be +Chris' round. He had no intention of giving up his research. + + + + +VII + +Plague + + +Dr. Feldman leaned back from his microscope and lighted another bracky +weed. He glanced about the room and sighed wearily. Maybe he'd been +better off when he had no friends and couldn't risk the safety of others +in an effort to do research that was the highest crime on two worlds. + +The evidence of his work was hidden thirty feet beyond his former +laboratory in Jake's village, with a tunnel that led from another +root-cellar. The theory was the old one that the best place to avoid +discovery was where you had already been discovered. If their spies had +identified his former hangout, they'd never expect to have him set up +research nearby. It was a nice theory, but he wasn't sure of it. + +Jake looked up from a cot where he'd been watching the improvised +culture incubator. "Stop tearing yourself to bits, Doc. We know the +danger and we're still darned glad to have you here working on this." + +"I'm trying to put myself together into a whole man," Doc told him. "But +I seem to come out wholly a fool." + +"Yeah, sure. Sometimes it takes a fool to get things done; wise men wait +too long for the right time. How's the bug hunt?" + +Doc grunted in disgust and swung back to the microscope. Then he gave up +as his tired eyes refused to focus. "Why don't you people revolt?" + +"They tried it twice. But they were just a bunch of pariahs shipped here +to live in peonage. They couldn't do much. The first time Earth cut off +shipments and starved them. Next time the villages had the answer to +that but the cities had to fight for Earth or starve, so they whipped +us. And there's always the threat that Earth could send over unmanned +war rockets loaded with fissionables." + +"So it's hopeless?" + +"So nothing! The Lobbies are poisoning themselves, like cutting off +Medical service until they cut themselves out of a job. It's just a +matter of time. Go back to the bugs, Doc." + +Doc sighed and reached for his notes. "I wish I knew more Martian +history. I've been wondering whether this bug may not have been what +killed off the old Martians. Something had to do it, the way they +disappeared. I wish I knew enough to make an investigation of those +ruins out there." + +"Durwood!" Jake had propped himself on an elbow, staring at Doc in +surprise. + +Doc scowled. "Clive Durwood, you mean? The archeologist who dug up what +little we know about the ruins?" + +"Yeah, before he went back to Earth and started living off his lectures. +He came here again three years ago and dropped dead in Edison on the way +to some other ruins. Heart failure, they called it, though it was more +like the two old farmers who ran themselves to death last month. I saw +him when they buried him. His face looked funny, and I think he had +those little specks, though I may remember wrong." He grimaced. "Mars is +tough, Doc; it has to be. Some of the plant seeds Durwood found in the +ruins grew! Maybe your bugs waited a million years till we came along." + +"What about the farmers? Did they meet Durwood?" + +Jake nodded. "Must have. He lived in their village most of the time." + +Doc went through his notes. He'd asked for reports on all deaths, and he +finally found the account. The two old men had been nervous and fidgety +for weeks. They were twins, living by themselves, and nobody paid much +attention. Then one morning both were seen running wildly in circles. +The village managed to tie them up, but they died of exhaustion shortly +after. + +It wasn't a pretty picture. The disease might have an incubation period +of nearly fifteen years, judging by the length of time it had taken to +hit Durwood. It must spread from person to person during an early +contagious stage, leaving widening circles behind Durwood and those +first infected. When matured, any other sickness would set it off, with +few symptoms of its own. But without help, it still killed its victims, +apparently driving them madly toward frenzied physical effort. + +He studied the culture on a slide again. He'd tried Koch's method to get +a pure strain, splattering the bugs onto a native starchy root and +plucking off individual colonies. About twenty specimens had been +treated with every chemical he could find. So far he'd found a few +things that seemed to stop their growth, but nothing that killed them, +except stuff far too harsh to use in living tissue. + +He had nearly forty cases of deaths that showed symptoms now, and he +went back over them, looking for anything in common that went back ten +to twenty years before death. There were no rashes nor blisters. A few +had had apparent colds, but such were too common to mean anything. + +Only one thing appeared, about fourteen years before their deaths. The +people interviewed about the victims might be vague about most things, +but they remembered the time when "Jim had the jumping headache." + +"Jake," Doc called, "what's jumping headache? Most people seem to have +it some time or other, but I haven't run across a case of it." + +"Sure you have, Doc. Mamie Brander's little girl a few weeks ago. Feels +like your pulse is going to rip your skull off, right here. Can't eat +because chewing drives you crazy. Back of your head, neck and shoulders +swell up for about a week. Then it goes away." + +Then it goes away--for fourteen years, until it comes back to kill! + +Doc stared at his charts in sudden horror. It was a new disease--thought +to be some virus, but not considered dangerous. Selznik's migraine, +according to medical usage; you treated it with hot pads and anodyne, +and it went away easily enough. + +He'd seen hundreds of such cases on Earth. There must be millions who +had been hit by it. The patent-medicine branch of the Lobby had even +brought out something called Nograine to use for self-treatment. + +"Something important?" Jake wanted to know. + +Feldman nodded. "How much weight do you swing in other villages, Jake?" + +"People sort of do me favors when I ask," Jake admitted. "Like swiping +those medical journals from Northport for you, or like Molly Badger +getting that job as maid to spy on Chris Ryan. Name it and I'll do my +best." + +Doc had a vague idea of village politics, but he had more important +things to think of. Most of his foul mood had disappeared with the clue +he'd stumbled on, and his chief worry now was to clinch the facts. + +Feldman considered the problem. "I want a report on every case of +jumping headache in every village--who had it, when, and how old they +were. This place first, but every village you can reach. And I'll want +someone to take a letter to Chris Ryan." + +Jake frowned at that, but went out to issue instructions. Doc sat down +at a battered old typewriter. Writing Chris might do no good, but some +warning had to be gotten through to Earth, where the vast resources of +Medical Lobby could be thrown into the task of finding the cause and +cure of the disease. The connection with Selznik's migraine had to be +reported. If something could blast the Lobby into action, it wouldn't +matter quite so much what they did to him. He wasn't foolish enough to +expect gratitude from them, but he was getting used to the idea that his +days were numbered. The plague was more important than what happened to +him. + +The letter had been dispatched by the time Jake returned. "Here's the +dope for this village. Everybody accounted for except you." + +"Never had it, Jake." Feldman went down the list. "Most of it fourteen +years ago. That fits. About the only exceptions are the kids who seem to +get it between the ages of two and three. Eighty-seven out of +ninety-one!" + +He stared at the figures sickly. Most of the village not only had the +plague but must be near the end of the incubation period. It looked as +if most of the village would be dead before another year passed. + +"Bad?" Jake asked. + +"The first symptom of Martian fever." + +The old man whistled, the lines around his eyes tightening. "Must be +me," he decided. "I'm the guy who must have brought it here, then. I +used to spend a lot of time with Durwood at his diggings!" + +There was a constant commotion all that day and the next as runners went +out to the villages and came back with reports. The variation from +village to village was only slight. Most of Mars seemed to have advanced +cases of Martian fever. + +Without animals for investigation and study, real research was +difficult. Doc also needed an electron microscope. He was reasonably +sure that the disease must travel through the nerves, but he had found +no proof beyond the hard lump at the base of the neck. There it was a +fair-sized organism. Elsewhere he could find nothing, until the black +specks developed. + +His eyes ached from trying to see more than was visible in the +microscope. The tantalizing suggestions of filaments around the nuclei +might be the form of plague that was contagious. They might even be the +true form of the bug, with the bigger cell only a transition stage. +There were a number of diseases that involved complicated changes in the +organisms that caused them. But he couldn't be sure. + +He finally buried his head in his hands, trying to do by pure thought +what he couldn't do in any other way. And even there, he lacked +training. He was a doctor, not a xenobiologist. Research training had +been taboo in school, except for a favored few. + +The reports continued to come in, confirming the danger. They seemed to +have the worst plague on their hands in all human history; and nobody +who could do anything about it even knew of it. + +"Molly reports that your letter got some results," Jake reported. "Chris +Ryan brought home one of the electron microscopes and a bunch of +equipment from the hospital pathology room. Think she'll get anywhere?" + +Doc doubted it. Damn it, he hadn't meant for her to try it, though she +might have authority for routine experiments. But it was like her to +refuse to pass on the word without trying to prove her own suspicion of +him first. + +He tried to comfort himself with the fact that some men were immune, or +seemed so; about three out of a hundred showed no signs. If that +immunity was hereditary, it might save the race. If not.... + +Jake came in at twilight with a grim face. "More news from Molly. The +Lobby is starting out to comb every village with a fault-finder, +starting here. And this hole will show up like a sore thumb. Better +start packing. We gotta be out of here in less than an hour!" + + + + +VIII + +Fool + + +Three days later, Doc saw his first runner. + +The tractor was churning through the sand just before sundown, heading +toward another one-night stand at a new village. Lou was driving, while +Doc and Jake brooded silently in the back, paying no attention to the +colors that were blazoned over the dunes. The cat-and-mouse game was +getting to Doc. There was no real assurance that the village they were +approaching might not be the target the Lobby had chosen for the next +investigation. + +Lou braked the tractor to a sudden halt, and pointed. + +A figure was running frantically over one of the low dunes with the +little red sun behind him. He seemed headed toward them, but as he drew +nearer they could see that he had no definite direction. He simply ran, +pumping his legs frantically as if all the devils of hell were after +him. His body swayed from side to side in exhaustion, but his arms and +legs pumped on. + +"Stop him!" Jake ordered, and Lou swung the tractor. It halted squarely +in the runner's path, and the figure struck against it and toppled. + +The legs went on pumping, digging into the dirt and gravel, but the man +was too far gone to rise. Jake and Lou shoved him through the doors into +the tractor and Doc yanked off his aspirator. + +The man was giving vent to a kind of ululating cry, weakened now almost +to a whine that rose and fell with the motion of his legs. Sweat had +once streaked his haggard face, but it was dry and blanched to a pasty +gray. + +Doc injected enough narcotic to quiet a maddened bull. It had no effect, +except to upset the rhythm of the arms and legs. It took five more +minutes for the man to die. + +The specks were larger this time--the size of periods in twelve-point +type. The lump at the base of the skull was as big as a small hen's egg. + +"From Edison, like the others so far. Jack Kooley," Jake answered Doc's +question. "Durwood spent a lot of time here on his first expedition, so +it's getting the worst of it." + +Doc pulled the aspirator mask back over the man's face and they carried +him out and laid him on a low dune. They couldn't risk returning the +corpse to its people. + +This was only the primary circle of infection, direct from Durwood. The +second circle could be ten times as large, as the infection spread from +one to a few to many. So far it was localized. But it wouldn't stay that +way. + +Doc climbed slowly out of the tractor, lugging his small supplies of +equipment, while Jake made arrangements for them to spend the night in a +deserted house. But the figure of the runner and his own failures to +find more about the disease kept haunting Doc. He began setting up his +equipment grimly. + +"Better get some sleep," Jake suggested. "You're a mite more tired than +you think. Anyhow, I thought you told me you couldn't do any more with +what you've got." + +Feldman looked at the supplies he had spread out, and shook his head +wearily. He'd been over every chemical and combination a dozen times, +without results that showed in the limited magnification of the optical +mike. + +He snapped the case shut and hit the rude table with the heel of his +hand. "There are other supplies. Jake, do you have any signal to get in +touch with Molly at the Ryan house?" + +"Three raps on the rear left window. I'll get Lou." + +"No!" Doc came to his feet, reaching for his jacket. "They're looking +for three men now. It's safer if I go alone--and I'm the only one who +knows what supplies are needed. With luck, I may even get the electron +mike. Got a gun I can borrow?" + +Jake found one somewhere, an old revolver with a few loads. He began +protesting, but Doc overruled him sharply. Three men could no more fight +off the police than one, if they were spotted. He swung toward the +tractor. + +"You'd better start spreading the word on everything we know. If people +realize they're already safe or doomed it'll be better than having them +going crazy to avoid contagion." + +"Most of the villages know already," Jake told him. "And damn it, get +back here, Doc. If you can't make it, turn tail quick, and we'll think +of something else." + +Southport seemed normal enough as Doc drove through its streets. The +stereo house was open, and the little shops were brightly lighted. He +stopped once to pull a copy of Southport's little newspaper from a +dispenser. All was quiet on its front page, too. + +As usual, though, the facts were buried inside. The editorial was +pouring too much oil on the waters in its lauding of the role of +Medical Lobby on Mars for no apparent reason. The death notices no +longer listed the cause of death. Medical knew something was up, at +least, and was worried. + +He parked the tractor behind Chris' house and slipped to the proper +window. Everything was seemingly quiet there. At his knock, the shade +was drawn back, and he caught a brief glimpse of Molly looking out. A +moment later she opened the rear lock to let him into the kitchen. + +"Shh. She's still up, I think. What can I do, Doc?" + +He tried to smile at her. "Hide me until it's safe to get into her +laboratory. I've got to--" + +The inner kitchen was kicked open and Chris stood beyond it, holding a +cocked gun in her hand. + +"It took longer than I expected, Dan," she said quietly. "But after your +letter, I knew you'd swallow the bait. You bloody fool! Did you really +believe I'd start doing research here just because of your imaginings?" + +He slumped slowly back against the sink. "So this is a fool's errand, +then? There never was any equipment here?" + +"The equipment's here--in my office. I guessed your spies would report +it, so it had to be here. But it won't help you now, pariah Feldman!" + +He came from his braced position against the sink like a spring +uncoiling. He expected her to shoot, but hoped the surprise would ruin +her aim. Then it was too late, and his boot hit the gun savagely, +knocking it from her hand. Life in the villages had hardened him +surprisingly. She was comparatively helpless in his hands. A few minutes +later, he had her bound securely with surgical tape Molly brought him. +She raged furiously in the chair where he'd dumped her, then gave up. + +"They'll get you, Daniel Feldman!" Surprisingly, there was no rage in +her voice now. "You won't get away from us. The planet isn't big +enough." + +"I got away from your trial," he reminded her. "And I got away and lived +when you left me without a chance on the ground of the spaceport." + +She laughed harshly. "_You_ got away then? You fool, who do you think +gave you the extra battery so you could live long enough to be helped at +the spaceport? Who hired a fool like Matthews so you wouldn't get the +death sentence you deserved? Who let you get away as an herb doctor for +months before you set yourself up as God and a traitor to mankind +again?" + +It shook him, as it was probably intended to do. How had she known about +the extra battery? He'd always assumed that Ben had returned to give it +to him. But in that case, Chris couldn't know of it. Then he hardened +himself again. In the old days, she'd always had one trump card he +couldn't beat and hadn't expected. But too much was involved for games +now. + +"Any police around, Molly?" he asked. + +Molly came back a minute later to report that everything looked clear +and to show him where the equipment had been set up in Chris' office. It +was all there, including the electron mike--a beautiful little portable +model. There was even a small incubator with its own heat source into +which he immediately transferred the little bottles he'd been keeping +warm against his skin. Most of the equipment had never been unpacked, +which made loading it onto his tractor ridiculously easy. + +"Better come with me now, Molly," he suggested at last. Then he turned +to Chris, who was watching him with almost no expression. "You can +wriggle your chair to the phone in half an hour, I guess. Knock the +phone off and yell for help. It's better than you deserve, unless you +really did leave me that battery." + +"You won't get away with it," she told him again, calmly this time. + +"No," he admitted. "Probably not. But maybe the human race will, if I +have time to find an answer to the plague you won't see under your nose. +But you won't get away with it, either. In the long run, your kind never +do." + +Molly was sniffling as they drove away. It had probably been the best +life she'd known, Doc supposed. Chris could be kind to menials. But now +Molly's work was done, and she'd have to disappear into the villages. He +let her off at the first village and drove on alone. He was itching to +get to the microscope now, hardly able to wait through the long journey +back to Jake. His impatience grew with each mile. + +Finally he gave up. He swung the tractor into a small gulley between +sand dunes, left the motor idling and pulled down the shades the +villagers used for blackout traveling. There was power enough for the +mike here, and the cab was big enough for what he had to do. + +He mounted the mike on the tractor seat and began laying out the +collection of smears and cultures he had brought. It had been years +since he'd made a film for the electron mike, but he found it all came +back to him as he worked. + +His hands were sweating with tension as he inserted the first film into +the chamber. He had the magnetic "lenses" set for twenty thousand power, +but a quick glance showed it was too weak. He raised the power to fifty +thousand. + +The filaments were there, clear and distinct. + +He turned on the little tape recorder that had been part of Chris' +equipment and set the microphone where he could dictate into it without +stopping to make clumsy notes. He readjusted the focus carefully, +carrying on a running commentary. + +Then he gasped. Each of the little filaments carried three tiny darker +sections; each was a cell, complete in itself, with the typical Martian +triple nucleus. + +He put a film with a tiny section of the nerve tissue from a corpse into +the chamber next, and again a quick glance at the screen was enough. The +filaments were there, thickly crowded among nerve cells. They _did_ +travel along the nerves to reach the base of the brain before the larger +lump could form. + +A specimen from one of the black specks was even more interesting. The +filaments were there, but some were changed or changing into tiny, round +cells, also with the triple dark spots of nuclei. Those must be the +final form that was released to infect others. Probably at first these +multiplied directly in epithelial tissue, so that there was a rapid +contagion of infection. Eventually, they must form the filaments that +invaded the nerves and caused the brief bodily reaction that was +Selznik's migraine. Then the body adapted to them and they began to +incubate slowly, developing into the large cells he had first seen. When +"ripe", the big cells broke apart into millions of the tiny round ones +that went back to the nerve endings, causing the black spots and killing +the host. + +He knew his enemy now, at least. + +He reached for the controls, increasing the magnification. He would lose +resolution, but he might find something more at the extreme limits of +the mike. + +Something wet and cold gushed into his face. He jerked back, trying to +wipe it off, but it was already evaporating, and there was a thick, +acrid odor in the cab. He grabbed for his aspirator, then tried to reach +the airlock. But paralysis was already spreading through him, and he +toppled to the floor before he could escape. + +When he came to, it was morning outside, and Chris was waiting inside +the cab with two big Lobby policemen. A hypo in her hand must have been +what revived him. + +She touched the electron microscope with something like affection. "The +Lobby technicians did a good job on this, don't you think, Dan? I warned +you, but you wouldn't listen. And now we've even got your own taped +words to prove you were doing forbidden research. Fool!" + +She shook her head pityingly as the tractor began moving with two others +toward Southport. + +"You and your phony diseases. A little skin disorder, Selznik's +migraine, and a few cases of psychosis to make a new disease. Do you +think Medical Lobby can't check on such simple things? Or didn't you +expect us to hear of your open talk of revolt and realize you were +planning to create some new germ to wipe out the Earth forces. Maybe +those runners of yours were real, mass murderer!" + +She drew out another hypo and shoved the needle into his arm. +Necrosynth--enough to keep him unconscious for twenty-four hours. He +started to curse her, but the drug acted before he could complete the +thought. + + + + +IX + +Judgment + + +Doc woke to see sunlight shining through a heavily barred window that +must be in the official Southport jail. He waited a few minutes for his +head to clear and then sat up; necrosynth left no hangover, at least. + +The sound of steps outside was followed by the squeak of a key in the +lock. "Fifteen minutes, Judge Wilson," a voice said. + +"Thank you, officer." Wilson came into the cell, carrying a tray of +breakfast and a copy of the Northport _Gazette_. He began unloading +bracky weeds from his pocket while Doc attacked the breakfast. + +"They tossed the book at you, Doc," he said. "You haven't got a chance, +and there's nothing the villages can do. Trial's set for tomorrow at +Northport, and it's in closed session. We can't get you off this time." + +Doc nodded. "Thanks for coming, even if there's nothing you can do. I've +been living on borrowed time for a year, anyhow, so I have no right to +kick. But who's 'we'?" + +"The villages. I've been part of their organization for years." The old +man sighed heavily. "You might say a revolution has been going on since +I can remember, though most villagers don't know it. We've just been +waiting our time. Now we've stopped waiting and the rifles will be +coming out--rifles made in village shops. The villages are going to +rebel, even if we're all dead of plague in a month." + +Doc Feldman nodded and reached for the bracky. He knew that this was +their way of trying to make him feel his work hadn't been for nothing, +and he was grateful for Wilson's visit. "It was a good year for me. +Damned good. But time's running short. I'd better brief you on the +latest on the plague." + +Wilson began making notes until Doc was finished. Finally he got up as +steps sounded from the hall. "Anything else?" + +"Just a guess. A lot of Earth germs can't live in Mars-normal flesh; +maybe this can't live in Earth-normal. Tell them so long for me." + +"So long, Doc." He shook hands briefly and was waiting at the door when +the guard opened it. + +An hour later, the Lobby police took Feldman to the Northport shuttle +rocket. They had some trouble on the way; a runner cut down the street, +with the crowds frantically rushing out of his way. Terror was reaching +the cities already. + +Doc flashed a look at Chris. "Mob hysteria. Like flying saucers and +wriggly tops, I suppose?" he asked, before the guard could stop him. + +They locked his legs, but left his hands free in the rocket. He unfolded +the paper Wilson had brought and buried his face in it. Then he swore. +They _were_ explaining the runners as a case of mob hysteria! + +Northport was calmer. Apparently they had yet to have first-hand +experience with the plague. But now nothing seemed quite real to Doc, +even when they locked him into the big Northport jail. The whole ritual +of the Lobbies seemed like a fantasy after the villages. + +It snapped back into focus, however, when they led him into the trial +room of the Medical Lobby building. It was a smaller version of his +trial on Earth. Fear washed in by association. The complete lack of +humanity in the procedure was something from a half-remembered and +horrible past. + +The presiding officer asked the routine question: "Is the prisoner +represented by counsel?" + +Blane, the dapper little prosecutor, arose quickly. "The prisoner is a +pariah, Sir Magistrate." + +"Very well. The court will accept the protective function for the +prisoner. You may proceed." + +_I'll be judge, I'll be jury._ And prosecution and defense. It made for +a lot less trouble. Of course, if Space Lobby had asserted interest, it +would have gone to a supposedly neutral court. But as usual, Space was +happy to leave it in the hands of Medical. + +The tape was played as evidence. Doc frowned. The words were his, but +there had been a lot of editing that subtly changed the import of his +notes. + +"I protest," he challenged. "It's not an accurate version." + +The Lobby magistrate turned a wooden face to him. "Does the prisoner +have a different version to introduce?" + +"No, but--" + +"The evidence is accepted. One of the prisoner's six protests will be +charged against him." + +Blane smiled smoothly and held up a small package. "We wish to introduce +this drug as evidence that the prisoner is a confirmed addict, morally +irresponsible under addiction. This is a package of so-called bracky +weed, a vile and noxious substance found in his possession." + +"It has alkaloids no more harmful than nicotine," Feldman stated +sharply. + +"Do you contend that you find the taste pleasing?" Blane asked. + +"It's bitter, but I've gotten used to it." + +"I've tasted it," the magistrate said. "Evidence accepted. Two +deductions, one for irregularity of presentation." + +Doc shrugged and sat back. He'd tested his rights and found what he +expected. It was hard to see now how he had ever accepted such +procedure. Jake must be right; they'd been in power too long, and were +making the mistake of taking the velvet glove off the iron fist and +flailing about for the sheer pleasure of power. + +It dragged on, while he became a greater and greater monster on the +record. But finally it was over, and the magistrate turned to Feldman. +"You may present your defense." + +"I ask complete freedom of expression," Doc said formally. + +The magistrate nodded. "This is a closed court. Permission granted. The +recording will be scrambled." + +The last bit ruined most of the purpose Doc had in mind. But it was too +late to change. He could only hope that some one of the Medical men +present would remember something of what he said. + +"I have nothing to say for myself," he began. "It would be useless. But +I had to do what I did. There's a plague outside. I've studied that +plague, and I have knowledge which must be used against it...." + +He sat down in three minutes. It had been useless. + +Blane arose, with a smile still plastered on his face. "We, of course, +recognize the existence of a new contagion, but I believe we have +established that this is one disseminated by the prisoner himself, and +probably not directly contagious. There have been many cases of fanatics +ready to destroy humanity to eliminate those they hate. Now, surely, the +prisoner has himself left no question of his attitude. He asserts he has +knowledge and skill greater than the entire Medical Research staff. He +has attempted to intimidate us by threats. He is clearly psychopathic, +and dangerously so. The prosecution rests." + +The guards took Doc into the anteroom, where he was supposed to hear +nothing that went on. But their curiosity was stronger than their +discretion, and the door remained a trifle ajar. + +The magistrate began the discussion. "The case seems firm enough. It's +fortunate Dr. Ryan acted so quickly, with some of the people getting +nervous. Perhaps it might be wise to publicize our verdict." + +"My thought exactly," Blane agreed. "If we show Feldman is responsible +and that Medical is eliminating the source of the infection, it may have +a stabilizing effect." + +"Let's hope so. The sentence will have to be death, of course. We can't +let such a rebellious psychopath live. But this needs something more, it +seems. You've prepared a recommendation, I suppose." + +"There was the case of Albrecht Delier," Blane suggested. "Something +like that should have good publicity impact." + +It struck Doc that they sounded as if they believed themselves--as the +witch-burners had believed in witches. He was sweating when the guards +led him before the bench. + +The magistrate rolled a pen slowly across his fingers as his eyes raked +Feldman. "Pariah Daniel Feldman, you have been found guilty on all +counts. Furthermore, your guilt must be shared by that entire section of +Mars known as the villages. Therefore the entire section shall be banned +and forbidden any and all services of the Medical Lobby for a period of +one year." + +"Sir Magistrate!" One of the members of Southport Hospital staff was on +his feet. "Sir Magistrate, we can't cut them off completely." + +"We must, Dr. Harkness. I appreciate the fine humanitarian tradition of +our Lobby which lies behind your protest, but at such a time as this the +good of the body politic requires drastic measures. Why not see me after +court, and we can discuss it then?" + +He turned back to Feldman, and his face was severe. + +"The same education which has produced such fine young men as Dr. +Harkness was wasted on you and perverted to endanger the whole race. No +punishment can equal your crimes, but there is one previously invoked +for a particularly horrible case, and it seems fitting that you should +be the fourth so sentenced. + +"Daniel Feldman, you are sentenced to be taken in to space beyond +planetary limits, together with all material used by you in the +furtherance of your criminal acts. There you shall be placed into a +spacesuit containing sufficient oxygen for one hour of life, and no +more. You and your contaminated possessions shall then be released into +space, to drift there through all eternity as a warning to other men. + +"This sentence shall be executed at the earliest possible moment, and +Dr. Christina Ryan is hereby commissioned to observe such execution. And +may God have mercy on your soul!" + + + + +X + +Execution + + +The hours of waiting were blurred for Doc. There were periods when fear +clogged his throat and left him gasping with the need to scream and beat +his cell walls. There were also times when it didn't seem to matter, and +when his only thoughts were for the villages and the plague. + +They brought him the papers, where he was painted as a monster beside +whom Jack the Ripper and Albrecht Delier were gentle amateurs. They were +trying to focus all fear and resentment on him. Maybe it was working. +There were screaming crowds outside the jail, and the noise of their +hatred was strong enough to carry through even the atmosphere of Mars. +But there were also signs that the Lobby was worried, as if afraid that +some attempt might still be made to rescue him. + +He'd looked forward to the trip to the airport as a way of judging +public reaction. But apparently the Lobby had no desire to test that. +The guards led him up to the roof of the jail, where a rocket was +waiting. The landing space was too small for one of the station +shuttles, but a little Northport-Southport shuttle was parked there +after what must have been a difficult set-down. The guards tested Doc's +manacles and forced him into the shuttle. + +Inside, Chris was waiting, carrying an official automatic. There was +also a young pilot, looking nervous and unhappy. He was muttering under +his breath as the guards locked Doc's legs to a seat and left. + +"All right," Chris ordered. "Up ship!" + +"I tell you we're overweight with you. I wasn't counting on three for +the trip," the pilot protested. "The only thing that will get this into +orbit with the station is faith. I'm loaded with every drop of fuel +she'll hold and it still isn't enough." + +"That's your problem," Chris told him firmly. "You've got your orders, +and so have I. Up ship!" + +If she had her own worries about the shuttle, she didn't show it. Chris +had never been afraid to do what she felt she should. The pilot stared +at her doubtfully and finally turned back to his controls, still +muttering. + +The shuttle lifted sluggishly, but there was no great difficulty. Doc +could see that there was even some fuel remaining when they slipped into +the tube at the orbital station. Chris went out, and other guards came +in to free him. + +"So long, Dr. Feldman," the pilot called softly as they led him out. +Then the guards shoved him through the airlock into the station. Fifteen +minutes later he was locked into one of the cabins of the _Iroquois_, +with all his possessions stacked beside him. + +He grinned wryly. As an honest worker on the _Navaho_ he'd been treated +like an animal. Now, as a human fiend, he was installed in a luxury +cabin of the finest ship of the fleet, with constant spin to give a +feeling of weight and more room than the entire tube crew had known. + +He roamed the cabin until he found a little collapsible table. He set +the electron microscope up on that and plugged it in. It seemed a shame +that good equipment should be wasted along with his life. He wondered +if they would really throw it out into space with him. Probably they +would. + +He pushed a button on the call board over the table and asked for the +steward. There was a long wait, as if the procedure were being checked +with some authority, but finally he received a surly acknowledgement. +"Steward. Whatcha want?" + +"How's the chance of getting some food?" + +"You're on first-class." + +They could afford it, Doc decided. He wouldn't cost them much, +considering the distance he was going. "Bring me two complete +dinners--one Earth-normal and one Mars-normal." + +"Okay, Feldman. But if you think you can suicide that way, you're wrong. +You may be sick, but you'll be alive when they dump you." + +A sharp click interrupted him. "That's enough, Steward. Captain Everts +speaking. Dr. Feldman, you have my apologies. Until you reach your +destination, you are my passenger and entitled to every consideration of +any other passenger except freedom of movement through the ship. I am +always available for legitimate complaints." + +Feldman shook his head. He'd heard of such men. But he'd thought the +species extinct. + +The steward brought his food in a thoroughly chastened manner. He +managed to find space for it and came to attention. "Is that all--sir?" + +For a moment, as the smell of real steak reached him, Doc regretted the +fact that his metabolism had been switched. Then he shrugged. A little +wouldn't hurt him, though there was no proper nourishment in it. He +squeezed some of the gravy and bits of meat into one of his bottles, +sticking to his purpose; then he fell to on the rest. But after a few +bites, it was queerly unsatisfactory. The seemingly unappealing +Mars-normal ragout suited his current tastes better, after all. + +Once the steward had cleared away the dishes, Doc went to work. It was +better than wasting his time in dread. He might even be able to leave +some notes behind. + +A gong sounded, and a red light warned him that acceleration was due. He +finished with his bottles, put them into the incubator, and piled into +his bunk, swallowing one of the tablets of morphetal the ship furnished. + +Acceleration had ended, and a simple breakfast was waiting when he +awoke. There was also a red flashing light over the call board. He +flipped the switch while reaching for the coffee. + +"Captain Everts," the speaker said. "May I join you in your cabin?" + +"Come ahead," Feldman invited. He cut off the switch and glanced at the +clock on the wall. There were less than eleven hours left to him. + +Everts was a trim man of forty, erect but not rigid. There was neither +friendliness nor hostility in his glance. His words were courteous as +Doc motioned toward the tray of breakfast. "I've already eaten, thank +you." + +He accepted a chair. His voice was apologetic when he began. "This is a +personal matter which I perhaps have no right to bring up. But my wife +is greatly worried about this plague. I violate no confidence in telling +you there is considerable unease, even on Earth, according to messages I +have received. The ship physician believes Mrs. Everts may have the +plague, but isn't sure of the symptoms. I understand you are quite +expert." + +Doc wondered about the physician. Apparently there was another man who +placed his patients above anything else, though he was probably +meticulous about obeying all actual rules. There was no law against +listening to a pariah, at least. + +"When did she have Selznik's migraine?" he asked. + +"About thirteen years ago. We went through it together, shortly after +having our metabolism switched during the food shortage of '88." + +Doc felt carefully at the base of the Captain's skull; the swelling was +there. He asked a few questions, but there could be no doubt. + +"Both of you must have it, Captain, though it won't mature for another +year. I'm sorry." + +"There's no hope, then?" + +Doc studied the man. But Everts wasn't the sort to dicker even for his +life. "Nothing that I've found, Captain. I have a clue, but I'm still +working on it. Perhaps if I could leave a few notes for your +physician--" + +It was Everts' turn to shake his head. "I'm sorry, Dr. Feldman. I have +orders to burn out your cabin when you leave. But thank you." He got to +his feet and left as quietly and erectly as he had entered. + +Doc tore up his notes bitterly. He paced his cabin slowly, reading out +the hours while his eyes lingered on the little bottle of cultures. At +times the fear grew in him, but he mastered it. There was half an hour +left when he began opening the little bottles and making his films. + +He was still not finished when steps echoed down the hall, but he was +reasonably sure of his results. The bug could not grow in Earth-normal +tissue. + +Three men entered the room. One of them, dressed in a spacesuit, held +out another suit to him. The other two began gathering up everything in +the cabin and stowing it neatly into a sack designed to protect freight +for a limited time in a vacuum. + +Doc forced his hands to steadiness with foolish pride and began climbing +into the suit. He reached for the helmet, but the man shook his head, +pointing to the oxygen gauge. There would be exactly one hour's supply +of oxygen when he was thrown out and it still lacked five minutes of the +deadline. + +They marched him down the hallway, to meet Everts coming toward them. +There were still three minutes left when they reached the airlock, with +its inner door already open. The spacesuited man climbed into it and +began strapping down so that the rush of air would not sweep him outward +when the other seal was released. + +Doc had saved one bracky weed. Now he raised it to his lips, fumbling +for a light. + +Everts stepped forward and flipped a lighter. Doc inhaled deeply. Fear +was thick in every muscle, and he needed the smoke desperately. Then he +caught himself. + +"Better change your metabolism back to Earth-normal, Captain Everts," he +said, and his voice was so normal that he hardly recognized it. + +Everts' eyes widened briefly. The man bowed faintly. "Thank you, Dr. +Feldman." + +It was ridiculous, impossible, and yet there was a curious relief at the +formality of it. It was like something from a play, too unreal to affect +his life. + +Everts nodded to the man holding the helmet. Doc dropped his bracky weed +and felt the helmet snap down. A hiss of oxygen reached him and the suit +ballooned out. There was no gravity; the two men handed him up easily to +the one in the airlock while the inner seal began to close. + +There was still ten seconds to go, according to the big chronometer that +had been installed in the lock. The spaceman used it in tying the sack +of possessions firmly to Doc's suit. + +A red light went on. The man caught Doc and held him against the outer +seal. The red light blinked. Four seconds ... three ... two.... + +There was a sudden heavy thudding sound, and the _Iroquois_ seemed to +jerk sideways slightly. The spaceman's face swung around in surprise. + +The red light blinked and stayed on. Zero! + +The outer seal snapped open and the spaceman heaved. Air exploded +outwards, and Doc went with it. He was alone in space, gliding away from +the ship, with oxygen hissing softly through the valve and ticking away +his life. + + + + +XI + +Convert + + +Feldman fought for control of himself, forced himself to think, to hold +onto his sanity. It was sheer stupidity, since nothing could have been +more merciful than to lose this reality. But the will to be himself was +stronger than logic. And bit by bit, he forced the fear and horror away +from him until he could examine his situation. + +He was spinning slowly, so that stars ahead of him seemed to crawl +across his view. The ship was retreating from him already hundreds of +yards away. Mars was a shrunken pill far away. + +Then something blinked to one side. He turned his head to stare. + +A little ship was less than three hundred yards away. He recognized it +as a life raft. Now his spin brought him around to face it, and he saw +it was parallelling his course. The ejection of the life raft must have +caused the thump he'd heard before he was cast adrift. + +It meant someone was trying to save him. It meant _life_! + +He flailed his arms and beat his legs together, senselessly trying to +force himself closer, while trying to guess who could have taken the +chance. No one he could think of could have booked passage on the +_Iroquois_. There wasn't that much free money in the villages. + +Something flashed a hot blue, and the little ship leaped forward. +Whoever was handling it knew nothing about piloting. It picked up too +much speed at too great an angle. + +Again blue spurts came, but this time matters were even worse. Then +there was a long wait before a third try was made. He estimated the +course. It would miss him by a good hundred feet, but it was probably +the best the amateur pilot could do. The ship drifted closer, but to one +side. It would soon pass him completely. + +A spacesuited figure suddenly appeared in the tiny airlock, holding a +coil of rope. The rope shot out, well thrown. But it was too short. It +would pass within ten feet--and might as well have been ten miles for +all the good it would do him. + +Every film he had seen on space seemed to form a mad jumble in his mind, +but he seized on the first idea he could remember. He inhaled deeply and +yanked the oxygen tank free. An automatic seal on the suit cut off the +connection. He aimed the hissing bottle, fumbling for the manual valve. + +It almost worked. It kicked him toward the rope slightly, but most of +the energy was wasted in setting him into a wilder spin. He blinked, +trying to spot the rope. It was within five feet now. + +Again he waited, until he seemed to be in position. This time he threw +the bottle away from it. It added spin to his vertical axis, but the +rope came into view within arm's reach. + +He grasped it, just as his lungs seemed about to burst. He couldn't hold +on long enough to tie the rope.... + +His lungs gave up suddenly, collapsing and then sucking in greedily. +Clean air rushed in, letting his head clear. He'd forgotten that the +inflated suit held enough oxygen for several minutes. + +His body struck the edge of the airlock and a hand jerked him inside. +The outer seal was slammed shut and locked, and there was a hiss of air +entering. + +He threw back his helmet just as Chris Ryan jerked hers off. + +Her voice shook almost hysterically. "Thank God. Dan, I almost gave up!" + +"I liked the air out there better," he told her bitterly. "If you'll +open the lock again, I'll leave. Or am I supposed to believe this is +rescue and that you came along just to save me?" + +"I came along to see you killed, as you know very well. Saving you +wasn't in my orders." + +He grunted and reached for the handle that would release the outer lock. +"Better get back inside if you don't want to blow out with me." + +"It's up to you, Dan," she told him, and there was all the sincerity in +the world in her blue eyes. "I'm on your side now." + +He began counting on his fingers. "Let's see. The spare battery, the +delay in arresting me, the choice of Matthews--" + +"It was all true." Anger began to grow in her eyes. "Dan Feldman, you +get inside this raft! If you don't care about me, you might consider the +people dying of the plague who need you!" + +She'd played her trump, and it took the round. He followed her. + +"All right," he said grudgingly. "Spill your story." + +She held out a copy of a space radiogram, addressed to Mrs. D. E. +Everts, and signed by one of the best doctors on the Lobby Board of +Directors. + + Regret confirm diagnosis. Topsecret. Repeat topsecret. + Martian fever incubates fourteen years, believed highly + fatal. No cure, research beginning immediately. Penalty + violation topsecret, death all concerned. + +"Mrs. Everts rates a topsecret break?" Doc commented dryly. "Come off +it, Chris!" + +"She's the daughter of Elmers of Space Lobby!" Chris answered. She +pointed to the message, underlining words with her finger. "_Fourteen +years._ You couldn't have caused it. _Highly fatal._ And people are +being told it's only a skin disease. _Research beginning._ But you've +already done most of the research. I can see that now. I can see a lot +of things." + +"You've got me beat then," he said. "I can't see how such a reformed +young noblewoman calmly walked over and stole a life raft. I can't see +how your brilliant mind concocted this whole scheme in almost no time. +And to be honest, I can't even see why Medical Lobby decided to save me +at the last minute and sent you to do the job. You didn't have to spy +out knowledge from me. I've been trying all along to get it to your +Research division." + +She sighed and dropped onto a little seat. + +"I can't prove my motives. You'll just have to believe me. But it wasn't +hard to do what I've done. That shuttle pilot was found in a routine +check, stowed away on the life raft. I was with Captain Everts when he +was found, so I discovered how to get into the raft. And I heard his +whole confession. He wasn't the real pilot. He'd come from the villages +to save you. The whole scheme was his. I just used it, hoping I could +reach you." + +As always her story had a convincing element she shouldn't have known. +The pilot's farewell, addressing him as Dr. Feldman, had been too low +for her to hear, but it was something that fitted her story. It was +probably a deliberate clue to give him hope, to assure him the villages +were still trying. It shook his confidence. + +"And your motive--your real motive?" he insisted. + +She swore at him, then began ripping off the spacesuit. She turned her +back, pulling a thin blouse down from her neck. He stared, then reached +out to touch the lump there. + +"So you've had Selznik's migraine and know you're carrying plague. And +you've decided your precious Lobby won't save you?" + +She dropped her eyes, then raised them to meet his defiantly. "I'm not +just scared and selfish. Dad caught it, too, and it must be close to the +time for him. He switched to Mars-normal when he was a liaison agent and +never changed back. Dan, are we all going to have to die? Can't you save +him?" + +Feldman was out of his suit and at the control panel. There was a manual +lever, which Chris must have used before. It might work out here where +there was room to maneuver and nothing to hit. But trying to make a +landing was going to be different. + +"Dan?" she repeated. + +He shrugged. "I don't know. They've started research too late and +they'll be under so much pressure that the real brains won't have a +chance. The topsecret stuff looks bad for research. Maybe there's a +cure. It works in culture bottles, but it may fail in person. When I'm +convinced I'm safe with you, I may tell you about it." + +"Oh." Her voice was low. Then she sighed. "I suppose I can understand +why you hate me, Dan." + +"I don't hate you. I'm too mixed up. Tomorrow maybe, but not now. Shut +up and let me see if I can figure out how to land this thing." + +He found that the fuel tanks were nearly full, but that still didn't +leave much margin. Mars must have been notified by Everts and be ready +to pick the raft up. He had to reach the wastelands away from any of the +shuttle ports. They had no aspirators, however, and they couldn't cover +much territory in the spacesuits they would have to use. It meant he'd +have to land close to a village where he was known. + +He jockeyed the ship around by trial and error, studying the manual that +was lying prominently on the control panel. According to the booklet, +the ship was simple to operate. It was self-leveling in an atmosphere, +and automatic flare computers were supposed to make it possible for an +amateur to judge the rate of descent near the surface. It looked +reassuring--and was probably written with that in mind. + +Finally he reached for the control, hoping he'd figured his landing +orbit reasonably well by simple logic. He smoothed it out in the +following hours as he watched the markings on Mars. When they were near +turnover point, he began cranking the little gyroscope to swing the +ship. It saved fuel to turn without power, and he wasn't sure he could +have turned accurately by blasting. + +He was gaining some proficiency, however, he felt. But now he had to +waste fuel and ruin his orbit again. There was no way to practice +maneuvering without actually doing so. + +In the end, he compromised, leaving a small margin for a bad landing +that would require a second attempt, but with less practice than he +wanted. + +He had located Jake's village through the little telescope when he +finally reached for the main blast control. The thin haze of Mars' +atmosphere came rushing up, while the blast lashed out. Then they were +in the outer fringes of the sky and the blast was beginning to show a +corona that ruined visibility. + +He turned to the flare computer and back to what he could see through +the quartz viewport. He was going to land about half a mile from the +village, as nearly as he could judge. + +The computer seemed to work as it should. The speed was within +acceptable limits. He gave up trying to see the ground and was forced to +trust the machinery designed for amateur pilots. The flare bloomed, and +he yanked down on the little lever. + +It could have been worse. They hit the ground, bounced twice, and turned +over. The ship was a mess when Feldman freed himself from the elastic +straps of the seat. Chris had shrieked as they hit, but she was +unbuckling herself now. + +He threw her her spacesuit and one of the emergency bottles of oxygen +from the rack. "Hurry up with that. We've sprung a leak and the +pressure's dropping." + +They were halfway to the village when a dozen tractors came racing up +and Jake piled out of the lead one to drag the two in with him. + +"Heard about it from the broadcasts and figured you might land around +here. Good to see you, Doc." He started the tractor off at full speed, +back to the wastelands, while Doc stared at the armed men who were +riding the tractors. + +Jake caught his look and nodded. "You're in enemy territory, Doc. +There's a war going on!" + + + + +XII + +War + + +Sometimes it seemed to Doc that war was nothing but an endurance race to +see how many times they could run before they were bombed. He was just +beginning to drop off to sleep after a long trip for the sixth +consecutive day when the little alarm shrilled. He sighed and shook +Chris awake. + +"Again?" she protested. But she got up and began helping him pack. + +Jake came in, his eyes weary, pulling on the old jacket with the big +star on its sleeve. Doc hadn't been too surprised to learn that Jake was +the actual leader of the rebels. "Shuttles spotted taking off this way. +And I still can't find where the leak is. They haven't missed our +location once this week. Here, give me that." + +He took the electron mike that had been among Doc's' possessions, but +Chris recaptured it. "I can manage," she told him, and headed out for +the tractor where Lou was waiting. + +Doc scowled after her. He and Jake had been watching her. She was too +useful to Doc's research to be turned away, but they didn't trust her +yet. So far, however, they had found nothing wrong with her conduct. +Still.... + +He swung suddenly into Jake's tractor. "Just remembered something. How'd +they find me that time I stopped in the tractor to use the mike? I was +pretty well hidden, and no tracks last in the sand long enough for them +to have followed. But they were there when I came to. Somehow, they must +have put a radio tracer on me." + +Jake waited while they lighted up, his eyes suddenly bright. "You mean +something you got from her house was bugged? It figures." + +"And I've still got all the stuff. Now they find wherever we set up +headquarters, though they've always managed to miss my laboratory, even +when they've hit the troops around us. Jake, I think it's the +microscope." Doc managed to push enough junk off one of the seats to +make a cramped bed, and stretched out. "Sure, we figured they sent her +because they want to keep tabs on what I discover. They've finally +gotten scared of the plague, and she's the perfect Judas goat. But they +have to have some way to get in touch with her. I'll bet there's a +tracer in the mike and a switch so she can modulate it or key it to send +out Morse." + +"Yeah," Jake nodded. "Well, she does her own dirty work. I might get to +like her if she was on our side. Okay, Doc. If they've put things into +the mike, I've got a boy who'll find and fix it so she won't guess it's +been touched." + +Doc relaxed. For the moment, there would be no power in the instrument, +nor any excuse for her to use it. But she must have handled some secret +arrangement during the work periods. She used the mike more than he did. +The switch could be camouflaged easily enough. If anyone detected the +signal, they'd probably only think it was some leak in the electrical +circuit. + +Far away, the shuttle rockets had appeared as tiny dots in the sky. They +were standing on their tails a second later, just off the ground, +letting the full force of their blasts bake the area where headquarters +had been. + +Jake watched grimly, driving by something close to instinct. Then he +looked back. "Know anything about a Dr. Harkness?" + +"Not much, except that he protested sealing off the villages. Why?" + +"He and five other doctors were picked up, trying to get through to us. +Claimed they wanted to give us medical help. We can use them, God knows. +I guess I'll have to chance it." + +They stopped at a halfway village and hid the tractors before looking +for a place to rest. Doc found Chris curled up asleep against the +microscope. He had a hard time getting her to leave it in the tractor, +but she was too genuinely tired to put up any real argument. + +Jake reported in the morning before they set out again. "You were right, +Doc. It was a nice job of work. Must have taken the best guys in +Southport to hide the circuit so well. But it's safe now. It just makes +a kind of meaningless static nobody can trace. Maybe we can get you a +permanent lab now." + +Doc debated again having Chris left behind and decided against it. The +Lobby was determined to let him find a cure for them if he could. That +meant Chris would work herself to exhaustion trying to help. Let her +think she was doing it for the Lobby! It was time she was on the +receiving end of a double cross. + +"It's a stinking way to run a war," he decided. + +Jake chuckled without much humor. "It's the war you wanted, remember? +They forced our hand, but it had to come sometime. Right now the Lobby's +fighting to get their hands on your work before we can use it; they're +just using holding tactics, which helps our side. And we're hoping you +get the cure so we can win. With that, maybe we'll whip them." + +It was a crazy war, with each side killing more of its own men than of +the enemy. The runners were increasing, and Jake's army was learning to +shoot the poor devils mercifully and go on. They knew, at least, that +there was no current danger of infection. In the Lobby towns, more were +dying of panic in their efforts to escape the runners. + +Desert towns had joined the villages, reluctantly but inevitably, to +give the rebels nearly three-quarters of the total population. But the +Lobby forces and the few cities held most of the real fighting equipment +and they were ready to wait until Earth could send out unmanned rockets, +loaded with atomics, which could cut through space at ten times normal +speed. + +There were vague lines of battle, but time was the vital factor. The +Lobbies waited to steal a cure for the plague and the villages waited +until they could announce it and demand surrender as its price. + +It looked as if both sides were doomed to disappointment, however. He +and Chris had put in every spare minute between moving and the minimum +of sleep in searching for something that would check the disease. It +couldn't grow in an Earth-normal body, but it didn't die, either. And +there wasn't enough normal food available to permit the switch-over for +more than a handful of people. Even Earth was out of luck, since eighty +percent of her population ate synthetics. There were ways to synthesize +Earth-normal food, but they were still hopelessly inefficient. + +Jake had ordered one of the villages to rebuild their plant for such a +purpose, while another was producing the enzyme that would permit +switching. But it looked hopeless for more than a few of the most +valuable men. + +"No progress?" Jake asked for the hundredth time. + +Doc grinned wryly. "A lot, but no help. We've found a fine accelerator +for the bug. We can speed up its incubation or even make someone already +infected catch it all over again. But we can't slow it down or stop it." + +The new laboratory was still being fitted when they arrived. It had been +dug into one of the few real cliffs in this section of Mars. The power +plant had been installed, complete with a steam plant that would operate +off sunlight in the daytime through a series of heat valves that took in +a lot of warm air and produced smaller amounts hot enough to boil water. + +"I'll see you whenever I can," Jake said. "But mostly, you're going to +be somewhat isolated so they won't trace you. Let them think they goofed +with the shuttles and hit you and Chris. Anything you need?" + +"Guinea pigs," Doc told him sarcastically. It was meant as a joke, +though a highly bitter one. Jake nodded and left them. + +Doc opened the cots as Chris came in, not bothering to unpack the +equipment. "Hit the sack, Chris," he told her. + +She looked at him doubtfully. "You almost said that the way you'd +address a human being, Dan. You're slipping. One of these days you'll +like me again." + +"Maybe." He was too tired to argue. "I doubt it, though. Forget it and +get some sleep." + +She watched him silently until he got up to turn out the light. Then she +sighed heavily. "Dan?" + +"Yeah?" + +"I never got a divorce. The publicity would have been bad. But anyway, +we're still married." + +"That's nice." He swung to face her briefly. "And they found the radio +in the microscope. Better get to sleep, Chris." + +"Oh." It was a quiet exclamation, barely audible. There was a sound that +might have been a sniffle if it had come from anyone else. Then she +rolled over. "All right, Dan. I still want to help you." + +He cursed himself for a stupid fool for telling her. Fatigue was ruining +what judgment he had. From now on, he'd have to watch her every minute. +Or had she really seen the value of the research by now? She wasn't a +fool. It should have registered on even her stubborn mind. But he was +too sleepy to think about it. + +She had breakfast ready in the morning. She made no comment on what had +been said during the night. Instead, she began discussing a way to keep +one of the organic antibiotics from splitting into simpler compounds +when they tried to switch it over to Mars-normal. They were both +hopelessly bad chemists and biologists, but there was no one else to do +the work. + +Chris worked harder than ever during the day. + +Just after sundown, Jake came in with a heavy box. He dropped it onto +the floor. "Mice!" + +Doc ripped off the cover, exposing fine screening. There were at least +six dozen mice inside! + +"Harkness found them," Jake explained. "A hormone extraction plant used +them for testing some of the products. Had them sent by regular +shipments from Earth. Getting them cost a couple of men, but Harkness +claims it's worth it. He's a good man on a raid. Here!" + +He'd gone to the doorway again and came back with another box, this one +crammed with bottles and boxes. "They had quite a laboratory, and +Harkness picked out whatever he thought you could use." + +Chris and Doc were going through it. The labels were engineering ones, +but the chemical formulae were identification enough. There were dozens +of chemicals they hadn't hoped to get. + +"Anything else?" Doc finally asked as they began arranging the supplies. + +"More runners. A lot more. We're still holding things down, but it's +reaching a limit. Panic will start in the camps if this keeps on. But +that's my worry. You stick to yours." + +Several of the new chemicals showed promise in the tubes. But two of +them proved fatal to the mice and the others were completely innocuous +in the little animal's bodies, both to mouse and to germ. The plague was +much hardier in contact with living cells than in the artificial +environment of the culture jars. + +They lost seven mice in two days, but that seemed unimportant; the +females were already living up to their reputations, nearly all +pregnant. Doc didn't know the gestation period, but he remembered that +it was short. + +"Funny they all started at the same time," he commented. "Must have been +shipped out separately or else been kept apart while they were switched +over to Mars-normal. Something interrupted their habits, anyhow." + +A few nights later they learned what it was. There was a horrible +squealing that woke him out of the depths of his sleep. Chris was +already at the light switch. As light came on, they turned to the mouse +box. + +All the animals were charging about in their limited space, their little +legs driving madly and their mouths open. What they lacked in size they +made up in numbers, and the din was terrific. + +But it didn't last. One by one, the mice began dropping to the floor of +the cage. In fifteen minutes, they were all dead! + +It was obviously the plague, contracted after having their metabolism +switched. Women were sterile for some time after Selznik's migraine +struck, and the same must have been true of the mice. They must have +contracted the plague at about the same time and reached fertility +together. Somehow, the plague incubation period had been shortened to +fit their life span; the disease was nothing if not adaptive. + +Chris prepared a slide in dull silence. The familiar cell was there when +Doc looked through the microscope. He picked up one of the little +creatures and cut it open, removing one of the foetuses. + +"Make a film of that," he suggested. + +She worked rapidly, scraping out the almost microscopic brain, +dissolving out the fatty substance, and transferring the result to a +film. This time, even at full magnification, there was no sign of the +filaments that were always present in diseased flesh. The results were +the same for the other samples they made. + +"Something about the very young animal or a secretion from the mother's +organs keeps the bug from working." Doc reached for a bracky weed and +accepted a light from Chris without thinking of it. "Every kid I've +heard about contracted the plague between the second and third year. +None are born with it, none get it earlier. I've suspected this, but now +here's confirmation." + +Chris began preparing specimens, while Doc got busy with tubes of the +culture. They'd have to test various fluids from the tiny bodies, but +there were enough cultures prepared. Then, if the substance only +inhibited growth, there would be a long, slow test; if it killed the +bugs, they might know more quickly. + +Jake came in before the final tests, but waited on them. Doc was +studying a film in the microscope. He suddenly motioned excitedly for +Chris. + +"See the filaments? They're completely disintegrated. And there's one of +the big cells broken open. We've got it! It's in the blood of the +foetus. And it must be in the blood of newborn children, too!" + +Jake looked at the slide, but his face was doubtful. + +"Maybe you've got something, Doc. I hope so. And I hope you can use it." +He shook his head wearily. "We need good news right now. A couple of big +rockets just reached the station and they've been sending shuttles back +and forth a mile a minute. Nobody can figure how they got here so fast +or what they're for. But it doesn't look good for us!" + + + + +XIII + +Susceptibility + + +Doc could feel the tension in the village where GHQ was temporarily +located long before they were close enough for details to register. The +people were gathered in clusters, staring at the sky where the station +must be. A few were pacing up and down, gesticulating with tight sweeps +of their arms. + +One woman suddenly went into even more violent action. She leaped into +the air and then took off at a rapid trot, then a run. Her hands were +tearing at her clothes and her mouth seemed to be working violently. She +was halfway to the top of the nearest dune before a rifle cracked. She +dropped, to twitch once and lie still. + +Almost with her death, another figure leaped from one of the houses, his +face bare of the necessary aspirator. He took off at a violent run, but +he was falling from lack of air before the bullet ended his struggles. + +The people suddenly began to move apart, as if trying to get away from +each other. For weeks they had faced the horror with courage; now it was +finally too much for them. + +Tension mounted as no news came from the cities. Doc noticed that it +seemed to aggravate or speed up the disease. He saw three men shot in +the next half-hour. + +He was trying to calm them with word of a possible cure for the plague, +but their reactions were as curiously dull as those of Jake had been. As +he spoke, they faced him with set expressions. At his mention of the +need for the blood of young children, they turned from him, sullenly +silent. + +Jake came over, nodding unhappily. "It's what I was afraid might happen, +Doc. George Lynn! Tell Doc what's wrong." + +Lynn was reluctant, but he finally stumbled out his explanation. "It +ain't like you, Doc. Comes from that Lobby woman you got. It's her dirty +idea. We've seen the Lobby doctors cutting open our kids, poisoning +their blood, and bleeding them dry. That ain't gonna happen again, Doc. +You tell her it ain't!" + +Doc swore as he realized their ignorance. An unexplained vaccination +looked like poisoning of the blood. But he couldn't understand the +bleeding part until Jake filled him in. + +"Northport infant's wing. Each department has its own blood bank and +donation is compulsory. Southport started it a couple months ago, too." + +The long arm of the Lobby had reached out again. Now if he ever got them +to try the treatment, it would be only after long sessions of preparing +them with the facts, and there was hardly enough time for the crucial +work! + +By afternoon, Judge Ben Wilson reached them. His voice shook with +fatigue as he climbed up to address the crowd through a power megaphone. +"Southport's going crazy." He had to pause for breath between each +sentence. "Earth's pulling back all the important people. They're +packing them into the ships. They're leaving only colonials with no +Earth rights. Those ships left when they decided the plague was coming +from here. They won't let anybody back until the plague is licked. There +won't be an Earth technician on Mars tomorrow." + +"No bombs?" someone called. + +"No bombs. The ships must have started before you rebelled, maybe meant +honestly to save their own kind. But now it's a military action, and +don't think it won't mean trouble. The poor devils in the city bet on +the wrong horse. Now they can't run their food factories or anything +else for long. Not without technicians. They've got to whip you now. Up +to this time, they've been fighting for the Lobbies. Now they'll fight +you for their own bellies to get your supplies. And they've still got +shuttle rockets and fuel for them. Now beat it. I gotta confer with +Jake." + +Doc started after the judge, but Dr. Harkness caught his arm and drew +him aside. Chris followed. + +"I've found another epidemic," Harkness told them. "Over at Marconi. +It's kept me on the run all night, and now half the village is down with +it. Starts like a common cold, runs a fair fever, and the skin breaks +out all over with bright red dots...." + +He went on describing it. Chris began asking him about what medical +supplies he had brought with him, pilfered from Northport hospital. She +seemed to know what it was, but refused to say until she saw the cases. +Doc also preferred to wait. Sometimes things weren't as bad as they +seemed, though usually they were worse. + +Marconi was dead to all outward appearances, with nobody on the streets. +It had been a village of great hopes a week before, since this was where +they had decided to experiment with switching the people back to +Earth-normal. They'd had the best chance of survival of anyone on Mars +until this came up. + +Three people lay on the beds in the first house Harkness led them to. +The room was darkened, and a man was stumbling around, trying to tend +the others, though the little spots showed on his skin. He grinned +weakly. "Hi, Doc. I guess we're making a lot of trouble, ain't we?" + +Chris gave Doc no chance to answer. "Just as I thought. Measles! Plain +old-fashioned measles." + +"Figured so," the sick man said. "Like my brother back on Earth." + +The others looked doubtful, but Doc reassured them. Chris should know; +she'd worked in a swanky hospital where the patients were mostly +Earth-normal. Measles was one of the diseases which was foiled by the +metabolism switch. Well, at least they wouldn't have to be quarantined +here. + +Chris finished treating the family with impersonal efficiency, +discussing the symptoms loudly with Harkness. "It's a good thing it +isn't serious!" + +"No," Harkness answered bitterly. "Not serious. It's only killed five +children and three adults so far!" + +"It would, here," Doc agreed unhappily. He led Chris out of the room on +the pretext of washing his hands. "It's serious enough to force us to +abandon the whole idea of going back to Earth-normal. Measles today, +smallpox, tuberculosis, scarlet fever and everything else tomorrow. +These people have lived Mars-normal so long their natural immunity has +been destroyed. On Earth where the disease was everywhere, kids used to +pick up some immunity with constant exposure, even without what might be +called a case of the disease. Here, the blood has no reason to build +antibodies. They can be killed by things people used to laugh at. How +the disease got here, I don't know. But it's here. So we'll have to +give up the idea of switching back to Earth-normal." + +He gathered up one of the kits and started toward the other houses. "And +Lord knows how long it will take to get the blood for the other +treatment, even if it works." + +They worked as a team for a while, with Harkness frowning as he watched +Chris. Finally the young doctor stopped Chris outside the fifth house. +"These are my patients, Dr. Ryan. I left the Lobby because I didn't +believe colonials were mere livestock. I still feel the same. I +appreciate your help in diagnosis and methods of treatment. But I can't +let you handle my patients this way." + +"Dan!" She swung around with eyes glazing. "Dan, are you going to stand +for that?" + +"I think you'd better wait in the tractor, Chris." + +He was lucky enough to catch the kit she threw at him before its +precious contents spilled. But it wasn't luck that guided his hand to +the back of her skirt hard enough to leave it stinging. + +Her face froze and she stormed out. A moment later they heard the +tractor start off. + +But Doc had no time to think of her. He and Harkness split up and began +covering the streets, house by house, while he passed on the word to +abandon the metabolism switch and go back to Mars-normal. + +Jake sent two other doctors to relieve them late in the evening. Things +were somewhat quieter at GHQ as Doc reported the events at Marconi. + +"Where's Dr. Ryan?" Jake asked at last. + +Doc exchanged glances with Harkness. "She isn't in the lab?" + +"Wasn't there an hour ago." + +Doc cursed himself for letting her go. With the knowledge that the radio +in the mike was disabled, she'd obviously grabbed the first chance to +report back. And with her had gone news of the only cure they had found. + +Jake took it as philosophically as he could, though it was a heavy blow +to his hopes. They spent half the night looking for her tractor, on the +chance that she might have gotten lost or broken down, but there was no +sign of it. + +She was waiting in the laboratory when he returned at dawn. Her face was +dirty and her uniform was a mess. But she was smiling. She got up to +greet him, holding out two large bottles. + +"Infant plasma--straight from Southport. And if you think I had it easy +lying my way in and out of the hospital, you're a fool, Dan Feldman. If +the man who took my place there hadn't been a native idiot, I never +would have gotten away with it." + +The things he had suspected could still be right, he realized. She could +have reported everything to the Lobby. It was a better explanation than +her vague account of bullying her way in and out. But she'd had a rough +drive, and he wanted the plasma. Curiously, he was glad to have her back +with him. He reached out a hand for the bottles. + +She put the bottle on the table and grabbed up a short-bladed knife. +"Not so fast," she cried. Her eyes were blazing now. "Dan Feldman, if +you touch those bottles until you've crawled across the floor on your +face and apologized for the way you treated me the last few days, I'll +cut your damned heart out." + +He shook his head, chuckling at the picture she made. There were times +when he could almost see why he'd married her. + +"All right, Chris," he gave in. "I'll be darned if I'll crawl, but +you've earned an apology. Okay?" + +She sighed uncertainly. Then she nodded and began changing for work. + + + + +XIV + +Immunity + + +They worked through the day in what seemed to be armed truce. There was +no coffee waiting for him when he awoke next, as he'd come to expect, +but he didn't comment. He went to where she was already working, +checking on the results of the plasma on the cultures. + +The response had been slower than with the mouse blood, but now the bugs +seemed to be dead. The filaments were destroyed, and there were no signs +of the big cells. It seemed to be a cure, at least in the culture +bottles. + +"We'll need volunteers," he decided. "There should be animals, but we +don't have any. At least this stuff isn't toxic. We need a natural +immune and someone infected. Two of each, so one can be treated and the +other used for a control. Makes four. Not enough to be sure, but it will +have to do." + +"Two," Chris corrected. "You're not infected, I am." + +"Two others," he agreed. "I'll get them from Jake." + +Most of GHQ was out on the street, but Doc found Jake inside the big +schoolroom where he enjoyed his early morning bracky and coffee. The +chief listened and agreed at once, turning to the others in the room. + +"Who's had the jumping headache? Okay, Swanee. Who never had it?" He +blinked in surprise as three men nodded out of the eight present. "I +guess you go, Tom." + +The two men stood up, tamping out their weeds, and went out with Doc. + +Chris had everything set up. They matched coins to decide who would be +treated. Doc noticed that Chris would get no plasma, while he was +scheduled for everything. He watched her prepare the culture and add the +accelerator that would speed development and make certain he and Tom +were infected, then let her inject it. + +That was all, except for the waiting. To keep conditions more closely +alike, they were to stay there until the tests were finished, not even +eating for fear of upsetting the conditions. Swanee dug out a pack of +worn cards and began to deal while Doc dug out some large pills to use +as chips. + +It was an hour later when the pain began. Doc had just won the pot of +fifty pills and opened his mouth for the expected gloating. He yelled as +an explosion seemed to go off inside his head. Even closing his mouth +was agony. + +A moment later, Tom began to sweat. It got worse, spreading to the whole +area of the back of the head and neck. Doc lay on the cot, envying Chris +and Swanee who had already been infected naturally. He longed +desperately for bracky, and had to keep reminding himself that no drugs +must upset the tests. It was the longest day he had ever spent, and he +began to doubt that he could get through it. He watched the little clock +move from one minute to nine over to half a minute and hung breathless +until it hit the nine. There was no question about whether the infection +had taken. Now they could dull the agony. + +Chris had the anodyne tablets already dissolved in water, and Swanee was +passing out three lighted bracky weeds. It took a few minutes for the +relief of the anodyne, and even that couldn't kill all the pain. But it +didn't matter by comparison. He sucked the weed, mashed it out and began +dealing the cards again. + +They had a plentiful supply of the anodyne and used it liberally during +the night. The test was a speeded-up simulation of the natural course of +the disease, where painkiller would take time to get for most people +here, but would then be used generously. + +Precisely at nine in the morning, Chris began to inject Swanee and Doc +with plasma. + +Now there was no thought of cards. They waited, trying to talk, but with +most of their attention on the clock. Doc had estimated that an hour +should be enough to show results, but it was hard to remember that an +hour was the guess as to the minimum time. + +He winced as Chris took a tiny bit of flesh from his neck. She went to +the other men, and then submitted to his work on herself. Then she began +preparing the slides. + +"Feldman," she read the name of the slide as she inserted it into the +microscope. Then her breath caught sharply. "Only dead cells!" + +It was the same for Swanee and Tom. Each had to look at his own slide +and have it explained before the results could be believed. But at last +Chris bent over her own slide. A minute later she glanced up, nodding. +"What it should be. It checks." + +Tom whooped and went out the door to notify Jake. There was only plasma +for some two hundred injections, but that should yield sufficient proof. +Once salvation was offered, there should be no trouble convincing the +people that blood donations from their children were worthwhile. + +Later, when the last of the plasma had been used, they could finally +relax. Chris slipped off her smock and dropped onto the cot. A tired +smile came onto her lips. "You're forgiven, Dan," she said. A moment +later she was obviously asleep. Doc meant to join her, but it was too +much effort. He leaned his head forward onto his arms, vaguely wondering +why she was calling off the feud. + +It was night outside when he awoke, and he was lying on the cot, though +he still felt cramped and strained. He stirred, groaning, and finally +realized that a hand was on his shoulder shaking him. He looked up to +see Jake above him. Chris was busy with the coffee maker. + +Jake slumped onto the cot beside Doc. "We took Southport," he announced. + +That knocked the sleep out of Doc's system. "You what?" + +"We took it, lock, stock and barrel. I figured the news of your cure +would put guts into the men, and it did. But we'd probably have taken it +anyhow. There wasn't anything to fight for there after Earth pulled out +and the plague really hit. Wilson mistook last-minute panic for fighting +spirit. The poor devils didn't have anything to fight about, once the +Lobby stopped goading them." + +Doc tried to assimilate the news. But once the surprise was gone, he +found it meant very little. Maybe his revolutionary zeal had cooled, +once the Lobby men had pulled out. "We'll need a lot more plasma than +there is in Southport," he said. + +"Not so much, maybe," Jake denied. "Doc, three of the men you injected +were shot down as runners. Your plasma's no good." + +"It takes time to work, Jake. I told you there might be a case or two +that would be too close to the edge. Three is more than I expected; but +it's not impossible." + +"There was plenty of time. They blew after we got back from Southport." +Jack dropped his hand on Doc's shoulder, and his face softened. +"Harkness tested every man you injected. He finished half an hour ago. +Five showed dead bugs. The rest of them weren't helped at all." + +Doc fumbled for a weed, trying to think. But his thoughts refused to +focus. "Five!" + +"Five out of two hundred. That's about average. And what about Tom? He +was jumping around after the test last night, telling how you'd cured +him, how he'd seen the dead bugs; but he never had the jumping headache, +and you never gave him the plasma! He's got dead bugs, though. Harkness +tested him." + +Doc let his realization of his own idiocy sink in until he could believe +it. Jake was right. Tom had never been treated, yet Chris had reported +dead bugs. They'd all been so ready to believe in miracles that no one +had been able to think straight after the long wait. + +"There was a bump on his neck--a small one," he said slowly. "Jake, he +must have caught it, even if he seemed immune. If he was taking anodyne +anyway for something--or unconscious--" + +"He was up in Northport six years ago for a kidney operation," Jake +admitted doubtfully. "We had to chip in to pay for it. But you still +didn't treat him, and he's cured. Face it, Doc, that plasma is no good +inside the body." + +His hand tightened on Doc's shoulder again. "We're not blaming you. We +don't judge a man here except by what he is. Maybe the stuff helps a +little. We'll go on using it when we get it; tell everybody you were a +mite optimistic, so they'll figure it's a gamble, but have a little hope +left. And you keep trying. Something cured it in Tom. Now you find out +what." + +Doc watched him go out numbly, and turned to Chris. + +"It can't be right," she said shakily. "You and Swanee were cured. Maybe +it was the accelerator. It had to be something." + +"You didn't have the accelerator," he accused. + +"No, and I've still got live bugs. I was never supposed to be cured, so +I expected to see just what I saw. How I missed the fact that Tom should +have been like me, I don't know. Damn it, oh, damn it!" + +He's never seen her cry before, except in fury. But she mastered it +almost at once, shaking tears out of her eyes. "All right. Plasma works +in a bottle but not in an adult body. Maybe something works in the body +but not in a bottle." + +"Maybe. And maybe some people are just naturally immune after it reaches +a certain stage. Maybe we ran into coincidence." + +But he didn't believe that, any more than she did. The answer had to be +in the room. He'd taken a massive dose of the disease and been cured in +a few hours. + +Outside the room, the war went on, drawing toward a close. The supposed +partial cure was good propaganda, if nothing else, and Jake was widening +his territory steadily. There was only token resistance against him. He +had the Southport shuttles now to cover huge areas in a hurry. But +inside the room, the battle was less successful. It wasn't the +accelerator. It wasn't the tablets of anodyne. They even tried sweeping +the floor and using the dust without results. + +Then another test in the room, made with four volunteers Jake selected, +yielded complete cures after injections with plain salt water in place +of plasma. + +The plague speeded up again. About four people out of a hundred now +seemed to have caught the disease and cured themselves. They accounted +for what faith was left in Doc's plasma and gave some unfounded hope to +the others. + +Northport fell a week later, putting the whole planet in rebel hands. + +Jake returned, wearier than ever. He'd proved to be one of the natural +immunes, but the weight of the campaign that could only end in a defeat +by the plague left him no room to rejoice in his personal fortune. + +This time he looked completely defeated. And a moment later, Doc saw why +as Jake flipped a flimsy sheet onto the table. It bore the seals of +Space and Medical Lobbies. + +Jake pointed upwards. "The war rockets are there, all right. We knew +they'd come. Now all they want for calling them off is our surrender and +your cure. If they don't get both, they'll blow the planet to bits. We +have two days." + +The rockets could be seen clearly with binoculars. There were more than +enough to destroy all life on the planet. Maybe they'd be used +eventually, anyhow, since the Lobbies wanted no more rebellion. But with +a cure for the plague, he might have bought them off. + +Chris stood beside him, looking as if it were a bitter pill for her, +too. She'd risked herself in the hands of the enemy, had cooperated with +him in everything she'd been taught to oppose, and had worked like a +dog. Now the Lobbies seemed to forget her as a useless tool. They were +falling back on a raw power play and forgetting any earlier schemes. + +"Maybe they'd hold off for a while if I agreed to go to them and share +all my ideas, specimens and notes," he said at last. "Do you think your +Lobby would settle for that, Chris?" + +"I don't know, Dan. I've stopped thinking their way." She seemed almost +apologetic for the admission. + +He dropped an arm over her shoulder and turned with her back to the +laboratory. "Okay, then we've got to find a miracle. We've got two days +ahead of us. At least we can try." + +But he knew he was lying to himself. There wasn't anything he could +think of to try. + + + + +XV + +Decision + + +Two days was never enough time for a miracle. Doc decided as he packed +his notes into a small bag and put it beside his bundle of personal +belongings. He glanced around the room for the last time, and managed a +grin at Jake's gloomy expression. + +"Maybe I can bluff them, or maybe they'll string along for a while," he +said. "Anyhow, now that they've agreed to take me and my notes in place +of the cure we're fresh out of, I've got to be on that shuttle when it +goes back to their men at orbital station." + +Jake nodded. "I don't like selling friends down the river, Doc. But it +wouldn't do you any more good to blow up with the planet, I reckon. They +won't call off the war rockets when they do get you, of course. But +maybe they won't use them, except as a threat to put the Lobbies back +in, stronger than ever." + +He stuck out one of his awkwardly shaped hands, clapped the aspirator +over his face and hurried out. Doc picked up his bags and went toward +the little tractor where Lou was waiting to drive him and Chris back +toward Southport and the shuttle rocket that would be landing for them. +They hadn't mentioned Chris in their demands, but her father must expect +her to return. + +After they had him, he'd be on his own. His best course was probably to +insist on talking only to Ryan at Medical Lobby, and then being +completely honest. The room here would be kept sealed, in case the +Lobby wanted to investigate where he had failed. And his notes were +honest, which was something that could usually be determined. Chris +could testify to that, anyhow, since she'd kept a lot of them for him. + +At best, there would be a chance for some compromise and perhaps some +clue for them that might eventually end the plague. They had enough men +to work on it, and billions in equipment. At worst, he should gain a +little time. + +"Cheer up, Chris," he told her as he climbed through the little airlock. +"Maybe Harkness will turn up the cure before our negotiations break +down. He has the whole of Northport Hospital to play with. They haven't +tried to chase him out of there yet. After all, we almost found +something with no equipment except wild imaginations." + +She shook her head as the tractor began moving. "Shut up! I've got +enough trouble without your coming down with logorrhea. Don't be a +fool." + +"Why change now?" he asked her. "Everything I've done has been because I +am a fool. I guess my luck lasted longer than I could expect. And I'm +still fool enough to think that the solution has to turn up eventually. +We know it has to be in that room. Damn it, we must know it--if we could +only think straight now." + +She reached over and touched his hand, but made no comment. They had +been over that statement of desperation too many times already. But it +kept nagging at him--something in the room, something in the room! +Something so common that nobody noticed it! + +They passed a crowd chasing down a runner. Something in that room could +have saved the unlucky man. It could have saved Mars, perhaps. + +He growled for the hundredth time, cursing his fatigue-numbed mind. Too +little sleep, too much coffee and bracky.... + +He reached for the package of weed, realizing that he would miss it on +Earth, if he ever got there. Like everything here on the planet, he'd +begun by detesting it and wound up finding it the thing he wanted to +keep forever. He lighted the bracky and sat smoking, watching Lou drive. +When the first was finished, he lighted another from the butt. + +She put out a hand and took it away. "Please, Dan. I can stand the +stuff, but I'll never like it, and the tractor's stuffy enough already. +I've taken enough of it. And it keeps reminding me of our test--the +three of you stinking up the place, puffing and blowing that out, while +I couldn't even get a breath of air...." + +She was getting logorrhea herself now and-- + +The answer finally hit him! He jerked around, making a grab for Lou's +shoulder, motioning for the man to head back. + +"Bracky--it has to be! Chris, that's it. Jake picked out the second +group of men from his friends--and they are all cronies because they +hang around so much in their so-called smoking room. The first time, it +killed the bugs for all of us who smoked--and it didn't work for you +because you never learned the habit." + +Lou had the tractor turned and the rheostat all the way to the floor. + +She was sitting up now, but she wasn't fully satisfied. "The percentage +of immunes seems about right. But why do some of the smokers get the +disease while some don't?" + +"Why not? It depends on whether they pick up the habit before or after +the disease gets started. Tom must have got his while he was in +Northport. They wouldn't let him smoke there--if he had the habit +before, for that matter." + +She found no fault with that. He twisted it back and forth in his mind, +trying to find a fault. There seemed to be none. The only trouble was +that they couldn't send a message that bracky was the cure and hope that +Earth would prove it true. No polite note of apology would do after +that. They had to be sure. Too many other ideas had proved wrong +already. + +Jake saw them coming and came running toward the laboratory, but Lou +stopped the tractor before it reached the building and let the older man +in. + +"Get me a dozen men who have the plague. I want the worst cases you +have, and ones that Harkness tested himself," Doc ordered. "And then +start praying that the cure we've got works fast." + +Chris was at the electron mike at once, but one of her hands reached out +for the weed. She began puffing valiantly, making sick faces. Now other +men began coming in, their faces struggling to find hope, but not daring +to believe yet. Jake followed them. + +"We'll test at ten-minute intervals. That will be about two hours for +the last from the group," Doc decided. One of the doctors Harkness had +brought to the villages was busy cutting tiny sections from the lumps on +the men's necks, while Chris ran them through the microscope to make +sure the bugs were still alive. The regular optical mike was strong +enough for that. + +Doc handed each man a bracky weed, with instructions to keep smoking, no +matter how sick it made him. + +There were no results at the end of ten minutes when the first test was +made. The second, at the end of twenty minutes, was still infected with +live bugs. At the half-hour, Chris frowned. + +"I can't be sure--take a look, Dan." + +He bent over, moving the slide to examine another spot. "I think so. The +next one should tell." + +There was no doubt about the fourth test. The bugs were dead, without a +single exception that they could find. + +One by one, the men were tested and went storming out, shouting the +news. For a minute, the gathering crowd was skeptical, remembering the +other failures. Then, abruptly, men were screaming, crying and fighting +for the precious bracky, like the legions of the damned grabbing for +lottery tickets when the prize was a passport to paradise. + +Jake swore as he moved toward the door. "We're low on bracky here. Have +to get a supply from Edison, I guess, and cart it to the shuttle. Enough +for a sample, and to make them want more. It'll be tough, but we'll get +it there in time--by the time the shuttle should be picking you up. Doc, +you've won our war! From now on, if Earth wants to keep her population +up, we'll be a free planet!" + +Chris turned slowly from the microscope, holding a slide in her hands. +"My bugs," she said unbelievingly. "Dan, they're dead!" + +Jake patted her shoulder. "That makes it perfect, girl. Now come on. +We've got to start celebrating a victory!" + + * * * * * + +It was the general feeling of most of the heads of the villages when +they met the next day in Southport, using the courtroom that had been +presided over so long by Judge Ben Wilson. It was victory, and to the +victor belonged the spoils. The bracky had gone out to Earth on a +converted war rocket that could make the trip in less than two weeks, +and one packet had been specially labeled for Captain Everts. But Earth +had already confirmed the cure. The small amounts of the herb found in +the botanical collections had been enough to satisfy all doubts. + +Harkness, Chris and Doc had been fighting against the desire to rob +Earth blind that filled most of the men here for hours now. Now they had +the backing of Jake and Ben Wilson. And now finally they leaned back, +sensing that the argument had been won. + +Bargaining was all right in its place, but it had no place in affairs of +life and death such as this. They had to see that Earth received all the +bracky she needed. It was only right to charge a fair price for it, but +they couldn't restrict it by withholding or overcharging. And they could +still gain their ends without blackmail. + +Martian alkaloids were tricky things, and bracky smoke contained a +number of them. It would take Earth at least ten years to discover and +synthesize the right one--and it would still probably cost more than it +would to import the weed from Mars. As long as the source of that weed +was here, and in the hands of the colonials, there would be no danger of +Earth's bombing the planet. + +Harkness got up to underscore a point Wilson had made. "The plague lived +a million years, and it won't disappear now. The jumping headache, or +Selznick's migraine, is unpleasant enough to make us reasonably sure +that there will be a steady consumption of the weed. Our problem will be +to keep the children from using too much of it, probably." He pulled a +weed out and lighted it, puckering his face as the smoke bit his +tongue. "I'm told that this gets to be an enjoyable habit. If I can +believe that, surely you can believe me when I say we don't have to +bargain with lives." + +The village men were human, and most of them could remember the strain +they had been under when they expected those they loved to die at any +hour. It had made them crave vengeance, but now as they had a chance to +reexamine it, they began to find it harder to impose the horror of any +such threat on others. The final vote was almost unanimous. + +Doc listened as they wrangled over the wording of the message to Earth, +feeling disconnected from it. He passed Chris a bracky and lighted it +for her. She took it automatically, smiling as the smoke hit her lungs. +It was one thing they had in common now, at least. + +Ben Wilson finally read the message. + +"To the people of Earth, greetings! + +"On behalf of the free people of Mars, I have the honor to announce that +this planet hereby declares itself a sovereign and independent world. We +shall continue to regard Earth as our mother, and to consider the health +and welfare of her people in no way second to our own in matters which +affect both planets. We trust that Earth will share this feeling of +mutual friendship. We trust that all strains of hostility will be ended. +The advantages to each from peaceful commerce make any course other than +the most cordial of relations unthinkable. + +"We shall consider proof of such friendship an order by Earth to all +rockets circling this planet that they shall deliver themselves safely +into our hands, in order that we may begin converting them to peaceful +purposes for the trade that is to come. In turn, we pledge that all +efforts will be made to ensure a prompt delivery of those products most +in demand, including the curative bracky plant." + +He turned to Doc then. "You want to sign it, Dr. Feldman? Make it as +acting president or something, until we can get around to voting you +into permanent office." + +"You and Jake fight over the job," Doc told him. "No, Ben, I mean it." + +He got up and moved out into the outer room, where he could avoid the +stares of amazement that were turned to him. He'd never asked for the +honor, and he didn't want it. + +Chris came with him. Her face was shocked and something was slowly +draining out of it as he looked at her. + +"Forget it, Chris," he said. "You're going back to Earth. There is +nothing for you here." + +She hadn't quite given up. "There could be, Dan. You know that." + +"No. No, Chris, I don't think there ever can be. You can't find a man +strong enough to rule who'll be weak enough to let you rule in his +place. It didn't work on Earth, and it won't work here. Forget the +dreams you had of what could be done with a new planet. Those are the +dreams that made a mess of the old one." + +"I'll be back," she told him. "Some day I'll be back." + +He shook his head again. "No. You wouldn't like what you find here. +Freedom is heady stuff, but you have to have a taste for it. You can't +acquire a fondness for it secondhand. And for a while, there's going to +be freedom here. Besides, once you get back to Earth, you'll forget what +happened here." + +She sighed at last. For the first time since he had known her, she +seemed to give in completely. And for that brief moment, he loved what +she could have been, but never would be. + +"All right, Dan," she said quietly. "I can't fight you. I never could, I +see now. I'll take the rocket back. What are you going to do?" + +He hadn't bothered to think, but he knew the answer. "Research. What +else?" + +There would be a lot of research done here. It had been suppressed too +long, and had piled up a back-pressure that would have to be relieved. +And from that research, he suspected, would come the end of the stable +oligarchy of Earth. It could never stand against the changes that would +be pouring out of Mars. + +She put her hands on his shoulders and moved forward to kiss him. He +bent down to meet her, and found her eyes were wet. Maybe his were, too. +Then she broke free. + +"You're a fool, Dan Feldman," she whispered, and began moving down the +hallway and out of the council hall of Mars. + +Doc Feldman nodded slowly as he let her go. He was a fool. He had always +been a fool, and always would be. And that was why he could never take +over leadership here. Fools and idealists should never govern a world. +It took practical men such as Jake to do that. + +But the practical men needed the foolish idealists, too. And maybe for a +time here on Mars their kind of men and his kind of fools could make one +more stab at the ancient puzzle of freedom. + +Outside the war rockets of Earth began landing quietly on the free soil +of Mars. + + +[Transcriber's Note: The following errors in the original have been +corrected in this version: + +Page 5: 'and there was' to 'and there were' + +Page 9: 'ideopathic gastroentiritis' to 'idiopathic gastroenteritis' + +Page 29: 'The cheapness of snythetics' to 'The cheapness of synthetics' + +Page 42: 'huband's' to 'husband's' + +Page 43: 'Southpost' to 'Southport' + +Page 47: 'laywer' to 'lawyer' + +Page 50: 'in a can' to 'to a can' + +Page 118: 'Selnick's' to 'Selznick's' + +] + + * * * * * + + +ANDRE NORTON + +051615 #Beast Master# 75c + +092668 #Catseye# 75c + +123117 #The Crossroads of Time# 60c + +137950 #Dark Piper# 60c + +139923 #Daybreak, 2250 A.D.# 75c + +142323 #Defiant Agents# 75c + +166694 #Dread Companion# 75c + +223651 #Exiles of the Stars# 95c + +272260 #Galactic Derelict# 75c + +337014 #High Sorcery# 75c + +354217 #Huon of the Horn# 60c + +358408 #Ice Crown# 75c + +415513 #Judgment on Janus# 75c + +436725 #Key Out of Time# 75c + +471615 #The Last Planet# 60c + +492363 #Lord of Thunder# 75c + +541011 #Moon of Three Rings# 75c + +577510 #Night of Masks# 60c + +634105 #Operation Time Search# 60c + +638213 #Ordeal In Otherwhere# 60c + +668319 #Plague Ship# 60c + +675553 #Postmarked the Stars# 75c + +_#Available wherever paperbacks are sold or use this coupon.#_ + + * * * * * + +#ace books#, (Dept. 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