diff options
| author | Roger Frank <rfrank@pglaf.org> | 2025-10-15 02:47:35 -0700 |
|---|---|---|
| committer | Roger Frank <rfrank@pglaf.org> | 2025-10-15 02:47:35 -0700 |
| commit | c5f573ed62f6e04f8543677b63068ed7d39bd8d1 (patch) | |
| tree | 898c645f5ab1016b9364bda31162bef313de5027 /29448-h | |
Diffstat (limited to '29448-h')
| -rw-r--r-- | 29448-h/29448-h.htm | 8327 | ||||
| -rw-r--r-- | 29448-h/images/i006.jpg | bin | 0 -> 87393 bytes | |||
| -rw-r--r-- | 29448-h/images/i007.jpg | bin | 0 -> 90464 bytes | |||
| -rw-r--r-- | 29448-h/images/i041.jpg | bin | 0 -> 98262 bytes | |||
| -rw-r--r-- | 29448-h/images/i070.jpg | bin | 0 -> 85052 bytes | |||
| -rw-r--r-- | 29448-h/images/icover.jpg | bin | 0 -> 85043 bytes |
6 files changed, 8327 insertions, 0 deletions
diff --git a/29448-h/29448-h.htm b/29448-h/29448-h.htm new file mode 100644 index 0000000..f4ded6d --- /dev/null +++ b/29448-h/29448-h.htm @@ -0,0 +1,8327 @@ +<!DOCTYPE html PUBLIC "-//W3C//DTD XHTML 1.0 Strict//EN" + "http://www.w3.org/TR/xhtml1/DTD/xhtml1-strict.dtd"> +<html xmlns="http://www.w3.org/1999/xhtml" xml:lang="en" lang="en"> + <head> + <meta http-equiv="Content-Type" content="text/html;charset=iso-8859-1" /> + <meta http-equiv="Content-Style-Type" content="text/css" /> + <title> + The Project Gutenberg eBook of Pariah Planet, by William Fitzgerald Jenkins. + </title> + <style type="text/css"> +body { + margin-left: 10%; + margin-right: 10%; +} + +h1,h2,h3,h4,h5,h6 { + text-align: center; + clear: both; +} + +p { + margin-top: .75em; + text-align: justify; + margin-bottom: .75em; +} + +hr { + width: 15%; + margin-top: 2em; + margin-bottom: 2em; + margin-left: auto; + margin-right: auto; + clear: both; + color: #BDBDBD; +} + +hr.invisible { + margin: 1.5em; + visibility: hidden; +} + +.pagenum { /* uncomment the next line for invisible page numbers */ + /* visibility: hidden; */ + position: absolute; + left: 95%; + font-size: smaller; + text-align: right; + color: #C0C0C0; +} + +.center {text-align: center;} + +.image {text-align: center; margin: auto;} + +h2.chapter {font-size: 145%; padding-bottom: 0.75em;} + +.tnote { + border-style: double; + border-width: 6px; + padding: 1em; + background: #FFFFFF; + text-align: left; + margin-left: 15%; + margin-right: 15%; + font-size: 95%; + border-color: #000000; +} + +.footnote {margin-left: 10%; margin-right: 10%; font-size: 1em;} + +.footnote .label {position: absolute; right: 83%; text-align: right;} + +.fnanchor { + vertical-align: super; + font-size: .8em; + text-decoration: none; +} + +.minispace {margin-bottom: 1em;} + +.microspace {margin-bottom: .5em;} + +.nanospace {padding-bottom: .25em;} + +.border2 { + border-style: solid; + border-width: 2px; + background: #FFFFFF; + border-color: #000000; + margin: auto; +} + +.ltext {font-size: 110%; font-weight: bold; margin-bottom: 1em;} + </style> + </head> +<body> + + +<pre> + +The Project Gutenberg EBook of Pariah Planet, by Murray Leinster + +This eBook is for the use of anyone anywhere at no cost and with +almost no restrictions whatsoever. You may copy it, give it away or +re-use it under the terms of the Project Gutenberg License included +with this eBook or online at www.gutenberg.org + + +Title: Pariah Planet + +Author: Murray Leinster + +Release Date: July 18, 2009 [EBook #29448] + +Language: English + +Character set encoding: ISO-8859-1 + +*** START OF THIS PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK PARIAH PLANET *** + + + + +Produced by Greg Weeks, Meredith Bach, and the Online +Distributed Proofreading Team at https://www.pgdp.net + + + + + + +</pre> + + +<div class="microspace"> </div> +<div class="tnote"> +<h3>Transcriber's Note:</h3> + +This etext was first published in Amazing Stories, July 1961. Extensive research did not uncover any evidence that the U.S. copyright on this publication was renewed. +</div> +<div class="minispace"> </div> +<div class="minispace"> </div> +<div class="image"><img src="images/icover.jpg" width="360" height="500" alt="cover" title="" /></div> +<div class="minispace"> </div> +<div class="minispace"> </div> + +<div class="image"> +<img src="images/i006.jpg" width="600" height="334" alt="" title="" /> +</div> +<div class="minispace"> </div> + +<h2>COMPLETE BOOK-LENGTH NOVEL</h2> + +<h1>PARIAH PLANET</h1> + +<h2>By MURRAY LEINSTER<br /> +<small>Illustrated by FINLAY</small></h2> + +<div class="microspace"> </div> +<div class="ltext center"><i>When the blue plague appeared on the planet of Dara, +fear struck nearby worlds.<br /> + The fear led to a hate that +threatened the lives of millions and endangered the +Galactic peace.</i></div> + + +<div class="microspace"> </div> +<hr /> +<h2 class="chapter">CHAPTER I</h2> + + +<p>The little Med Ship came out<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_6" id="Page_6">[6]</a></span> +of overdrive and the stars +were strange and the Milky Way +seemed unfamiliar. Which, of +course, was because the Milky +Way and the local Cepheid marker-stars +were seen from an unaccustomed +angle and a not-yet-commonplace +pattern of varying +magnitudes. But Calhoun grunted +in satisfaction. There was a +banded sun off to port, which was<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_7" id="Page_7">[7]</a></span> +good. A breakout at no more than +sixty light-hours from one's destination +wasn't bad, in a strange +sector of the Galaxy and after +three light-years of journeying +blind.</p> + +<div class="microspace"> </div> +<div class="image"> +<img src="images/i007.jpg" width="400" height="573" alt="" title="" /> +</div> +<div class="minispace"> </div> + + +<p>"Arise and shine, Murgatroyd,"<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_8" id="Page_8">[8]</a></span> +said Calhoun. "Comb +your whiskers. Get set to astonish +the natives!"</p> + +<p>A sleepy, small, shrill voice +said;</p> + +<p>"<i>Chee!</i>"</p> + +<p>Murgatroyd the <i>tormal</i> came +crawling out of his small cubbyhole. +He blinked at Calhoun.</p> + +<p>"We're due to land shortly," +Calhoun observed. "You'll impress +the local inhabitants. I'll +be unpopular. According to the +records, there's been no Med Ship +inspection here for twelve standard +years. And that was practically +no inspection, to judge by +the report."</p> + +<p>Murgatroyd said;</p> + +<p>"<i>Chee-chee!</i>"</p> + +<p>He began to make his toilet, +first licking his right-hand +whiskers and then his left. Then +he stood up and shook himself +and looked interestedly at Calhoun. +<i>Tormals</i> are companionable +small animals. They are +charmed when somebody speaks +to them. They find great, deep +satisfaction in imitating the actions +of humans, as parrots and +mynahs and parrokets imitate +human speech. But <i>tormals</i> have +certain useful, genetically transmitted +talents which make them +much more valuable than mere +companions or pets.</p> + +<p>Calhoun got a light-reading +for the banded sun. It could +hardly be an accurate measure +of distance, but it was a guide. +He said;</p> + +<p>"Hold on to something, Murgatroyd!"</p> + +<p>Calhoun threw the overdrive +switch and the Med Ship flicked +back into that questionable state +of being in which velocities of +some hundreds of times that of +light are possible. The sensation +of going into overdrive was unpleasant. +A moment later, the +sensation of coming out was no +less so. Calhoun had experienced +it often enough, and still didn't +like it.</p> + +<p>The sun Weald burned huge +and terrible in space. It was +close, now. Its disk covered half +a degree of arc.</p> + +<p>"Very neat," observed Calhoun. +"Weald Three is our port, +Murgatroyd. The plane of the +ecliptic would be—Hm...."</p> + +<p>He swung the outside electron +telescope, picked up a nearby +bright object, enlarged its image +to show details, and checked it +against the local star-pilot. He +calculated a moment. The distance +was too short for even the +briefest of overdrive hops, but +it would take time to get there +on solar-system drive.</p> + +<p>He thumbed down the com<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_9" id="Page_9">[9]</a></span>municator-button +and spoke into +a microphone.</p> + +<p>"Med Ship Aesclipus Twenty +reporting arrival and asking coördinates +for landing. Purpose +of landing, planetary health inspection. +Our mass is fifty tons +standard. We should arrive at a +landing position in something +under four hours. Repeat. Med +Ship Aesclipus Twenty ..."</p> + +<p>He finished the regular second +transmission and made coffee +for himself while he waited for +an answer. Murgatroyd wanted +a cup of coffee too. Murgatroyd +adored coffee. He held a tiny cup +in a furry small paw and sipped +gingerly at the hot liquid.</p> + +<hr class="invisible" /> + +<p>A voice came out of the communicator;</p> + +<p>"<i>Aesclipus Twenty, repeat your +identification!</i>"</p> + +<p>Calhoun went to the control-board.</p> + +<p>"Aesclipus Twenty," he said +patiently, "is a Med Ship, sent +by the Interstellar Medical Service +to make a planetary health inspection +on Weald. Check with +your public health authorities. +This is the first Med Ship visit +in twelve standard years, I believe, +which is inexcusable. But +your health authorities will know +all about it. Check with them."</p> + +<p>The voice said truculently;</p> + +<p>"<i>What was your last port?</i>"</p> + +<p>Calhoun named it. This was +not his home sector, but Sector +Twelve had gotten into a very +bad situation. Some of its planets +had gone unvisited for as long as +twenty years, and twelve between +inspections was almost common-place. +Other sectors had been +called on to help it catch up. Calhoun +was one of the loaned Med +Ship men, and because of the +emergency he'd been given a list +of half a dozen planets to be inspected +one after another, instead +of reporting back to sector +headquarters after each visit. +He'd had minor troubles before +with landing-grid operators in +Sector Twelve.</p> + +<p>So he was very patient. He +named the planet last inspected, +the one from which he'd set out +for Weald Three. The voice from +the communicator said sharply;</p> + +<p>"<i>What port before that?</i>"</p> + +<p>Calhoun named the one before +the last.</p> + +<p>"<i>Don't drive any closer,</i>" said +the voice harshly, "<i>or you'll be +destroyed!</i>"</p> + +<p>Calhoun said coldly;</p> + +<p>"Now you listen to me, friend! +I'm from the Interstellar Medical +Service! You get in touch +with planetary health services +immediately! Remind them of +the Interstellar Medical Inspection +Agreement, signed on Tralee +two hundred and forty standard +years ago. Remind them that if +they do not cooperate in medical +inspection that I can put your +planet under quarantine and your<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_10" id="Page_10">[10]</a></span> +space commerce will be cut off +like that! No ship will be +cleared for Weald from any other +planet in the galaxy until there +has been a health inspection! +Things have pretty well gone to +pot so far as the Med Service in +this sector is concerned, but +we're trying to straighten it out. +You have twenty minutes to clear +this and then, I'm coming in. If +I'm not landed, a quarantine goes +on! Tell your health authorities +that!"</p> + +<p>Silence. Calhoun clicked off +and poured himself another cup +of coffee. Murgatroyd held out +his cup for a refill. Calhoun gave +it to him.</p> + +<p>"I hate to put on an official +hat, Murgatroyd," he said annoyedly, +"but there are some people +who won't have any other +way."</p> + +<p>Murgatroyd said "<i>Chee!</i>" and +sipped at his cup.</p> + +<hr class="invisible" /> + +<p>Calhoun checked the course of +the Med Ship. It bored on through +space. There were tiny noises +from the communicator. There +were whisperings and rustlings +and the occasional strange and +sometimes beautiful musical +notes whose origin is yet obscure, +but which, since they are +carried by electromagnetic radiation +of wildly varying wave-lengths, +are not likely to be the +fabled music of the spheres. He +waited.</p> + +<hr class="invisible" /> + +<p>In fifteen minutes a different +voice came from the speaker.</p> + +<p>"<i>Med Ship Aesclipus! Med +Ship Aesclipus!</i>"</p> + +<p>Calhoun answered and the +voice said anxiously;</p> + +<p>"<i>'Sorry about the challenge, +but we have the blueskin problem +always with us. We have to +be extremely careful! Will you +come in, please?</i>"</p> + +<p>"I'm on my way," said Calhoun.</p> + +<p>"<i>The planetary health authorities,</i>" +said the voice, more anxiously +still, "<i>are very anxious to +be coöperative. We need Med +Service help! We lose a lot of +sleep over the blueskins! Could +you tell us the name of the last +Med Ship to land here, and its +inspector, and when that inspection +was made? We want to look +up the record of the event to be +able to assist you in every possible +way.</i>"</p> + +<p>"He's lying," Calhoun told +Murgatroyd, "but he's more +scared than hostile."</p> + +<p>He picked up the order-folio on +Weald Three. He gave the information +about the last Med Ship +visit. He clicked off.</p> + +<p>"What?" he asked, "is a blueskin?"</p> + +<p>He'd read the folio on Weald, +of course, but as the ship swam +onward through emptiness he +went through it again. The last +medical inspection had been only +perfunctory. Twelve years earlier<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_11" id="Page_11">[11]</a></span>—instead +of three—a Med Ship +had landed on Weald. There had +been official conferences with +health officials. There was a report +on the birth-rate, the death-rate, +the anomaly-rate, and a +breakdown of all reported communicable +diseases. But that was +all. There were no special comments +and no overall picture.</p> + +<p>Presently Calhoun found the +word in a Sector dictionary, +where words of only local usage +were to be found.</p> + +<p>"Blueskin; Colloquial term for +a person recovered from a +plague which left large patches +of blue pigment irregularly +distributed over the body. Especially, +inhabitants of Dara. +The condition is said to be +caused by a chronic, non-fatal +form of Dara plague and has +been said to be non-infectious, +though this is not certain. The +etiology of Dara plague has +not fully been worked out. The +blueskin condition is hereditary +but not a genetic modification, +as markings appear in +non-Mendellian distributions...."</p> + +<p>Calhoun puzzled over it. Nobody +could have read the entire +Sector directory, even with unlimited +leisure during travel between +solar systems. Calhoun +hadn't tried. But now he went +laboriously through indices and +cross-references while the ship +continued travel onward. He +found no other reference to blueskins. +He looked up Dara. It was +listed as an inhabited planet, +some four hundred years colonized, +with a landing-grid and at +the time the main notice was +written out, a flourishing interstellar +commerce. But there was +a memo, evidently added to the +entry in some change of editions.</p> + +<p>"Since plague, special license +from Med Service is required for +landing."</p> + +<p>That was all. Absolutely all.</p> + +<p>The communicator said suavely;</p> + +<p>"<i>Med Ship Aesclipus Twenty! +Come in on vision, please!</i>"</p> + +<p>Calhoun went to the control-board +and threw on vision.</p> + +<p>"Well, what now?" he demanded.</p> + +<p>His screen lighted. A bland +face looked out at him.</p> + +<p>"<i>We have—ah—verified your +statements,</i>" said the third voice +from Weald. "<i>Just one more item. +Are you alone in your ship?</i>"</p> + +<p>"Of course," said Calhoun, +frowning.</p> + +<p>"<i>Quite alone?</i>" insisted the +voice.</p> + +<p>"Obviously!" said Calhoun.</p> + +<p>"<i>No other living creature?</i>" insisted +the voice again.</p> + +<p>"Of—Oh!" said Calhoun annoyedly. +He called over his shoulder. +"Murgatroyd! Come here!"</p> + +<p>Murgatroyd hopped to his lap +and gazed interestedly at the +screen. The bland face changed<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_12" id="Page_12">[12]</a></span> +remarkably. The voice changed +even more.</p> + +<p>"<i>Very good!</i>" it said. "<i>Very, +very good! Blueskins do not have</i> +tormals! <i>You are Med Service! +By all means come in. Your coördinates +will be ...</i>"</p> + +<p>Calhoun wrote them down. He +clicked off the communicator +again and growled to Murgatroyd;</p> + +<p>"So I might have been a blueskin, +eh? And you're my passport, +because only Med Ships +have members of your tribe +aboard! What the hell's the matter, +Murgatroyd? They act like +they think somebody's trying to +get down on their planet with a +load of plague-germs!"</p> + +<p>He grumbled to himself for +minutes. The life of a Med Ship +man is not exactly a sinecure, at +best. It means long periods in +empty space in overdrive, which +is absolute and deadly tedium. +Then two or three days aground, +checking official documents and +statistics, and asking questions +to see how many of the newest +medical techniques have reached +this planet or that, and the supplying +of information about such +as have not arrived. Then lifting +out to space for long periods of +tedium, to repeat the process +somewhere else. Med Ships carry +only one man because two could +not stand the close contact without +quarreling with each other. +But Med Ships do carry <i>tormals</i>, +like Murgatroyd, and a <i>tormal</i> +and a man can get along indefinitely, +like a man and a dog. It +is a highly unequal friendship, +but it seems to be satisfactory +to both.</p> + +<p>Calhoun was very much annoyed +with the way the Med +Service had been operated in +Sector Twelve. He was one of +many men at work to correct the +results of incompetence in directing +Med Service in the +twelfth sector. But it is always +disheartening to have to labor at +making up for somebody else's +blundering, when there is so +much new work that needs to be +done.</p> + +<p>The condition shown by the +landing-grid suspicions was a +case in point. Blueskins were people +who inherited a splotchy skin-pigmentation +from other people +who'd survived a plague. Weald +plainly maintained a one-planet +quarantine against them. But a +quarantine is normally an emergency +measure. The Med Service +should have taken over, wiped +out the need for a quarantine, and +then lifted it. It hadn't been done.</p> + +<p>Calhoun fumed to himself.</p> + +<hr class="invisible" /> + +<p>The world of Weald Three +grew brighter and brighter +and became a disk. The disk had +ice-caps and a reasonable proportion +of land and water surface. +The Med Ship decelerated, and +voices notified observation from<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_13" id="Page_13">[13]</a></span> +the surface, and the little craft +came to a stop some five planetary +diameters out from solidity. +The landing-field force-field +locked on to it, and its descent +began.</p> + +<p>The business of landing was +all very familiar, from the blue +rim which appeared at the limb +of the planet from one diameter +out, to the singular flowing-apart +of the surface features as the +ship sank still lower. There was +the circular landing-grid, rearing +skyward for nearly a mile. It +could let down interstellar liners +from emptiness and lift them out +to emptiness again, with great +convenience and economy for everyone.</p> + +<p>It landed the Med Ship in its +center, and there were officials to +greet Calhoun, and he knew in +advance the routine part of his +visit. There would be an interview +with the planet's chief executive, +by whatever title he was +called. There would be a banquet. +Murgatroyd would be petted by +everybody. There would be painful +efforts to impress Calhoun +with the splendid conduct of public +health matters on Weald. He +would be told much scandal. He +might find one man, somewhere, +who passionately labored to advance +the welfare of his fellow +humans by finding out how to +keep them well, or failing that +how to make them well when they +got sick. And in two days, or +three, Calhoun would be escorted +back to the landing-grid, and +lifted out to space, and he'd spend +long empty days in overdrive +and land somewhere else to do +the whole thing all over again.</p> + +<p>It all happened exactly as he +expected, with one exception. +Every human being he met on +Weald wanted to talk about blueskins. +Blueskins and the idea of +blueskins obsessed everyone. Calhoun +listened without asking +questions until he had the picture +of what blueskins meant to the +people who talked of them. Then +he knew there would be no use +asking questions at random. Nobody +mentioned ever having seen +a blueskin. Nobody mentioned a +specific event in which a blueskin +had at any named time taken +part. But everybody was afraid +of blueskins. It was a patterned, +an inculcated, a stage-directed +fixed idea. And it found expression +in shocked references to the +vileness, the depravity, the monstrousness +of the blueskin inhabitants +of Dara, from whom +Weald must at all costs be protected.</p> + +<p>It did not make sense. So Calhoun +listened politely until he +found an undistinguished medical +man who wanted some special +information about gene-selection +as practised halfway across the +galaxy. He invited that man to +the Med Ship, where he supplied +the information not hitherto<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_14" id="Page_14">[14]</a></span> +available. He saw his guest's eyes +shine a little with that joyous +awe a man feels when he finds +out something he has wanted +long and badly to know.</p> + +<p>"Now," said Calhoun, "tell me +something! Why does everybody +on this planet hate the inhabitants +of Dara? It's light-years +away. Nobody claims to have suffered +in person from them. Why +make a point of hating them?"</p> + +<p>The Wealdian doctor grimaced.</p> + +<p>"They've blue patches on their +skins. They're different from us. +So they can be pictured as a +danger and our political parties +can make an election issue out +of competing for the privilege of +defending us from them. They +had a plague on Dara, once. +They're accused of still having it +ready for export."</p> + +<p>"Hm," said Calhoun. "The +story is that they want to spread +contagion here, eh? Doesn't anybody"—his +tone was sardonic—"doesn't +anybody urge that they +be massacred as an act of piety?"</p> + +<p>"Yes—s—s—s," admitted the doctor +reluctantly. "It's mentioned +in political speeches."</p> + +<p>"But how's it rationalized?" +demanded Calhoun. "What's the +argument to make pigment-patches +involve moral and physical +degradation, as I'm assured +is the case?"</p> + +<p>"In the public schools," said +the doctor, "the children are +taught that blueskins are now +carriers of the disease they survived +three generations ago! +That they hate everybody who +isn't a blueskin. That they are +constantly scheming to introduce +their plague here so most of us +will die and the rest become blueskins. +That's beyond rationalizing. +It can't be true, but it's not +safe to doubt it."</p> + +<p>"Bad business," said Calhoun +coldly. "That sort of thing usually +costs lives, in the end. It +could lead to massacre!"</p> + +<p>"Perhaps it has, in a way," +said the doctor unhappily. "One +doesn't like to think about it." +He paused, and said; "Twenty +years ago there was a famine on +Dara. There were crop-failures. +The situation must have been +very bad. They built a space-ship. +They've no use for such things +normally, because no nearby +planet will deal with them or let +them land. But they built a space-ship +and came here. They went +in orbit around Weald. They +asked to trade for shiploads of +food. They offered any price in +heavy metals, gold, platinum, iridium, +and so on. They talked +from orbit by vision communicators. +They could be seen to be +blueskins. You can guess what +happened!"</p> + +<p>"Tell me," said Calhoun.</p> + +<p>"We armed ships in a hurry," +admitted the doctor, "We +chased their space-ship back to<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_15" id="Page_15">[15]</a></span> +Dara. We hung in space off the +planet. We told them we'd blast +their world from pole to pole if +they ever dared take to space +again. We made them destroy +their one ship, and we watched +on visionscreens as it was done."</p> + +<p>"But you gave them food?"</p> + +<p>"No," said the doctor ashamedly. +"They were blueskins."</p> + +<p>"How bad was the famine?"</p> + +<p>"Who knows? Any number +may have starved! And we kept a +squadron of armed ships in their +skies for years. To keep them +from spreading the plague, we +said. And some of us believed it, +probably!"</p> + +<p>The doctor's tone was purest +irony.</p> + +<p>"Lately," he said, "there's been +a move for economy in our government. +Simultaneously, we began +to have a series of over-abundant +crops. The government +had to buy the excess grain to +keep the price up. Retired patrol-ships—built +to watch over +Dara—were available for storage-space. +We filled them up with +grain and sent them out into orbit. +They're there now, hundreds +of thousands or millions of tons +of grain!"</p> + +<p>"And Dara?"</p> + +<p>The Doctor shrugged. He stood +up.</p> + +<p>"Our hatred of Dara," he said, +again ironically, "has produced +one thing. Roughly halfway between +here and Dara there's a +two-planet solar system, Orede. +There's a usable planet there. It +was proposed to build an outpost +of Weald there, against blueskins. +Cattle were landed to run wild +and multiply and make a reason +for colonists to settle there. They +did, but nobody wants to move +nearer to blueskins! So Orede +stayed uninhabited until a hunting-party +shooting wild cattle +found an outcropping of heavy-metal ore. +So now there's a mine +there. And that's all. A few hundred +men work the mine at fabulous +wages. You may be asked +to check on their health. But not +Dara's!"</p> + +<p>"I see," said Calhoun, frowning.</p> + +<p>The doctor moved toward the +Med Ship's exit-port.</p> + +<p>"I answered your questions," +he said grimly. "But if I talked +to anyone else as I've done to you, +I'd be lucky only to be driven into +exile!"</p> + +<p>"I shan't give you away," said +Calhoun. He did not smile.</p> + +<p>When the doctor had gone, Calhoun +said deliberately;</p> + +<p>"Murgatroyd, you should be +grateful that you're a <i>tormal</i> and +not a man. There's nothing about +being a <i>tormal</i> to make you +ashamed!"</p> + +<p>Then he grimly changed his +garments for the full-dress uniform +of the Med Service. There +was to be a banquet at which he +would sit next to the planet's<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_16" id="Page_16">[16]</a></span> +chief executive and hear innumerable +speeches about the splendor +of Weald. Calhoun had his +own, strictly Med Service opinion +of the planet's latest and most +boasted-of achievement. It was a +domed city in the polar regions, +where nobody ever had to go outdoors. +He was less than professionally +enthusiastic about the +moving streets, and much less approving +of the dream-broadcasts +which supplied hypnotic, sleep-inducing +rhythms to anybody +who chose to listen to them. The +price was that while asleep one +would hear high praise of commercial +products, and one might +believe them when awake.</p> + +<p>But it was not Calhoun's function +to criticize when it could be +avoided. Med Service had been +badly managed in Sector Twelve. +So at the banquet Calhoun made +a brief and diplomatic address in +which he temperately praised +what could be praised, and did +not mention anything else.</p> + +<p>The chief executive followed +him. As head of the government +he paid some tribute to the Med +Service. But then he reminded +his hearers proudly of the high +culture, splendid health, and remarkable +prosperity of the planet +since his political party took office. +This, he said, was in spite +of the need to be perpetually on +guard against the greatest and +most immediate danger to which +any world in all the galaxy was +exposed. He referred to the blueskins, +of course. He did not need +to tell the people of Weald what +vigilance, what constant watchfulness +was necessary against +that race of depraved and malevolent +deviants from the norm of +humanity. But Weald, he said +with emotion, held aloft the torch +of all that humanity held most +dear, and defended not alone the +lives of its people against blueskin +contagion, but their noble +heritage of ideals against Blueskin +pollution.</p> + +<p>When he sat down, Calhoun +said very politely;</p> + +<p>"It looks like some day it +should be practical politics to +urge the massacre of all blueskins. +Have you thought of +that?"</p> + +<p>The chief executive said comfortably;</p> + +<p>"The idea's been proposed. It's +good politics to urge it, but it +would be foolish to carry it out. +People vote against blueskins. +Wipe them out, and where'd you +be?"</p> + +<p>Calhoun ground his teeth, +quietly.</p> + +<hr class="invisible" /> + +<p>There were more speeches. +Then a messenger, white-faced, +arrived with a written +note for the chief executive. He +read it and passed it to Calhoun. +It was from the Ministry of +Health. The space-port reported +that a ship had just broken out<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_17" id="Page_17">[17]</a></span> +from overdrive within the Wealdian +solar system. Its tape-transmitter +had automatically signalled +its arrival from the mining-planet +Orede. But, having +sent off its automatic signal, the +ship lay dead in space. It did not +drive toward Weald. It did not +respond to signals. It drifted like +a derelict upon no course at all. +It seemed ominous, and since it +came from Orede—the planet +nearest to Dara of the blueskins—the +health ministry informed +the planet's chief executive.</p> + +<p>"It'll be blueskins," said that +astute person, firmly. "They're +next-door to Orede. That's who's +done this. It wouldn't surprise +me if they'd seeded Orede with +their plague, and this ship came +from there to give us warning!"</p> + +<p>"There's no evidence for anything +of the sort," protested Calhoun. +"A ship simply came out of +overdrive and didn't signal further. +That's all."</p> + +<p>"We'll see," said the chief executive +ominously. "We'll go directly +to the spaceport."</p> + +<p>Calhoun retrieved Murgatroyd +who had been visiting with the +wives of the higher-up officials. +His small paunch distended with +cakes and coffee and such delicacies +as he'd been plied with. +He was half comatose from over-feeding +and over-petting, but he +was glad to see Calhoun. At the +spaceport they discovered the situation +remained unchanged.</p> + +<p>A ship from Orede had come +out of overdrive and lay dead in +emptiness. It did not answer +calls. It did not move in space. +It floated eerily in no orbit around +anything, going nowhere; doing +nothing. And panic was the consequence.</p> + +<p>It seemed to Calhoun that the +official handling of the matter accounted +for the terror that he +could feel building up. The so-far-unexplained +bit of news was +on the air all over the planet +Weald. There was nobody awake +of all the world's population who +did not believe that there was a +new danger in the sky. Nobody +doubted that it came from blueskins. +The treatment of the news +was precisely calculated to keep +alive the hatred of Weald for the +inhabitants of the world Dara.</p> + +<p>Calhoun put Murgatroyd into +the Med Ship and went back to +the spaceport office. A small +space-boat, designed to inspect +the circling grain-ships from +time, was already aloft. The +landing-grid had thrust it swiftly +out most of the way. Now it +droned and drove on sturdily toward +the enigmatic ship.</p> + +<p>Calhoun took no part in the +agitated conferences among the +officials and news reporters at the +space-port. But he listened to the +talk about him. As the investigating +small ship drew nearer +and nearer to the deathly-still +cargo vessel, the guesses about<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_18" id="Page_18">[18]</a></span> +the meaning of its breakout and +following silence grew more and +more wild. But, singularly, there +was not one suggestion that the +mystery might not be the work +of blueskins. Blueskins were +scapegoats for all the fears and +all the uneasiness a perhaps over-civilized +world developed.</p> + +<p>Presently the investigating +space-boat reached the mystery +ship and circled it, beaming queries. +No answer. It reported the +cargo-ship dark. No lights shone +anywhere on or in it. There were +no induction-surges from even +pulsing, idling engines. Delicately, +the messenger-craft maneuvered +until it touched the silent +vessel. It reported that microphones +detected no motion whatever +inside.</p> + +<p>"Let a volunteer go aboard," +commanded the chief executive. +"Have him report what he finds."</p> + +<p>A pause. Then the solemn announcement +of an intrepid volunteer's +name, from far, far away. +Calhoun listened, frowning darkly. +This pompous heroism wouldn't +be noticed in the Med Service. +It would be routine behavior.</p> + +<p>Suspenseful, second-by-second +reports. The volunteer had rocketed +himself across the emptiness +between the two again-separated +ships. He had opened the airlock +from outside. He'd gone in. He'd +closed the outer airlock door. +He'd opened the inner. He reported.</p> + +<p>The relayed report was almost +incoherent, what with horror and +incredulity and the feeling of +doom that came upon the volunteer. +The ship was a bulk-cargo +ore-carrier, designed to run between +Orede and Weald with cargoes +of heavy-metal ores and a +crew of no more than five men. +There was no cargo in her holds +now, though. Instead, there were +men. They packed the ship. They +filled the corridors. They had +crawled into every cargo and other +space where a man could find +room to push himself. There were +hundreds of them. It was insanity. +And it had been greater insanity +still for the ship to have +taken off with so preposterous a +load of living creatures.</p> + +<p>But they weren't living any +longer. The air apparatus had +been designed for a crew of five. +It could purify the air for possibly +twenty or more. But there +were hundreds of men in hiding +as well as in plain view in the +cargo-ship from Orede. There +were many, many times more +than her air apparatus and reserve +tanks could possibly have +serviced. They couldn't even have +been fed during the journey from +Orede to Weald!</p> + +<p>But they hadn't starved. Air-scarcity +killed them before the +ship came out of overdrive.</p> + +<p>A remarkable thing was that +there was no written message in +the ship's log which referred to<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_19" id="Page_19">[19]</a></span> +its take-off. There was no memorandum +of the taking on of such +an impossible number of passengers.</p> + +<p>"The blueskins did it," said the +chief executive of Weald. He was +pale. All about Calhoun men +looked sick and shocked and terrified. +"It was the blueskins! +We'll have to teach them a lesson!" +Then he turned to Calhoun. +"The volunteer who went on +that ship ... He'll have to stay +there, won't he? He can't be +brought back to Weald without +bringing contagion ..."</p> + +<p>Calhoun raged at him.</p> + + + +<hr /> +<h2 class="chapter">CHAPTER 2</h2> + + +<p>There was a certain coldness +in the manner of those at the +Weald spaceport when the Med +Ship left next morning. Calhoun +was not popular because Weald +was scared. It had been conditioned +to scare easily, where +blueskins might be involved. Its +children were trained to react +explosively when the word "blueskin" +was uttered in their hearing, +and its adults tended to say +"blueskin" when anything to +cause uneasiness entered their +minds. So a planet-wide habit of +non-rational response had formed +and was not seen to be irrational +because almost everybody had it.</p> + +<p>The volunteer who'd discovered +the tragedy on the ship from +Orede was safe, though. He'd +made a completely conscientious +survey of the ship he'd volunteered +to enter and examine. For +his courage, he'd have been +doomed but for Calhoun. The reaction +of his fellow-citizens was +that by entering the ship he +might have become contaminated +by blueskin infective material if +the plague still existed, and if +the men in the ship had caught it—but +they certainly hadn't died +of it—and if there had been blueskins +on Orede to communicate it—for +which there was no evidence—and +if blueskins were responsible +for the tragedy. Which +was at the moment pure supposition. +But Weald feared he might +bring death back to Weald if he +were allowed to return.</p> + +<p>Calhoun saved his life. He ordered +that the guard-ship admit +him to its airlock, which then +was to be filled with steam and +chlorine. The combination would +sterilize and partly even eat away +his space-suit, after which the +chlorine and steam should be bled +out to space, and air from the +ship let into the lock. If he +stripped off the space-suit without +touching its outer surface, +and reëntered the investigating +ship while the suit was flung outside +by a man in another space-suit, +handling it with a pole he'd +fling after it, there could be no +possible contamination brought +back.</p> + +<p>Calhoun was quite right, but<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_20" id="Page_20">[20]</a></span> +Weald in general considered that +he'd persuaded the government +to take an unreasonable risk.</p> + +<p>There were other reasons for +disapproving of him. Calhoun +had been unpleasantly frank. +The coming of the death-ship +stirred to frenzy those people who +believed that all blueskins should +be exterminated as a pious act. +They'd appeared on every visionscreen, +citing not only the ship +from Orede but other incidents +which they interpreted as crimes +against Weald. They demanded +that all Wealdian atomic reactors +be modified to turn out fusion-bomb +materials while a space-fleet +was made ready for an anti-blueskin +crusade. They confidently +demanded such a rain of fusion-bombs +on Dara that no blueskin, +no animal, no shred of vegetation, +no fish in the deepest +ocean, not even a living virus-particle +of the blueskin plague could +remain alive on the blueskin +world!</p> + +<p>One of these vehement orators +even asserted that Calhoun +agreed that no other course was +possible, speaking for the Interstellar +Medical Service. And Calhoun +furiously demanded a +chance to deny it by broadcast, +and he made a bitter and indiscreet +speech from which a planet-wide +audience inferred that he +thought them fools. He did.</p> + +<p>So he was definitely unpopular +when his ship lifted from Weald. +He'd curtly given his destination +as Orede, from which the death-ship +had come. The landing-grid +locked on, raised the small space-craft +until Weald was a great +shining ball below it, and then +somehow scornfully cast him off. +The Med Ship was free, in clear +space where there was not enough +of a gravitational field to hinder +overdrive.</p> + +<p>He aimed for his destination, +his face very grim. He said savagely;</p> + +<p>"Get set, Murgatroyd! Overdrive +coming!"</p> + +<hr class="invisible" /> + +<p>He thumbed down the overdrive +button. The universe of +stars went out, while everything +living in the ship felt the customary +sensations of dizziness, +of nausea, and of a spiralling fall +to nothingness. Then there was +silence. The Med Ship actually +moved at a rate which was a preposterous +number of times the +speed of light, but it felt absolutely +solid, absolutely firm and +fixed. A ship in overdrive feels +exactly as if it were buried deep +in the core of a planet. There is +no vibration. There is no sign of +anything but solidity and—if one +looks out a port—there is only +utter blackness plus an absence +of sound fit to make one's eardrums +crack.</p> + +<p>But within seconds random +tiny noises began. There was a +reel and there were sound-speak<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_21" id="Page_21">[21]</a></span>ers +to keep the ship from sounding +like a grave. The reel played +and the speakers gave off minute +creakings, and meaningless +hums, and very tiny noises of every +imaginable sort, all of which +were just above the threshold of +the inaudible.</p> + +<p>Calhoun fretted. Sector Twelve +was in very bad shape. A conscientious +Med Service man +would never have let the anti-blueskin +obsession go unmentioned +in a report on Weald. +Health is not only a physical affair. +There is mental health, also. +When mental health goes a civilization +can be destroyed more +surely and more terribly than by +any imaginable war or plague-germ. +A plague kills off those +who are susceptible to it, leaving +immunes to build up a world +again. But immunes are the first +to be killed when a mass neurosis +sweeps a population.</p> + +<p>Weald was definitely a Med +Service problem world. Dara was +another. And when hundreds of +men jammed themselves into a +cargo-boat which could not furnish +them with air to breathe, +and took off and went into overdrive +before the air could fail.... +Orede called for no less of +worry.</p> + +<p>"I think," said Calhoun dourly, +"that I'll have some coffee."</p> + +<p>"Coffee" was one of the words +that Murgatroyd recognized immediately. +He would usually +watch the coffee-maker with +bright, interested eyes. He'd even +tried to imitate Calhoun's motions +with it, once, and had +scorched his paws in the attempt. +This time he did not move.</p> + +<p>Calhoun turned his head. Murgatroyd +sat on the floor, his long +tail coiled reflectively about a +chair-leg. He watched the door of +the Med Ship's sleeping-cabin.</p> + +<p>"Murgatroyd," said Calhoun. +"I mentioned coffee!"</p> + +<p>"<i>Chee!</i>" shrilled Murgatroyd.</p> + +<p>But he continued to look at the +door. The temperature was kept +lower in the other cabin, and the +look of things was different from +the control-compartment. The +difference was part of the means +by which a man was able to be +alone for weeks on end—alone +save for his <i>tormal</i>—without becoming +ship-happy. There were +other carefully thought out items +in the ship with the same purpose. +But none of them should +cause Murgatroyd to stare fixedly +and fascinatedly at the sleeping-cabin +door. Not when coffee +was in the making!</p> + +<p>Calhoun considered. He became +angry at the immediate suspicion +that occurred to him. As +a Med Service man, he was duty-bound +to be impartial. To be impartial +might mean not to side +absolutely with Weald in its enmity +to blueskins. The people of +Weald had refused to help Dara +in a time of famine; they'd block<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_22" id="Page_22">[22]</a></span>aded +that pariah world for years +afterward; they had other reasons +for hating the people they'd +treated badly. It was entirely reasonable +for some fanatic on +Weald to consider that Calhoun +must be killed lest he be of help +to the blueskins Weald abhorred.</p> + +<p>In fact, it was quite possible +that somebody had stowed away +on the Med Ship to murder Calhoun, +so that there would be no +danger of any report favorable +to Dara ever being presented +anywhere. If so, such a stowaway +would be in the sleeping-cabin +now, waiting for Calhoun to walk +unsuspiciously in to be shot dead.</p> + +<p>So Calhoun made coffee. He +slipped a blaster into a pocket +where it would be handy. He filled +a small cup for Murgatroyd and +a large one for himself, and then +a second large one.</p> + +<p>He tapped on the sleeping-cabin +door, standing aside lest a +blaster-bolt came through it.</p> + +<p>"Coffee's ready," he said sardonically. +"Come out and join +us."</p> + +<p>There was a long pause. Calhoun +rapped again.</p> + +<p>"You've a seat at the captain's +table," he said more sardonically +still. "It's not polite to keep me +waiting!"</p> + +<hr class="invisible" /> + +<p>He listened, alert for a rush +which would be a fanatic's +desperate attempt to do murder +despite premature discovery. He +was prepared to shoot quite +ruthlessly.</p> + +<p>But there was no rush. Instead, +there came hesitant foot-falls. +The door of the cabin slid +slowly aside. A girl appeared in +the opening, desperately white +and desperately composed.</p> + +<p>"H-how did you know I was +there?" she asked shakily. She +moistened her lips. "You didn't +see me! I was in a closet, and you +didn't even enter the room!"</p> + +<p>Calhoun said grimly;</p> + +<p>"I've sources of information." +He pointed to Murgatroyd.</p> + +<p>The girl did not move. Her +eyes went from Murgatroyd to +Calhoun.</p> + +<p>"And now," said Calhoun, "do +you want to tell me your story? +You have one ready, I'm sure."</p> + +<p>"There—there isn't any," said +the girl unsteadily. "Just—I—I +need to get to Orede, and you're +going there. There's no other +way to go—now."</p> + +<p>"To the contrary," said Calhoun, +"there'll undoubtedly be a +fleet heading for Orede as soon +as it can be assembled and armed. +But I'm afraid that's not a very +good story. Try another."</p> + +<p>She shivered a little.</p> + +<p>"I'm—running away ..."</p> + +<p>"Ah!" said Calhoun. "In that +case I'll take you back."</p> + +<p>"No!" she said fiercely. "I'll—I'll +die first! I'll wreck this ship +first!"</p> + +<p>Her hand came from behind<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_23" id="Page_23">[23]</a></span> +her. There was a tiny blaster in +it. But it shook visibly as she +tried to aim it.</p> + +<p>"I'll—shoot out the controls!"</p> + +<p>Calhoun blinked. He'd had to +make a drastic change in his estimate +of the situation the instant +he saw that the stowaway +was a girl. Now he had to make +another when her threat was not +to kill him but to disable the +ship. Women are rarely assassins, +and when they are they don't use +energy weapons. Daggers and +poisons are more typical.</p> + +<p>"I'd rather you didn't do that," +said Calhoun drily. "Besides, +you'd get deadly bored if we were +stuck in a derelict waiting for +our air and food to give out."</p> + +<p>Murgatroyd, for no reason +whatever, felt it necessary to enter +the conversation. He said;</p> + +<p>"<i>Chee-chee-chee!</i>"</p> + +<p>"A very sensible suggestion," +observed Calhoun. "We'll sit down +and have a cup of coffee." To the +girl he said, "I'll take you to +Orede, since that's where you say +you want to go."</p> + +<p>"I—there's a boy there—"</p> + +<p>Calhoun shook his head.</p> + +<p>"No," he said reprovingly. +"Nearly all the mining colony +had packed itself into the ship +that came into Weald with everybody +dead. But not all. And +there's been no check of what +men were in the ship and what +men weren't. You wouldn't go to +Orede if it were likely your fellow +had died on the way to you. +Here's your coffee. Sugar or saccho, +and do you take cream?"</p> + +<p>She trembled a little, but she +took the cup.</p> + +<p>"I—don't understand—."</p> + +<p>"Murgatroyd and I," explained +Calhoun—and he did not know +whether he spoke out of anger +or something else—"we are do-gooders. +We go around trying to +keep people from getting killed. +It's our profession. We practise +it even on our own behalf. We +want to stay alive. So since you +make such drastic threats, we +will take you where you want to +go. Especially since we're going +there anyhow."</p> + +<p>"You—don't believe anything +I've said!" It was a statement.</p> + +<p>"Not a word," admitted Calhoun. +"But you'll probably tell us +something more believable presently. +When did you eat last?"</p> + +<p>"Yesterday—."</p> + +<p>"Better have something now. +We'll talk more later." Calhoun +showed her how to punch the +readier for such-and-such dishes, +to be extracted from storage and +warmed or chilled, as the case +might be, and served at dialed-for +intervals.</p> + +<hr class="invisible" /> + +<p>Calhoun deliberately immersed +himself in the Galactic +Directory, looking up the planet +Orede. He was headed there, +but he'd had no reason to inform +himself about it before. Now he<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_24" id="Page_24">[24]</a></span> +read with every appearance of +absorption.</p> + +<p>The girl ate daintily. Murgatroyd +watched with highly amiable +interest. But she looked acutely +uncomfortable.</p> + +<p>Calhoun finished with the Directory. +He got out the microfilm +reels which contained more +information. He was specifically +after the Med Service history of +all the planets in this sector. He +went through the filmed record +of every inspection ever made on +Weald and on Dara. But Sector +Twelve had not been well-run. +There was no adequate account of +a plague which had wiped out +three-quarters of the population +of an inhabited planet! It had +happened shortly after one Med +Ship visit, and was over before +another Med Ship came by. But +there should have been painstaking +investigation, even after the +fact. There should have been a +collection of infective material +and a reasonably complete identification +and study of the infective +agent. It hadn't been made. +There was probably some other +emergency at the time, and it +slipped by. But Calhoun—whose +career was not to be spent in this +sector—resolved on a blistering +report about this negligence and +its consequences.</p> + +<p>He kept himself casually busy, +ignoring the girl. A Med Ship +man has resources of study and +meditation with which to occupy +himself during overdrive travel +from one planet to another. Calhoun +made use of those resources. +He acted as if he were completely +unconscious of the stowaway. +But Murgatroyd watched her +with charmed attention.</p> + +<p>Hours after her discovery, she +said uneasily;</p> + +<p>"Please?"</p> + +<p>Calhoun looked up.</p> + +<p>"Yes?"</p> + +<p>"I—don't know exactly how +things stand."</p> + +<p>"You are a stowaway," said +Calhoun. "Legally, I have the +right to put you out the airlock. +It doesn't seem necessary. There's +a cabin. When you're sleepy, use +it. Murgatroyd and I can make +out quite well here. When you're +hungry, you now know how to get +something to eat. When we land +on Orede, you'll probably go +about whatever business you +have there. That's all."</p> + +<p>She stared at him.</p> + +<p>"But—you don't believe what +I've told you!"</p> + +<p>"No," agreed Calhoun. But he +didn't add to the statement.</p> + +<p>"But—I will tell you," she offered. +"The police were after me. +I had to get away from Weald! I +had to! I'd stolen—"</p> + +<p>He shook his head.</p> + +<p>"No," he said. "If you were a +thief, you'd say anything in the +world except that you were a +thief. You're not ready to tell the +truth yet. You don't have to, so<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_25" id="Page_25">[25]</a></span> +why tell me anything? I suggest +that you get some sleep."</p> + +<p>She rose slowly. Twice her +lips parted as if to speak again, +but then she went into the other +cabin and closed herself in.</p> + +<p>Murgatroyd blinked at the +place where she'd disappeared +and then climbed up into Calhoun's +lap, with complete assurance +of welcome. He settled himself +and was silent for moments. +Then he said;</p> + +<p>"<i>Chee!</i>"</p> + +<p>"I believe you're right," said +Calhoun. "She doesn't belong on +Weald, or with the conditioning +she'd have had, there'd be only +one place she'd dread worse than +Orede, and that would be Dara. +But I doubt she'd be afraid to +land even on Dara."</p> + +<p>Murgatroyd liked to be talked +to. He liked to pretend that he +carried on a conversation, like +humans.</p> + +<p>"<i>Chee-chee!</i>" he said with conviction.</p> + +<p>"Definitely," agreed Calhoun. +"She's not doing this for her +personal advantage. Whatever +she thinks she's doing, it's more +important to her than her own +life. Murgatroyd—"</p> + +<p>"<i>Chee?</i>" said Murgatroyd in +an inquiring tone.</p> + +<p>"There are wild cattle on +Orede," said Calhoun. "Herds +and herds of them. I have a suspicion +that somebody's been +shooting them. Lots of them. Do +you agree? Don't you think that +a lot of cattle have been slaughtered +on Orede lately?"</p> + +<p>Murgatroyd yawned. He settled +himself still more comfortably +in Calhoun's lap.</p> + +<p>"<i>Chee,</i>" he said drowsily.</p> + +<p>He went to sleep, while Calhoun +continued the examination +of highly condensed information. +Presently he looked up the normal +rate of increase, with other +data, among herds of <i>bivis domesticus</i> +in a wild state, on +planets where they have no natural +enemies. It wasn't unheard-of +for a world to be stocked with +useful types of Terran fauna and +flora before it was attempted to +be colonized. Terran life-forms +could play the devil with alien +ecological systems, very much to +humanity's benefit. Familiar microörganisms +and a standard vegetation +added to the practicality +of human settlements on otherwise +alien worlds. But sometimes +the results were strange.</p> + +<p>They weren't often so strange, +however, as to cause some hundreds +of men to pack themselves +frantically aboard a cargo-ship +which couldn't possibly sustain +them, so that every man must die +while the ship was in overdrive.</p> + +<p>Still, by the time Calhoun +turned in on a spare pneumatic +mattress, he had calculated that +as few as a dozen head of cattle, +turned loose on a suitable planet, +would have increased to herds of<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_26" id="Page_26">[26]</a></span> +thousands or tens or even hundreds +of thousands in much less +time than had probably elapsed.</p> + +<p>The Med Ship drove on in +seemingly absolute solidity, with +no sound from without, with no +sight to be seen outside, with no +evidence at all that it was not +buried deep in the heart of a +planet instead of flashing through +emptiness at a speed so great as +to have no meaning.</p> + +<hr class="invisible" /> + +<p>Next ship-day the girl looked +oddly at Calhoun when she +appeared in the control-room. +"Shall I—have breakfast?" she +asked uncertainly.</p> + +<p>"Why not?"</p> + +<p>Silently, she operated the food-readier. +She ate. Calhoun gave +the impression that he would respond +politely when spoken to, but +that he was busy with activities +that kept him remote from stowaways.</p> + +<p>About noon, ship-time, she +asked;</p> + +<p>"When will we get to Orede?"</p> + +<p>Calhoun told her absently, as +if he were thinking of something +else.</p> + +<p>"What—what do you think +happened there? I mean, to make +that tragedy in the ship?"</p> + +<p>"I don't know," said Calhoun. +"But I disagree with the authorities +on Weald. I don't think it +was a planned atrocity of the +blueskins."</p> + +<p>"Wh-what are blueskins?"</p> + +<p>Calhoun turned around and +looked at her directly.</p> + +<p>"When lying," he said mildly, +"you tell as much by what you +pretend isn't, as by what you +pretend is. You know what blueskins +are!"</p> + +<p>"B—but what do you think +they are?" she asked.</p> + +<p>"There used to be a human disease +called smallpox," said Calhoun. +"When people recovered +from it, they were usually +marked. Their skin had little +scar-pits here and there. At one +time, back on Earth, it was expected +that everybody would +catch smallpox sooner or later, +and a large percentage would die +of it. And it was so much a matter +of course that if they printed +a description of a criminal, they +never mentioned it if he were +pock-marked—scarred. It was no +distinction. But if he didn't have +the markings, they'd mention +that!" He paused. "Those pock-marks +weren't hereditary, but +otherwise a blueskin is like a +man who had them. He can't be +anything else!"</p> + +<p>"Then you think they're—human?"</p> + +<p>"There's never yet been a case +of reverse evolution," said Calhoun. +"Maybe pithecanthropus +had a monkey uncle, but no pithecanthropus +ever went monkey."</p> + +<p>She turned abruptly away. But +she glanced at him often during +that day. He continued to busy<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_27" id="Page_27">[27]</a></span> +himself with those activities +which make a Med Ship man's +life consistent with retained sanity.</p> + +<p>Next day she asked without +preliminary;</p> + +<p>"Don't you believe the blueskins +planned for the ship with +the dead men to arrive at Weald +and spread plague there?"</p> + +<p>"No," said Calhoun.</p> + +<p>"Why?"</p> + +<p>"It couldn't possibly work," +Calhoun told her. "With only +dead men on board, the ship +wouldn't arrive at a place where +the landing-grid could bring it +down. So that would be no good. +And plague-stricken living men +wouldn't try to conceal that they +had the plague. They might ask +for help, but they'd know they'd +instantly be killed on Weald if +they were found to be plague-victims. +So that would be no +good, either! No, the ship wasn't +intended to land plague on +Weald."</p> + +<p>"Are you—friendly to blueskins?" +she asked uncertainly.</p> + +<p>"Within reason," said Calhoun, +"I am a well-wisher to all +the human race. You're slipping, +though. When using the word +'blueskin' you should say it uncomfortably, +as if it were a word +no refined person liked to pronounce. +You don't. We'll land on +Orede tomorrow, by the way. If +you ever intend to tell me the +truth, there's not much time."</p> + +<p>She bit her lips. Twice, during +the remainder of the day, she +faced him and opened her mouth +as if to speak, and then turned +away again. Calhoun shrugged. +He had fairly definite ideas about +her, by now. He carefully kept +them tentative, but no girl born +and raised on Weald would willingly +go to Orede, with all of +Weald believing that a shipload +of miners preferred death to remaining +there. It tied in, like +everything else that was unpleasant, +to blueskins. Nobody from +Weald would dream of landing +on Orede! Not now!</p> + +<hr class="invisible" /> + +<p>A little before the Med Ship +was due to break out from +overdrive, the girl said very carefully;</p> + +<p>"You've been—very kind. I'd +like to thank you. I—didn't really +believe I would—live to get to +Orede."</p> + +<p>Calhoun raised his eyebrows.</p> + +<p>"I—wish I could tell you everything +you want to know," she +added regretfully. "I think you're—really +decent. But some things...."</p> + +<p>Calhoun said caustically;</p> + +<p>"You've told me a great deal. +You weren't born on Weald. You +weren't raised there. The people +of Dara—notice that I don't say +blueskins, though they are—the +people of Dara have made at least +one space-ship since Weald +threatened them with extermina<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_28" id="Page_28">[28]</a></span>tion. +There is probably a new +food-shortage on Dara now, leading +to pure desperation. Most +likely it's bad enough to make +them risk landing on Orede to +kill cattle and freeze beef to +help. They've worked out."</p> + +<p>She gasped and sprang to her +feet. She snatched out the tiny +blaster in her pocket. She pointed +it waveringly at him.</p> + +<p>"I—have to kill you!" she +cried desperately. "I—I have to!"</p> + +<p>Calhoun reached out. She +tugged despairingly at the blaster's +trigger. Nothing happened. +Before she could realize that she +hadn't turned off the safety, Calhoun +twisted the weapon from her +fingers. He stepped back.</p> + +<p>"Good girl!" he said approvingly. +"I'll give this back to you +when we land. And thanks. +Thanks very much!"</p> + +<p>She stared at him. "Thanks? +When I tried to kill you?"</p> + +<p>"Of course!" said Calhoun. +"I'd made guesses. I couldn't +know that they were right. When +you tried to kill me, you confirmed +every one. Now, when we +land on Orede I'm going to get +you to try to put me in touch +with your friends. It's going to +be tricky, because they must be +pretty well scared about that +ship. But it's a highly desirable +thing to get done!"</p> + +<p>He went to the ship's control-board +and sat down before it.</p> + +<p>"Twenty minutes to break-hour," +he observed.</p> + +<p>Murgatroyd peered out of his +little cubbyhole. His eyes were +anxious. <i>Tormals</i> are amiable little +creatures. During the days in +overdrive, Calhoun had paid less +than the usual amount of attention +to Murgatroyd, while the +girl was fascinating. They'd made +friends, awkwardly on the girl's +part, very pleasantly on Murgatroyd's. +But only moments ago +there had been bitter emotion in +the air. Murgatroyd had fled to +his cubbyhole to escape it. He +was distressed. Now that there +was silence again, he peered out +unhappily.</p> + +<p>"<i>Chee?</i>" he queried plaintively. +"<i>Chee-chee-chee?</i>"</p> + +<p>Calhoun said matter-of-factly;</p> + +<p>"It's all right, Murgatroyd. If +we aren't blasted as we try to +land, we should be able to make +friends with everybody and get +something accomplished."</p> + +<p>The statement was hopelessly +inaccurate.</p> + + + +<hr /> +<h2 class="chapter">CHAPTER 3</h2> + + +<p>There was no answer from +the ground when breakout +came and Calhoun drove the Med +Ship to a favorable position for a +call. He patiently repeated, over +and over again, that Med +Ship Aesclipus Twenty notified +its arrival and requested coördi<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_29" id="Page_29">[29]</a></span>nates +for landing. There should +have been a crisp description of +the direction from the planet's +center at which, a certain time so +many hours or minutes later, the +force-fields of the grid would find +it convenient to lock onto and +lower the Med Ship. But the communicator +remained silent.</p> + +<p>"There is a landing-grid," said +Calhoun, frowning, "and if they're +using it to load fresh meat for +Dara, from the herds I'm told +about, it should be manned. But +they don't seem to intend to answer. +Maybe they think that if +they pretend I'm not here I'll go +away."</p> + +<p>He reflected, and his frown +deepened.</p> + +<p>"If I didn't know what I do +know, I might. So if I land on +emergency-rockets the blueskins +down below may decide that I +come from Weald. And in that +case it would be reasonable to +blast me before I could land and +unload some fighting men. On the +other hand, no ship from Weald +would conceivably land without +impassioned assurance that it +was safe. It would drop bombs." +He turned to the girl. "How many +Darians down below?"</p> + +<p>She shook her head.</p> + +<p>"You don't know," said Calhoun, +"or won't tell, yet. But they +ought to be told about the arrival +of that ship at Weald, and what +Weald thinks about it! My guess +is that you came to tell them. It +isn't likely that Dara gets news +direct from Weald. Where were +you put ashore from Dara, when +you set out to be a spy?"</p> + +<p>Her lips parted to speak. But +she compressed them tightly. She +shook her head again.</p> + +<p>"It must have been plenty far +away," said Calhoun restlessly. +"Your people would have built a +ship, and made fine forged papers +for it, and they'd travel so +far from this part of space that +when they landed nobody would +think of Dara. They'd use makeup +to cover the blue spots, but +maybe it was so far away that +blueskins had never been heard +of!"</p> + +<p>Her face looked pinched, but +she did not reply.</p> + +<p>"Then they'd land half a dozen +of you, with a supply of makeup +for the blue patches. And you'd +separate, and take ships that +went various roundabout ways, +and arrive on Weald one by one, +to see what could be done there to...." +He stopped. "When did you +find out positively that there +wasn't any plague any more?"</p> + +<p>She began to grow pale.</p> + +<p>"I'm not a mind-reader," said +Calhoun. "But it adds up. You're +from Dara. You've been on +Weald. It's practically certain +that there are other, agents, if +you like that word better, on +Weald. And there hasn't been a +plague on Weald so you people +aren't carriers of it. But you<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_30" id="Page_30">[30]</a></span> +knew it in advance, I think. +How'd you learn? Did a ship in +some sort of trouble land there, +on Dara?"</p> + +<p>"Y-yes," said the girl. "We +wouldn't let it go again. But the +people didn't catch—they didn't +die—they lived—."</p> + +<p>She stopped short.</p> + +<p>"It's not fair to trap me!" she +cried passionately, "It's not +fair!"</p> + +<p>"I'll stop," said Calhoun.</p> + +<p>He turned to the control-board. +The Med Ship was only planetary +diameters from Orede, now, +and the electron telescope showed +shining stars in leisurely motion +across its screen. Then a huge, +gibbous shining shape appeared, +and there were irregular patches +of that muddy color which is sea-bottom, +and varicolored areas +which were plains and forests. +Also there were mountains. Calhoun +steadied the image and +squinted at it.</p> + +<p>"The mine," he observed, "was +found by members of a hunting-party, +killing wild cattle for +sport."</p> + +<hr class="invisible" /> + +<p>Even a small planet has many +millions of square miles of +surface, and a single human installation +on a whole world will +not be easy to find by random +search. But there were clues to +this one. Men hunting for sport +would not choose a tropic nor an +arctic climate to hunt in. So if +they found a mineral deposit, it +would have been in a temperate +zone. Cattle would not be found +deep in a mountainous terrain. +The mine would not be on a prairie. +The settlement on Orede, +then, would be near the edge of +mountains, not far from a prairie +such as wild cattle would frequent, +and it would be in a temperate +climate. Forested areas +could be ruled out. And there +would be a landing-grid. Handling +only one ship at a time, it +might be a very small grid. It +need be only hundreds of yards +across and less than half a mile +high. But its shadow would be +distinctive.</p> + +<p>Calhoun searched among low +mountains near unforested prairie +in a temperate zone. He found +a speck. He enlarged it many-fold, +and it was the mine on Orede. +There were heaps of tailings. +There was something which cast +a long, lacy shadow. The landing-grid.</p> + +<p>"But they don't answer our +call," observed Calhoun, "so we +go down unwelcomed."</p> + +<p>He inverted the Med Ship and +the emergency-rockets boomed. +The ship plunged planetward.</p> + +<p>A long time later it was deep +in the planet's atmosphere. The +noise of its rockets had become +thunderous, with air to carry and +to reinforce the sound.</p> + +<p>"Hold on to something, Murgatroyd," +commanded Calhoun.<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_31" id="Page_31">[31]</a></span> +"We may have to dodge some +ack."</p> + +<p>But nothing came up from below. +The Med Ship again inverted +itself, and its rockets pointed +toward the planet and poured out +pencil-thin, blue-white, high-velocity +flames. It checked slightly, +but continued to descend. It was +not directly above the grid. It +swept downward until almost +level with the peaks of the mountains +in which the mine lay. It +tilted again, and swept onward +over the mountain-tops, and then +tilted once more and went racing +up the valley in which the landing-grid +was plainly visible. Calhoun +swung it on an erratic +course, lest there be opposition.</p> + +<p>But there was no sign. Then +the rockets bellowed, and the ship +slowed its forward motion, hovered +momentarily, and settled to +solidity outside the framework +of the grid. The grid was small, +as Calhoun reasoned. But it +reached interminably toward the +sky.</p> + +<p>The rocket cut off. Slender as +the flame had been, they'd melted +and bored thin drill-holes deep +into the soil. Molten rock boiled +and bubbled down below. But +there seemed no other sound. +There was no other motion. There +was absolute stillness all around. +But when Calhoun switched on +the outside microphones a faint, +sweet melange of high-pitched +chirpings came from tiny creatures +hidden under the vegetation +of the mountainsides.</p> + +<p>Calhoun put a blaster in his +pocket and stood up.</p> + +<p>"We'll see what it looks like +outside," he said with a certain +grimness. "I don't quite believe +what the visionscreens show."</p> + +<hr class="invisible" /> + +<p>Minutes later he stepped +down to the ground from +the Med Ship's exit-port. The +ship had landed perhaps a hundred +feet from what once had +been a wooden building. In it, ore +from the mines was concentrated +and the useless tailings carried +away by a conveyor-belt to make +a monstrous pile of broken stone. +But there was no longer a building. +Next to it there had been a +structure containing an ore-crusher. +The massive machinery +could still be seen, but the structure +was fragments. Next to +that, again, had been the shaft-head +shelters of the mine. They +also were shattered practically to +match-sticks.</p> + +<p>The look of the ground about +the building-sites was simply +and purely impossible. It was a +mass of hoofprints. Cattle by +thousands and tens of thousands +had trampled everything. Cattle +had burst in the wooden sides of +the buildings. Cattle had piled +themselves up against the beams +upholding roofs until the buildings +collapsed. Then cattle had +gone plunging over the wrecked<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_32" id="Page_32">[32]</a></span> +buildings until there was nothing +left but indescribable chaos. +Many, many cattle had died in +the crush. There were heaps of +dead beasts about the metal girders +which were the foundation +of the landing-grid. The air was +tainted by the smell of carrion.</p> + +<p>The settlement had been destroyed, +positively, by stampeded +cattle in tens or hundreds of +thousands charging blindly +through and over and upon it. +Senselessly, they'd trampled each +other to horrible shapelessnesses. +The mine-shaft was not choked, +because enormously strong timbers +had fallen across and blocked +it. But everything else was pure +destruction.</p> + +<p>Calhoun said evenly;</p> + +<p>"Clever! Very clever! You can't +blame men when beasts stampede! +We should accept the evidence +that some monstrous herd, +making its way through a mountain +pass, somehow went crazy +and bolted for the plains and this +settlement got in the way and it +was too bad for the settlement. +Everything's explained, except +the ship that went to Weald. A +cattle stampede, yes. Anybody +can believe that! But there was +a man-stampede! Men stampeded +into the ship as blindly as the cattle +trampled down this little +town. The ship stampeded off into +space as insanely as the cattle. +But a stampede of men <i>and</i> +cattle, in the same place,—that's +a little too much at one time!"</p> + +<p>"How," asked Calhoun directly, +"do you intend to get in touch +with your friends here?"</p> + +<p>"I—I don't know," she said +distressedly. "But if—the ship +stays here, they're bound to come +and see why. Won't they? Or will +they?"</p> + +<p>"If they're sane, they won't," +said Calhoun. "The one undesirable +thing, here, would be human +footprints on top of cattle-tracks. +If your friends are a meat-getting +party from Dara, as I believe, +they should cover up their +tracks, get off-planet as fast as +possible, and pray that no signs +of their former presence are ever +discovered. That would be their +best first move, certainly!"</p> + +<p>"What should I do?" she +asked helplessly.</p> + +<p>"I'm far from sure. At a guess, +and for the moment, probably +nothing. I'll work something out ... I've +got the devil of a job before +me, though. I can't spend +too much time here."</p> + +<p>"You can—leave me here...."</p> + +<p>He grunted and turned away. +It was naturally unthinkable +that he should leave another human +being on a supposedly uninhabited +planet, with the knowledge +that it might actually be uninhabited, +and the further knowledge +that any visitors would have +the strongest of possible reasons +to hide themselves away.</p> + +<p>He believed that there were<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_33" id="Page_33">[33]</a></span> +Darians here, and the girl in the +Med ship—so he also believed—was +a Darian. But any who might +be hiding had so much to lose if +they were discovered that they +might be hundreds or even thousands +of miles from anywhere a +space-ship would normally land—if +they hadn't fled after the incident +of the space-ship's departure +with its load of doomed passengers.</p> + +<p>Considered detachedly, the +odds were that there was again a +food-shortage on Dara. That +blueskins, in desperation, had +raided or were raiding or would +raid the cattle-herds of Orede for +food to carry back to their home +planet. That somehow the miners +on Orede had found that they had +blueskin neighbors, and died of +the consequences of their terror. +It was a risky guess to make on +such evidence as Calhoun considered +he had, but no other guess +was possible.</p> + +<p>If his guess was right, he was +under some obligation to do exactly +what he believed the girl +considered her mission, to warn +all blueskins that Weald would +presently try to find them on +Orede, when all hell must break +loose upon Dara for punishment. +But if there were men here, he +couldn't leave a written warning +for them in default of friendly +contact. They might not find it, +and a search-party of Wealdians +might. All he could possibly do +was try to make contact and give +warning by such means as would +leave no evidence behind that he'd +done so. Weald would consider a +warning sure proof of blueskin +guilt.</p> + +<p>It was not satisfactory to be +limited to broadcasts which +might not be picked up, and were +unlikely to be acknowledged. But +he settled down with the communicator +to make the attempt.</p> + +<hr class="invisible" /> + +<p>He called first on a GC wave-length +and form. It was unlikely +that blueskins would use +general-communication bands to +keep in touch with each other, +but it had to be tried. He broadcast, +as broadly tuned as possible, +and went up and down the +GC spectrum, repeating his warning +painstakingly and listening +without hope for a reply. He did +find one spot on the dial where +there was re-radiation of his message, +as if from a tuned receiver. +But he could not get a fix on it, +and nobody might be listening. +He exhausted the normal communication +pattern. Then he +broadcast on old-fashioned amplitude +modulation which a modern +communicator would not pick +up at all, and which therefore +might be used by men in hiding.</p> + +<p>He worked for a long time. +Then he shrugged and gave it up. +He'd repeated to absolute tedium +the facts that any Darians—blueskins—on +Orede ought to<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_34" id="Page_34">[34]</a></span> +know. There'd been no answer. +And it was all too likely that if +he'd been received, that those +who heard him took his message +for a trick to discover if there +were any hearers.</p> + +<p>He clicked off at last and stood +up, shaking his head. Suddenly +the Med Ship seemed empty. +Then he saw Murgatroyd staring +at the exit-port. The inner +door of that small airlock was +closed. The tell-tale said the outer +was not locked. Someone had +gone out, quietly. The girl. Of +course. Calhoun said angrily;</p> + +<p>"How long ago, Murgatroyd?"</p> + +<p>"<i>Chee!</i>" said Murgatroyd indignantly.</p> + +<p>It wasn't an answer, but it +showed that Murgatroyd was +vexed that he'd been left behind. +He and the girl were close friends, +now. If she'd left Murgatroyd in +the ship when he wanted to go +with her, she wasn't coming +back.</p> + +<p>Calhoun swore. Then he made +certain. She was not in the ship. +He flipped the outside-speaker +switch and said curtly into the +microphone;</p> + +<p>"Coffee! Murgatroyd and I +are having coffee. Will you come +back, please?"</p> + +<p>He repeated the call, and repeated +it again. Multiplied as his +voice was by the speakers, she +should hear him within a mile. +She did not appear. He went to +a small and inconspicuous closet +and armed himself. A Med Ship +man was not ever expected to +fight, but there were blast-rifles +available for extreme emergency.</p> + +<p>When he'd slung a power-pack +over his shoulder and reached the +airlock, there was still no sign of +his late stowaway. He stood in +the airlock door for long minutes, +staring angrily about. Almost +certainly she wouldn't be looking +in the mountains for men of Dara +come here for cattle. He used a +pair of binoculars, first at low-magnification +to search as wide +an area down-valley as possible, +and then at highest power to +search the most likely routes.</p> + +<p>He found a small, bobbing +speck beyond a far-away hillcrest. +It was her head. It went +down below the hilltop.</p> + +<p>He snapped a command to +Murgatroyd, and when the <i>tormal</i> +was on the ground outside, +he locked the port with that combination +that nobody but a Med +Ship man was at all likely to discover +or use.</p> + +<p>"She's an idiot!" he told Murgatroyd +sourly. "Come along! +We've got to be idiots too!"</p> + +<p>He set out in pursuit.</p> + +<p>The girl had a long start. +Twice Calhoun came to places +where she could have chosen either +of two ways onward. Each +time he had to determine which +she'd followed. That cost time. +Then the mountains ended, +abruptly, and a vast undulating<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_35" id="Page_35">[35]</a></span> +plain stretched away to the horizon. +There were at least two large +masses and many smaller clumps +of what could only be animals +gathered together. Cattle.</p> + +<p>But here the girl was plainly +in view. Calhoun increased his +stride. He began to gain on her. +She did not look behind.</p> + +<p>Murgatroyd said "<i>Chee!</i>" in a +complaining tone.</p> + +<p>"I should have left you behind," +agreed Calhoun dourly, +"but there was and is a chance +I won't get back. You'll have to +keep on hiking."</p> + +<p>He plodded on. His memory of +the terrain around the mining +settlement told him that there +was no definite destination in the +girl's mind. But she was in no +such despair as to want deliberately +to be lost. She'd guessed, +Calhoun believed, that if there +were Darians on the planet, +they'd keep the landing-grid under +observation. If they saw her +leave that area and could see that +she was alone, they should intercept +her to find out the meaning +of the Med Ship's landing. Then +she could identify herself as one +of them and give them the terribly +necessary warning of Weald's +suspicions.</p> + +<p>"But," said Calhoun sourly, +"if she's right, they'll have seen +me marching after her now, +which spoils her scheme. And I'd +like to help it, but the way she's +going is too dangerous!"</p> + +<hr class="invisible" /> + +<p>He went down into one of the +hollows of the uneven plain. +He saw a clump of a dozen or so +cattle a little distance away. The +bull looked up and snorted. The +cows regarded him truculently. +Their air was not one of bovine +tranquility.</p> + +<p>He was up the farther hillside +and out of sight before the bull +worked himself up to a charge. +Then Calhoun suddenly remembered +one of the items in the data +about cattle he'd looked into just +the other day. He felt himself +grow pale.</p> + +<p>"Murgatroyd!" he said sharply. +"We've got to catch up! Fast! +Stay with me if you can, but ..." +He was jog-trotting as he +spoke—"even if you get lost I +have to hurry!"</p> + +<p>He ran fifty paces and walked +fifty paces. He ran fifty and +walked fifty. He saw her, atop a +rolling of the ground. She came +to a full stop. He ran. He saw +her turn to retrace her steps. He +flung to the safety of the blast-rifle +and let off a roaring blast at +the ground for her to hear.</p> + +<p>Suddenly she was fleeing desperately, +toward him. He plunged +on. She vanished down into a +hollow. Horns appeared over the +hillcrest she'd just left. Cattle +appeared. Four—a dozen—fifteen—twenty. +They moved ominously +in her wake. He saw her again, +running frantically over another +upward swell of the prairie. He<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_36" id="Page_36">[36]</a></span> +let off another blast to guide her. +He ran on at top speed with Murgatroyd +trailing anxiously behind. +From time to time Murgatroyd +called "<i>Chee-chee-chee!</i>" +in frightened pleading not to be +abandoned.</p> + +<p>More cattle appeared against +the horizon. Fifty or a hundred. +They came after the first clump. +The first-seen group of a bull and +his harem were moving faster, +now. The girl fled from them, but +it is the instinct of beef-cattle +on the open range—Calhoun had +learned it only two days before—to +charge any human they find on +foot. A mounted man to their dim +minds is a creature to be tolerated +or fled from, but a human +on foot is to be crushed and +stamped and gored.</p> + +<hr class="invisible" /> + +<p>Those in the lead were definitely +charging now, with heads bent +low. The bull charged furiously +with shut eyes, as bulls do, but +the many-times-more-deadly cows +charged with their eyes wide +open and wickedly alert, and with +a lumbering speed much greater +than the girl could manage.</p> + +<p>She came up over the last rise, +chalky-white and gasping, her +hair flying, in the last extremity +of terror. The nearest of the pursuing +cattle were within ten +yards when Calhoun fired from +twenty yards beyond. One creature +bellowed as the blast-bolt +struck. It went down and others +crashed into it and swept over it, +and more came on. The girl saw +Calhoun, now, and ran toward +him, panting, and he knelt very +deliberately and began to check +the charge by shooting the leading +animals.</p> + +<p>He did not succeed. There were +more cattle following the first, +and more and more behind them. +It appeared that all the cattle on +the plain joined in the blind and +senseless charge. The thudding +of hooves became a mutter and +then a rumble and then a growl. +Plunging, clumsy figures rushed +past on either side. But horns +and heads heaved up over the +mound of animals Calhoun had +shot. He shot them too. More and +more cattle came pounding past +the rampart of his victims, but +always, it seemed, some elected +to climb the heap of their dead +and dying fellows, and Calhoun +shot and shot.</p> + +<p>But he split the herd. The foremost +animals had been charging a +sighted human enemy. Others +had followed because it is the instinct +of cattle to join their running +fellows in whatever crazed +urgency they feel. There was a +dense, pounding, horrible mass +of running bulls and cows and +calves; bellowing, wailing, grunting, +puffing, raising thick and +impenetrable clouds of dust which +had everything but galloping +beasts going past on either side.</p> + +<p>It lasted for minutes. Then the<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_37" id="Page_37">[37]</a></span> +thunder of hooves diminished. It +ended abruptly, and Calhoun and +the girl were left alone with the +gruesome pile of animals which +had divided the charging herd into +two parts. They could see the +rears of innumerable running +animals, stupidly continuing the +charge—hardly different, now, +from a stampede—whose original +objective none now remembered.</p> + +<p>Calhoun thoughtfully +touched the barrel of his +blast-rifle and winced at its +scorching heat.</p> + +<hr class="invisible" /> + +<p>"I just realized," he said coldly, +"that I don't know your name. +What is it?"</p> + +<p>"M-maril," said the girl. She +swallowed. "Th-thank you—."</p> + +<p>"Maril," said Calhoun, "you +are an idiot! It was half-witted +at best to go off by yourself! You +could have been lost! You could +have cost me days of hunting for +you, days badly needed for more +important matters!" He stopped +and took breath. "You may have +spoiled what little chance I've got +to do something about the plans +Weald's already making!"</p> + +<p>He said more bitterly still;</p> + +<p>"And I had to leave Murgatroyd +behind to get to you in +time! He was right in the path +of that charge!"</p> + +<p>He turned away from her and +said dourly;</p> + +<p>"All right! Come on back to +the ship. We'll go to Dara. We'd +have to, anyhow. But Murgatroyd—"</p> + +<p>Then he heard a very small +sneeze. Out of a rolling wall of +still-roiling dust, Murgatroyd appeared +forlornly. He was dust-covered, +and draggled, and his +tail drooped, and he sneezed +again. He moved as if he could +barely put one paw before another, +but at the sight of Calhoun he +sneezed yet again and said, +"<i>Chee!</i>" in a disconsolate voice. +Then he sat down and waited for +Calhoun to pick him up.</p> + +<p>When Calhoun did so, Murgatroyd +clung to him pathetically +and said, "<i>Chee-chee!</i>" and +again "<i>Chee-chee!</i>" with the intonation +of one telling of incredible +horrors and disasters endured.</p> + +<p>Calhoun headed back for the +valley, the settlement and the +Med Ship. Murgatroyd clung to +his neck. The girl Maril followed +visibly shaken.</p> + +<p>Calhoun did not speak to her +again. He led the way. A mile +back toward the mountains, they +began to see stragglers from the +now-vanished herd. A little further, +those stragglers began to +notice them. And it would have +been a matter of no moment if +they'd been domesticated dairy-cattle, +but these were range-cattle +gone wild. Twice, Calhoun had +to use his blast-rifle to discourage +incipient charges by irritated +bulls or even more irritated cows.<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_38" id="Page_38">[38]</a></span> +Those with calves darkly suspected +Calhoun of designs upon their +offspring.</p> + +<p>It was a relief to enter the valley +again. But it was two miles +more to the landing-grid with the +Med Ship beside it and the reek +of carrion in the air.</p> + +<p>They were perhaps two hundred +feet from the ship when a +blast-rifle crashed and its bolt +whined past Calhoun so close that +he felt the monstrous heat. There +had been no challenge. There was +no warning. There was simply a +shot which came horribly close +to ending Calhoun's career in a +completely arbitrary fashion.</p> + + + +<hr /> +<h2 class="chapter">CHAPTER 4</h2> + + +<p>Five minutes later Calhoun +had located one would-be killer +behind a mass of splintered +planking that once had been a +wall. He set the wood afire by a +blaster-bolt and then viciously +sent other bolts all around the +man it had sheltered when he fled +from the flames. He could have +killed him ten times over, but it +was more desirable to open communication. +So he missed, intentionally.</p> + +<p>Maril had cried out that she +came from Dara and had word +for them, but they did not answer. +There were three men with +heavy-duty blast-rifles. One was +the one Calhoun had burned out +of his hiding-place. That man's +rifle exploded when the flames hit +it. Two remained. One—so Calhoun +presently discovered—was +working his way behind underbrush +to a shelf from which he +could shoot down at Calhoun. +Calhoun had dropped into a hollow +and pulled Maril to cover at +the first shot. The second man +happily planned to get to a point +where he could shoot him like a +fish in a barrel. The third man +had fired half a dozen times and +then disappeared. Calhoun estimated +that he intended to get +around to the rear, in hope there +was no protection from that direction +for Calhoun. It would +take some time for him to manage +it.</p> + +<p>So Calhoun industriously concentrated +his fire on the man trying +to get above him. He was behind +a boulder, not too dissimilar +to Calhoun's breastwork. Calhoun +set fire to the brush at the +point at which the other man +aimed. That, then, made his effort +useless. Then Calhoun sent +a dozen bolts at the other man's +rocky shield. It heated up. Steam +rose in a whitish mass and blew +directly away from Calhoun. He +saw that antagonist flee. He saw +him so clearly that he was positive +that there was a patch of +blue pigment on the right-hand +side of the back of his neck.</p> + +<p>He grunted and swung to find +the third. That man moved +through thick undergrowth, and<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_39" id="Page_39">[39]</a></span> +Calhoun set it on fire in a neat +pattern of spreading flames. Evidently, +these men had had no +training in battle-tactics with +blast-rifles. The third man also +had to get away. He did. But +something from him arched +through the smoke. It fell to the +ground directly upwind from +Calhoun. White smoke puffed up +violently.</p> + +<p>It was instinct that made Calhoun +react as he did. He jerked +the girl Maril to her feet and +rushed her toward the Med Ship. +Smoke from the flung bomb upwind +barely swirled around him +and missed Maril altogether. +Calhoun, though, got a whiff of +something strange, not scorched +or burning vegetation at all. He +ceased to breathe and plunged +onward. In clear air he emptied +his lungs and refilled them. They +were then halfway to the ship, +with Murgatroyd prancing on +ahead.</p> + +<p>But then Calhoun's heart began +to pound furiously. His muscles +twitched and tense. He felt +extraordinary symptoms like an +extreme of agitation. Calhoun +was familiar enough with tear-gas, +used by police on some planets. +But this was different and +worse. Even as he helped and +urged Maril onward, he automatically +considered his sensations, +and had it. Panic gas! Police +did not use it because panic +is worse than rioting. Calhoun +felt all the physical symptoms of +fear and of gibbering terror. A +man whose mind yields to terror +experiences certain physical sensations, +wildly beating heart, +tensed and twitching muscles, +and a frantic impulse to convulsive +action. A man in whom those +physical sensations are induced +by other means will—ordinarily—find +his mind yielding to terror.</p> + +<p>Calhoun couldn't combat his +feelings, but his clinical attitude +enabled him to act despite them. +The three from Weald reached +the base of the Med Ship. One of +their enemies had lost his rifle +and need not be counted. Another +had fled from flames and might +be ignored for some moments, +anyhow. But a blast-bolt struck +the ship's metal hull only feet +from Calhoun, and he whipped +around to the other side and let +loose a staccato of fire which +emptied the rifle of all its charges.</p> + +<p>Then he opened the airlock +door, hating the fact that he +shook and trembled. He urged +the girl and Murgatroyd in. +He slammed the outer airlock +door just as another blaster-bolt +hit.</p> + +<p>"They—they don't realize," +said Maril desperately. "If they +only knew—."</p> + +<p>"Talk to them, if you like," +said Calhoun. His teeth chattered +and he raged, because the symp<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_40" id="Page_40">[40]</a></span>tom +was of terror he denied.</p> + +<p>He pushed a button on the +control-board. He pointed to a +microphone. He got at an oxygen-bottle +and inhaled deeply. +Oxygen, obviously, should be an +antidote for panic, since the +symptoms of terror act to increase +the oxygenation of the +blood-stream and muscles, and to +make superhuman exertion possible +if necessary. Breathing +ninety-five per cent oxygen produced +the effect the terror-inspiring +gas strove for, so his heart +slowed nearly to normal and his +body relaxed. He held out his +hand and it did not tremble.</p> + +<hr class="invisible" /> + +<p>He turned to Maril. She hadn't +spoken into the mike yet.</p> + +<p>"They—may not be from +Dara!" she said shakily. "I just +thought! They could be somebody +else—maybe criminals who +planned to raid the mine for a +shipload of its ore ..."</p> + +<p>"Nonsense!" said Calhoun. "I +saw one of them clearly enough +to be sure. But they're skeptical +characters. I'm afraid there may +be more on the way here wherever +they keep themselves. Anyhow, +now we know some of them +are in hearing! I'll take advantage +of that and we'll go on."</p> + +<p>He took the microphone. Instants +later his voice boomed in +the stillness outside the ship, +cutting through the thin shrill +of invisible small creatures.</p> + +<p>"This is the Med Ship Aesclipus +Twenty," said Calhoun's +voice, amplified to a shout. "I left +Weald four days ago, one day +after the cargo-ship from here arrived +with everybody on board +dead. On Weald they don't know +how it happened, but they suspect +blueskins. Sooner or later +they'll search here. Get away! +Cover up your tracks! Hide all +signs that you've ever been +here! Get the hell away, fast! +One more warning! There's talk +of fusion-bombing Dara. They're +scared! If they find your traces, +they'll be more scared still! So +cover up your tracks and—get—away—from—here!"</p> + +<p>The many-times-multiplied +voice rolled and echoed among +the hills. But it was very clear. +Where it could be heard it could +be understood, and it could be +heard for miles.</p> + +<p>But there was no response to +it. Calhoun waited a reasonable +time. Then he shrugged and +seated himself at the control-board.</p> + +<p>"It isn't easy," he observed, +"to persuade desperate men that +they've out-smarted themselves! +Hold hard, Murgatroyd!"</p> + +<div class="microspace"> </div> +<div><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_41" id="Page_41">[41]</a></span></div> +<div class="image"> +<img src="images/i041.jpg" width="375" height="563" alt="" title="" /> +</div> +<div class="microspace"> </div> + +<p>The rockets bellowed. Then +there was a tremendous noise to +end all noises, and the ship began +to climb. It sped up and up +and up. By the time it was out of +atmosphere it had velocity +enough to coast to clear space +<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_42" id="Page_42">[42]</a></span>and Calhoun cut the rockets altogether. +He busied himself with +those astrogational chores which +began with orienting oneself to +galactic directions after leaving +a planet which rotates at its own +individual speed. Then one computes +the overdrive course to +another planet, from the respective +coördinates of the world one +is leaving and the one one aims +for. Then,—in this case at any +rate—there was the very finicky +task of picking out a fourth-magnitude +star of whose planets +one was his destination. He aimed +for it with ultra-fine precision.</p> + +<p>"Overdrive coming," he said +presently. "Hold on!"</p> + +<p>Space reeled. There was nausea +and giddiness and a horrible +sensation of falling in a wildly +unlikely spiral. Then stillness, +and solidity, and the blackness +of the Pit outside the Med Ship. +The little craft was in overdrive +again.</p> + +<p>After a long while, the girl +Maril said uneasily.</p> + +<p>"I don't know what you plan +now—."</p> + +<p>"I'm going to Dara," said Calhoun. +"On Orede I tried to get +the blueskins there to get going, +fast. Maybe I succeeded. I don't +know. But this thing's been mishandled! +Even if there's a famine, +people shouldn't do things +out of desperation!"</p> + +<p>"I know now that I was—very +foolish—."</p> + +<p>"Forget it," commanded Calhoun. +"I wasn't talking about +you. Here I run into a situation +that the Med Service should have +caught and cleaned up generations +ago! But it's not only a +Med Service obligation, it's a current +mess! Before I could begin +to get at the basic problem, those +idiots on Orede—. It'd happened +before I reached Weald! An emotional +explosion triggered by a +ship full of dead men that nobody +intended to kill."</p> + +<p>Maril shook her head.</p> + +<hr class="invisible" /> + +<p>"Those Darian characters," +said Calhoun annoyedly, +"shouldn't have gone to Orede in +the first place. If they went there, +they should at least have stayed +on a continent where there were +no people from Weald digging a +mine and hunting cattle for sport +on their off days! They could be +spotted! I believe they were! And +again, if it had been a long way +from the mine installation, they +could probably have wiped out +the people who sighted them before +they could get back with the +news! But it looks like miners +saw men hunting, and got close +enough to see they were blueskins, +and then got back to the +mine with the news!"</p> + +<p>She waited for him to explain.</p> + +<p>"I know I'm guessing, but it +fits!" he said distastefully. "So +something had to be done. Either +the mining settlement had to be<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_43" id="Page_43">[43]</a></span> +wiped out or the story that blueskins +were on Orede had to be +discredited. The blueskins tried +for both. They used panic-gas +on a herd of cattle and it made +them crazy and they charged the +settlement like the four-footed +lunatics they are! And the blueskins +used panic-gas on the settlement +itself as the cattle went +through. It should have settled +the whole business nicely. After +it was over every man in the settlement +would believe he'd been +out of his head for a while, and +he'd have the crazy state of the +settlement to think about, and he +wouldn't be sure of what he'd +seen or heard beforehand. They +might try to verify the blueskin +story later, but they wouldn't believe +anything certainly! It +should have worked!"</p> + +<p>Again she waited. So Calhoun +said very wrily indeed;</p> + +<p>"Unfortunately, when the miners +panicked, they stampeded into +the ship. Also unfortunately, +panic-gas got into the ship with +them. So they stayed panicked +while the astrogator—in panic!—took +off and headed for Weald +and threw on the overdrive—which +would be set for Weald +anyhow—because that would be +the fastest way to run away from +whatever he imagined he feared. +But he and all the men on the +ship were still crazy with panic +from the gas they were re-breathing +until they died!"</p> + +<p>Silence. After a long interval, +Maril asked;</p> + +<p>"You don't think the—Darians +intended to kill?"</p> + +<p>"I think they were stupid!" +said Calhoun angrily. "Somebody's +always urging the police +to use panic-gas in case of public +tumult. But it's too dangerous. +Nobody knows what one man +will do in a panic. Take a hundred +or two or three and panic +them all, and there's no limit to +their craziness! The whole thing +was handled wrong!"</p> + +<p>"But you don't blame them?"</p> + +<p>"For being stupid, yes," said +Calhoun fretfully. "But if I'd +been in their place, perhaps ..."</p> + +<p>"Where were you born?" asked +Maril suddenly.</p> + +<p>Calhoun jerked his head +around. He said;</p> + +<p>"No! Not where you're guessing—or +hoping. Not on Dara. +Just because I act as if Darians +were human doesn't mean I have +to be one! I'm a Med Service +man, and I'm acting as I think I +should." His tone became exasperated. +"Dammit, I'm supposed +to deal with health situations, actual +and possible causes of human +deaths! And if Weald thinks +it finds proof that blueskins are +in space again and caused the +death of Wealdians it won't be +healthy! They're halfway set +anyhow to drop fusion-bombs on +Dara to wipe it out!"</p> + +<p>Maril said fiercely;<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_44" id="Page_44">[44]</a></span></p> + +<p>"They might as well drop +bombs. It'll be quicker than starvation, +at least!"</p> + +<p>Calhoun looked at her more +exasperatedly than before.</p> + +<p>"It is a crop failure again?" +he demanded. When she nodded +he said bitterly; "Famine conditions +already?" When she nodded +again he said drearily; "And +of course famine is the great-grandfather +of health problems! +And that's right in my lap with +all the rest!"</p> + +<p>He stood up. Then he sat down +again.</p> + +<p>"I'm tired!" he said flatly. +"I'd like to get some sleep."</p> + +<p>Maril understood. She picked +up a book and went into the other +cabin.</p> + +<hr class="invisible" /> + +<p>Alone in the control compartment, +he tried to relax, but it +was not possible. He flung himself +into a comfortable chair and +considered the situation of the +people of the planet Dara. Those +people were marked by patches +of blue pigment as an inherited +consequence of a plague of three +generations past. Dara was a +planet of pariahs, excluded from +the human race by those who had +been conditioned to fear them.</p> + +<p>And now there was famine on +Dara for the second time, and +they were of no mind to starve +quietly. There was food on the +planet Orede, monstrous herds of +cattle without owners. It was natural +enough for Darians to build +a ship or ships and try to bring +food back to its starving people. +But that desperately necessary +enterprise had now roused Weald +to a frenzy of apprehension. +Weald was if possible more hysterically +afraid of blueskins than +ever before, and even more implacably +the enemy of the starving +planet's population. Weald +itself throve and prospered. Ironically, +it had such an excess of +foodstuffs that it stored them in +unneeded space-ships in orbits +about itself. Hundreds of thousands +of tons of grain circled +Weald in sealed-tight hulks, +while the people of Dara starved +and only dared try to steal—it +could be called stealing—some of +the innumerable wild cattle of +Orede.</p> + +<p>The blueskins on Orede could +not trust Calhoun, so they pretended +not to hear—or maybe +they didn't hear. They'd been +abandoned and betrayed by all of +humanity beyond their world. +They'd been threatened and oppressed +by guardships in orbit +about them, ready to shoot down +any space-craft they might send +aloft.</p> + +<p>So Calhoun pondered ...</p> + +<hr class="invisible" /> + +<p>A long time later Calhoun +heard small sounds which were +not normal on a Med Ship in +overdrive. They were not part of +the random noises carefully gen<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_45" id="Page_45">[45]</a></span>erated +to keep the silence of the +ship endurable. Calhoun raised +his head. He listened sharply. No +sound could come from outside.</p> + +<p>He knocked on the door of +the sleeping-cabin. The noises +stopped instantly.</p> + +<p>"Come out," he commanded +through the door.</p> + +<p>"I'm—I'm all right," said +Maril's voice. But it was not +quite steady. She paused. "I was +just having a bad dream."</p> + +<p>"I wish," said Calhoun, "that +you'd tell me the truth occasionally! +Come out, please!"</p> + +<p>There were stirrings. After a +little the door opened and Maril +appeared. She looked as if she'd +been crying. She said quickly;</p> + +<p>"I probably look queer, but it's +because I was asleep."</p> + +<p>"To the contrary," said Calhoun, +fuming, "you've been lying +awake crying. I don't know +why. I've been out here wishing +I could sleep, because I'm frustrated. +But since you aren't +asleep maybe you can help me +with my job. I've figured some +things out. For some others I +need facts. How about it?"</p> + +<p>She swallowed.</p> + +<p>"I'll try."</p> + +<p>"Coffee?" he asked.</p> + +<p>Murgatroyd popped his head +out of his miniature sleeping-cabin.</p> + +<p>"<i>Chee?</i>" he asked interestedly.</p> + +<p>"Go back to sleep!" snapped +Calhoun.</p> + +<p>He began to pace back and +forth.</p> + +<p>"I need to know something +about the pigment patches," he +said jerkily. "Maybe it sounds +crazy to think of such things +now. First things first, you +know. But that is a first thing! +So long as Darians don't look like +the people of other worlds, they'll +be considered different. If they +look repulsive, they'll be thought +of as evil.... Tell me about +those patches. They're different-sized +and different-shaped and +they appear in different places. +You've none on your face or +hands, anyhow."</p> + +<p>"I haven't any at all," said the +girl reservedly.</p> + +<p>"I thought—"</p> + +<p>"Not everybody," she said defensively. +"Nearly, yes. But not +all. Some people don't have them. +Some people are born with bluish +splotches on their skin, but they +fade out while they're children. +When they grow up they're just +like—the people of Weald or any +other world. And their children +never have them."</p> + +<p>Calhoun stared.</p> + +<p>"You couldn't possibly be +proved to be a Darian, then?"</p> + +<p>She shook her head. Calhoun +remembered, and started the coffee-maker.</p> + +<p>"When you left Dara," he +said, "You were carried a long, +long way, to some planet where +they'd practically never heard of<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_46" id="Page_46">[46]</a></span> +Dara, and where the name meant +nothing. You could have settled +there, or anywhere else and forgotten +about Dara. But you didn't. +Why not, since you're not a +blueskin?"</p> + +<p>"But I am!" she said fiercely. +"My parents, my brothers and +sisters, and Korvan—."</p> + +<p>Then she bit her lip. Calhoun +took note but did not comment +on the name that she had mentioned.</p> + +<p>"Then your parents had the +splotches fade, so you never had +them," he said absorbedly. +"Something like that happened +on Tralee, once! There's a virus—a +whole group of virus particles! +Normally we humans are +immune to them. One has to be +in terrifically bad physical condition +for them to take hold and +produce whatever effects they do. +But once they're established +they're passed on from mother to +child.... And when they die +out it's during childhood, too!"</p> + +<p>He poured coffee for the two of +them. As usual, Murgatroyd +swung down to the floor and said +impatiently;</p> + +<p>"<i>Chee! Chee! Chee!</i>"</p> + +<p>Calhoun absently filled Murgatroyd's +tiny cup and handed it +to him.</p> + +<p>"But this is marvellous!" he +said exuberantly. "The blue +patches appeared after the +plague, didn't they? After people +recovered—when they recovered?"</p> + +<hr class="invisible" /> + +<p>Maril stared at him. His +mind was filled with strictly +professional considerations. +He was not talking to her as a +person. She was purely a source +of information.</p> + +<p>"So I'm told," said Maril reservedly. +"Are there any more +humiliating questions you want +to ask?"</p> + +<p>He gaped at her. Then he said +ruefully;</p> + +<p>"I'm stupid, Maril, but you're +touchy. There's nothing personal."</p> + +<p>"There is to me!" she said +fiercely. "I was born among blueskins, +and they're of my blood, +and they're hated and I'd have +been killed on Weald if I'd been +known as—what I am! And +there's Korvan, who arranged for +me to be sent away as a spy and +advised me to do just what you +said,—abandon my home world +and everybody I care about! Including +him! It's personal to +me!"</p> + +<p>Calhoun wrinkled his forehead +helplessly.</p> + +<p>"I'm sorry," he repeated, +"Drink your coffee!"</p> + +<p>"I don't want it," she said bitterly. +"I'd like to die!"</p> + +<p>"If you stay around where I +am," Calhoun told her, "you +may get your wish. All right. +There'll be no more questions, I +promise."</p> + +<p>She turned and moved toward +the door to the sleeping-cabin. +Calhoun looked after her.<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_47" id="Page_47">[47]</a></span></p> + +<p>"Maril," he called out to her.</p> + +<p>"What?"</p> + +<p>"Why were you crying?"</p> + +<p>"You wouldn't understand," +she said evenly.</p> + +<p>Calhoun shrugged his shoulders +almost up to his ears. He +was a professional man. In his +profession he was not incompetent. +But there is no profession +in which a really competent man +tries to understand women. Calhoun +annoyedly had to let fate +or chance or disaster take care +of Maril's personal problems. He +had larger matters to cope with.</p> + +<p>But he had something to work +on, now. He hunted busily in the +reference tapes. He came up with +an explicit collection of information +on exactly the subject he +needed. He left the control-room +to go down into the storage areas +of the Med Ship's hull. He found +an ultra-frigid storage box, +whose contents were kept at the +temperature of liquid air. He +donned thick gloves, used a special +set of tongs, and extracted a +tiny block of plastic in which a +sealed-tight phial of glass was +embedded. It frosted instantly +he took it out, and when the storage-box +was closed again the +block was covered with a thick +and opaque coating of frozen +moisture.</p> + +<p>He went back to the control-room +and pulled down the panel +which made available a small-scale +but surprisingly adequate +biological laboratory. He set the +plastic block in a container which +would raise it very, very gradually +to a specific temperature and +hold it there. It was, obviously, a +living culture from which any +imaginable quantity of the same +culture could be bred. Calhoun +set the apparatus with great exactitude.</p> + +<p>"This," he told Murgatroyd, +"may be a good day's work. Now +I think I can rest."</p> + +<p>Then, for a long while, there +was no sound or movement in the +Med Ship. The girl Maril may +have slept, or maybe not. Calhoun +lay relaxed in a chair which +at the touch of a button became +the most comfortable of sleeping-places. +Murgatroyd remained in +his cubbyhole, his tail curled +over his nose. There were comforting, +unheard, easily dismissable +murmurings now and +again. They kept the feeling of +life alive in the ship. But for such +infinitesimal stirrings of sound—carefully +recorded for this exact +purpose—the feel of the ship +would have been that of a tomb.</p> + +<p>But it was quite otherwise +when another ship-day began +with the taped sounds of morning +activities as faint as echoes but +nevertheless establishing an atmosphere +of their own.</p> + +<hr class="invisible" /> + +<p>Calhoun examined the plastic +block and its contents. He +read the instruments which had<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_48" id="Page_48">[48]</a></span> +cared for it while he slept. He +put the block—no longer frosted—in +the culture-microscope and +saw its enclosed, infinitesimal +particles of life in the process of +multiplying on the food that had +been frozen with them when they +were reduced to the spore condition. +He beamed. He replaced the +block in the incubation oven and +faced the day cheerfully.</p> + +<p>Maril greeted him with great +reserve. They breakfasted.</p> + +<p>"I've been thinking," said +Maril evenly. "I think I can get +you a hearing for—whatever +ideas you may have to help +Dara."</p> + +<p>"Kind of you," murmured Calhoun. +"May I ask whose influence +you'll exert?"</p> + +<p>"There's a man," said Maril reservedly, +"who—thinks a great +deal of me. I don't know his present +official position, but he was +certain to become prominent. I'll +tell him how you've acted up to +now, and your attitude, and of +course that you're Med Service. +He'll be glad to help you, I'm +sure."</p> + +<p>"Splendid!" said Calhoun, +nodding. "That will be Korvan."</p> + +<p>She started.</p> + +<p>"How did you know?"</p> + +<p>"Intuition," said Calhoun drily. +"All right. I'll count on him."</p> + +<p>But he did not. He worked in +the tiny biological lab all that +ship-day and all the next. The +girl remained quiet.</p> + +<p>On the ship-day after, the time +for breakfast approached. And +while the ship was practically a +world all by itself, it was easy to +look forward with confidence to +the future. But when contact and—in +a fashion—conflict with +other and larger worlds loomed +nearer, prospects seemed less +bright. Calhoun had definite +plans, now, but there were so +many ways in which they could +be frustrated! Weald's political +leaders could not oppose hysterical +demands for action against +blueskins, after a deathship arrived +with no signs whatever of +blueskins as responsible for its +cargo of corpses. It was certain +that a starving Dara would tend +to desperate and fatal measures +against hereditary enemies.</p> + +<p>Calhoun sat down at the control-board +and watched the clock.</p> + +<p>"I've got things lined up," he +told Maril wrily, "if only they +work out. <i>If</i> I can make somebody +on Dara listen and follow +my advice and <i>if</i> Weald doesn't +get ideas and isn't doing what I +suspect it is, maybe something +can be done."</p> + +<p>"I'm sure you'll do your best," +said Maril politely.</p> + +<p>Calhoun managed to grin. He +watched the ship-clock. There +was no sensation attached to +overdrive travel except at the beginning +and the end. It was now +time for the end. He might find +that absolutely anything had<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_49" id="Page_49">[49]</a></span> +happened while he made plans +which would immediately be seen +to be hopeless. Weald could have +sent ships to Dara, or Dara might +be in such a state of desperation +that ...</p> + +<p>As it turned out, Dara was +desperate. The Med Ship came +out nearly a light-month from +the sun about which the planet +Dara revolved. Calhoun went into +a short hop toward it. Then +Dara was on the other side of the +blazing yellow star. It took time +to reach it. He called down, identifying +himself and the ship and +asking for coördinates so his +ship could be brought to ground. +There was confusion, as if the +request were so unusual that the +answers were not ready. The grid, +too, was on the planet's night +side. Presently the ship was +locked onto by the grid's force-fields. +It went downward without +incident.</p> + +<p>Calhoun saw that Maril sat +tensely, twisting her fingers +within each other, until the ship +actually touched ground.</p> + +<p>Then he opened the exit-port, +and faced armed men in the darkness, +with blast-rifles trained on +him. There was a portable cannon +trained on the Med Ship itself.</p> + +<p>"Come out!" rasped a voice. +"If you try anything you get +blasted! Your ship and its contents +are seized by the planetary +government!"</p> + + + +<hr /> +<h2 class="chapter">CHAPTER 5</h2> + + +<p>It seemed that the smell of hunger +was in the air. The armed +men were cadaverous. Lights +came on, and stark, harsh shadows +lay black upon the ground. +Calhoun's captors were uniformed, +but the uniforms hung +loosely upon them. Where the +lights struck upon their faces, +their cheeks were hollow. They +were emaciated. And there were +the splotches of pigment of +which Calhoun had heard. The +leader of the truculent group +was blue, except for two fingers +which in the glaring illumination +seemed whiter than white.</p> + +<p>"Out!" said that man savagely. +"We're taking over your stock +of food. You'll get your share of +it, like everybody else, but—out!"</p> + +<p>Maril spoke over Calhoun's +shoulder. She uttered a cryptic +sentence or two. It should have +amounted to identification, but +there was skepticism in the +the armed party.</p> + +<p>"Oh, you're one of us, eh?" +said the guard-leader sardonically. +"You'll have a chance to prove +that! Come out of there!"</p> + +<p>Calhoun spoke abruptly;</p> + +<p>"This is a Med Ship," he said. +"There are medicines and bacterial +cultures, inside it. They +shouldn't be meddled with. Here +on Dara you've had enough of +plagues!"<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_50" id="Page_50">[50]</a></span></p> + +<p>The man with the blue hand +said as sardonically as before;</p> + +<p>"I said the government was +taking over your ship! It won't +be looted. But you're not taking +a full cargo of food away! In +fact, it's not likely you're leaving!"</p> + +<p>"I want to speak to someone +in authority," snapped Calhoun. +"We've just come from Weald." +He felt bristling hatred all about +him as he named Weald. "There's +tumult there. They're talking +about dropping fusion bombs +here. It's important that I talk to +somebody with the authority to +take a few sensible precautions!"</p> + +<p>He descended to the ground. +There was a panicky "<i>Chee! +Chee!</i>" from behind him, and +Murgatroyd came dashing to +swarm up his body and cling apprehensively +to his neck.</p> + +<p>"What's that?"</p> + +<p>"A <i>tormal,</i>" said Calhoun. +"He's not a pet. Your medical +men will know something about +him. This is a Med Ship and I'm +a Med Ship man, and he's an important +member of the crew. He's +a Med Ship <i>tormal</i> and he stays +with me!"</p> + +<p>The man with the blue hand +said harshly;</p> + +<p>"There's somebody waiting to +ask you questions. Here!"</p> + +<p>A ground-car came rolling out +from the side of the landing-grid +enclosure. The ground-car ran on +wheels, and wheels were not +much used on modern worlds. +Dara was behind the times in +more ways than one.</p> + +<p>"This car will take you to Defense +and you can tell them anything +you want. But don't try to +sneak back in this ship! It'll be +guarded!"</p> + +<p>The ground-car was enclosed, +with room for a driver and the +three from the Med Ship. But +armed men festooned themselves +about its exterior and it went +bumping and rolling to the massive +ground-layer girders of the +grid. It rolled out under them +and there was paved highway. It +picked up speed.</p> + +<p>There were buildings on either +side of the road, but few showed +lights. This was night-time, and +the men at the landing-grid had +set a pattern of hunger, so that +the silence and the dark buildings +did not seem a sign of tranquility +and sleep, but of exhaustion +and despair. The highway +lamps were few, by comparison +with other inhabited worlds, and +the ground-car needed lights of +its own to guide its driver over +a paved surface that needed repair. +By those moving lights other +depressing things could be +seen. Untidiness. Buildings not +kept up to perfection. Evidences +of apathy. The road hadn't been +cleaned lately. There was litter +here and there.</p> + +<p>Even the fact that there were +no stars added to the feeling of<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_51" id="Page_51">[51]</a></span> +wretchedness and gloom and—ultimately—of +hunger.</p> + +<p>Maril spoke nervously to the +driver.</p> + +<p>"The famine isn't any better?"</p> + +<p>He moved his head in negation, +but did not speak.</p> + +<p>"I left—two years ago," said +Maril. "It was just beginning +then. Rationing hadn't started +then—."</p> + +<p>The driver said evenly;</p> + +<p>"There's rationing now!"</p> + +<hr class="invisible" /> + +<p>The car went on and on. A vast +open space appeared ahead. +Lights about its perimeter +seemed few and pale.</p> + +<p>"E-everything seems—worse. +Even the lights."</p> + +<p>"Using all the power," said the +driver, "to warm up ground to +grow crops where it ought to be +winter. Not doing too well, either."</p> + +<p>Calhoun knew, somehow, that +Maril moistened her lips.</p> + +<p>"I—was sent," she explained +to the driver, "to go ashore on +Trent and then make my way to +Weald. I—mailed reports of what +I found out back to Trent. Somebody +got them back to here whenever—it +was possible."</p> + +<p>The driver said;</p> + +<p>"Everybody knows the man on +Trent disappeared. Maybe he got +caught, maybe somebody saw +him without makeup. Or maybe +he just quit being one of us. +What's the difference? No use!"</p> + +<p>Calhoun found himself wincing +a little. The driver was not angry. +He was hopeless. But men should +not despair. They shouldn't accept +hostility from those about +them as a device of fate for their +destruction. They shouldn't ...</p> + +<p>Maril said quickly to him;</p> + +<p>"You understand? Dara's a +heavy-metals planet. There aren't +many light elements in our soil. +Potassium is scarce. So our +ground isn't very fertile. Before +the Plague we traded heavy +metals and manufactures for imports +of food and potash. But +since the Plague we've had no +off-planet commerce. We've been—quarantined."</p> + +<p>"I gathered as much," said Calhoun. +"It was up to Med Service +to see that that didn't happen. +It's up to Med Service now to see +that it stops."</p> + +<p>"Too late now for anything," +said the driver, "whatever Med +Service may be! They're talking +about cutting down our population +so there'll be food enough +for some to live. There are two +questions about it: who's to be +kept alive and why."</p> + +<p>The ground-car aimed now for +a cluster of faintly brighter +lights on the far side of the great +open space. They enlarged as they +grew nearer. Maril said hesitantly;</p> + +<p>"There was someone—Korvan—" +Calhoun didn't catch the rest +of the name, Maril said hesitant<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_52" id="Page_52">[52]</a></span>ly; +"He was working on food-plants. +I—thought he might accomplish +something ..."</p> + +<p>The driver said caustically;</p> + +<p>"Sure! Everybody's heard +about him! He came up with a +wonderful thing! He and his outfit +worked out a way to process +weeds so they can be eaten. And +they can. You can fill your belly +and not feel hungry, but it's like +eating hay. You starve just the +same. He's still working. Head +of a government division."</p> + +<p>The ground-car passed through +a gate. It stopped before a lighted +door. The armed men hanging +to its outside dropped off. They +watched Calhoun closely as he +stepped out with Murgatroyd riding +on his shoulder.</p> + +<p>Minutes later they faced a hastily-summoned +group of officials +of the Darian government. For +a ship to land on Dara was so remarkable +an event that it called +practically for a cabinet meeting. +And Calhoun noted that they +were no better fed than the +guards at the space-port.</p> + +<p>They regarded Calhoun and +Maril with oddly burning eyes. +It was, of course, because the +two of them showed no signs of +hunger. They obviously had not +been on short rations.</p> + +<p>"My name is Calhoun," said +Calhoun briskly. "I've the usual +Med Service credentials. Now ..."</p> + +<p>He did not wait to be questioned. +He told them of the appalling +state of things in the +Twelfth Sector of the Med Service, +so that men had been borrowed +from other sectors to remedy +the intolerable, and he was +one of them. He told of his arrival +at Weald and what had +happened there, from the excessively +cautious insistence that he +prove he was not a Darian, to the +arrival of the death-ship from +Orede. He was giving them the +news affecting them, as they had +not heard it before.</p> + +<p>He went on to tell of his stop +at Orede and his purpose, and +his encounter with the men he +found there. When he finished +there was silence. He broke it.</p> + +<p>"Now," he said, "Maril's an +agent of yours. She can add to +what I've told you. I'm Med Service. +I have a job to do here to +repair what wasn't done before. +I should make a planetary health +inspection and make recommendations +for the improvement of +the state of things. I'll be glad if +you'll arrange for me to talk to +your health officials. Things look +bad, and something should be +done."</p> + +<p>Someone laughed without +mirth.</p> + +<p>"What will you recommend +for long-continued undernourishment?" +he asked derisively. +"That's our health problem!"</p> + +<p>"I recommend food," said Calhoun.<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_53" id="Page_53">[53]</a></span></p> + +<p>"Where'll you fill the prescription?"</p> + +<p>"I've the answer to that, too," +said Calhoun curtly. "I'll want to +talk to any space-pilots you've +got. Get your astrogators together +and I think they'll approve +my idea."</p> + +<p>The silence was totally skeptical.</p> + +<p>"Orede ..."</p> + +<p>"Not Orede," said Calhoun. +"Weald will be hunting that planet +over for Darians. If they find +any, they'll drop bombs here."</p> + +<p>"Our only space-pilots," said a +tall man, presently, "are on +Orede now. If you've told the +truth, they'll probably head +back because of your warning. +They should bring meat."</p> + +<p>His mouth worked peculiarly, +and Calhoun knew that it was at +the thought of food.</p> + +<p>"Which," said another man +sharply, "goes to the hospitals! I +haven't tasted meat in two +years!"</p> + +<p>"Nobody has," growled another +man still. "But here's this man +Calhoun. I'm not convinced he +can work magic, but we can find +out if he lies. Put a guard on his +ship. Otherwise let our health +men give him his head. They'll +find out if he's from this Medical +Service he tells of! And this +Maril—"</p> + +<p>"I—can be identified," said +Maril. "I was sent to gather information +and sent it in secret +writing to one of us on Trent. +I have a family here. They'll +know me! And I—there was +someone who was working on +foods, and I believe he—made it +possible to use—all sorts of vegetation +for food. He will identify +me."</p> + +<p>Someone laughed harshly.</p> + +<p>"Oh, yes!" said a man with a +blue forehead. "He's a valuable +man! Within the year he's come +up with a way to make his weeds +taste like any food one chooses. +If we decide to cut our population, +we'll simply give the people +to be eliminated all they want to +eat of his products. They'll not +be hungry. They'll be quite happy. +But they'll die for lack of +nourishment. He's volunteered to +prove it painless by going +through it himself!"</p> + +<p>Maril swallowed.</p> + +<p>"I'd like to see him," she repeated. +"And my family."</p> + +<p>Some of the blue-splotched +men turned away. A broad-shouldered +man said bluntly;</p> + +<p>"Don't look for them to be +glad to see you. And you'd better +not show yourself in public. +You've been well fed. You'll be +hated for that."</p> + +<p>Maril began to cry. Murgatroyd +said bewilderedly;</p> + +<p>"<i>Chee! Chee!</i>"</p> + +<p>Calhoun held him close. There +was confusion. And Calhoun +found the Minister of Health at +hand—he looked most harried of<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_54" id="Page_54">[54]</a></span> +all the officials gathered to question +Calhoun—and proposed that +he get a look at the hospital situation +right away.</p> + +<hr class="invisible" /> + +<p>It wasn't practical. With all the +population on half rations or +less, when night came people +needed to sleep. Most people, indeed, +slept as many hours out of +the traditional twenty-four as +they could manage. It was much +more pleasant to sleep than to +be awake and constantly nagged +at by continued hunger. And +there was the matter of simple +decency. Continuous gnawing +hunger had an embittering effect +upon everyone. Quarrelsomeness +was a common experience. +And people who would normally +be the leaders of opinion felt +shame because they were obsessed +by thoughts of food. It +was best when people slept.</p> + +<p>Still, Calhoun was in the hospitals +by daybreak. What he +found moved him to savage anger. +There were too many sick +children. In every case undernourishment +contributed to their +sickness. And there was not +enough food to make them well. +Doctors and nurses denied themselves +food to spare it for their +patients.</p> + +<p>Calhoun brought out hormones +and enzymes and medicaments +from the Med Ship while the +guard in the ship looked on. He +demonstrated the processes of +synthesis and autocatalysis that +enabled such small samples to be +multiplied indefinitely. He was +annoyed by a clamorous appetite. +There were some doctors who +ignored the irony of medical +techniques being taught to cure +non-nutritional disease, when +everybody was half-fed, or less. +They approved of Calhoun. They +even approved of Murgatroyd +when Calhoun explained his +function.</p> + +<p>He was, of course, a Med Service +<i>tormal</i>, and <i>tormals</i> were creatures +of talent. They'd originally +been found on a planet in the +Deneb area, and they were engaging +and friendly small animals, +but the remarkable fact +about them was that they couldn't +contract any disease. Not any. +They had a built-in, explosive reaction +to bacterial and viral toxins, +and there hadn't yet been +any pathogenic organism discovered +to which a <i>tormal</i> could +not more or less immediately develop +antibody-resistance. So +that in interstellar medicine <i>tormals</i> +were priceless. Let Murgatroyd +be infected with however +localized, however specialized an +inimical organism, and presently +some highly valuable defensive +substance could be isolated from +his blood and he'd remain in his +usual exuberant good health. +When the antibody was analyzed +by those techniques of microanalysis +the Service had devel<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_55" id="Page_55">[55]</a></span>oped,—why—that +was that. The +antibody could be synthesized +and one could attack any epidemic +with confidence.</p> + +<p>The tragedy for Dara was, of +course, that no Med Ship had +come there, three generations +ago, when the Dara plague raged. +Worse, after the plague Weald +was able to exert pressure which +only a criminally incompetent +Med Service director would have +permitted. But criminal incompetence +and its consequences was +what Calhoun had been loaned to +Sector Twelve to help remedy.</p> + +<p>He was not at ease, though. No +ship arrived from Orede to bear +out his account of an attempt to +get that lonely world evacuated +before Weald discovered it had +blueskins on it. Maril had vanished, +to visit or return to her +family, or perhaps to consult +with the mysterious Korvan +who'd arranged for her to leave +Dara to be a spy, and had advised +her simply to make a new +life somewhere else, abandoning +a famine-ridden, despised, and +outcast world. Calhoun had +learned of two achievements the +same Korvan had made for his +world. Neither was remarkably +constructive. He'd offered to +prove the value of the second by +dying of it. Which might make +him a very admirable character, +or he could have a passion for +martyrdom,—which is much +more common than most people +think. In two days Calhoun was +irritable enough from unaccustomed +hunger to suspect the +worst of him.</p> + +<p>And there was Weald to worry +about. Weald was hysterically +resolved to end what it considered +the blueskin menace for +once and for all. There were parallels +to such unreasoning frenzy +even in the ancient history of +Earth. A word still remained in +the dictionaries referring to it. +Genocide.</p> + +<hr class="invisible" /> + +<p>Meanwhile Calhoun +worked doggedly; in the +hospitals while the patients were +awake and in the Med Ship—under +guard—afterward. He had +hunger cramps now, but he tested +a plastic cube with a thriving +biological culture in it. He +worked at increasing his store of +it. He'd snipped samples of pigmented +skin from dead patients +in the hospitals, and examined +the pigmented areas, and very, +very painstakingly verified a theory. +It took an electron microscope +to do it, but he found a +virus in the blue patches which +matched the type discovered on +Tralee. The Tralee viruses had +effects which were passed on +from mother to child, and heredity +had been charged with the observed +results of quasi-living +viral particles. And then Calhoun +very, very carefully introduced +into a virus culture the<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_56" id="Page_56">[56]</a></span> +material he had been growing in +a plastic cube. He watched what +happened.</p> + +<p>He was satisfied, so much so +that immediately afterward he +barely managed to stagger off to +bed.</p> + +<p>That night the ship from Orede +came in, packed with frozen +bloody carcasses of cattle. Calhoun +knew nothing of it. But +next morning Maril came back. +There were shadows under her +eyes and her expression was of +someone who has lost everything +that had meaning in her life.</p> + +<p>"I'm all right," she insisted, +when Calhoun commented. "I've +been visiting my family. I've +seen—Korvan. I'm quite all +right."</p> + +<p>"You haven't eaten any better +than I have," Calhoun observed.</p> + +<p>"I—couldn't!" admitted Maril. +"My sisters—my little sisters—so +thin.... There's rationing +for everybody and it's all efficiently +arranged. They even had +rations for me. But I couldn't +eat! I—gave most of my food to +my sisters and they—squabbled +over it!"</p> + +<p>Calhoun said nothing. There +was nothing to say. Then she +said in a no less desolate tone;</p> + +<p>"Korvan said I was foolish to +come back."</p> + +<p>"He could be right," said Calhoun.</p> + +<p>"But I had to!" protested +Maril. "Because I—I've been eating +all I wanted to, on Weald and +in the ship, and I'm ashamed +because they're half-starved and +I'm not. And when you see what +hunger does to them ... It's +terrible to be half-starved and +not able to think of anything but +food!"</p> + +<p>"I hope," said Calhoun, "to do +something about that. If I can +get hold of an astrogator or two."</p> + +<p>"The—ship that was on Orede +came in during the night," Maril +told him shakily. "It was loaded +with frozen meat, but one +ship-load's not enough to make a +difference on a whole planet! And +if Weald hunts for us on Orede, +we daren't go back for more +meat."</p> + +<p>She said abruptly;</p> + +<p>"There are some prisoners. +They were miners. They were +crowded out of the ship. The +Darians who'd stampeded the +cattle took them prisoners. They +had to!"</p> + +<p>"True," said Calhoun. "It +wouldn't have been wise to leave +Wealdians around on Orede with +their throats cut. Or living, either, +to tell about a rumor of blueskins. +Even if their throats will +be cut now. Is that the program?"</p> + +<p>Maril shivered.</p> + +<p>"No ... They'll be put on +short rations like everybody else. +And people will watch them. The +Wealdians expect to die of plague +any minute because they've been<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_57" id="Page_57">[57]</a></span> +with Darians. So people look at +them and laugh. But it's not funny."</p> + +<p>"It's natural," said Calhoun, +"but perhaps lacking in charity. +Look here! How about those astrogators? +I need them for a job +I have in mind."</p> + +<p>Maril wrung her hands.</p> + +<p>"C—come here," she said in a +low tone.</p> + +<hr class="invisible" /> + +<p>There was an armed guard in +the control-room of the ship. +He'd watched Calhoun a good +part of the previous day as Calhoun +performed his mysterious +work. He'd been off-duty and +now was on duty again. He was +bored. So long as Calhoun did +not touch the control-board, +though, he was uninterested. He +didn't even turn his head when +Maril led the way into the other +cabin and slid the door shut.</p> + +<p>"The astrogators are coming," +she said swiftly. "They'll bring +some boxes with them. They'll +ask you to instruct them so they +can handle our ship better. They +lost themselves coming back +from Orede, no, they didn't lose +themselves, but they lost time—enough +time almost to make an +extra trip for meat. They need +to be experts. I'm to come along, +so they can be sure that what you +teach them is what you've been +doing right along."</p> + +<p>Calhoun said;</p> + +<p>"Well?"</p> + +<p>"They're crazy!" said Maril +vehemently. "They knew Weald +would do something monstrous +sooner or later. But they're going +to try to stop it by more +monstrousness sooner! Not everybody +agrees, but there are +enough. So they want to use your +ship—it's faster in overdrive and +so on. And they'll go to Weald—in +this ship—and—they say +they'll give Weald something to +keep it busy without bothering +us!"</p> + +<p>Calhoun said drily;</p> + +<p>"This pays me off for being +too sympathetic with blueskins! +But if I'd been hungry for a +couple of years, and was despised +to boot by the people who kept +me hungry, I suppose I might +react the same way. No," he said +curtly as she opened her lips to +speak again. "Don't tell me the +trick. Considering everything, +there's only one trick it could be. +But I doubt profoundly that it +would work. All right."</p> + +<p>He slid the door back and returned +to the control-room. Maril +followed him. He said detachedly;</p> + +<p>"I've been working on a problem +outside of the food one. It +isn't the time to talk about it +right now, but I think I've solved +it."</p> + +<p>Maril turned her head, listening. +There were footsteps on the +tarmac outside the ship. Both +doors of the airlock were open. +Four men came in. They were<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_58" id="Page_58">[58]</a></span> +young men who did not look quite +as hungry as most Darians, but +there was a reason for that. Their +leader introduced himself and +the others. They were the astrogators +of the ship Dara had built +to try to bring food from Orede. +They were not good enough, said +their self-appointed leader. They +overshot their destination. They +came out of overdrive too far off +line. They needed instructions.</p> + +<p>Calhoun nodded, and observed +that he'd been asking for them.</p> + +<p>"We've got orders," said their +leader, steadily, "to come on +board and learn from you how to +handle this ship. It's better than +the one we've got."</p> + +<p>"I asked for you," repeated +Calhoun. "I've an idea I'll explain +as we go along. Those boxes?"</p> + +<p>Someone was passing in iron +boxes through the airlock. One +of the four very carefully brought +them inside.</p> + +<p>"They're rations," said a second +young man. "We don't go +anywhere without rations—except +Orede."</p> + +<p>"Orede, yes. I think we were +shooting at each other there," +said Calhoun pleasantly. "Weren't +we?"</p> + +<p>"Yes," said the young man.</p> + +<p>He was neither cordial nor antagonistic. +He was impassive. Calhoun shrugged.</p> + +<p>"Then we can take off immediately. +Here's the communicator +and there's the button. You +might call the grid and arrange +for us to be lifted."</p> + +<p>The young man seated himself +at the control-board. Very professionally, +he went through the +routine of preparing to lift by +landing-grid, which routine has +not changed in two hundred +years. He went briskly ahead until +the order to lift. Then Calhoun +stopped him.</p> + +<p>"Hold it!"</p> + +<p>He pointed to the airlock. Both +doors were open. The young man +at the control-board flushed vividly. +One of the others closed and +dogged the doors.</p> + +<hr class="invisible" /> + +<p>The ship lifted. Calhoun +watched with seeming negligence. +But he found occasion for +a dozen corrections of procedure. +This was presumably a training +voyage of his own suggestion. +Therefore when the blueskin pilot +would have flung the Med Ship +into undirected overdrive, Calhoun +grew stern. He insisted on +a destination. He suggested +Weald. The young men glanced +at each other and accepted the +suggestion. He made the acting +pilot look up the intrinsic business +of its sun and measure its +apparent brightness from just +off Dara. He made him estimate +the change in brightness to be +expected after so many hours in +overdrive, if one broke out to +measure.<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_59" id="Page_59">[59]</a></span></p> + +<p>The first blueskin student pilot +ended a Calhoun-determined +tour of duty with rather more of +respect for Calhoun than he'd +had at the beginning. The second +was anxious to show up better +than the first. Calhoun drilled +him in the use of brightness-charts, +by which the changes in +apparent brightness of stars between +overdrive hops could be +correlated with angular changes +to give a three-dimensional picture +of the nearer heavens. It was +a highly necessary art which had +not been worked out on Dara, and +the prospective astrogators became +absorbed in this and other +fine points of space-piloting. +They'd done enough, in a few +trips to Orede, to realize that +they needed to know more. Calhoun +showed them.</p> + +<p>Calhoun did not try to make +things easy for them. He was +hungry and easily annoyed. It +was sound training tactics to be +severe, and to phrase all suggestions +as commands. He put the +four young men in command of +the ship in turn, under his direction. +He continued to use Weald +as a destination, but he set up +problems in which the Med Ship +came out of overdrive pointing +in an unknown direction and with +a precessory motion. He made +the third of his students identify +Weald in the celestial globe +containing hundreds of millions +of stars, and get on course in +overdrive toward it. The fourth +was suddenly required to compute +the distance to Weald from +such data as he could get from +observation, without reference +to any records.</p> + +<p>By this time the first man was +chafing to take a second turn. +Calhoun gave each of them a +second gruelling lesson. He gave +them, in fact, a highly condensed +but very sound course in the art +of travel in space. His young +students took command in four-hour +watches, with at least one +breakout from overdrive in each +watch. He built up enthusiasm +in them. They ignored the discomfort +of being hungry, though +there had been no reason for +them to stint on food in Orede—in +growing pride in what they +came to know.</p> + +<p>When Weald was a first-magnitude +star, the four were not highly +qualified astrogators, to be +sure, but they were vastly better +spacemen than at the beginning. +Inevitably, their attitude toward +Calhoun was respectful. He'd +been irritable and right. To the +young, the combination is impressive.</p> + +<p>Maril had served as passenger +only. In theory she was to compare +Calhoun's lessons with his +practise when alone. But he did +nothing on this journey which—teaching +considered—was different +from the two interstellar +journeys Maril had made with<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_60" id="Page_60">[60]</a></span> +him. She occupied the sleeping-cabin +during two of the six +watches of each ship-day. She +operated the food-readier, which +was almost completely emptied +of its original store of food;—confiscated +by the government +of Dara. That amount of food +would make no difference to the +planet, but it was wise for everyone +on Dara to be equally ill-fed.</p> + +<p>On the sixth day out from +Dara, the sun of Weald had a +magnitude of minus five-tenths.<a name="FNanchor_A_1" id="FNanchor_A_1"></a><a href="#Footnote_A_1" class="fnanchor">[A]</a> +The electron telescope could detect +its larger planets, especially +a gas-giant fifth-orbit world of +high albedo. Calhoun had his +four students estimate its distance +again, pointing out the difference +that could be made in +breakout position if the Med +Ship were mis-aimed by as much +as one second of arc.</p> + +<p>"That does it," Calhoun announced +cheerfully. "That's the +last order I'll give you. You're +graduate pilots from here on! +Relax and have some coffee."</p> + +<hr class="invisible" /> + +<p>"And now," said Calhoun, "I +suppose you'll tell me the +truth about those boxes you +brought on board. You said they +were rations, but they haven't +been opened in six days. I have +an idea what they mean, but you +tell me."</p> + +<p>The four looked uncomfortable. +There was a long pause.</p> + +<p>"They could be," said Calhoun +detachedly, "cultures to be +dumped on Weald. Weald is +making plans to wipe out Dara. +So some fool has decided to get +Weald too busy fighting a plague +of its own to bother with you. Is +that right?"</p> + +<p>The young men stirred uneasily. +"Well—l—l, sir," said one of +them, unhappily, "that's what we +were ordered to do."</p> + +<p>"I object," said Calhoun. "It +wouldn't work. I just left Weald +a little while back, remember. +They've been telling themselves +that some day Dara would try +that. They've made preparations +to fight any imaginable contagion +you could drop on them. Every +so often somebody claims it's +happening. It wouldn't work."</p> + +<p>"But—"</p> + +<p>"In fact," said Calhoun, "I +will not permit you to do anything +of the kind."</p> + +<p>One of the young men, staring +at Calhoun, nodded suddenly. +His eyes closed. He jerked his +head erect and looked bewildered. +A second sank heavily into a +chair. He said remotely, "Thish +sfunny!" and abruptly went to +sleep. The third found his knees +giving away. He paid elaborate +attention to them, stiffening +them. But they yielded like rubber +and he went slowly down to +the floor. The fourth said thickly<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_61" id="Page_61">[61]</a></span> +with difficulty, yet reproachfully;</p> + +<p>"'Thought y'were our frien'!"</p> + +<p>He collapsed.</p> + +<p>Calhoun very soberly tied +them hand and foot and laid +them out comfortably on the +floor. Maril watched, white-faced, +her hand to her throat. "What +have you done to them? Are they +dead?"</p> + +<p>"No," said Calhoun, "just +drugged. They'll wake up presently."</p> + +<p>Maril said in a tense and desperate +whisper;</p> + +<p>"You're—betraying us! You're +going to take us to Weald."</p> + +<p>"No," said Calhoun. "We'll +only orbit around it. First, +though, I want to get rid of those +damned packed-up cultures. +They're dead, by the way. I +killed them with supersonics a +couple of days ago, while a fine +argument was going on about +distance-measurements by variable +Cepheids of known period."</p> + +<p>He put the four boxes carefully +in the waste-disposal unit. He +operated it. The boxes and their +contents streamed out to space +in the form of metallic and other +vapors. Calhoun sat at the control-desk.</p> + +<p>"I'm a Med Service man," he +said detachedly. "I couldn't cooperate +in the spread of plague, +anyhow, though a useful epidemic +might be another matter. But the +important thing right now is not +keeping Weald busy with troubles +to increase their hatred of Dara. +It's getting some food for Dara. +And driblets won't help. What's +needed is in thousands of tons,—or +tens of thousands." Then he +said; "Overdrive coming, Murgatroyd! +Hold fast!"</p> + +<p>The universe vanished. The +customary unpleasant sensations +accompanied the change. Murgatroyd +burped.</p> + +<div class="microspace"> </div> +<div class="footnote"><p><a name="Footnote_A_1" id="Footnote_A_1"></a><a href="#FNanchor_A_1"><span class="label">[A]</span></a> Earth's sun, from Earth, is of magnitude +roughly minus thirty-six.</p></div> + + +<hr /> +<h2 class="chapter">CHAPTER 6</h2> + + +<p>A large part of the firmament +was blotted out by the blindingly +bright half-disk of Weald, +as it shone in the sunshine. It had +ice-caps at its poles, and there +were seas, and the mottled look +of land which had that carefully +maintained balance of woodland +and cultivated areas which was +so effective in climate control. +The Med Ship floated free, and +Calhoun fretfully monitored all +the beacon frequencies known to +man.</p> + +<p>There was relative silence inside +the ship. Maril watched Calhoun +in a sort of despairing indecision. +The four young blueskins +still slept, still bound hand +and foot upon the control-room +floor. Murgatroyd regarded them, +and Maril, and Calhoun in turn, +and his small and furry forehead +wrinkled helplessly.</p> + +<p>"They can't have landed what +I'm looking for!" protested Calhoun +as his search had no result.<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_62" id="Page_62">[62]</a></span> +"They can't. It would be too sensible +for them to have done it!"</p> + +<p>Murgatroyd said "<i>Chee!</i>" in a +subdued voice.</p> + +<p>"But where the devil did they +put them?" demanded Calhoun. +"A polar orbit would be ridiculous! +They—" Then he grunted +in disgust. "Oh! Of course! +Now, where's the landing-grid?"</p> + +<p>He worked busily for minutes, +checking the position of the +Wealdian landing-grid—mapped +in the Sector Directory—against +the look of continents and seas +on the half-disk so plainly visible +outside. He found what he +wanted. He put on the ship's solar-system +drive.</p> + +<p>"I wish," he complained to +Maril, "I wish I could think +straight the first time! And it's +so obvious! If you want to put +something out in space, and not +have it interfere with traffic, in +what sort of orbit and at what +distance will you put it?"</p> + +<p>Maril did not answer.</p> + +<p>"Obviously," said Calhoun, +"you'll put it as far as possible +from the landing-pattern of ships +coming in to the space-port. +You'll put it on the opposite side +of the planet. And you'll want it +to stay out of the way, where +anybody can know it is at any +time of the day or night without +having to calculate anything. +So you'll put it out in orbit so it +will revolve around Weald in exactly +one day, neither more or +less, and you'll put it above the +equator. And then it will remain +quite stationary above one spot +on the planet, a hundred and +eighty degrees longitude away +from the landing-grid and directly +over the equator."</p> + +<p>He scribbled for a moment.</p> + +<p>"Which means forty-two thousand +miles high, give or take a +few hundred, and—here! And I +was hunting for it in a close-in +orbit!"</p> + +<p>He grumbled to himself. He +waited while the solar-system +drive pushed the Med Ship a +quarter of the way around the +bright planet below. The sunset +line vanished and the planet's +disk became a complete circle. +Then Calhoun listened to the +monitor earphones again, and +grunted once more, and changed +course, and presently made a +noise indicating satisfaction.</p> + +<p>Again presently he abandoned +instrument-control and peered +directly out of a port, handling +the solar-system drive with great +care. Murgatroyd said depressedly;</p> + +<p>"<i>Chee!</i>"</p> + +<p>"Stop worrying," commanded +Calhoun. "We haven't been challenged, +and there is a beacon +transmitter at work, just to make +sure that nobody bumps into +what we're looking for. It's a +great help, because we do want to +bump,—gently."</p> + +<p>Stars swung across the port<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_63" id="Page_63">[63]</a></span> +out of which he looked. Something +dark appeared,—and then +straight lines and exact curvings. +Even Maril, despairing and bewildered +as she was, caught sight +of something vastly larger than +the Med Ship, floating in space. +She stared. The Med Ship maneuvered +very cautiously. She +saw another large object. A third. +A fourth. There seemed to be +dozens of them.</p> + +<p>They were space-ships, huge +by comparison with Aesclipus +Twenty. They floated as the Med +Ship did. They did not drive. +They were not in formation. They +were not at even distances from +each other. They did not point +in the same direction. They +swung in emptiness like derelicts.</p> + +<p>Calhoun jockeyed his small +ship with infinite care. Presently +there came the gentlest of impacts +and then a clanking sound. +The appearance out the vision-port +became stationary, but still +unbelievable. The Med Ship was +grappled magnetically to a vast +surface of welded metal.</p> + +<p>Calhoun relaxed. He opened a +wall-panel and brought out a +vacuum suit. He began briskly to +get it on.</p> + +<p>"Things move smoothly," he +commented. "We weren't challenged. +So it's extremely unlikely +that we were spotted. Our friends +on the floor ought to begin to +come to shortly. And I'm going +to find out now whether I'm a +hero or in sure-enough trouble!"</p> + +<p>Maril said drearily;</p> + +<p>"I don't know what you've +done, except—"</p> + +<p>Calhoun blinked at her, in the +act of hauling the vacuum suit +over his shoulders.</p> + +<p>"Isn't it self-evident?" he demanded. +"I've been giving astrogation +lessons to these characters. +I certainly didn't do it to +help them dump germ-cultures +on Weald! I brought them here! +Don't you see the point? These +are space-ships. They're in orbit +around Weald. They're not +manned and they're not controlled. +In fact, they're nothing +but sky-riding storage bins!"</p> + +<p>He seemed to consider the explanation +complete. He wriggled +his arms into the sleeves and +gloves of the suit. He slung the +air-tanks over his shoulder and +hooked them to the suit.</p> + +<p>"I'll be back," he said. "I hope +with good news. I've reason to be +hopeful, though, because these +Wealdians are very practical +men. They have things all prepared +and tidy. I suspect I'll find +these ships with stores of air and +fuel—maybe even food—so that +if Weald should manage to make +a deal for the stuff stored out +here in them, they'd only have to +bring out crews."</p> + +<hr class="invisible" /> + +<p>He lifted the space-helmet +down from its rack and put it +on. He tested it, reading the tank<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_64" id="Page_64">[64]</a></span> +air-pressure, power-storage, and +other data from the lighted +miniature instruments visible +through pinholes above his eye-level. +He fastened a space-rope +about himself, speaking through +the helmet's opened face-plate.</p> + +<p>"If our friends should wake up +before I get back," he added, +"please restrain them. I'd hate to +be marooned."</p> + +<p>He went waddling into the airlock +with the coil of space-rope +over one vacuum-suited arm. The +inner lock door closed behind him +A little later Maril heard the outer +lock open. Then soundlessness.</p> + +<p>Murgatroyd whimpered a little. +Maril shivered. Calhoun had gone +out of the ship to nothingness. +He'd said that what he was looking +for—and what he'd found—was +forty-two thousand miles +from Weald. One could imagine +falling forty-two thousand miles, +where one couldn't imagine falling +a light-year. Calhoun was +walking on the steel plates of a +gigantic space-ship which floated +among dozens of its fellows, +all seeming derelicts and seemingly +abandoned. He was able to +walk on the nearest because of +magnetic-soled shoes. He trusted +his life to them and to a flimsy +space-rope which trailed after +him out the Med Ship's airlock.</p> + +<p>Time passed. A clock ticked in +that hurried tempo of five ticks +to the second which has been the +habit of clocks since time immemorial. +Very small and trivial +noises came from the background +tape, preventing utter silence +from hanging intolerably in the +ship. They were traffic-sounds, recorded +on a world no one knew +how many light-years distant, +and nobody knew when. There +were sounds as of voices, too faint +to suggest words, but imparting +a feel of life and activity to a +soundless ship.</p> + +<p>Maril found herself listening +tensely for something else. One +of the four bound blueskins +snored, and stirred, and slept +again. Murgatroyd gazed about +unhappily, and swung down to +the control-room floor, and then +paused for lack of any place to +go or thing to do. He sat down +and began half-heartedly to lick +his whiskers. Maril stirred.</p> + +<p>Murgatroyd looked at her +hopefully.</p> + +<p>"<i>Chee?</i>" he asked shrilly.</p> + +<p>She shook her head. It became +a habit to act as if Murgatroyd +were a human being.</p> + +<p>"N-no," she said unsteadily. +"Not yet."</p> + +<p>More time passed. An unbearably +long time. Then there was +the faintest of clankings. It repeated. +Then, abruptly, there +were noises in the airlock. They +continued. They were fumbling +noises.</p> + +<p>The outer airlock door closed. +The inner door opened. Dense +white fog came out of it. There<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_65" id="Page_65">[65]</a></span> +was motion. Calhoun followed the +fog out of the lock. He carried +objects which had been weightless, +but were suddenly heavy in +the ship's gravity-field. There +were two space-suits and a curious +assortment of parcels. He +spread them out, flipped aside the +face-plate, and said briskly;</p> + +<p>"This stuff is cold! Turn a +heater on it, will you Maril?"</p> + +<p>He began to work his way out +of his vacuum-suit.</p> + +<p>"Item," he said. "The ships +are fuelled <i>and</i> provisioned. A +practical tribe, the Wealdians! +The ships are ready to take off as +soon as they're warmed up inside. +A half-degree sun doesn't radiate +heat enough to keep a ship warm, +when the rest of the cosmos is effectively +near zero Kelvin. Here, +point the heaters like this."</p> + +<p>He adjusted the radiant-heat +dispensers. The fog disappeared +where their beams played. But +the metal space-suits glistened +and steamed,—and the steam disappeared +within inches. They +were so completely and utterly +cold that they condensed the air +about them as a liquid, which +reëvaporated to make fog, which +warmed up and disappeared and +was immediately replaced.</p> + +<p>"Item," said Calhoun again, +getting his arms out of the vacuum-suit +sleeves. "The controls +are pretty nearly standard. Our +sleeping friends will be able to +astrogate them back to Dara +without trouble, provided only +that nobody comes out here to +bother us before they leave."</p> + +<p>He shed the last of the space-suit, +stepping out of its legs.</p> + +<p>"And," he finished wrily, "I +brought back an emergency supply +of ship-provisions for everybody +concerned, but find that I'm +idiot enough to feel that they'll +choke me if I eat them while +Dara's still starving."</p> + +<p>Maril said;</p> + +<p>"But—there isn't any hope for +Dara! No real hope!"</p> + +<p>He gaped at her.</p> + +<p>"What do you think we're here +for?"</p> + +<hr class="invisible" /> + +<p>He set to work to restore his +four recent students to consciousness. +It was not a difficult +task. The dosage, mixed in the +coffee he had given them earlier, +was a light one. Calhoun took the +precaution of disarming them +first, but presently four hot-eyed +young men glared at him.</p> + +<p>"I'm calling," said Calhoun, +holding a blaster negligently in +his hand, "I'm calling for volunteers. +There's a famine on Dara. +There've been unmanageable +crop-surpluses on Weald. On +Dara, the government grimly rations +every ounce of food. On +Weald, the government has been +buying up surplus grain to keep +the price up. To save storage +costs, it's loaded the grain into +out-of-date space-ships it once<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_66" id="Page_66">[66]</a></span> +used to stand sentry over Dara +to keep it out of space when there +was another famine there. Those +ships have been put out in orbit, +where we're hooked on to one of +them. It's loaded with half a +million bushels of grain. I've +brought space-suits from it, I've +turned on the heaters in its interior, +and I've set its overdrive +unit for a hop to Dara. Now I'm +calling for volunteers to take half +a million bushels of grain to +where it's needed. Do I get any +volunteers?"</p> + +<p>He got four. Not immediately, +because they were ashamed that +he'd made it impossible to carry +out their original fanatic plan, +and now offered something much +better to make up for it. They +raged. But half a million bushels +of grain meant that people who +must otherwise die might live.</p> + +<p>Ultimately, truculently, first +one and then another angrily +agreed.</p> + +<p>"Good!" said Calhoun. "Now, +how many of you dare risk the +trip alone? I've got one grain-ship +warming up. There are plenty +of others around us. Every +one of you can take a ship and +half a million bushels to Dara, +if you have the nerve?"</p> + +<p>The atmosphere changed. Suddenly +they clamored for the task +he offered them. They were still +acutely uncomfortable. He'd +bossed them and taught them until +they felt capable and glamorous +and proud. Then he'd pinned +their ears back. But if they returned +to Dara with four enemy +ships and unimaginable quantities +of food with which to break +the famine....</p> + +<p>There was work to be done +first, of course. Only one ship was +so far warming up. Three more +had to be entered, in space-suits, +and each had to have its interior +warmed so breathable air could +exist inside it, and at least part +of the stored provisions had to +be brought up to reasonable +temperature for use on the journey. +Then the overdrive unit had +to be inspected and set for the +length of journey that a direct +overdrive hop to Dara would +mean, and Calhoun had to make +sure again that each of the four +could identify Dara's sun under +all circumstances and aim for it +with the requisite high precision, +both before going into overdrive +and after breakout. When all that +was accomplished, Calhoun might +reasonably hope that they'd arrive. +But it wasn't a certainty.</p> + +<p>Still, presently his four students +shook hands with him, with +the fine tolerance of young men +intending much greater achievements +than their teacher. They +wouldn't speak on communicator +again, because their messages +might be picked up on Weald.</p> + +<p>Of course for this action to be +successful, it had to be performed +with the stealth of sneak-thieves.<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_67" id="Page_67">[67]</a></span></p> + +<hr class="invisible" /> + +<p>What seemed a long time +passed. Then one ship +turned slowly upon some unseen +axis. It wavered back and forth, +seeking a point of aim. A second +twisted in its place. A third put +on the barest trace of solar-system +drive to get clear of the rest. +The fourth ...</p> + +<p>One ship vanished. It had gone +into overdrive, heading for Dara +at many times the speed of light. +Another. Two more.</p> + +<p>That was all. The remainder of +the fleet hung clumsily in emptiness. +And Calhoun worriedly +went over in his mind the lessons +he'd given in such a pathetically +small number of days. If the four +ships reached Dara, their pilots +would be heroes. Calhoun had +presented them with that estate +over their bitter objection. But +they would glory in it, if they +reached Dara.</p> + +<p>Maril looked at him with very +strange eyes.</p> + +<p>"Now what?" she asked.</p> + +<p>"We hang around," said Calhoun, +"to see if anybody comes +up from Weald to find out what's +happened. It's always possible to +pick up a sort of signal when a +ship goes into overdrive. Usually +it doesn't mean a thing. Nobody +pays any attention. But if somebody +comes out here—"</p> + +<p>"What?"</p> + +<p>"It'll be regrettable," said Calhoun. +He was suddenly very tired. +"It'll spoil any chance of our +coming back and stealing some +more food—like interstellar mice. +If they find out what we've done +they'll expect us to try it again. +They might get set to fight. Or +they might simply land the rest +of these ships."</p> + +<p>"If I'd realized what you were +about," said Maril, "I'd have +joined in the lessons. I could have +piloted a ship."</p> + +<p>"You wouldn't have wanted +to," said Calhoun. He yawned. +"You wouldn't want to be a heroine."</p> + +<p>"Why?"</p> + +<p>"Korvan," said Calhoun. He +yawned again. "I've asked about +him. He's been trying very desperately +to deserve well of his fellow +blueskins. All he's accomplished +is develop a way to starve +painlessly. He wouldn't feel comfortable +with a girl who'd helped +make starving unnecessary. He'd +admire you politely, but he'd +never marry you. And you know +it."</p> + +<p>She shook her head, but it was +not easy to tell whether she denied +the reaction of Korvan—whom +Calhoun had never met—or +denied that he was more important +to her than anything else. +The last was what Calhoun plainly +implied.</p> + +<p>"You don't seem to be trying to +be a hero!" she protested.</p> + +<p>"I'd enjoy it," admitted Calhoun, +"but I have a job to do. It's +got to be done. It's much more im<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_68" id="Page_68">[68]</a></span>portant +than being admired."</p> + +<p>"You could take another ship +back," she told him. "It would be +worth more to Dara than the +Med Ship is! And then everybody +would realize that you'd +planned everything."</p> + +<p>"Ah!" said Calhoun. "But +you've no idea how much this ship +matters to Dara!"</p> + +<p>He seated himself at the controls. +He slipped headphones over +his ears. He listened. Very, very +carefully, he monitored all the +wave-lengths and wave-forms he +could discover in use on Weald. +There was no mention of the oddity +of behavior of shiploads of +surplus grain aloft. There was no +mention of the ships at all. But +there was plenty of mention of +Dara, and blueskins, and of the +vicious political fight now going +on to see which political party +could promise the most complete +protection against blueskins.</p> + +<p>After a full hour of it, Calhoun +flipped off his receptor and swung +the Med Ship to an exact, painstakingly +precise aim at the sun +around which Dara rolled. He +said;</p> + +<p>"Overdrive coming, Murgatroyd!"</p> + +<p>Murgatroyd grabbed. The stars +went out and the universe reeled +and the Med Ship became a sort +of cosmos all its own.</p> + +<p>Calhoun yawned again.</p> + +<p>"Now there's nothing to be +done for a day or two," he said +wearily, "and I'm beginning to +understand why people sleep all +they can, on Dara. It's one way +not to feel hungry."</p> + +<p>Maril said tensely;</p> + +<p>"You're going back? After +they took the ship from you?"</p> + +<p>"The job's not finished," he explained. +"Not even the famine's +ended, and the famine's a second-order +effect. If there were no such +thing as a blueskin, there'd be no +famine. Food could be traded for. +We've got to do something to +make sure there are no more +famines."</p> + +<p>She looked at him oddly.</p> + +<p>"It would be desirable," she +said with irony. "But you can't +do it."</p> + +<p>"Not today, no," he admitted. +Then he said longingly, "I'm +about to catch up on some sleep."</p> + +<p>Maril rose and went into the +other cabin. He settled down into +the chair and fell instantly asleep.</p> + +<hr class="invisible" /> + +<p>For very many ship-hours, +then, there was no action or +activity or happening of any imaginable +consequence in the Med +Ship. Very, very far away, light-years +distant and light years +apart, four shiploads of grain +hurtled toward the famine-stricken +planet of blueskins. Each +great ship had a single semi-skilled +blueskin for pilot and +crew. Thousands of millions of +suns blazed with violence appropriate +to their stellar types in a<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_69" id="Page_69">[69]</a></span> +galaxy of which a very small +proportion had been explored and +colonized by humanity. The human +race was now to be counted +in quadrillions on scores of hundreds +of inhabited worlds, but the +tiny Med Ship seemed the least +significant of all possible created +things. It could travel between +star-systems and even star-clusters, +but it was not yet capable +of crossing the continent of suns +on which the human race arose. +And between any two solar systems +the journeying of the Med +Ship consumed much time. Which +would be maddening for someone +with no work to do or no resources +in himself, or herself.</p> + +<p>On the second ship-day Calhoun +labored painstakingly and +somewhat distastefully at the +little biological laboratory. Maril +watched him in a sort of brooding +silence. Murgatroyd slept +much of the time, with his furry +tail wrapped meticulously across +his nose.</p> + +<p>Toward the end of the day Calhoun +finished his task. He had +a matter of six or seven cubic +centimeters of clear liquid as the +conclusion of a long process of +culturing, and examination by +microscope, and again culturing +plus final filtration. He looked at +a clock and calculated time.</p> + +<p>"Better wait until tomorrow," +he observed, and put the bit of +clear liquid in a temperature-controlled +place of safe-keeping.</p> + +<p>"What is it?" asked Maril. +"What's it for?"</p> + +<p>"It's part of a job I have on +hand," said Calhoun. He considered. +"How about some music?"</p> + +<p>She looked astonished. But he +set up an instrument and fed +microtape into it and settled back +to listen. Then there was music +such as she had never heard before. +Again it was a device to +counteract isolation and monotonous +between-planet voyages. To +keep it from losing its effectiveness, +Calhoun rationed himself on +music, as on other things. Calhoun +deliberately went for weeks +between uses of his recordings, +so that music was an event to be +looked forward to and cherished.</p> + +<p>When he tapered off the stirring +symphonies of Kun Gee +with tranquilizing, soothing melodies +from the Rim School of +composers, Maril regarded him +with a very peculiar gaze indeed.</p> + +<p>"I think I understand now," +she said slowly, "why you don't +act like other people. Toward me, +for example. The way you live +gives you what other people have +to try to get in crazy ways,—making +their work feed their vanity, +and justify pride, and make +them feel significant. But you +can put your whole mind on your +work."</p> + +<p>He thought it over.</p> + +<p>"Med Ship routine is designed +to keep one healthy in his mind," +he admitted. "It works pretty<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_70" id="Page_70">[70]</a></span> +well. It satisfies all my mental +appetites. But naturally there are +instincts—"</p> + +<div class="microspace"> </div> +<div class="image"> +<img src="images/i070.jpg" width="575" height="427" alt="" title="" /> +</div> +<div class="microspace"> </div> + +<p>She waited. He did not finish.</p> + +<p>"What do you do about instincts +that work and music and +such things can't satisfy?"</p> + +<p>Calhoun grinned wrily;</p> + +<p>"I'm stern with them. I have +to be."</p> + +<p>He stood up and plainly expected +her to go into the other cabin +for the night. She did.</p> + +<hr class="invisible" /> + +<p>It was after breakfast-time of +the next ship-day when he got +out the sample of clear liquid +he'd worked so long to produce. +"We'll see how it works," he +observed. "Murgatroyd's handy +in case of a slip-up. It's perfectly +safe so long as he's aboard +and there are only the two of us."</p> + +<p>She watched as he injected half +a cc under his own skin. Then +she shivered a little.</p> + +<p>"What will it do?"</p> + +<p>"That remains to be seen." He +paused a moment. "You and I," he +said with some dryness, "make a +perfect test for anything. If you +catch something from me, it will +be infective indeed!"</p> + +<p>She gazed at him utterly without +comprehension.</p> + +<p>He took his own temperature. +He brought out the folios which +were his orders, covering each of +the planets he should give a +standard Medical Service inspection. +Weald was there. Dara +wasn't. But a Med Service man<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_71" id="Page_71">[71]</a></span> +has much freedom of action, even +when only keeping up the routine +of normal Med Service. When +catching up on badly neglected +operations, he necessarily has +much more. Calhoun went over +the folios.</p> + +<p>Two hours later he took his +temperature again. He looked +pleased. He made an entry in the +ship's log. Two hours later yet +he found himself drinking thirstily +and looked more pleased still. +He made another entry in the log +and matter-of-factly drew a +small quantity of blood from his +own vein and called to Murgatroyd. +Murgatroyd submitted +amiably to the very trivial operation +Calhoun carried out. Calhoun +put away the equipment and +saw Maril staring at him with a +certain look of shock.</p> + +<p>"It doesn't hurt him," Calhoun +explained. "Right after he's born +there's a tiny spot on his flank +that has the pain-nerves desensitized. +Murgatroyd's all right. +That's what he's for!"</p> + +<p>"But he's—your friend!"</p> + +<p>"He's my assistant. I don't ask +anything of him that I can do +myself. But we're both Med Service. +And I do things for him that +he can't do for himself. For example, +I make coffee for him."</p> + +<p>Murgatroyd heard the familiar +word. He said;</p> + +<p>"<i>Chee!</i>"</p> + +<p>"Very well," agreed Calhoun. +"We'll all have some."</p> + +<p>He made coffee. Murgatroyd +sipped at the cup especially +made for his little paws. Once he +scratched at the place on his +flank which had no pain-nerves. +It itched. But he was perfectly +content. Murgatroyd would always +be contented when he was +somewhere near Calhoun.</p> + +<p>Another hour went by. Murgatroyd +climbed up into Calhoun's +lap and with a determined air +went to sleep there. Calhoun disturbed +him long enough to get an +instrument out of his pocket. He +listened to Murgatroyd's heartbeat +with it while Murgatroyd +dozed.</p> + +<p>"Maril," he said. "Write down +something for me. The time, and +ninety-six, and one-twenty over +ninety-four."</p> + +<p>She obeyed, not comprehending. +Half an hour later—still not +stirring to disturb Murgatroyd—he +had her write down another +time and sequence of figures, only +slightly different from the first. +Half an hour later still, a third +set. But then he put Murgatroyd +down, well satisfied.</p> + +<p>He took his own temperature. +He nodded.</p> + +<p>"Murgatroyd and I have one +more chore to do," he told her. +"Would you go in the other cabin +for a moment?"</p> + +<p>She went disturbedly into the +other cabin. Calhoun drew a sample +of blood from the insensitive +area on Murgatroyd's flank.<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_72" id="Page_72">[72]</a></span> +Murgatroyd submitted with complete +confidence in the man. In +ten minutes Calhoun had diluted +the sample, added an anticoagulant, +shaken it up thoroughly, +and filtered it to clarity with all +red and white corpuscles removed. +Another Med Ship man +would have considered that Calhoun +had had Murgatroyd prepare +a splendid small sample of +antibody-containing serum, in +case something got out of hand. +It would assuredly take care of +two patients.</p> + +<p>But a Med Ship man would also +have known that it was simply +one of those scrupulous precautions +a Med Ship man takes +when using cultures from store.</p> + +<p>Calhoun put the sample away +and called Maril back and offered +no explanation. She said;</p> + +<p>"I'll fix lunch." She hesitated. +"You brought some food from the +first Weald ship. Do you want +it?"</p> + +<p>He shook his head.</p> + +<p>"I'm squeamish," he admitted. +"The trouble on Dara is Med +Service fault. Before my time, +but still—I'll stick to rations until +everybody eats."</p> + +<hr class="invisible" /> + +<p>He watched her unobtrusively +as the day went on. Presently +he considered that she was +slightly flushed. Shortly after the +evening meal of singularly unappetizing +Darian rations, she +drank thirstily. He did not comment. +He brought out cards and +showed her a complicated game +of solitaire in which mental arithmetic +and expert use of probability +increased one's chance of winning.</p> + +<p>By midnight, ship-time, she'd +learned the game and played it +absorbedly. Calhoun was able to +scrutinize her without appearing +to do so, and he was satisfied +again. When he mentioned that +the Med Ship should arrive off +Dara in eight hours more, she +put the cards away and went into +the other cabin.</p> + +<p>Calhoun wrote up the log. He +added the notes that Maril had +made for him, of Murgatroyd's +pulse and blood-pressure after +the injection of the same culture +that produced fever and thirstiness +in himself and later—without +contact with him or the culture—in +Maril. He put a professional +comment at the end.</p> + +<p>"The culture seems to have retained +its normal characteristics +during long storage in the spore +state. It revived and reproduced +rapidly. I injected .5 cc under +my skin and in less than one +hour my temperature was 30.8°C. +An hour later it was 30.9°C. +This was its peak. It immediately +returned to normal. The only +other observable symptom was +slightly increased thirst. Blood-pressure +and pulse remained normal. +The other person in the Med +Ship displayed the same symp<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_73" id="Page_73">[73]</a></span>toms, +in prompt and complete +repetition, without physical contact."</p> + +<p>He went to sleep, with Murgatroyd +curled up in his cubbyhole.</p> + +<p>The Med Ship broke out of +overdrive at 1300 hours, ship +time. Calhoun made contact with +the grid and was promptly lowered +to the ground.</p> + +<p>It was almost two hours later—1500 +hours ship-time—when +the people of Dara were informed +by broadcast that Calhoun was +publicly to be executed; immediately.</p> + + + +<hr /> +<h2 class="chapter">CHAPTER 7</h2> + + +<p>From the viewpoint of Darians, +the decision of Calhoun's +guilt and the decision to execute +him were reasonable enough. +Maril protested fiercely, and her +testimony agreed with Calhoun's +in every respect, but from a +blueskin viewpoint their own +statements were damning.</p> + +<p>Calhoun had taken four young +astrogators to space. They were +the only semi-skilled space-pilots +Dara had. There were no fully +qualified men. Calhoun had asked +for them, and taken them out to +emptiness, and there he had instructed +them in modern guidance-methods +for ships of space. +So far there was no disagreement. +He'd proposed to make +them more competent pilots; +more capable of driving a ship +to Orede, for example, to raid the +enormous cattle-herds there. And +he'd had them drive the Med +Ship to Weald, against which +there could be no objection.</p> + +<p>But just before arrival he had +tricked all four of them by giving +them drugged coffee. He'd destroyed +the lethal bacterial cultures +they'd been ordered to dump +on Weald. Then he'd sent the four +student pilots off separately—so +he and Maril claimed—in huge +ships crammed with grain. But +those ships were not to be believed +in, anyhow. Nobody on +Dara could imagine stores of food +bought up and stored away because +it was useless; to keep up +prices. Nobody believed in shiploads +of grain to be had for the +taking. They did know that the +only four partially experienced +space-pilots on Dara had been +taken away and by Calhoun's +own story sent out of the ship +after they'd been drugged. Had +they been trained, and had they +been helped or even permitted to +sow the seeds of plague on +Weald, and had they come back +prepared to pass on training to +other men to handle other space-ships +now feverishly being built +in hidden places on Dara,—why—then +Dara might have a chance +of survival. But a space-battle +with only partly trained pilots +would be hazardous at best. With +no trained pilots at all, it would +be hopeless. So Calhoun, by his<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_74" id="Page_74">[74]</a></span> +own story, appeared to have +doomed every living being on +Dara to massacre from the bombs +of Weald.</p> + +<p>It was this last angle which destroyed +any chance of anybody +believing in such fairy-tale objects +as ships loaded down with +grain. Calhoun had shattered +Dara's feeble hope of resistance. +Weald had some ships and could +build or buy others faster than +Dara could hope to construct +them. Equally important, Weald +had a plenitude of experienced +spacemen to man some ships fully +and train the crews of others. +If it had become desperately busy +fighting plague, then a fleet to +exterminate life on Dara would +be delayed. Dara might have +gained time at least to build +ships which could ram their enemies +and destroy them that way.</p> + +<p>But Calhoun had made it impossible. +If he told the truth and +Weald already had a fleet of huge +ships which only needed to be +emptied of grain and filled with +guns and men—why—Dara was +doomed. But if he did not tell the +truth it was equally doomed by +his actions. So Calhoun would be +killed.</p> + +<p>His execution was to take place +in the open space of the landing-grid, +with vision-cameras transmitting +the sight over all the +blueskin planet. Half-starved +men, with grisly blue blotches on +their skins, marched him to the +center of the largest level space +on the planet which was not desperately +being cultivated. Their +hatred showed in their expressions. +Bitterness and fury surrounded +Calhoun like a wall. +Most of Dara would have liked +to see him killed in a manner as +atrocious as his crime, but no +conceivable death would be satisfying.</p> + +<p>So the affair was coldly businesslike, +with not even insults offered +to him. He was left to stand +alone in the very center of the +landing-grid floor. There were a +hundred blasters which would fire +upon him at the same instant. He +would not only be killed; he +would be destroyed. He would +be vaporized by the blue-white +flames poured upon him.</p> + +<hr class="invisible" /> + +<p>His death was remarkably +close. Nothing remained but +the order to fire, when loudspeakers +from the landing-grid office +froze everything. One of the +grain-ships from Weald had broken +out of overdrive and its pilot +was triumphantly calling for +landing-coördinates. The grid office +relayed his call to loudspeaker +circuits as the quickest way to +get it on the communication system +of the whole planet.</p> + +<p>"<i>Calling ground</i>," boomed the +triumphant voice of the first of +the student pilots Calhoun had<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_75" id="Page_75">[75]</a></span> +trained. "<i>Calling ground! Pilot +Franz in captured ship requests +coördinates for landing! Purpose +of landing, to deliver half +a million bushels of grain captured +from the enemy!</i>"</p> + +<p>At first, nobody dared believe +it. But the pilot could be seen on +vision. He was known. No blueskin +would be left alive long +enough to be used as a decoy by +the men of Weald! Presently the +giant ship on its second voyage +to Dara—the first had been a +generation ago, when it threatened +death and destruction—appeared +as a dark pinpoint in +the sky. It came down and down, +and presently it hovered over the +center of the tarmac, where Calhoun +composedly stood on the +spot where he was to have been +executed.</p> + +<p>The landing-grid crew shifted +the ship to one side, and only then +did Calhoun stroll in a leisurely +fashion toward the Med Ship +by the grid's metal-lace wall.</p> + +<p>The big ship touched ground, +and its exit-port revolved and +opened, and the student pilot +stood there grinning and heaving +out handsful of grain. There was +a swarming, yelling, deliriously +triumphant crowd, then, where +only minutes before there'd been +a mob waiting to rejoice when +Calhoun's living body exploded +into flame.</p> + +<p>They no longer hated Calhoun, +but he had to fight his way to the +Med Ship, nevertheless. He +was surrounded by now-ecstatically +admiring citizens of Dara, +only minutes since they'd thirsted +for his blood.</p> + +<p>Two hours after the first ship, +a second landed. Dara went wild +again. Four hours later still, the +third arrived. The fourth came +down on the following day.</p> + +<p>Then Calhoun faced the executive +and cabinet of Dara for the +second time. His tone and manner +were very dry.</p> + +<p>"Now," he said curtly, "I +would like a few more astrogators +to train. I think it likely that we +can raid the Wealdian grain-fleet +one time more, and in so doing +get the beginning of a fleet for +defense. I insist, however, that +it must not be used in combat! +We might as well be sensible +about this situation! After all, +four shiploads of grain won't +break the famine! They'll help a +lot, but they're only the beginning +of what's needed for a planetary population!"</p> + +<p>"How much grain can we hope +for?" demanded a man with a +blue mark covering all his chin.</p> + +<p>Calhoun told him.</p> + +<p>"How long before Weald can +have a fleet overhead, dropping +fusion bombs?" demanded another, +grimly.</p> + +<p>Calhoun named a time. But +then he said;</p> + +<p>"I think we can keep them +from dropping bombs if we can +get the grain-fleet and some capable +astrogators."<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_76" id="Page_76">[76]</a></span></p> + +<p>"What do you have in mind?"</p> + +<p>He told them. It was not possible +to tell the whole story of +what he considered sensible behavior. +An emotional program +can be presented and accepted +immediately. A plan of action +which is actually intelligent, considering +all elements of a situation, +has to be accepted piecemeal. +Even so, the military men +growled.</p> + +<p>"We've plenty of heavy elements," +said one, with one eye +and half his forehead colored +blue. "If we'd used our brains, +we'd have more bombs than +Weald can hope for! We could +turn that whole planet into a +smoking cinder!"</p> + +<p>"Which," said Calhoun acidly, +"would give you some satisfaction +but not an ounce of food! +And food's more important than +satisfaction. Now, I'm going to +take off for Weald again. I'll +want somebody to build an emergency +device for my ship, and I'll +want the four pilots I've trained +and twenty more candidates. And +I'd like to have some decent rations! +When the last trip brought +back two million bushels of grain, +you can spare adequate food for +twenty men for a few days!"</p> + +<hr class="invisible" /> + +<p>It took some time to get the +special device constructed, but +the Med Ship lifted in two days +more. The device for which it +had waited was simply a preventive +of the disaster overtaking +the ship from the mine on Orede. +It was essentially a tank of liquid +oxygen, packed in the space +from which stores had been taken +away. When the ship's air-supply +was pumped past it, first +moisture and then CO2 froze out. +Then the air flowed over the liquefied +oxygen at a rate to replace +the CO2 with more useful breathing +material. Then the moisture +was restored to the air as it +warmed again. For so long as the +oxygen lasted, fresh air for any +number of men could be kept purified +and breathable. The Med +Ship's normal equipment could +take care of no more than ten. +But with this it could journey to +Weald with almost any complement +on board.</p> + +<p>Maril stayed on Dara when the +Med Ship left. Murgatroyd protested +shrilly when he discovered +her about to be closed out by the +closing lock-door.</p> + +<p>"<i>Chee!</i>" he said indignantly. +"<i>Chee! Chee!</i>"</p> + +<p>"No," said Calhoun, "we'll be +crowded enough anyhow. We'll +see her later."</p> + +<p>He nodded to one of the first +four student pilots, and he crisply +made contact with the landing-grid +office. He very efficiently +supervised as the grid took the +ship up. The other three of the +four first-trained men explained +every move to sub-classes assigned +to each. Calhoun moved<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_77" id="Page_77">[77]</a></span> +about, listening and making certain +that the instruction was up +to standard.</p> + +<p>He felt queer, acting as the +supervisor of an educational institution +in space. He did not +like it. There were twenty-four +men beside himself crowded +into the Med Ship's small interior. +They got in each other's +way. They trampled on each +other. There was always somebody +eating, and always somebody +sleeping, and there was no +need whatever for the background +tape to keep the ship +from being intolerably quiet. But +the air-system worked well +enough, except once when the reheater +unit quit and the air inside +the ship went down below +freezing before the trouble could +be found and corrected.</p> + +<p>The journey to Weald, this +time, took seven days because of +the training program in effect. +Calhoun bit his nails over the +delay. But it was necessary for +each of the students to make +his own line-ups on Weald's sun, +and compute distances, and for +each of them to practise maneuverings +that would presently be +called for. Calhoun hoped desperately +that preparations for active +warfare—or massacre—did not +move fast on Weald. He believed, +however, that in the absence of +direct news from Dara, Wealdian +officials would take the normal +course of politicos. They had proclaimed +the deathship from Orede +an attack from Dara. Therefore +they would specialize on defensive +measures before plumping +for offense. They'd get patrol-ships +out to spot invasion ships +long before they worked on a +fleet to destroy the blueskins. It +would meet the public demand +for defense.</p> + +<p>Calhoun was right. The Med +Ship made its final approach to +Weald under Calhoun's own control. +He'd made brightness-measurements +on his previous journey +and he used them again. +They would not be strictly accurate, +because a sunspot could +knock all meaning out of any +reading beyond two decimal +places. But the first breakout +was just far enough from the +Wealdian system for Calhoun to +be able to pick out its planets +with electron telescope at maximum +magnification. He could +aim for Weald itself,—allowing, +of course, for the lag in the apparent +motion of its image because +of the limited speed of +light. He tried the briefest of +overdrive hops, and came out +within the solar system and well +inside any watching patrol.</p> + +<p>That was pure fortune. It continued. +He'd broken through the +screen of guard-ships in undetectable +overdrive. He was within +half an hour's solar-system +drive of the grain-fleet. There +was no alarm, at first. Of course<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_78" id="Page_78">[78]</a></span> +radars spotted the Med Ship as +an object, but nobody paid attention. +It was not headed for Weald. +It was probably assumed to be a +guard-boat itself. Such mistakes +do happen. It reached the grain-fleet.</p> + +<p>Again from the storage-space +from which supplies had been removed, +Calhoun produced vacuum +suits. The four first students +went out, each escorting a less-accustomed +neophyte and all +fastened firmly together with +space-ropes. They warmed the +interiors of four ships and went +on to others. Presently there +were eight ships making ready +for an interstellar journey, each +with a scared but resolute new +pilot familiarizing himself with +its controls. There were sixteen +ships. Twenty. Twenty-three.</p> + +<hr class="invisible" /> + +<p>A guard-ship came humming +out from Weald. It +would be armed, of course. It +came droning, droning up the +forty-odd thousand miles from +the planet. Calhoun swore. He +could not call his students and +tell them what was happening. +The guard-ship would overhear. +He could not trust untried young +men to act rationally if they were +unwarned and the guard-ship arrived +and matter-of-factly attempted +to board one of them.</p> + +<p>Then he was inspired. He +called Murgatroyd, placed him +before the communicator, and +set it at voice-only transmission. +This was familiar enough, to +Murgatroyd. He'd often seen Calhoun +use a communicator.</p> + +<p>"<i>Chee!</i>" shrilled Murgatroyd. +"<i>Chee-chee!</i>"</p> + +<p>A startled voice came out of +the speaker.</p> + +<p>"<i>What's that?</i>"</p> + +<p>"<i>Chee</i>," said Murgatroyd zestfully.</p> + +<p>The communicator was talking +to him. Murgatroyd adored three +things in order. One was Calhoun. +The second was coffee. +The third was pretending to +converse like a human being. +The speaker said explosively;</p> + +<p>"<i>You there, identify yourself!</i>"</p> + +<p>"<i>Chee-chee-chee-chee!</i>" observed +Murgatroyd. He wriggled +with pleasure and added, reasonably +enough, "<i>Chee!</i>"</p> + +<p>The communicator bawled;</p> + +<p>"<i>Calling ground! Calling +ground! Listen to this! Something +that ain't human's talking +at me on a communicator! Listen +in an' tell me what to do!</i>"</p> + +<p>Murgatroyd interposed with +another shrill;</p> + +<p>"<i>Chee!</i>"</p> + +<p>Then Calhoun pulled the Med +Ship slowly away from the +clump of still-lifeless grain-ships. +It was highly improbable +that the guard-boat would carry +an electron telescope. Most likely +it would have only an echo-radar, +and so could determ<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_79" id="Page_79">[79]</a></span>ine +only that an object of some +sort moved of its own accord in +space. Calhoun let the Med Ship +accelerate. That would be final +evidence. The grain-ships were +between Weald and its sun. Even +electron telescopes on the ground—and +electron-telescopes were +ultimately optical telescopes with +electronic amplification—even +electron telescopes on the ground +could not get a good image of the +ship through sunlit atmosphere.</p> + +<p>"<i>Chee?</i>" asked Murgatroyd +solicitously. "<i>Chee-chee-chee?</i>"</p> + +<p>"<i>Is it blueskins?</i>" shakily demanded +the voice from the +guard-boat. "<i>Ground! Ground! Is +it blueskins?</i>"</p> + +<p>A heavy, authoritative voice +came in with much greater volume.</p> + +<p>"<i>That's no human voice</i>," it +said harshly. "<i>Approach its ship +and send back an image. Don't +fire first unless it heads for +ground.</i>"</p> + +<p>The guard-ship swerved and +headed for the Med Ship. It was +still a very long way off.</p> + +<p>"<i>Chee-chee</i>," said Murgatroyd +encouragingly.</p> + +<p>Calhoun changed the Med +Ship's course. The guard-ship +changed course too. Calhoun let +it draw nearer,—but only a little. +He led it away from the fleet +of grain-ships.</p> + +<p>He swung his electron telescope +on them. He saw a space-suited +figure outside one,—safely +roped, however. It was +easy to guess that someone had +meant to return to the Med +Ship for orders or to make a +report, and found the Med Ship +gone. He'd go back inside and +turn on a communicator.</p> + +<p>"<i>Chee!</i>" said Murgatroyd.</p> + +<p>The heavy voice boomed;</p> + +<p>"<i>You there! This is a human-occupied +world! If you come in +peace, cut your drive and let our +guard-ship approach!</i>"</p> + +<p>Murgatroyd replied in an interested +but doubtful tone. The +booming voice bellowed. Another +voice of higher authority took +over. Murgatroyd was entranced +that so many people wanted to +talk to him. He made what for +him was practically an oration. +The last voice spoke persuasively +and suavely.</p> + +<p>"<i>Chee-chee-chee-chee</i>," said +Murgatroyd.</p> + +<p>One of the grain-ships flickered +and ceased to be. It had gone +into overdrive. Another. And +another. Suddenly they began to +flick out of sight by twos and +threes.</p> + +<p>"<i>Chee</i>," said Murgatroyd with +a note of finality.</p> + +<p>The last grain-ship vanished.</p> + +<p>"Calling guard-ship," said Calhoun +drily. "This is Med ship +Aesclipus Twenty. I called here a +couple of weeks ago. You've been +talking to my <i>tormal</i>, Murgatroyd."</p> + +<p>A pause. A blank pause. Then<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_80" id="Page_80">[80]</a></span> +profanity of deep and savage intemperance.</p> + +<p>"I've been on Dara," said Calhoun.</p> + +<p>Dead silence fell.</p> + +<p>"There's a famine there," said +Calhoun deliberately. "So the +grain-ships you've had in orbit +have been taken away by men +from Dara—blueskins if you like—to +feed themselves and their +families. They've been dying of +hunger and they don't like it."</p> + +<p>There was a single burst of +the unprintable. Then the formerly +suave voice said waspishly;</p> + +<p>"<i>Well? The Med Service will +hear of your interference!</i>"</p> + +<p>"Yes," said Calhoun. "I'll report +it myself. I have a message +for you. Dara is ready to pay for +every ounce of grain and for the +ships it was stored in. They'll pay +in heavy metals,—iridium, uranium,—that sort of thing."</p> + +<p>The suave voice fairly curdled.</p> + +<p>"<i>As if we'd allow anything that +was ever on Dara to touch ground +here!</i>"</p> + +<p>"Ah! But there can be sterilization. +To begin with metals, +uranium melts at 1150° centigrade, +and tungsten at 3370° +and iridium at 2350°. You could +load such things and melt them +down in space and then tow +them home. And you can actually +sterilize a lot of other useful materials!"</p> + +<p>The suave voice said infuriatedly;</p> + +<p>"<i>I'll report this! You'll suffer +for this!</i>"</p> + +<p>Calhoun said pleasantly;</p> + +<p>"I'm sure that what I say is +being recorded, so that I'll add +that it's perfectly practical for +Wealdians to land on Dara, take +whatever property they think +wise,—to pay for damage done +by blueskins, of course—and get +back to Wealdian ships with absolutely +no danger of carrying +contagion. If you'll make sure the +recording's clear."</p> + +<hr class="invisible" /> + +<p>He described, clearly and specifically, +exactly how a man +could be outfitted to walk into any +area of any conceivable contagion, +do whatever seemed necessary +in the way of looting—but +Calhoun did not use the word—and +then return to his fellows +with no risk whatever of bringing +back infection. He gave exact +details. Then he said;</p> + +<p>"My radar says you've four +ships converging on me to blast +me out of space. I sign off."</p> + +<p>The Med Ship disappeared +from normal space, and entered +that improbably stressed area of +extension which it formed about +itself and in which physical constants +were wildly strange. For +one thing, the speed of light in +overdrive-stressed space had +not been measured yet. It was too +high. For another, a ship could +travel very many times 186000 +miles per second in overdrive.<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_81" id="Page_81">[81]</a></span></p> + +<p>The Med Ship did just that. +There was nobody but Calhoun +and Murgatroyd on board. +There was companionable silence,—there +were only the small +threshold-of-perception sounds +which one did not often notice, +but which it would have been intolerable +to have stop.</p> + +<p>Calhoun luxuriated in regained +privacy. For seven days he'd had +twenty-four other human beings +crowded into the two cabins of +the ship, with never so much as +one yard of space between himself +and someone else. One need +not be snobbish to wish to be +alone sometimes!</p> + +<p>Murgatroyd licked his whiskers +thoughtfully.</p> + +<p>"I hope," said Calhoun, "that +things work out right. But they +may remember on Dara that I'm +responsible for some ten million +bushels of grain reaching them. +Maybe—just possibly—they'll +listen to me and act sensibly. After +all, there's only one way to +break a famine. Not with ten +million bushels for a whole planet! +And certainly not with +bombs!"</p> + +<p>Driving direct, without pausing +for practisings, the Med Ship +could arrive at Dara in little +more than five days. Calhoun +looked forward to relaxation. As +a beginning he made ready to +give himself an adequate meal +for the first time since first landing +on Dara. Then, presently, he +sat down wrily to a double meal +of Darian famine-rations, which +were far from appetizing. But +there wasn't anything else on +board.</p> + +<hr class="invisible" /> + +<p>He had some pleasure later, +though, envisioning what +went elsewhere. On Weald, obviously, +there would be purest panic. +The vanishing of the grain +fleet wouldn't be charged against +twenty-four men. A Darian fleet +would be suspected, and with the +suspicion terror, and with terror +a governmental crisis. Then +there'd be a frantic seizure of +any craft that could take to space, +and the agitated improvisation +of a space-fleet.</p> + +<p>But besides that, biological-warfare +technicians would examine +Calhoun's instructions for +equipment by which armed men +could be landed on a plague-stricken +planet and then safely +taken off again. Military and +governmental officials would come +to the eminently sane conclusion +that while Calhoun could +not well take active measures +against blueskins, as a sane and +proper citizen of the galaxy he +would be on the side of law and +order and propriety and justice,—in +short, of Weald. So they +ordered sample anti-contagion +suits made according to Calhoun's +directions, and they had +them tested. They worked admirably.<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_82" id="Page_82">[82]</a></span></p> + +<p>On Dara, while Calhoun journeyed +back to it, grain was distributed +lavishly, and everybody +on the planet had their cereal ration +almost doubled. It was still +not a comfortable ration, but the +relief was great. There was considerable +gratitude felt for Calhoun, +which as usual included a +lively anticipation of further favors +to come. Maril was interviewed +repeatedly, as the person +best able to discuss him, and she +did his reputation no harm. That +was not all that happened on +Dara ...</p> + +<p>There was something else. Very +curious thing, too. There was a +curious spread of mild symptoms +which nobody could exactly call +a disease. It lasted only a few +hours. A person felt slightly feverish, +and ran a temperature +which peaked at 30.9° centigrade, +and drank more water +than usual. Then his temperature +went back to normal and he forgot +all about it. There have always +been such trivial epidemics. +They are rarely recorded, because +few people think to go to a doctor. +That was the case here.</p> + +<p>Calhoun looked ahead a little, +too. Presently the fleet of grain-ships +would arrive and unload +and lift again for Orede, and +this time they would make an infinity +of slaughter among wild +cattle-herds, and bring back incredible +quantities of fresh-slaughtered +frozen beef. Almost +everybody would get to taste +meat again, which would be most +gratifying.</p> + +<p>Then, the industries of Dara +would labor at government-required +tasks. An astonishing +amount of fissionable material +would be fashioned into bombs—a +concession by Calhoun—and +plastic factories make an astonishing +number of plastic sag-suits. +And large shipments of +heavy metals in ingots would be +made to the planet's capital city +and there would be some guns +and minor items....</p> + +<p>Perhaps somebody could have +found out any of these items in +advance, but it was unlikely that +anybody did. Nobody but Calhoun, +however, would ever have +put them together and hoped very +urgently that that was the way +things would work out. He could +see a promising total result. In +fact, in the Med ship hurtling +through space, on the fourth day +of his journey he thought of an +improvement that could be made +in the sum of all those happenings +when they were put together.</p> + +<hr class="invisible" /> + +<p>He landed on Dara. Maril came +to the Med Ship. Murgatroyd +greeted her with enthusiasm.</p> + +<p>"Something unusual has happened," +said Maril, very much +subdued. "I told you that—sometimes +blueskin markings fade<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_83" id="Page_83">[83]</a></span> +out on children, and then neither +they nor their children ever have +blueskin markings again."</p> + +<p>"Yes," said Calhoun. "I remember."</p> + +<p>"And you were reminded of a +group of viruses on Tralee. You +said they only took hold of people +in terribly bad physical condition, +but then they could be +passed on from mother to child. +Until—sometimes—they died +out."</p> + +<p>Calhoun blinked.</p> + +<p>"Yes...."</p> + +<p>"Korvan," said Maril very carefully, +"Has worked out an idea +that that's what happens to the +blueskin markings on—us Darians. +He thinks that people almost +dead of the plague could get +the—virus, and if they recovered +from the plague pass the virus +on and—be blueskins."</p> + +<p>"Interesting," said Calhoun, +noncommittally.</p> + +<p>"And when we went to Weald," +said Maril very carefully indeed, +"you were working with +some culture-material. You wrote +quite a lot about it in the ship's +log. You gave yourself an injection. +Remember? And Murgatroyd? +You wrote down your +temperature, and Murgatroyd's?" +She moistened her +lips. "You said that if infection +passed between us, something +would be very infectious indeed?"</p> + +<p>"What are you driving at?"</p> + +<p>Maril continued slowly. "Th—thousands +of people are having +their pigment-spots fade away. +Not only children but grownups. +And—Korvan has found out that +it always seems to happen after +a day when they felt feverish +and very thirsty—and then felt +all right again. You tried out +something that made you feverish +and thirsty. I had it too, in +the ship. Korvan thinks there's +been an epidemic of something +that—is obliterating the blue +spots on everybody that catches +it. There are always trivial epidemics +that nobody notices. Korvan's +found evidence of one that's +making 'blueskin' no longer a +word with any meaning."</p> + +<p>"Remarkable!" said Calhoun.</p> + +<p>"Did you—do it?" asked Maril. +"Did you start a harmless epidemic +that—wipes out the virus +that makes blueskins?"</p> + +<p>Calhoun said in feigned astonishment;</p> + +<p>"How can you think such a +thing, Maril?"</p> + +<p>"Because I was there," said +Maril. She said somehow desperately; +"I know you did it! But +the question is—are you going +to tell? When people find they're +not blueskins any longer—when +there's no such thing as a blueskin +any longer—will you tell +them why?"</p> + +<p>"Naturally not," said Calhoun. +"Why?" Then he guessed. "Has +Korvan—."<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_84" id="Page_84">[84]</a></span></p> + +<p>"He thinks," said Maril, "that +he thought it up all by himself. +He's found the proof. He's—very +proud. I'd have to tell him the +truth if you were going to tell. +And he'd be ashamed and—angry."</p> + +<p>Calhoun considered, staring at +her.</p> + +<p>"How it happened doesn't matter," +he said at last. "The idea +of anybody doing it deliberately +would be disturbing, too. It +shouldn't get about. So it seems +much the best thing for Korvan +to discover what's happened to +the blueskin pigment, and how it +happened, but not why."</p> + +<p>She read his face carefully.</p> + +<p>"You aren't doing it as a favor +to me," she decided. "You'd +rather it was that way."</p> + +<p>She looked at him for a long +time, until he squirmed. Then +she nodded and went away.</p> + +<p>An hour later the Wealdian +space-fleet was reported, massed +in space and driving for Dara.</p> + + + +<hr /> +<h2 class="chapter">CHAPTER 8</h2> + + +<p>There were small scout-ships +which came on ahead of +the main fleet. They'd originally +been guard-boats, intended for +solar-system duty only and quite +incapable of overdrive. They'd +come from Weald in the cargo-holds +of the liners now transformed +into fighting ships. The +scouts swept low, transmitting +fine-screen images back to the +fleet, of all that they might see +before they were shot down. They +found the landing-grid. It contained +nothing larger than Calhoun's +Med Ship, Aesclipus +Twenty.</p> + +<p>They searched here and there. +They flitted to and fro, scanning +wide bands of the surface of +Dara. The planet's cities and +highways and industrial centers +were wholly open to inspection +from the sky. It looked as if the +scouts hunted most busily for +the fleet of former grain-ships +which Calhoun had said blueskins +had seized and rushed +away. If the scouts looked for +them, they did not find them.</p> + +<p>Dara offered no opposition to +the scout-ships. Nothing rose to +space to oppose or to resist their +search. They went darting over +every portion of the hungry +planet, land and seas alike, and +there was no sign of military +preparedness against their coming. +The huge ships of the main +fleet waited while they reported +monotonously that they saw no +sign of the stolen fleet. But the +stolen fleet was the only means +by which the planet could be defended. +There could be no point +in a pitched battle in emptiness. +But a fleet with a planet to back +it might be dangerous.</p> + +<p>Hours passed. The Wealdian +main fleet waited. There was no +offensive movement by the fleet.<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_85" id="Page_85">[85]</a></span> +There was no defensive action +from the ground, With fusion-bombs +certain to be involved in +any actual conflict, there was +something like an embarrassed +pause. The Wealdian ships were +ready to bomb. They were less +anxious to be vaporized by possible +suicide-dashes of defending +ships who might blow themselves +up near contact with their +enemies.</p> + +<p>But a fleet cannot travel some +light-years through space to +make a mere threat. And the +Wealdian fleet was furnished +with the material for total devastation. +It could drop bombs +from hundreds, or thousands, or +even tens of thousands of miles +away. It could cover the world of +Dara with mushroom clouds +springing up and spreading to +make a continuous pall of atomic-fusion +products. And they could +settle down and kill every living +thing not destroyed by the explosions +themselves. Even the creatures +of the deepest oceans would +die of deadly, purposely-contrived +fallout particles.</p> + +<p>The Wealdian fleet contemplated +its own destructiveness. It +found no capacity for defense on +Dara. It moved forward.</p> + +<p>But then a message went out +from the capital city of Dara. It +said that a ship in overdrive had +carried word to a Darian fleet in +space. The Darian fleet now +hurtled toward Weald. It was a +fleet of thirty-seven giant ships. +They carried such-and-such +bombs in such-and-such quantities. +Unless its orders were countermanded, +it would deliver those +bombs on Weald—set to explode. +If Weald bombed Dara, the orders +could not be withdrawn. So +Weald could bomb Dara. It could +destroy all life on the pariah +planet. But Weald would die +with it.</p> + +<p>The fleet ceased its advance. +The situation was a stalemate +with pure desperation on one +side and pure frustration on the +other. This was no way to end +the war. Neither planet could +trust the other, even for minutes. +If they did not destroy each +other simultaneously, as now +was possible, each would expect +the other to launch an unwarned +attack at some other moment. +Ultimately one or the other must +perish, and the survivor would +be the one most skilled in treachery.</p> + +<p>But then the pariah planet +made a new proposal. It would +send a messenger-ship to stop its +own fleet's bombardment if +Weald would accept payment for +the grain-ships and their cargoes. +It would pay in ingots of iridium +and uranium and tungsten—and +gold if Weald wished it—for +all damages Weald might +claim. It would even pay indemnity +for the miners of Orede, +who had died by accident but<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_86" id="Page_86">[86]</a></span> +perhaps in some sense through +its fault. It would pay.... But +if it were bombed, Weald must +spout atomic fire and the fleet of +Weald would have no home +planet to return to.</p> + +<hr class="invisible" /> + +<p>This proposal seemed both +craven and foolish. It would +allow the fleet of Weald to loot +and then betray Dara. But it was +Calhoun's idea. It seemed plausible +to the admirals of Weald. +They felt only contempt for blueskins. +Contemptuously, they accepted +the semi-surrender.</p> + +<p>The broadcast waves of Dara +told of agreement, and wild and +fierce resentment filled the pariah +planet's people. There was +almost—almost!—revolution to +insist upon resistance, however +hopeless and however fatal. But +not all of Dara realized that a +vital change had come about in +the state of things on Dara. The +enemy fleet had not a hint of it. +And therefore—</p> + +<p>In menacing array, the invading +fleet spread itself about the +skies of Dara, well beyond the +atmosphere. Harsh voices talked +with increasing arrogance to the +landing-grid staff. A monster +ship of Weald came heavily +down, riding the landing-grid's +force-fields. It touched gently. +Its occupants were apprehensive, +but hungry for the loot they had +been assured was theirs. The +ship's outer hull would be sterilized +before it returned to Weald, +of course. And there was adequate +protection for the landing-party.</p> + +<p>Men came out of the ship's +ports. They wore the double, +transparent sag-suits Calhoun +had suggested, which had been +painstakingly tested, and which +were perfect protection against +contagion. They could loot with +impunity, and all contamination +would remain outside the suits. +What loot they gathered, obviously, +could be decontaminated +before it was returned to Weald. +It was a most satisfactory discovery, +to realize that blueskins +could be not only scorned but +robbed. There was only one bit +of relevant information the +space-fleet of Weald did not have.</p> + +<p>That information was that the +people of Dara weren't blueskins +any longer. There'd been a trivial +epidemic.</p> + +<p>The sag-suited men of Weald +went zestfully about their business. +They took over the landing-grid's +operation, driving the +Darian operators away. For the +first time in history the operators +of a landing-grid wore +makeup to look like they did +have blue pigment in their skins. +The Wealdian landing-party tested +the grid's operation. They +brought down another giant +ship. Then another. And another.</p> + +<p>Parties in the shiny sag-suits +spread through the city. There<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_87" id="Page_87">[87]</a></span> +were the huge stock-piles of precious +metals, brought in readiness +to be surrendered and carried away. +Some men set to work +to load these into the holds—to +be sterilized later. Some went +forthrightly after personal loot.</p> + +<p>They came upon very few Darians. +Those they saw kept sullenly +away from them. They entered +shops and took what they +fancied. They zestfully removed +the treasure of banks.</p> + +<p>Triumphal and scornful reports +went up to the hovering +great ships. The blueskins, said +the reports were spiritless and +cowardly. They permitted themselves +to be robbed. They kept +out of the way. It had been observed +that the population was +streaming out of the city, fleeing +because they feared the ships' +landing-parties. The blueskins +had abjectly produced all they'd +promised of precious metals, but +there was more to be taken.</p> + +<p>More ships came down, and +more. Some of the first, heavily +loaded, were lifted to emptiness +again and the process of decontamination +of their hulls began. +There was jealousy among the +ships in space for those upon the +ground. The first-landed ships +had had their choice of loot. +There were squabblings about +priorities, now that the navy of +Weald plainly had a license to +steal. There was confusion +among the members of the landing-parties. +Discipline disappeared. +Men in plastic sag-suits +roved about as individuals, seeking +what they might loot.</p> + +<hr class="invisible" /> + +<p>There were armed and alerted +landing-parties around the +grid itself, of course, but the +capital city of Dara lay open. +Men coming back with loot +found their ships already lifted +off to make room for others. +They were pushed into reëmbarking-parties +of other ships. +There were more and more men +to be found on ships where they +did not belong, and more and +more not to be found where they +did. By the time half the fleet +had been aground, there was no +longer any pretense of holding +a ship down until all its crew returned. +There were too many +other ships' companies clamoring +for their turn to loot. The rosters +of many ships, indeed, bore no +particular relationship to the +men actually on board.</p> + +<p>There were less than fifteen +ships whose to-be-fumigated +holds were still empty, when the +watchful government of Dara +broadcast a new message to the +invaders. It requested that the +looting stop. No matter what +payment Weald claimed, it had +taken payment five times over. +Now was time to stop.</p> + +<p>It was amusing. The space-admiral +of Weald ordered his +ships alerted for action. The mes<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_88" id="Page_88">[88]</a></span>sage-ship, +ordering the Darian +fleet away from Weald, had been +sent off long since. No other ship +could get away now! The Darians +could take their choice; accept +the consequences of surrender, +or the fleet would rise to +throw down bombs.</p> + +<p>Calhoun was asking politely to +be taken to the Wealdian admiral +when the trouble began. It wasn't +on the ground, at all. Everything +was under splendid control +where a landing-force occupied +the grid and all the ground immediately +about it. The space +admiral had headquarters in the +landing-grid office. Reports came +in, orders were issued, admirably +crisp salutes were exchanged +among sag-suited men.... Everything +was in perfect shape +there.</p> + +<p>But there was panic among +the ships in space. Communicators +gave off horrified, panic-stricken +yells. There were +screamings. Intelligible communications +ceased. Ships plunged +crazily this way and that. Some +vanished in overdrive. At least +one plunged at full power into a +Darian ocean.</p> + +<p>The space-admiral found himself +in command of fifteen ships +only, out of all his former force. +The rest of the fleet went through +a period of hysterical madness. +In some ships it lasted for minutes +only. In others it went on +for half an hour or more. Then +they hung overhead, but did not +reply to calls.</p> + +<p>Calhoun arrived at the space-port +with Murgatroyd riding on +his shoulder. A bewildered officer +in a sag-suit halted him.</p> + +<p>"I've come," said Calhoun, "to +speak to the admiral. My name +is Calhoun and I'm Med Service, +and I think I met the Admiral at +a banquet a few weeks ago. He'll +remember me."</p> + +<p>"You'll have to wait," protested +the officer. "There's some +trouble—"</p> + +<p>"Yes," said Calhoun. "I know +about it. I helped design it. I +want to explain it to the admiral. +He needs to know what's happened, +if he's to take appropriate +measures."</p> + +<p>There were jitterings. Many +men in sag-suits had still no +idea that anything had gone +wrong. Some appeared, brightly +carrying loot. Some hung eagerly +around the airlocks of ships +on the grid tarmac, waiting their +turns to stand in corrosive gases +for the decontamination of their +suits, when they would burn the +outer layers and step, aseptic +and happy, into a Wealdian ship +again. There they could think +how rich they were going to be +back on Weald.</p> + +<p>But the situation aloft was bewildering +and very, very ominous. +There was strident argument. +Presently Calhoun stood +before the Wealdian admiral.<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_89" id="Page_89">[89]</a></span></p> + +<p>"I came to explain something," +said Calhoun pleasantly. "The +situation has changed. You've +noticed it, I'm sure."</p> + +<p>The admiral glared at him +through two layers of plastic, +which covered him almost like a +gift-wrapped parcel.</p> + +<p>"Be quick!" he rasped.</p> + +<p>"First," said Calhoun, "there +are no more blueskins. An epidemic +of something or other has +made the blue patches on the +skins of Darians fade out. There +have always been some who didn't +have blue patches. Now nobody has them."</p> + +<p>"Nonsense!" rasped the admiral. +"And what has that got to +do with this situation?"</p> + +<p>"Why, everything," said Calhoun +mildly. "It means that Darians +can pass for Wealdians +whenever they please. That they +are passing for Wealdians. That +they've been mixing with your +men, wearing sag-suits exactly +like the one you're wearing now. +They've been going aboard your +ships in the confusion of returning +looters. There's not a ship +now aloft, that has been aground +today, that hasn't from one to +fifteen Darians—no longer blueskins—on +board."</p> + +<p>The admiral roared. Then his +face turned gray.</p> + +<p>"You can't take your fleet back +to Weald," said Calhoun gently, +"if you believe its crews have +been exposed to carriers of the +Dara plague. You wouldn't be allowed +to land, anyhow."</p> + +<p>The admiral said through stiff +lips;</p> + +<p>"I'll blast—"</p> + +<p>"No," said Calhoun, again +gently. "When you ordered all +ships alerted for action, the Darians +on each ship released panic-gas. +They only needed tiny, +pocket-sized containers of the +gas for the job. They had them. +They only needed to use air-tanks +from their sag-suits to protect +themselves against the gas. They +kept them handy. On nearly all +your ships aloft your crews are +crazy from panic-gas. They'll +stay that way until the air is +changed. Darians have barricaded +themselves in the control-rooms +of most if not all your +ships. You haven't got a fleet. If +the few ships that will obey your +orders, drop one bomb, our fleet +off Weald will drop fifty. I don't +think you'd better order offensive +action. Instead, I think +you'd better have your fleet medical +officers come and learn some +of the facts of life. There's no +need for war between Dara and +Weald, but if you insist...."</p> + +<p>The Admiral made a choking +noise. He could have ordered +Calhoun killed, but there was a +certain appalling fact. The men +aground from the fleet were +breathing Wealdian air from +tanks. It would last so long only. +If they were taken on board the<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_90" id="Page_90">[90]</a></span> +still obedient ships overhead, +Darians would unquestionably +be mixed with them. There was +no way to take off the parties +now aground without exposing +them to contact with Darians, +on the ground or in the ships. +There was no way to sort out the +Darians.</p> + +<p>"I—I will give the orders," +said the admiral thickly. "I—do +not know what you devils plan, +but—I don't know how to stop +you."</p> + +<p>"All that's necessary," said +Calhoun warmly, "is an open +mind. There's a misunderstanding +to be cleared up, and some +principles of planetary health +practises to be explained, and a +certain amount of prejudice that +has to be thrown away. But nobody +need die of changing their +minds. The Interstellar Medical +service has proved that over and +over!"</p> + +<p>Murgatroyd, perched on his +shoulder, felt that it was time to +take part in the conversation. He +said;</p> + +<p>"<i>Chee-chee!</i>"</p> + +<p>"Yes," agreed Calhoun. "We +do want to get the job done. +We're behind schedule now."</p> + +<hr class="invisible" /> + +<p>It was not, of course, possible +for Calhoun to leave immediately. +He had to preside at various +meetings of the medical officers +of the fleet with the health +officials of Dara. He had to make +explanations, and correct misapprehensions, +and delicately suggest +such biological experiments +as would prove to the doctors of +Weald that there was no longer +a plague on Dara, whatever had +been the case three generations +before. He had to sit by while an +extremely self-confident young +Darian doctor named Korvan +rather condescendingly demonstrated +that the former blue pigmentation +was a viral product +quite unconnected with the +plague, and that it had been +wiped out by a very trivial epidemic +of—such and such. Calhoun +regarded that young man +with a detached interest. Maril +thought him wonderful, even if +she had to give him the material +for his work. Calhoun shrugged +and went on with his work:</p> + +<p>The return of loot. Mutual, +full, and complete agreement +that Darians were no longer carriers +of plague, if they had ever +been. Unless Weald convinced +other worlds of this, Weald itself +would join Dara in isolation +from neighboring worlds. A messenger +ship to recall the twenty-seven +ships once floating in orbit +about Weald. Most of them +would be used for some time, +now, to bring beef from Orede. +Some would haul more grain +from Weald. It would be paid for. +There would be a need for commercial +missions to be exchanged +between Weald and Dara.<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_91" id="Page_91">[91]</a></span></p> + +<p>It was a full week before he +could go to the little Med Ship +and prepare for departure. Even +then there were matters to be +attended to. All the food-supplies +that had been removed could not +be replaced. There were biological +samples to be replaced and +some to be destroyed.... The +air-tanks....</p> + +<p>Maril came to the Med Ship +again when he was almost ready +to leave. She did not seem comfortable.</p> + +<p>"I wish you could like Korvan," +she said regretfully.</p> + +<p>"I don't dislike him," said Calhoun. +"I think he will be a most +prominent citizen, in time. He +has all the talents for it."</p> + +<p>Maril smiled very faintly.</p> + +<p>"But you don't admire him."</p> + +<p>"I wouldn't say that," protested +Calhoun. "After all, he is +attractive to you, which is something +I couldn't manage."</p> + +<p>"You didn't try," said Maril. +"Just as I didn't try to be fascinating +to you. Why?"</p> + +<p>Calhoun spread out his hands. +But he looked at Maril with respect. +Not every woman could +have faced the fact that a man +did not feel impelled to make +passes at her. It is simply a fact +that has nothing to do with desirability +or charm or anything +else.</p> + +<p>"You're going to marry him," +he said. "I hope you'll be very +happy."</p> + +<p>"He's the man I want," said +Maril frankly. "He looks forward +to splendid discoveries. I'm sorry +it's so important to him."</p> + +<p>Calhoun did not ask the obvious +question. Instead, he said +thoughtfully;</p> + +<p>"There's something you could +do.... It needs to be done. The +Med Service in this sector has +been badly handled. There are a +number of—discoveries that +need to be made. I don't think +your Korvan would relish having +things handed to him on a visible +silver platter. But they should be +known...."</p> + +<p>Maril said wrily;</p> + +<p>"I can guess what you mean. +I never went into detail about +how the blueskin markings disappeared, +but a few hints—You've +got books for me?"</p> + +<p>Calhoun nodded. He brought +them to her.</p> + +<p>"If we only fell in love with +each other, Maril, we'd be a +team! Too bad! These are a wedding +present you'll do well to +hide."</p> + +<p>She put her hands in his.</p> + +<p>"I like you—almost as much +as I like Murgatroyd! Yes! Korvan +will never know, and he'll be +a great man." Then she added +defensively, "And not just from +these books! He'll make his own +wonderful discoveries."</p> + +<p>"Of which," said Calhoun, +"the most remarkable is you. +Good luck Maril!"<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_92" id="Page_92">[92]</a></span></p> + +<hr class="invisible" /> + +<p>Presently the Med Ship +lifted. Calhoun aimed it for +the next planet on the list of +those he was to visit. After this +one more he'd return to sector +headquarters with a biting report +to make on the way things +had been handled before him. He +said;</p> + +<p>"Overdrive coming, Murgatroyd!"</p> + +<p>Then the stars went out and +there was silence, and privacy, +and a faint, faint, almost unhearable +series of background +sounds which kept the Med Ship +from being totally unendurable.</p> + +<p>Long, long days later the ship +broke out of overdrive and Calhoun +guided it to a round and +sunlit world. In due time he +thumped the communicator-button.</p> + +<p>"Calling ground," he said +crisply. "Calling ground! Med +Ship Aesclipus Twenty reporting +arrival and asking coördinates +for landing. Purpose of landing, +planetary health inspection. Our +mass is fifty standard tons."</p> + +<p>There was a pause while the +beamed message went many, +many thousands of miles. Then +the speaker said;</p> + +<p>"<i>Aesclipus Twenty, repeat +your identification!</i>"</p> + +<p>Murgatroyd said;</p> + +<p>"<i>Chee-chee? Chee?</i>"</p> + +<p>Calhoun sighed.</p> + +<p>"That's right, Murgatroyd! +Here we go again!"</p> + +<div class="microspace"> </div> +<h3>THE END</h3> +<div class="minispace"> </div> + + + + + + + + +<pre> + + + + + +End of the Project Gutenberg EBook of Pariah Planet, by Murray Leinster + +*** END OF THIS PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK PARIAH PLANET *** + +***** This file should be named 29448-h.htm or 29448-h.zip ***** +This and all associated files of various formats will be found in: + https://www.gutenberg.org/2/9/4/4/29448/ + +Produced by Greg Weeks, Meredith Bach, and the Online +Distributed Proofreading Team at https://www.pgdp.net + + +Updated editions will replace the previous one--the old editions +will be renamed. + +Creating the works from public domain print editions means that no +one owns a United States copyright in these works, so the Foundation +(and you!) can copy and distribute it in the United States without +permission and without paying copyright royalties. Special rules, +set forth in the General Terms of Use part of this license, apply to +copying and distributing Project Gutenberg-tm electronic works to +protect the PROJECT GUTENBERG-tm concept and trademark. Project +Gutenberg is a registered trademark, and may not be used if you +charge for the eBooks, unless you receive specific permission. If you +do not charge anything for copies of this eBook, complying with the +rules is very easy. You may use this eBook for nearly any purpose +such as creation of derivative works, reports, performances and +research. They may be modified and printed and given away--you may do +practically ANYTHING with public domain eBooks. Redistribution is +subject to the trademark license, especially commercial +redistribution. + + + +*** START: FULL LICENSE *** + +THE FULL PROJECT GUTENBERG LICENSE +PLEASE READ THIS BEFORE YOU DISTRIBUTE OR USE THIS WORK + +To protect the Project Gutenberg-tm mission of promoting the free +distribution of electronic works, by using or distributing this work +(or any other work associated in any way with the phrase "Project +Gutenberg"), you agree to comply with all the terms of the Full Project +Gutenberg-tm License (available with this file or online at +https://gutenberg.org/license). + + +Section 1. General Terms of Use and Redistributing Project Gutenberg-tm +electronic works + +1.A. By reading or using any part of this Project Gutenberg-tm +electronic work, you indicate that you have read, understand, agree to +and accept all the terms of this license and intellectual property +(trademark/copyright) agreement. If you do not agree to abide by all +the terms of this agreement, you must cease using and return or destroy +all copies of Project Gutenberg-tm electronic works in your possession. +If you paid a fee for obtaining a copy of or access to a Project +Gutenberg-tm electronic work and you do not agree to be bound by the +terms of this agreement, you may obtain a refund from the person or +entity to whom you paid the fee as set forth in paragraph 1.E.8. + +1.B. "Project Gutenberg" is a registered trademark. It may only be +used on or associated in any way with an electronic work by people who +agree to be bound by the terms of this agreement. There are a few +things that you can do with most Project Gutenberg-tm electronic works +even without complying with the full terms of this agreement. See +paragraph 1.C below. There are a lot of things you can do with Project +Gutenberg-tm electronic works if you follow the terms of this agreement +and help preserve free future access to Project Gutenberg-tm electronic +works. See paragraph 1.E below. + +1.C. The Project Gutenberg Literary Archive Foundation ("the Foundation" +or PGLAF), owns a compilation copyright in the collection of Project +Gutenberg-tm electronic works. Nearly all the individual works in the +collection are in the public domain in the United States. If an +individual work is in the public domain in the United States and you are +located in the United States, we do not claim a right to prevent you from +copying, distributing, performing, displaying or creating derivative +works based on the work as long as all references to Project Gutenberg +are removed. Of course, we hope that you will support the Project +Gutenberg-tm mission of promoting free access to electronic works by +freely sharing Project Gutenberg-tm works in compliance with the terms of +this agreement for keeping the Project Gutenberg-tm name associated with +the work. You can easily comply with the terms of this agreement by +keeping this work in the same format with its attached full Project +Gutenberg-tm License when you share it without charge with others. + +1.D. The copyright laws of the place where you are located also govern +what you can do with this work. Copyright laws in most countries are in +a constant state of change. If you are outside the United States, check +the laws of your country in addition to the terms of this agreement +before downloading, copying, displaying, performing, distributing or +creating derivative works based on this work or any other Project +Gutenberg-tm work. The Foundation makes no representations concerning +the copyright status of any work in any country outside the United +States. + +1.E. Unless you have removed all references to Project Gutenberg: + +1.E.1. The following sentence, with active links to, or other immediate +access to, the full Project Gutenberg-tm License must appear prominently +whenever any copy of a Project Gutenberg-tm work (any work on which the +phrase "Project Gutenberg" appears, or with which the phrase "Project +Gutenberg" is associated) is accessed, displayed, performed, viewed, +copied or distributed: + +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 + +1.E.2. If an individual Project Gutenberg-tm electronic work is derived +from the public domain (does not contain a notice indicating that it is +posted with permission of the copyright holder), the work can be copied +and distributed to anyone in the United States without paying any fees +or charges. If you are redistributing or providing access to a work +with the phrase "Project Gutenberg" associated with or appearing on the +work, you must comply either with the requirements of paragraphs 1.E.1 +through 1.E.7 or obtain permission for the use of the work and the +Project Gutenberg-tm trademark as set forth in paragraphs 1.E.8 or +1.E.9. + +1.E.3. If an individual Project Gutenberg-tm electronic work is posted +with the permission of the copyright holder, your use and distribution +must comply with both paragraphs 1.E.1 through 1.E.7 and any additional +terms imposed by the copyright holder. Additional terms will be linked +to the Project Gutenberg-tm License for all works posted with the +permission of the copyright holder found at the beginning of this work. + +1.E.4. Do not unlink or detach or remove the full Project Gutenberg-tm +License terms from this work, or any files containing a part of this +work or any other work associated with Project Gutenberg-tm. + +1.E.5. Do not copy, display, perform, distribute or redistribute this +electronic work, or any part of this electronic work, without +prominently displaying the sentence set forth in paragraph 1.E.1 with +active links or immediate access to the full terms of the Project +Gutenberg-tm License. + +1.E.6. You may convert to and distribute this work in any binary, +compressed, marked up, nonproprietary or proprietary form, including any +word processing or hypertext form. However, if you provide access to or +distribute copies of a Project Gutenberg-tm work in a format other than +"Plain Vanilla ASCII" or other format used in the official version +posted on the official Project Gutenberg-tm web site (www.gutenberg.org), +you must, at no additional cost, fee or expense to the user, provide a +copy, a means of exporting a copy, or a means of obtaining a copy upon +request, of the work in its original "Plain Vanilla ASCII" or other +form. Any alternate format must include the full Project Gutenberg-tm +License as specified in paragraph 1.E.1. + +1.E.7. Do not charge a fee for access to, viewing, displaying, +performing, copying or distributing any Project Gutenberg-tm works +unless you comply with paragraph 1.E.8 or 1.E.9. + +1.E.8. You may charge a reasonable fee for copies of or providing +access to or distributing Project Gutenberg-tm electronic works provided +that + +- You pay a royalty fee of 20% of the gross profits you derive from + the use of Project Gutenberg-tm works calculated using the method + you already use to calculate your applicable taxes. The fee is + owed to the owner of the Project Gutenberg-tm trademark, but he + has agreed to donate royalties under this paragraph to the + Project Gutenberg Literary Archive Foundation. Royalty payments + must be paid within 60 days following each date on which you + prepare (or are legally required to prepare) your periodic tax + returns. Royalty payments should be clearly marked as such and + sent to the Project Gutenberg Literary Archive Foundation at the + address specified in Section 4, "Information about donations to + the Project Gutenberg Literary Archive Foundation." + +- You provide a full refund of any money paid by a user who notifies + you in writing (or by e-mail) within 30 days of receipt that s/he + does not agree to the terms of the full Project Gutenberg-tm + License. You must require such a user to return or + destroy all copies of the works possessed in a physical medium + and discontinue all use of and all access to other copies of + Project Gutenberg-tm works. + +- You provide, in accordance with paragraph 1.F.3, a full refund of any + money paid for a work or a replacement copy, if a defect in the + electronic work is discovered and reported to you within 90 days + of receipt of the work. + +- You comply with all other terms of this agreement for free + distribution of Project Gutenberg-tm works. + +1.E.9. If you wish to charge a fee or distribute a Project Gutenberg-tm +electronic work or group of works on different terms than are set +forth in this agreement, you must obtain permission in writing from +both the Project Gutenberg Literary Archive Foundation and Michael +Hart, the owner of the Project Gutenberg-tm trademark. Contact the +Foundation as set forth in Section 3 below. + +1.F. + +1.F.1. Project Gutenberg volunteers and employees expend considerable +effort to identify, do copyright research on, transcribe and proofread +public domain works in creating the Project Gutenberg-tm +collection. Despite these efforts, Project Gutenberg-tm electronic +works, and the medium on which they may be stored, may contain +"Defects," such as, but not limited to, incomplete, inaccurate or +corrupt data, transcription errors, a copyright or other intellectual +property infringement, a defective or damaged disk or other medium, a +computer virus, or computer codes that damage or cannot be read by +your equipment. + +1.F.2. LIMITED WARRANTY, DISCLAIMER OF DAMAGES - Except for the "Right +of Replacement or Refund" described in paragraph 1.F.3, the Project +Gutenberg Literary Archive Foundation, the owner of the Project +Gutenberg-tm trademark, and any other party distributing a Project +Gutenberg-tm electronic work under this agreement, disclaim all +liability to you for damages, costs and expenses, including legal +fees. YOU AGREE THAT YOU HAVE NO REMEDIES FOR NEGLIGENCE, STRICT +LIABILITY, BREACH OF WARRANTY OR BREACH OF CONTRACT EXCEPT THOSE +PROVIDED IN PARAGRAPH F3. YOU AGREE THAT THE FOUNDATION, THE +TRADEMARK OWNER, AND ANY DISTRIBUTOR UNDER THIS AGREEMENT WILL NOT BE +LIABLE TO YOU FOR ACTUAL, DIRECT, INDIRECT, CONSEQUENTIAL, PUNITIVE OR +INCIDENTAL DAMAGES EVEN IF YOU GIVE NOTICE OF THE POSSIBILITY OF SUCH +DAMAGE. + +1.F.3. LIMITED RIGHT OF REPLACEMENT OR REFUND - If you discover a +defect in this electronic work within 90 days of receiving it, you can +receive a refund of the money (if any) you paid for it by sending a +written explanation to the person you received the work from. If you +received the work on a physical medium, you must return the medium with +your written explanation. The person or entity that provided you with +the defective work may elect to provide a replacement copy in lieu of a +refund. If you received the work electronically, the person or entity +providing it to you may choose to give you a second opportunity to +receive the work electronically in lieu of a refund. If the second copy +is also defective, you may demand a refund in writing without further +opportunities to fix the problem. + +1.F.4. Except for the limited right of replacement or refund set forth +in paragraph 1.F.3, this work is provided to you 'AS-IS' WITH NO OTHER +WARRANTIES OF ANY KIND, EXPRESS OR IMPLIED, INCLUDING BUT NOT LIMITED TO +WARRANTIES OF MERCHANTIBILITY OR FITNESS FOR ANY PURPOSE. + +1.F.5. Some states do not allow disclaimers of certain implied +warranties or the exclusion or limitation of certain types of damages. +If any disclaimer or limitation set forth in this agreement violates the +law of the state applicable to this agreement, the agreement shall be +interpreted to make the maximum disclaimer or limitation permitted by +the applicable state law. The invalidity or unenforceability of any +provision of this agreement shall not void the remaining provisions. + +1.F.6. INDEMNITY - You agree to indemnify and hold the Foundation, the +trademark owner, any agent or employee of the Foundation, anyone +providing copies of Project Gutenberg-tm electronic works in accordance +with this agreement, and any volunteers associated with the production, +promotion and distribution of Project Gutenberg-tm electronic works, +harmless from all liability, costs and expenses, including legal fees, +that arise directly or indirectly from any of the following which you do +or cause to occur: (a) distribution of this or any Project Gutenberg-tm +work, (b) alteration, modification, or additions or deletions to any +Project Gutenberg-tm work, and (c) any Defect you cause. + + +Section 2. Information about the Mission of Project Gutenberg-tm + +Project Gutenberg-tm is synonymous with the free distribution of +electronic works in formats readable by the widest variety of computers +including obsolete, old, middle-aged and new computers. It exists +because of the efforts of hundreds of volunteers and donations from +people in all walks of life. + +Volunteers and financial support to provide volunteers with the +assistance they need are critical to reaching Project Gutenberg-tm's +goals and ensuring that the Project Gutenberg-tm collection will +remain freely available for generations to come. In 2001, the Project +Gutenberg Literary Archive Foundation was created to provide a secure +and permanent future for Project Gutenberg-tm and future generations. +To learn more about the Project Gutenberg Literary Archive Foundation +and how your efforts and donations can help, see Sections 3 and 4 +and the Foundation web page at https://www.pglaf.org. + + +Section 3. Information about the Project Gutenberg Literary Archive +Foundation + +The Project Gutenberg Literary Archive Foundation is a non profit +501(c)(3) educational corporation organized under the laws of the +state of Mississippi and granted tax exempt status by the Internal +Revenue Service. The Foundation's EIN or federal tax identification +number is 64-6221541. Its 501(c)(3) letter is posted at +https://pglaf.org/fundraising. Contributions to the Project Gutenberg +Literary Archive Foundation are tax deductible to the full extent +permitted by U.S. federal laws and your state's laws. + +The Foundation's principal office is located at 4557 Melan Dr. S. +Fairbanks, AK, 99712., but its volunteers and employees are scattered +throughout numerous locations. Its business office is located at +809 North 1500 West, Salt Lake City, UT 84116, (801) 596-1887, email +business@pglaf.org. Email contact links and up to date contact +information can be found at the Foundation's web site and official +page at https://pglaf.org + +For additional contact information: + Dr. Gregory B. Newby + Chief Executive and Director + gbnewby@pglaf.org + + +Section 4. Information about Donations to the Project Gutenberg +Literary Archive Foundation + +Project Gutenberg-tm depends upon and cannot survive without wide +spread public support and donations to carry out its mission of +increasing the number of public domain and licensed works that can be +freely distributed in machine readable form accessible by the widest +array of equipment including outdated equipment. Many small donations +($1 to $5,000) are particularly important to maintaining tax exempt +status with the IRS. + +The Foundation is committed to complying with the laws regulating +charities and charitable donations in all 50 states of the United +States. Compliance requirements are not uniform and it takes a +considerable effort, much paperwork and many fees to meet and keep up +with these requirements. We do not solicit donations in locations +where we have not received written confirmation of compliance. To +SEND DONATIONS or determine the status of compliance for any +particular state visit https://pglaf.org + +While we cannot and do not solicit contributions from states where we +have not met the solicitation requirements, we know of no prohibition +against accepting unsolicited donations from donors in such states who +approach us with offers to donate. + +International donations are gratefully accepted, but we cannot make +any statements concerning tax treatment of donations received from +outside the United States. U.S. laws alone swamp our small staff. + +Please check the Project Gutenberg Web pages for current donation +methods and addresses. Donations are accepted in a number of other +ways including including checks, online payments and credit card +donations. To donate, please visit: https://pglaf.org/donate + + +Section 5. General Information About Project Gutenberg-tm electronic +works. + +Professor Michael S. Hart was the originator of the Project Gutenberg-tm +concept of a library of electronic works that could be freely shared +with anyone. For thirty years, he produced and distributed Project +Gutenberg-tm eBooks with only a loose network of volunteer support. + + +Project Gutenberg-tm eBooks are often created from several printed +editions, all of which are confirmed as Public Domain in the U.S. +unless a copyright notice is included. Thus, we do not necessarily +keep eBooks in compliance with any particular paper edition. + + +Most people start at our Web site which has the main PG search facility: + + https://www.gutenberg.org + +This Web site includes information about Project Gutenberg-tm, +including how to make donations to the Project Gutenberg Literary +Archive Foundation, how to help produce our new eBooks, and how to +subscribe to our email newsletter to hear about new eBooks. + + +</pre> + +</body> +</html> diff --git a/29448-h/images/i006.jpg b/29448-h/images/i006.jpg Binary files differnew file mode 100644 index 0000000..c082513 --- /dev/null +++ b/29448-h/images/i006.jpg diff --git a/29448-h/images/i007.jpg b/29448-h/images/i007.jpg Binary files differnew file mode 100644 index 0000000..36e3629 --- /dev/null +++ b/29448-h/images/i007.jpg diff --git a/29448-h/images/i041.jpg b/29448-h/images/i041.jpg Binary files differnew file mode 100644 index 0000000..13adc73 --- /dev/null +++ b/29448-h/images/i041.jpg diff --git a/29448-h/images/i070.jpg b/29448-h/images/i070.jpg Binary files differnew file mode 100644 index 0000000..acf7104 --- /dev/null +++ b/29448-h/images/i070.jpg diff --git a/29448-h/images/icover.jpg b/29448-h/images/icover.jpg Binary files differnew file mode 100644 index 0000000..6d0f465 --- /dev/null +++ b/29448-h/images/icover.jpg |
