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diff --git a/.gitattributes b/.gitattributes new file mode 100644 index 0000000..6833f05 --- /dev/null +++ b/.gitattributes @@ -0,0 +1,3 @@ +* text=auto +*.txt text +*.md text diff --git a/29448-8.txt b/29448-8.txt new file mode 100644 index 0000000..173f837 --- /dev/null +++ b/29448-8.txt @@ -0,0 +1,4807 @@ +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 + + + + + + + + [Transcriber's Note: + + 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.] + + + + +[Illustration] + +COMPLETE BOOK-LENGTH NOVEL + + + + +PARIAH PLANET + +By MURRAY LEINSTER + +Illustrated by FINLAY + + _When the blue plague appeared on the planet of Dara, fear struck + nearby worlds. The fear led to a hate that threatened the lives of + millions and endangered the Galactic peace._ + + + + +CHAPTER I + + +The little Med Ship came out of overdrive and the stars were strange and +the Milky Way seemed unfamiliar. Which, of course, was because the Milky +Way and the local Cepheid marker-stars were seen from an unaccustomed +angle and a not-yet-commonplace pattern of varying magnitudes. But +Calhoun grunted in satisfaction. There was a banded sun off to port, +which was good. A breakout at no more than sixty light-hours from +one's destination wasn't bad, in a strange sector of the Galaxy and +after three light-years of journeying blind. + +[Illustration] + +"Arise and shine, Murgatroyd," said Calhoun. "Comb your whiskers. Get +set to astonish the natives!" + +A sleepy, small, shrill voice said; + +"_Chee!_" + +Murgatroyd the _tormal_ came crawling out of his small cubbyhole. He +blinked at Calhoun. + +"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." + +Murgatroyd said; + +"_Chee-chee!_" + +He began to make his toilet, first licking his right-hand whiskers and +then his left. Then he stood up and shook himself and looked +interestedly at Calhoun. _Tormals_ are companionable small animals. They +are charmed when somebody speaks to them. They find great, deep +satisfaction in imitating the actions of humans, as parrots and mynahs +and parrokets imitate human speech. But _tormals_ have certain useful, +genetically transmitted talents which make them much more valuable than +mere companions or pets. + +Calhoun got a light-reading for the banded sun. It could hardly be an +accurate measure of distance, but it was a guide. He said; + +"Hold on to something, Murgatroyd!" + +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. + +The sun Weald burned huge and terrible in space. It was close, now. Its +disk covered half a degree of arc. + +"Very neat," observed Calhoun. "Weald Three is our port, Murgatroyd. The +plane of the ecliptic would be--Hm...." + +He swung the outside electron telescope, picked up a nearby bright +object, enlarged its image to show details, and checked it against the +local star-pilot. He calculated a moment. The distance was too short for +even the briefest of overdrive hops, but it would take time to get there +on solar-system drive. + +He thumbed down the communicator-button and spoke into a microphone. + +"Med Ship Aesclipus Twenty reporting arrival and asking 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 ..." + +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. + + * * * * * + +A voice came out of the communicator; + +"_Aesclipus Twenty, repeat your identification!_" + +Calhoun went to the control-board. + +"Aesclipus Twenty," he said patiently, "is a Med Ship, sent by the +Interstellar Medical Service to make a planetary health inspection on +Weald. Check with your public health authorities. This is the first Med +Ship visit in twelve standard years, I believe, which is inexcusable. +But your health authorities will know all about it. Check with them." + +The voice said truculently; + +"_What was your last port?_" + +Calhoun named it. This was not his home sector, but Sector Twelve had +gotten into a very bad situation. Some of its planets had gone unvisited +for as long as twenty years, and twelve between inspections was almost +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. + +So he was very patient. He named the planet last inspected, the one from +which he'd set out for Weald Three. The voice from the communicator said +sharply; + +"_What port before that?_" + +Calhoun named the one before the last. + +"_Don't drive any closer,_" said the voice harshly, "_or you'll be +destroyed!_" + +Calhoun said coldly; + +"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 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!" + +Silence. Calhoun clicked off and poured himself another cup of coffee. +Murgatroyd held out his cup for a refill. Calhoun gave it to him. + +"I hate to put on an official hat, Murgatroyd," he said annoyedly, "but +there are some people who won't have any other way." + +Murgatroyd said "_Chee!_" and sipped at his cup. + + * * * * * + +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. + + * * * * * + +In fifteen minutes a different voice came from the speaker. + +"_Med Ship Aesclipus! Med Ship Aesclipus!_" + +Calhoun answered and the voice said anxiously; + +"_'Sorry about the challenge, but we have the blueskin problem always +with us. We have to be extremely careful! Will you come in, please?_" + +"I'm on my way," said Calhoun. + +"_The planetary health authorities,_" said the voice, more anxiously +still, "_are very anxious to be 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._" + +"He's lying," Calhoun told Murgatroyd, "but he's more scared than +hostile." + +He picked up the order-folio on Weald Three. He gave the information +about the last Med Ship visit. He clicked off. + +"What?" he asked, "is a blueskin?" + +He'd read the folio on Weald, of course, but as the ship swam onward +through emptiness he went through it again. The last medical inspection +had been only perfunctory. Twelve years earlier--instead of three--a +Med Ship had landed on Weald. There had been official conferences with +health officials. There was a report on the birth-rate, the death-rate, +the anomaly-rate, and a breakdown of all reported communicable diseases. +But that was all. There were no special comments and no overall picture. + +Presently Calhoun found the word in a Sector dictionary, where words of +only local usage were to be found. + +"Blueskin; Colloquial term for a person recovered from a plague which +left large patches of blue pigment irregularly distributed over the +body. Especially, inhabitants of Dara. The condition is said to be +caused by a chronic, 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...." + +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. + +"Since plague, special license from Med Service is required for +landing." + +That was all. Absolutely all. + +The communicator said suavely; + +"_Med Ship Aesclipus Twenty! Come in on vision, please!_" + +Calhoun went to the control-board and threw on vision. + +"Well, what now?" he demanded. + +His screen lighted. A bland face looked out at him. + +"_We have--ah--verified your statements,_" said the third voice from +Weald. "_Just one more item. Are you alone in your ship?_" + +"Of course," said Calhoun, frowning. + +"_Quite alone?_" insisted the voice. + +"Obviously!" said Calhoun. + +"_No other living creature?_" insisted the voice again. + +"Of--Oh!" said Calhoun annoyedly. He called over his shoulder. +"Murgatroyd! Come here!" + +Murgatroyd hopped to his lap and gazed interestedly at the screen. The +bland face changed remarkably. The voice changed even more. + +"_Very good!_" it said. "_Very, very good! Blueskins do not have_ +tormals! _You are Med Service! By all means come in. Your coördinates +will be ..._" + +Calhoun wrote them down. He clicked off the communicator again and +growled to Murgatroyd; + +"So I might have been a blueskin, eh? And you're my passport, because +only Med Ships have members of your tribe aboard! What the hell's the +matter, Murgatroyd? They act like they think somebody's trying to get +down on their planet with a load of plague-germs!" + +He grumbled to himself for minutes. The life of a Med Ship man is not +exactly a sinecure, at best. It means long periods in empty space in +overdrive, which is absolute and deadly tedium. Then two or three days +aground, checking official documents and statistics, and asking +questions to see how many of the newest medical techniques have reached +this planet or that, and the supplying of information about such as have +not arrived. Then lifting out to space for long periods of tedium, to +repeat the process somewhere else. Med Ships carry only one man because +two could not stand the close contact without quarreling with each +other. But Med Ships do carry _tormals_, like Murgatroyd, and a _tormal_ +and a man can get along indefinitely, like a man and a dog. It is a +highly unequal friendship, but it seems to be satisfactory to both. + +Calhoun was very much annoyed with the way the Med Service had been +operated in Sector Twelve. He was one of many men at work to correct the +results of incompetence in directing Med Service in 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. + +The condition shown by the landing-grid suspicions was a case in point. +Blueskins were people who inherited a splotchy skin-pigmentation from +other people who'd survived a plague. Weald plainly maintained a +one-planet quarantine against them. But a quarantine is normally an +emergency measure. The Med Service should have taken over, wiped out the +need for a quarantine, and then lifted it. It hadn't been done. + +Calhoun fumed to himself. + + * * * * * + +The world of Weald Three grew brighter and brighter and became a disk. +The disk had ice-caps and a reasonable proportion of land and water +surface. The Med Ship decelerated, and voices notified observation from +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. + +The business of landing was all very familiar, from the blue rim which +appeared at the limb of the planet from one diameter out, to the +singular flowing-apart of the surface features as the ship sank still +lower. There was the circular landing-grid, rearing skyward for nearly a +mile. It could let down interstellar liners from emptiness and lift them +out to emptiness again, with great convenience and economy for everyone. + +It landed the Med Ship in its center, and there were officials to greet +Calhoun, and he knew in advance the routine part of his visit. There +would be an interview with the planet's chief executive, by whatever +title he was called. There would be a banquet. Murgatroyd would be +petted by everybody. There would be painful efforts to impress Calhoun +with the splendid conduct of public health matters on Weald. He would be +told much scandal. He might find one man, somewhere, who passionately +labored to advance the welfare of his fellow humans by finding out how +to keep them well, or failing that how to make them well when they got +sick. And in two days, or three, Calhoun would be escorted back to the +landing-grid, and lifted out to space, and he'd spend long empty days in +overdrive and land somewhere else to do the whole thing all over again. + +It all happened exactly as he expected, with one exception. Every human +being he met on Weald wanted to talk about blueskins. Blueskins and the +idea of blueskins obsessed everyone. Calhoun listened without asking +questions until he had the picture of what blueskins meant to the people +who talked of them. Then he knew there would be no use asking questions +at random. Nobody mentioned ever having seen a blueskin. Nobody +mentioned a specific event in which a blueskin had at any named time +taken part. But everybody was afraid of blueskins. It was a patterned, +an inculcated, a stage-directed fixed idea. And it found expression in +shocked references to the vileness, the depravity, the monstrousness of +the blueskin inhabitants of Dara, from whom Weald must at all costs be +protected. + +It did not make sense. So Calhoun listened politely until he found an +undistinguished medical man who wanted some special information about +gene-selection as practised halfway across the galaxy. He invited that +man to the Med Ship, where he supplied the information not hitherto +available. He saw his guest's eyes shine a little with that joyous awe a +man feels when he finds out something he has wanted long and badly to +know. + +"Now," said Calhoun, "tell me something! Why does everybody on this +planet hate the inhabitants of Dara? It's light-years away. Nobody +claims to have suffered in person from them. Why make a point of hating +them?" + +The Wealdian doctor grimaced. + +"They've blue patches on their skins. They're different from us. So they +can be pictured as a danger and our political parties can make an +election issue out of competing for the privilege of defending us from +them. They had a plague on Dara, once. They're accused of still having +it ready for export." + +"Hm," said Calhoun. "The story is that they want to spread contagion +here, eh? Doesn't anybody"--his tone was sardonic--"doesn't anybody urge +that they be massacred as an act of piety?" + +"Yes--s--s--s," admitted the doctor reluctantly. "It's mentioned in +political speeches." + +"But how's it rationalized?" demanded Calhoun. "What's the argument to +make pigment-patches involve moral and physical degradation, as I'm +assured is the case?" + +"In the public schools," said the doctor, "the children are taught that +blueskins are now carriers of the disease they survived three +generations ago! That they hate everybody who isn't a blueskin. That +they are constantly scheming to introduce their plague here so most of +us will die and the rest become blueskins. That's beyond rationalizing. +It can't be true, but it's not safe to doubt it." + +"Bad business," said Calhoun coldly. "That sort of thing usually costs +lives, in the end. It could lead to massacre!" + +"Perhaps it has, in a way," said the doctor unhappily. "One doesn't like +to think about it." He paused, 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!" + +"Tell me," said Calhoun. + +"We armed ships in a hurry," admitted the doctor, "We chased their +space-ship back to Dara. We hung in space off the planet. We told them +we'd blast their world from pole to pole if they ever dared take to +space again. We made them destroy their one ship, and we watched on +visionscreens as it was done." + +"But you gave them food?" + +"No," said the doctor ashamedly. "They were blueskins." + +"How bad was the famine?" + +"Who knows? Any number may have starved! And we kept a squadron of armed +ships in their skies for years. To keep them from spreading the plague, +we said. And some of us believed it, probably!" + +The doctor's tone was purest irony. + +"Lately," he said, "there's been a move for economy in our government. +Simultaneously, we began to have a series of 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!" + +"And Dara?" + +The Doctor shrugged. He stood up. + +"Our hatred of Dara," he said, again ironically, "has produced one +thing. Roughly halfway between here and Dara there's a two-planet solar +system, Orede. There's a usable planet there. It was proposed to build +an outpost of Weald there, against blueskins. Cattle were landed to run +wild and multiply and make a reason for colonists to settle there. They +did, but nobody wants to move 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!" + +"I see," said Calhoun, frowning. + +The doctor moved toward the Med Ship's exit-port. + +"I answered your questions," he said grimly. "But if I talked to anyone +else as I've done to you, I'd be lucky only to be driven into exile!" + +"I shan't give you away," said Calhoun. He did not smile. + +When the doctor had gone, Calhoun said deliberately; + +"Murgatroyd, you should be grateful that you're a _tormal_ and not a +man. There's nothing about being a _tormal_ to make you ashamed!" + +Then he grimly changed his garments for the full-dress uniform of the +Med Service. There was to be a banquet at which he would sit next to the +planet's chief executive and hear innumerable speeches about the +splendor of Weald. Calhoun had his own, strictly Med Service opinion of +the planet's latest and most boasted-of achievement. It was a domed city +in the polar regions, where nobody ever had to go outdoors. He was less +than professionally enthusiastic about the moving streets, and much less +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. + +But it was not Calhoun's function to criticize when it could be avoided. +Med Service had been badly managed in Sector Twelve. So at the banquet +Calhoun made a brief and diplomatic address in which he temperately +praised what could be praised, and did not mention anything else. + +The chief executive followed him. As head of the government he paid some +tribute to the Med Service. But then he reminded his hearers proudly of +the high culture, splendid health, and remarkable prosperity of the +planet since his political party took office. This, he said, 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. + +When he sat down, Calhoun said very politely; + +"It looks like some day it should be practical politics to urge the +massacre of all blueskins. Have you thought of that?" + +The chief executive said comfortably; + +"The idea's been proposed. It's good politics to urge it, but it would +be foolish to carry it out. People vote against blueskins. Wipe them +out, and where'd you be?" + +Calhoun ground his teeth, quietly. + + * * * * * + +There were more speeches. Then a messenger, white-faced, arrived with a +written note for the chief executive. He read it and passed it to +Calhoun. It was from the Ministry of Health. The space-port reported +that a ship had just broken out 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. + +"It'll be blueskins," said that astute person, firmly. "They're +next-door to Orede. That's who's done this. It wouldn't surprise me if +they'd seeded Orede with their plague, and this ship came from there to +give us warning!" + +"There's no evidence for anything of the sort," protested Calhoun. "A +ship simply came out of overdrive and didn't signal further. That's +all." + +"We'll see," said the chief executive ominously. "We'll go directly to +the spaceport." + +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. + +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. + +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. + +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. + +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 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. + +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. + +"Let a volunteer go aboard," commanded the chief executive. "Have him +report what he finds." + +A pause. Then the solemn announcement of an intrepid volunteer's name, +from far, far away. Calhoun listened, frowning darkly. This pompous +heroism wouldn't be noticed in the Med Service. It would be routine +behavior. + +Suspenseful, second-by-second reports. The volunteer had rocketed +himself across the emptiness between the two again-separated ships. He +had opened the airlock from outside. He'd gone in. He'd closed the outer +airlock door. He'd opened the inner. He reported. + +The relayed report was almost incoherent, what with horror and +incredulity and the feeling of doom that came upon the volunteer. The +ship was a bulk-cargo ore-carrier, designed to run between Orede and +Weald with 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. + +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! + +But they hadn't starved. Air-scarcity killed them before the ship came +out of overdrive. + +A remarkable thing was that there was no written message in the ship's +log which referred to its take-off. There was no memorandum of the +taking on of such an impossible number of passengers. + +"The blueskins did it," said the chief executive of Weald. He was pale. +All about Calhoun men looked sick and shocked and terrified. "It was the +blueskins! We'll have to teach them a lesson!" Then he turned to +Calhoun. "The volunteer who went on that ship ... He'll have to stay +there, won't he? He can't be brought back to Weald without bringing +contagion ..." + +Calhoun raged at him. + + + + +CHAPTER 2 + + +There was a certain coldness in the manner of those at the Weald +spaceport when the Med Ship left next morning. Calhoun was not popular +because Weald was scared. It had been conditioned to scare easily, where +blueskins might be involved. Its children were trained to react +explosively when the word "blueskin" was uttered in their hearing, and +its adults tended to say "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. + +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. + +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. + +Calhoun was quite right, but Weald in general considered that he'd +persuaded the government to take an unreasonable risk. + +There were other reasons for disapproving of him. Calhoun had been +unpleasantly frank. The coming of the death-ship stirred to frenzy those +people who believed that all blueskins should be exterminated as a pious +act. They'd appeared on every 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! + +One of these vehement orators even asserted that Calhoun agreed that no +other course was possible, speaking for the Interstellar Medical +Service. And Calhoun furiously demanded a chance to deny it by +broadcast, and he made a bitter and indiscreet speech from which a +planet-wide audience inferred that he thought them fools. He did. + +So he was definitely unpopular when his ship lifted from Weald. He'd +curtly given his destination as Orede, from which the death-ship had +come. The landing-grid locked on, raised the small 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. + +He aimed for his destination, his face very grim. He said savagely; + +"Get set, Murgatroyd! Overdrive coming!" + + * * * * * + +He thumbed down the overdrive button. The universe of stars went out, +while everything living in the ship felt the customary sensations of +dizziness, of nausea, and of a 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. + +But within seconds random tiny noises began. There was a reel and there +were sound-speakers to keep the ship from sounding like a grave. The +reel played and the speakers gave off minute creakings, and meaningless +hums, and very tiny noises of every imaginable sort, all of which were +just above the threshold of the inaudible. + +Calhoun fretted. Sector Twelve was in very bad shape. A conscientious +Med Service man would never have let the anti-blueskin obsession go +unmentioned in a report on Weald. Health is not only a physical affair. +There is mental health, also. When mental health goes a civilization can +be destroyed more surely and more terribly than by any imaginable war or +plague-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. + +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. + +"I think," said Calhoun dourly, "that I'll have some coffee." + +"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. + +Calhoun turned his head. Murgatroyd sat on the floor, his long tail +coiled reflectively about a chair-leg. He watched the door of the Med +Ship's sleeping-cabin. + +"Murgatroyd," said Calhoun. "I mentioned coffee!" + +"_Chee!_" shrilled Murgatroyd. + +But he continued to look at the door. The temperature was kept lower in +the other cabin, and the look of things was different 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 +_tormal_--without becoming ship-happy. There were other carefully +thought out items in the ship with the same purpose. But none of them +should cause Murgatroyd to stare fixedly and fascinatedly at the +sleeping-cabin door. Not when coffee was in the making! + +Calhoun considered. He became angry at the immediate suspicion that +occurred to him. As a Med Service man, he was duty-bound to be +impartial. To be impartial might mean not to side absolutely with Weald +in its enmity to blueskins. The people of Weald had refused to help Dara +in a time of famine; they'd blockaded 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. + +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. + +So Calhoun made coffee. He slipped a blaster into a pocket where it +would be handy. He filled a small cup for Murgatroyd and a large one for +himself, and then a second large one. + +He tapped on the sleeping-cabin door, standing aside lest a blaster-bolt +came through it. + +"Coffee's ready," he said sardonically. "Come out and join us." + +There was a long pause. Calhoun rapped again. + +"You've a seat at the captain's table," he said more sardonically still. +"It's not polite to keep me waiting!" + + * * * * * + +He listened, alert for a rush which would be a fanatic's desperate +attempt to do murder despite premature discovery. He was prepared to +shoot quite ruthlessly. + +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. + +"H-how did you know I was there?" she asked shakily. She moistened her +lips. "You didn't see me! I was in a closet, and you didn't even enter +the room!" + +Calhoun said grimly; + +"I've sources of information." He pointed to Murgatroyd. + +The girl did not move. Her eyes went from Murgatroyd to Calhoun. + +"And now," said Calhoun, "do you want to tell me your story? You have +one ready, I'm sure." + +"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." + +"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." + +She shivered a little. + +"I'm--running away ..." + +"Ah!" said Calhoun. "In that case I'll take you back." + +"No!" she said fiercely. "I'll--I'll die first! I'll wreck this ship +first!" + +Her hand came from behind her. There was a tiny blaster in it. But it +shook visibly as she tried to aim it. + +"I'll--shoot out the controls!" + +Calhoun blinked. He'd had to make a drastic change in his estimate of +the situation the instant he saw that the stowaway was a girl. Now he +had to make another when her threat was not to kill him but to disable +the ship. Women are rarely assassins, and when they are they don't use +energy weapons. Daggers and poisons are more typical. + +"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." + +Murgatroyd, for no reason whatever, felt it necessary to enter the +conversation. He said; + +"_Chee-chee-chee!_" + +"A very sensible suggestion," observed Calhoun. "We'll sit down and have +a cup of coffee." To the girl he said, "I'll take you to Orede, since +that's where you say you want to go." + +"I--there's a boy there--" + +Calhoun shook his head. + +"No," he said reprovingly. "Nearly all the mining colony had packed +itself into the ship that came into Weald with everybody dead. But not +all. And there's been no check of what men were in the ship and what men +weren't. You wouldn't go to Orede if it were likely your fellow had died +on the way to you. Here's your coffee. Sugar or saccho, and do you take +cream?" + +She trembled a little, but she took the cup. + +"I--don't understand--." + +"Murgatroyd and I," explained Calhoun--and he did not know whether he +spoke out of anger or something else--"we are do-gooders. We go around +trying to keep people from getting killed. It's our profession. We +practise it even on our own behalf. We want to stay alive. So since you +make such drastic threats, we will take you where you want to go. +Especially since we're going there anyhow." + +"You--don't believe anything I've said!" It was a statement. + +"Not a word," admitted Calhoun. "But you'll probably tell us something +more believable presently. When did you eat last?" + +"Yesterday--." + +"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. + + * * * * * + +Calhoun deliberately immersed himself in the Galactic Directory, looking +up the planet Orede. He was headed there, but he'd had no reason to +inform himself about it before. Now he read with every appearance of +absorption. + +The girl ate daintily. Murgatroyd watched with highly amiable interest. +But she looked acutely uncomfortable. + +Calhoun finished with the Directory. He got out the 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. + +He kept himself casually busy, ignoring the girl. A Med Ship man has +resources of study and meditation with which to occupy himself during +overdrive travel from one planet to another. Calhoun made use of those +resources. He acted as if he were completely unconscious of the +stowaway. But Murgatroyd watched her with charmed attention. + +Hours after her discovery, she said uneasily; + +"Please?" + +Calhoun looked up. + +"Yes?" + +"I--don't know exactly how things stand." + +"You are a stowaway," said Calhoun. "Legally, I have the right to put +you out the airlock. It doesn't seem necessary. There's a cabin. When +you're sleepy, use it. Murgatroyd and I can make out quite well here. +When you're hungry, you now know how to get something to eat. When we +land on Orede, you'll probably go about whatever business you have +there. That's all." + +She stared at him. + +"But--you don't believe what I've told you!" + +"No," agreed Calhoun. But he didn't add to the statement. + +"But--I will tell you," she offered. "The police were after me. I had to +get away from Weald! I had to! I'd stolen--" + +He shook his head. + +"No," he said. "If you were a thief, you'd say anything in the world +except that you were a thief. You're not ready to tell the truth yet. +You don't have to, so why tell me anything? I suggest that you get some +sleep." + +She rose slowly. Twice her lips parted as if to speak again, but then +she went into the other cabin and closed herself in. + +Murgatroyd blinked at the place where she'd disappeared and then climbed +up into Calhoun's lap, with complete assurance of welcome. He settled +himself and was silent for moments. Then he said; + +"_Chee!_" + +"I believe you're right," said Calhoun. "She doesn't belong on Weald, or +with the conditioning she'd have had, there'd be only one place she'd +dread worse than Orede, and that would be Dara. But I doubt she'd be +afraid to land even on Dara." + +Murgatroyd liked to be talked to. He liked to pretend that he carried on +a conversation, like humans. + +"_Chee-chee!_" he said with conviction. + +"Definitely," agreed Calhoun. "She's not doing this for her personal +advantage. Whatever she thinks she's doing, it's more important to her +than her own life. Murgatroyd--" + +"_Chee?_" said Murgatroyd in an inquiring tone. + +"There are wild cattle on Orede," said Calhoun. "Herds and herds of +them. I have a suspicion that somebody's been shooting them. Lots of +them. Do you agree? Don't you think that a lot of cattle have been +slaughtered on Orede lately?" + +Murgatroyd yawned. He settled himself still more comfortably in +Calhoun's lap. + +"_Chee,_" he said drowsily. + +He went to sleep, while Calhoun continued the examination of highly +condensed information. Presently he looked up the normal rate of +increase, with other data, among herds of _bivis domesticus_ 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. + +They weren't often so strange, however, as to cause some hundreds of men +to pack themselves frantically aboard a cargo-ship which couldn't +possibly sustain them, so that every man must die while the ship was in +overdrive. + +Still, by the time Calhoun turned in on a spare pneumatic mattress, he +had calculated that as few as a dozen head of cattle, turned loose on a +suitable planet, would have increased to herds of thousands or tens or +even hundreds of thousands in much less time than had probably elapsed. + +The Med Ship drove on in seemingly absolute solidity, with no sound from +without, with no sight to be seen outside, with no evidence at all that +it was not buried deep in the heart of a planet instead of flashing +through emptiness at a speed so great as to have no meaning. + + * * * * * + +Next ship-day the girl looked oddly at Calhoun when she appeared in the +control-room. "Shall I--have breakfast?" she asked uncertainly. + +"Why not?" + +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. + +About noon, ship-time, she asked; + +"When will we get to Orede?" + +Calhoun told her absently, as if he were thinking of something else. + +"What--what do you think happened there? I mean, to make that tragedy in +the ship?" + +"I don't know," said Calhoun. "But I disagree with the authorities on +Weald. I don't think it was a planned atrocity of the blueskins." + +"Wh-what are blueskins?" + +Calhoun turned around and looked at her directly. + +"When lying," he said mildly, "you tell as much by what you pretend +isn't, as by what you pretend is. You know what blueskins are!" + +"B--but what do you think they are?" she asked. + +"There used to be a human disease called smallpox," said Calhoun. "When +people recovered from it, they were usually marked. Their skin had +little scar-pits here and there. At one time, back on Earth, it was +expected that everybody would catch smallpox sooner or later, and a +large percentage would die of it. And it was so much a matter of course +that if they printed a 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!" + +"Then you think they're--human?" + +"There's never yet been a case of reverse evolution," said Calhoun. +"Maybe pithecanthropus had a monkey uncle, but no pithecanthropus ever +went monkey." + +She turned abruptly away. But she glanced at him often during that day. +He continued to busy himself with those activities which make a Med +Ship man's life consistent with retained sanity. + +Next day she asked without preliminary; + +"Don't you believe the blueskins planned for the ship with the dead men +to arrive at Weald and spread plague there?" + +"No," said Calhoun. + +"Why?" + +"It couldn't possibly work," Calhoun told her. "With only dead men on +board, the ship wouldn't arrive at a place where the landing-grid could +bring it down. So that would be no good. And plague-stricken living men +wouldn't try to conceal that they had the plague. They might ask for +help, but they'd know they'd instantly be killed on Weald if they were +found to be plague-victims. So that would be no good, either! No, the +ship wasn't intended to land plague on Weald." + +"Are you--friendly to blueskins?" she asked uncertainly. + +"Within reason," said Calhoun, "I am a well-wisher to all the human +race. You're slipping, though. When using the word 'blueskin' you should +say it uncomfortably, as if it were a word no refined person liked to +pronounce. You don't. We'll land on Orede tomorrow, by the way. If you +ever intend to tell me the truth, there's not much time." + +She bit her lips. Twice, during the remainder of the day, she faced him +and opened her mouth as if to speak, and then turned away again. Calhoun +shrugged. He had fairly definite ideas about her, by now. He carefully +kept them tentative, but no girl born and raised on Weald would +willingly go to Orede, with all of Weald believing that a shipload of +miners preferred death to remaining there. It tied in, like everything +else that was unpleasant, to blueskins. Nobody from Weald would dream of +landing on Orede! Not now! + + * * * * * + +A little before the Med Ship was due to break out from overdrive, the +girl said very carefully; + +"You've been--very kind. I'd like to thank you. I--didn't really believe +I would--live to get to Orede." + +Calhoun raised his eyebrows. + +"I--wish I could tell you everything you want to know," she added +regretfully. "I think you're--really decent. But some things...." + +Calhoun said caustically; + +"You've told me a great deal. You weren't born on Weald. You weren't +raised there. The people of Dara--notice that I don't say blueskins, +though they are--the people of Dara have made at least one space-ship +since Weald threatened them with extermination. There is probably a new +food-shortage on Dara now, leading to pure desperation. Most likely it's +bad enough to make them risk landing on Orede to kill cattle and freeze +beef to help. They've worked out." + +She gasped and sprang to her feet. She snatched out the tiny blaster in +her pocket. She pointed it waveringly at him. + +"I--have to kill you!" she cried desperately. "I--I have to!" + +Calhoun reached out. She tugged despairingly at the blaster's trigger. +Nothing happened. Before she could realize that she hadn't turned off +the safety, Calhoun twisted the weapon from her fingers. He stepped +back. + +"Good girl!" he said approvingly. "I'll give this back to you when we +land. And thanks. Thanks very much!" + +She stared at him. "Thanks? When I tried to kill you?" + +"Of course!" said Calhoun. "I'd made guesses. I couldn't know that they +were right. When you tried to kill me, you confirmed every one. Now, +when we land on Orede I'm going to get you to try to put me in touch +with your friends. It's going to be tricky, because they must be pretty +well scared about that ship. But it's a highly desirable thing to get +done!" + +He went to the ship's control-board and sat down before it. + +"Twenty minutes to break-hour," he observed. + +Murgatroyd peered out of his little cubbyhole. His eyes were anxious. +_Tormals_ are amiable little creatures. During the days in overdrive, +Calhoun had paid less than the usual amount of attention to Murgatroyd, +while the girl was fascinating. They'd made friends, awkwardly on the +girl's part, very pleasantly on Murgatroyd's. But only moments ago there +had been bitter emotion in the air. Murgatroyd had fled to his cubbyhole +to escape it. He was distressed. Now that there was silence again, he +peered out unhappily. + +"_Chee?_" he queried plaintively. "_Chee-chee-chee?_" + +Calhoun said matter-of-factly; + +"It's all right, Murgatroyd. If we aren't blasted as we try to land, we +should be able to make friends with everybody and get something +accomplished." + +The statement was hopelessly inaccurate. + + + + +CHAPTER 3 + + +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 coördinates 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. + +"There is a landing-grid," said Calhoun, frowning, "and if they're using +it to load fresh meat for Dara, from the herds I'm told about, it should +be manned. But they don't seem to intend to answer. Maybe they think +that if they pretend I'm not here I'll go away." + +He reflected, and his frown deepened. + +"If I didn't know what I 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?" + +She shook her head. + +"You don't know," said Calhoun, "or won't tell, yet. But they ought to +be told about the arrival of that ship at Weald, and what Weald thinks +about it! My guess is that you came to tell them. It isn't likely that +Dara gets news direct from Weald. Where were you put ashore from Dara, +when you set out to be a spy?" + +Her lips parted to speak. But she compressed them tightly. She shook her +head again. + +"It must have been plenty far away," said Calhoun restlessly. "Your +people would have built a ship, and made fine forged papers for it, and +they'd travel so far from this part of space that when they landed +nobody would think of Dara. They'd use makeup to cover the blue spots, +but maybe it was so far away that blueskins had never been heard of!" + +Her face looked pinched, but she did not reply. + +"Then they'd land half a dozen of you, with a supply of 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?" + +She began to grow pale. + +"I'm not a mind-reader," said Calhoun. "But it adds up. You're from +Dara. You've been on Weald. It's practically certain that there are +other, agents, if you like that word better, on Weald. And there hasn't +been a plague on Weald so you people aren't carriers of it. But you +knew it in advance, I think. How'd you learn? Did a ship in some sort of +trouble land there, on Dara?" + +"Y-yes," said the girl. "We wouldn't let it go again. But the people +didn't catch--they didn't die--they lived--." + +She stopped short. + +"It's not fair to trap me!" she cried passionately, "It's not fair!" + +"I'll stop," said Calhoun. + +He turned to the control-board. The Med Ship was only planetary +diameters from Orede, now, and the electron telescope showed shining +stars in leisurely motion across its screen. Then a huge, gibbous +shining shape appeared, and there were irregular patches of that muddy +color which is sea-bottom, and varicolored areas which were plains and +forests. Also there were mountains. Calhoun steadied the image and +squinted at it. + +"The mine," he observed, "was found by members of a hunting-party, +killing wild cattle for sport." + + * * * * * + +Even a small planet has many millions of square miles of surface, and a +single human installation on a whole world will not be easy to find by +random search. But there were clues to this one. Men hunting for sport +would not choose a tropic nor an arctic climate to hunt in. So if they +found a mineral deposit, it would have been in a temperate zone. Cattle +would not be found deep in a mountainous terrain. The mine would not be +on a prairie. The settlement on Orede, then, would be near the edge of +mountains, not far from a prairie such as wild cattle would frequent, +and it would be in a temperate climate. Forested areas could be ruled +out. And there would be a landing-grid. Handling only one ship at a +time, it might be a very small grid. It need be only hundreds of yards +across and less than half a mile high. But its shadow would be +distinctive. + +Calhoun searched among low mountains near unforested prairie in a +temperate zone. He found a speck. He enlarged it 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. + +"But they don't answer our call," observed Calhoun, "so we go down +unwelcomed." + +He inverted the Med Ship and the emergency-rockets boomed. The ship +plunged planetward. + +A long time later it was deep in the planet's atmosphere. The noise of +its rockets had become thunderous, with air to carry and to reinforce +the sound. + +"Hold on to something, Murgatroyd," commanded Calhoun. "We may have to +dodge some ack." + +But nothing came up from below. The Med Ship again inverted itself, and +its rockets pointed toward the planet and poured out pencil-thin, +blue-white, high-velocity flames. It checked slightly, but continued to +descend. It was not directly above the grid. It swept downward until +almost level with the peaks of the mountains in which the mine lay. It +tilted again, and swept onward over the 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. + +But there was no sign. Then the rockets bellowed, and the ship slowed +its forward motion, hovered momentarily, and settled to solidity outside +the framework of the grid. The grid was small, as Calhoun reasoned. But +it reached interminably toward the sky. + +The 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. + +Calhoun put a blaster in his pocket and stood up. + +"We'll see what it looks like outside," he said with a certain grimness. +"I don't quite believe what the visionscreens show." + + * * * * * + +Minutes later he stepped down to the ground from the Med Ship's +exit-port. The ship had landed perhaps a hundred feet from what once had +been a wooden building. In it, ore from the mines was concentrated and +the useless tailings carried away by a 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. + +The look of the ground about the building-sites was simply and purely +impossible. It was a mass of hoofprints. Cattle by thousands and tens of +thousands had trampled everything. Cattle had burst in the wooden sides +of the buildings. Cattle had piled themselves up against the beams +upholding roofs until the buildings collapsed. Then cattle had gone +plunging over the wrecked buildings until there was nothing left but +indescribable chaos. Many, many cattle had died in the crush. There were +heaps of dead beasts about the metal girders which were the foundation +of the landing-grid. The air was tainted by the smell of carrion. + +The settlement had been destroyed, positively, by stampeded cattle in +tens or hundreds of thousands charging blindly through and over and upon +it. Senselessly, they'd trampled each other to horrible shapelessnesses. +The mine-shaft was not choked, because enormously strong timbers had +fallen across and blocked it. But everything else was pure destruction. + +Calhoun said evenly; + +"Clever! Very clever! You can't blame men when beasts stampede! We +should accept the evidence that some monstrous herd, making its way +through a mountain pass, somehow went crazy and bolted for the plains +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 _and_ cattle, in the same +place,--that's a little too much at one time!" + +"How," asked Calhoun directly, "do you intend to get in touch with your +friends here?" + +"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?" + +"If they're sane, they won't," said Calhoun. "The one undesirable thing, +here, would be human footprints on top of cattle-tracks. If your friends +are a meat-getting party from Dara, as I believe, they should cover up +their tracks, get off-planet as fast as possible, and pray that no signs +of their former presence are ever discovered. That would be their best +first move, certainly!" + +"What should I do?" she asked helplessly. + +"I'm far from sure. At a guess, and for the moment, probably nothing. +I'll work something out ... I've got the devil of a job before me, +though. I can't spend too much time here." + +"You can--leave me here...." + +He grunted and turned away. It was naturally unthinkable that he should +leave another human being on a supposedly uninhabited planet, with the +knowledge that it might actually be uninhabited, and the further +knowledge that any visitors would have the strongest of possible reasons +to hide themselves away. + +He believed that there were Darians here, and the girl in the Med +ship--so he also believed--was 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. + +Considered detachedly, the odds were that there was again a +food-shortage on Dara. That blueskins, in desperation, had raided or +were raiding or would raid the cattle-herds of Orede for food to carry +back to their home planet. That somehow the miners on Orede had found +that they had blueskin neighbors, and died of the consequences of their +terror. It was a risky guess to make on such evidence as Calhoun +considered he had, but no other guess was possible. + +If his guess 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. + +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. + + * * * * * + +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. + +He worked for a long time. Then he shrugged and gave it up. He'd +repeated to absolute tedium the facts that any Darians--blueskins--on +Orede ought to know. There'd been no answer. And it was all too likely +that if he'd been received, that those who heard him took his message +for a trick to discover if there were any hearers. + +He clicked off at last and stood up, shaking his head. Suddenly the Med +Ship seemed empty. Then he saw Murgatroyd staring 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; + +"How long ago, Murgatroyd?" + +"_Chee!_" said Murgatroyd indignantly. + +It wasn't an answer, but it showed that Murgatroyd was vexed that he'd +been left behind. He and the girl were close friends, now. If she'd left +Murgatroyd in the ship when he wanted to go with her, she wasn't coming +back. + +Calhoun swore. Then he made certain. She was not in the ship. He flipped +the outside-speaker switch and said curtly into the microphone; + +"Coffee! Murgatroyd and I are having coffee. Will you come back, +please?" + +He repeated the call, and repeated it again. Multiplied as his voice was +by the speakers, she should hear him within a mile. She did not appear. +He went to a small and inconspicuous closet and armed himself. A Med +Ship man was not ever expected to fight, but there were blast-rifles +available for extreme emergency. + +When he'd slung a power-pack over his shoulder and reached the airlock, +there was still no sign of his late stowaway. He stood in the airlock +door for long minutes, staring angrily about. Almost certainly she +wouldn't be looking in the mountains for men of Dara come here for +cattle. He used a pair of binoculars, first at low-magnification to +search as wide an area down-valley as possible, and then at highest +power to search the most likely routes. + +He found a small, bobbing speck beyond a far-away hillcrest. It was her +head. It went down below the hilltop. + +He snapped a command to Murgatroyd, and when the _tormal_ was on the +ground outside, he locked the port with that combination that nobody but +a Med Ship man was at all likely to discover or use. + +"She's an idiot!" he told Murgatroyd sourly. "Come along! We've got to +be idiots too!" + +He set out in pursuit. + +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 plain stretched away to the horizon. +There were at least two large masses and many smaller clumps of what +could only be animals gathered together. Cattle. + +But here the girl was plainly in view. Calhoun increased his stride. He +began to gain on her. She did not look behind. + +Murgatroyd said "_Chee!_" in a complaining tone. + +"I should have left you behind," agreed Calhoun dourly, "but there was +and is a chance I won't get back. You'll have to keep on hiking." + +He plodded on. His memory of the terrain around the mining settlement +told him that there was no definite destination in the girl's mind. But +she was in no such despair as to want deliberately to be lost. She'd +guessed, Calhoun believed, that if there were Darians on the planet, +they'd keep the landing-grid under observation. If they saw her leave +that area and could see that she was alone, they should intercept her to +find out the meaning of the Med Ship's landing. Then she could identify +herself as one of them and give them the terribly necessary warning of +Weald's suspicions. + +"But," said Calhoun sourly, "if she's right, they'll have seen me +marching after her now, which spoils her scheme. And I'd like to help +it, but the way she's going is too dangerous!" + + * * * * * + +He went down into one of the hollows of the uneven plain. He saw a clump +of a dozen or so cattle a little distance away. The bull looked up and +snorted. The cows regarded him truculently. Their air was not one of +bovine tranquility. + +He was up the farther hillside and out of sight before the bull worked +himself up to a charge. Then Calhoun suddenly remembered one of the +items in the data about cattle he'd looked into just the other day. He +felt himself grow pale. + +"Murgatroyd!" he said sharply. "We've got to catch up! Fast! Stay with +me if you can, but ..." He was jog-trotting as he spoke--"even if you +get lost I have to hurry!" + +He ran fifty paces and walked fifty paces. He ran fifty and walked +fifty. He saw her, atop a rolling of the ground. She came to a full +stop. He ran. He saw her turn to retrace her steps. He flung to the +safety of the blast-rifle and let off a roaring blast at the ground for +her to hear. + +Suddenly she was fleeing desperately, toward him. He plunged on. She +vanished down into a hollow. Horns appeared over the hillcrest she'd +just left. Cattle appeared. Four--a dozen--fifteen--twenty. They moved +ominously in her wake. He saw her again, running frantically over +another upward swell of the prairie. He let off another blast to guide +her. He ran on at top speed with Murgatroyd trailing anxiously behind. +From time to time Murgatroyd called "_Chee-chee-chee!_" in frightened +pleading not to be abandoned. + +More cattle appeared against the horizon. Fifty or a hundred. They came +after the first clump. The first-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. + + * * * * * + +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. + +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. + +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. + +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. + +It lasted for minutes. Then the 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. + +Calhoun thoughtfully touched the barrel of his blast-rifle and winced at +its scorching heat. + + * * * * * + +"I just realized," he said coldly, "that I don't know your name. What is +it?" + +"M-maril," said the girl. She swallowed. "Th-thank you--." + +"Maril," said Calhoun, "you are an idiot! It was half-witted at best to +go off by yourself! You could have been lost! You could have cost me +days of hunting for you, days badly needed for more important matters!" +He stopped and took breath. "You may have spoiled what little chance +I've got to do something about the plans Weald's already making!" + +He said more bitterly still; + +"And I had to leave Murgatroyd behind to get to you in time! He was +right in the path of that charge!" + +He turned away from her and said dourly; + +"All right! Come on back to the ship. We'll go to Dara. We'd have to, +anyhow. But Murgatroyd--" + +Then he heard a very small sneeze. Out of a rolling wall of +still-roiling dust, Murgatroyd appeared forlornly. He was dust-covered, +and draggled, and his tail 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, "_Chee!_" in a disconsolate voice. Then +he sat down and waited for Calhoun to pick him up. + +When Calhoun did so, Murgatroyd clung to him pathetically and said, +"_Chee-chee!_" and again "_Chee-chee!_" with the intonation of one +telling of incredible horrors and disasters endured. + +Calhoun headed back for the valley, the settlement and the Med Ship. +Murgatroyd clung to his neck. The girl Maril followed visibly shaken. + +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. Those with calves darkly suspected +Calhoun of designs upon their offspring. + +It was a relief to enter the valley again. But it was two miles more to +the landing-grid with the Med Ship beside it and the reek of carrion in +the air. + +They were perhaps two hundred feet from the ship when a blast-rifle +crashed and its bolt whined past Calhoun so close that he felt the +monstrous heat. There had been no challenge. There was no warning. There +was simply a shot which came horribly close to ending Calhoun's career +in a completely arbitrary fashion. + + + + +CHAPTER 4 + + +Five minutes later Calhoun had located one would-be killer behind a mass +of splintered planking that once had been a wall. He set the wood afire +by a blaster-bolt and then viciously sent other bolts all around the man +it had sheltered when he fled from the flames. He could have killed him +ten times over, but it was more desirable to open communication. So he +missed, intentionally. + +Maril had cried out that she came from Dara and had word for them, but +they did not answer. There were three men with heavy-duty blast-rifles. +One was the one Calhoun had burned out of his hiding-place. That man's +rifle exploded when the flames hit it. Two remained. One--so Calhoun +presently discovered--was working his way behind underbrush to a shelf +from which he could shoot down at Calhoun. Calhoun had dropped into a +hollow and pulled Maril to cover at the first shot. The second man +happily planned to get to a point where he could shoot him like a fish +in a barrel. The third man had fired half a dozen times and then +disappeared. Calhoun estimated that he intended to get around to the +rear, in hope there was no protection from that direction for Calhoun. +It would take some time for him to manage it. + +So Calhoun industriously concentrated his fire on the man trying to get +above him. He was behind a boulder, not too dissimilar to Calhoun's +breastwork. Calhoun set fire to the brush at the point at which the +other man aimed. That, then, made his effort useless. Then Calhoun sent +a dozen bolts at the other man's rocky shield. It heated up. Steam rose +in a whitish mass and blew directly away from Calhoun. He saw that +antagonist flee. He saw him so clearly that he was positive that there +was a patch of blue pigment on the right-hand side of the back of his +neck. + +He grunted and swung to find the third. That man moved through thick +undergrowth, and Calhoun set it on fire in a neat pattern of spreading +flames. Evidently, these men had had no training in battle-tactics with +blast-rifles. The third man also had to get away. He did. But something +from him arched through the smoke. It fell to the ground directly upwind +from Calhoun. White smoke puffed up violently. + +It was instinct that made Calhoun react as he did. He jerked the girl +Maril to her feet and rushed her toward the Med Ship. Smoke from the +flung bomb upwind barely swirled around him and missed Maril altogether. +Calhoun, though, got a whiff of something strange, not scorched or +burning vegetation at all. He ceased to breathe and plunged onward. In +clear air he emptied his lungs and refilled them. They were then halfway +to the ship, with Murgatroyd prancing on ahead. + +But then Calhoun's heart began to pound furiously. His muscles twitched +and 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. + +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. + +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. + +"They--they don't realize," said Maril desperately. "If they only +knew--." + +"Talk to them, if you like," said Calhoun. His teeth chattered and he +raged, because the symptom was of terror he denied. + +He pushed a button on the control-board. He pointed to a microphone. He +got at an oxygen-bottle and inhaled deeply. Oxygen, obviously, should be +an antidote for panic, since the symptoms of terror act to increase the +oxygenation of the 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. + + * * * * * + +He turned to Maril. She hadn't spoken into the mike yet. + +"They--may not be from Dara!" she said shakily. "I just thought! They +could be somebody else--maybe criminals who planned to raid the mine for +a shipload of its ore ..." + +"Nonsense!" said Calhoun. "I saw one of them clearly enough to be sure. +But they're skeptical characters. I'm afraid there may be more on the +way here wherever they keep themselves. Anyhow, now we know some of them +are in hearing! I'll take advantage of that and we'll go on." + +He took the microphone. Instants later his voice boomed in the stillness +outside the ship, cutting through the thin shrill of invisible small +creatures. + +"This is the Med Ship Aesclipus Twenty," said Calhoun's voice, amplified +to a shout. "I left Weald four days ago, one day after the cargo-ship +from here arrived with everybody on board dead. On Weald they don't know +how it happened, but they suspect blueskins. Sooner or later they'll +search here. Get away! Cover up your tracks! Hide all signs that you've +ever been here! Get the hell away, fast! One more warning! There's talk +of fusion-bombing Dara. They're scared! If they find your +traces, they'll be more scared still! So cover up your tracks +and--get--away--from--here!" + +The many-times-multiplied voice rolled and echoed among the hills. But +it was very clear. Where it could be heard it could be understood, and +it could be heard for miles. + +But there was no response to it. Calhoun waited a reasonable time. Then +he shrugged and seated himself at the control-board. + +"It isn't easy," he observed, "to persuade desperate men that they've +out-smarted themselves! Hold hard, Murgatroyd!" + +[Illustration] + +The rockets bellowed. Then there was a tremendous noise to end all +noises, and the ship began to climb. It sped up and up and up. By the +time it was out of atmosphere it had velocity enough to coast to clear +space and Calhoun cut the rockets altogether. He busied himself with +those astrogational chores which began with orienting oneself to +galactic directions after leaving a planet which rotates at its own +individual speed. Then one computes the overdrive course to another +planet, from the 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. + +"Overdrive coming," he said presently. "Hold on!" + +Space reeled. There was nausea and giddiness and a horrible sensation of +falling in a wildly unlikely spiral. Then stillness, and solidity, and +the blackness of the Pit outside the Med Ship. The little craft was in +overdrive again. + +After a long while, the girl Maril said uneasily. + +"I don't know what you plan now--." + +"I'm going to Dara," said Calhoun. "On Orede I tried to get the +blueskins there to get going, fast. Maybe I succeeded. I don't know. But +this thing's been mishandled! Even if there's a famine, people shouldn't +do things out of desperation!" + +"I know now that I was--very foolish--." + +"Forget it," commanded Calhoun. "I wasn't talking about you. Here I run +into a situation that the Med Service should have caught and cleaned up +generations ago! But it's not only a Med Service obligation, it's a +current mess! Before I could begin to get at the basic problem, those +idiots on Orede--. It'd happened before I reached Weald! An emotional +explosion triggered by a ship full of dead men that nobody intended to +kill." + +Maril shook her head. + + * * * * * + +"Those Darian characters," said Calhoun 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!" + +She waited for him to explain. + +"I know I'm guessing, but it fits!" he said distastefully. "So something +had to be done. Either the mining settlement had to be wiped out or the +story that blueskins were on Orede had to be discredited. The blueskins +tried for both. They used panic-gas on a herd of cattle and it made them +crazy and they charged the settlement like the four-footed lunatics they +are! And the blueskins used panic-gas on the settlement itself as the +cattle went through. It should have settled the whole business nicely. +After it was over every man in the settlement would believe he'd been +out of his head for a while, and he'd have the crazy state of the +settlement to think about, 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!" + +Again she waited. So Calhoun said very wrily indeed; + +"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!" + +Silence. After a long interval, Maril asked; + +"You don't think the--Darians intended to kill?" + +"I think they were stupid!" said Calhoun angrily. "Somebody's always +urging the police to use panic-gas in case of public tumult. But it's +too dangerous. Nobody knows what one man will do in a panic. Take a +hundred or two or three and panic them all, and there's no limit to +their craziness! The whole thing was handled wrong!" + +"But you don't blame them?" + +"For being stupid, yes," said Calhoun fretfully. "But if I'd been in +their place, perhaps ..." + +"Where were you born?" asked Maril suddenly. + +Calhoun jerked his head around. He said; + +"No! Not where you're guessing--or hoping. Not on Dara. Just because I +act as if Darians were human doesn't mean I have to be one! I'm a Med +Service man, and I'm acting as I think I should." His tone became +exasperated. "Dammit, I'm supposed to deal with health situations, +actual and possible causes of human deaths! And if Weald thinks it finds +proof that blueskins are in space again and caused the death of +Wealdians it won't be healthy! They're halfway set anyhow to drop +fusion-bombs on Dara to wipe it out!" + +Maril said fiercely; + +"They might as well drop bombs. It'll be quicker than starvation, at +least!" + +Calhoun looked at her more exasperatedly than before. + +"It is a crop failure again?" he demanded. When she nodded he said +bitterly; "Famine conditions already?" When she nodded again he said +drearily; "And of course famine is the great-grandfather of health +problems! And that's right in my lap with all the rest!" + +He stood up. Then he sat down again. + +"I'm tired!" he said flatly. "I'd like to get some sleep." + +Maril understood. She picked up a book and went into the other cabin. + + * * * * * + +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. + +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. + +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. + +So Calhoun pondered ... + + * * * * * + +A long time later Calhoun heard small sounds which were not normal on a +Med Ship in overdrive. They were not part of the random noises carefully +generated to keep the silence of the ship endurable. Calhoun raised his +head. He listened sharply. No sound could come from outside. + +He knocked on the door of the sleeping-cabin. The noises stopped +instantly. + +"Come out," he commanded through the door. + +"I'm--I'm all right," said Maril's voice. But it was not quite steady. +She paused. "I was just having a bad dream." + +"I wish," said Calhoun, "that you'd tell me the truth occasionally! Come +out, please!" + +There were stirrings. After a little the door opened and Maril appeared. +She looked as if she'd been crying. She said quickly; + +"I probably look queer, but it's because I was asleep." + +"To the contrary," said Calhoun, fuming, "you've been lying awake +crying. I don't know why. I've been out here wishing I could 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?" + +She swallowed. + +"I'll try." + +"Coffee?" he asked. + +Murgatroyd popped his head out of his miniature sleeping-cabin. + +"_Chee?_" he asked interestedly. + +"Go back to sleep!" snapped Calhoun. + +He began to pace back and forth. + +"I need to know something about the pigment patches," he said jerkily. +"Maybe it sounds crazy to think of such things now. First things first, +you know. But 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." + +"I haven't any at all," said the girl reservedly. + +"I thought--" + +"Not everybody," she said defensively. "Nearly, yes. But not all. Some +people don't have them. Some people are born with bluish splotches on +their skin, but they fade out while they're children. When they grow up +they're just like--the people of Weald or any other world. And their +children never have them." + +Calhoun stared. + +"You couldn't possibly be proved to be a Darian, then?" + +She shook her head. Calhoun remembered, and started the coffee-maker. + +"When you left Dara," he said, "You were carried a long, long way, to +some planet where they'd practically never heard of Dara, and where the +name meant nothing. You could have settled there, or anywhere else and +forgotten about Dara. But you didn't. Why not, since you're not a +blueskin?" + +"But I am!" she said fiercely. "My parents, my brothers and sisters, and +Korvan--." + +Then she bit her lip. Calhoun took note but did not comment on the name +that she had mentioned. + +"Then your parents had the splotches fade, so you never had them," he +said absorbedly. "Something like that happened on Tralee, once! There's +a virus--a whole group of virus particles! Normally we humans are immune +to them. One has to be in terrifically bad physical condition for them +to take hold and produce whatever effects they do. But once they're +established they're passed on from mother to child.... And when they die +out it's during childhood, too!" + +He poured coffee for the two of them. As usual, Murgatroyd swung down to +the floor and said impatiently; + +"_Chee! Chee! Chee!_" + +Calhoun absently filled Murgatroyd's tiny cup and handed it to him. + +"But this is marvellous!" he said exuberantly. "The blue patches +appeared after the plague, didn't they? After people recovered--when +they recovered?" + + * * * * * + +Maril stared at him. His mind was filled with strictly professional +considerations. He was not talking to her as a person. She was purely a +source of information. + +"So I'm told," said Maril reservedly. "Are there any more humiliating +questions you want to ask?" + +He gaped at her. Then he said ruefully; + +"I'm stupid, Maril, but you're touchy. There's nothing personal." + +"There is to me!" she said fiercely. "I was born among blueskins, and +they're of my blood, and they're hated and I'd have been killed on Weald +if I'd been known as--what I am! And there's Korvan, who arranged for me +to be sent away as a spy and advised me to do just what you +said,--abandon my home world and everybody I care about! Including him! +It's personal to me!" + +Calhoun wrinkled his forehead helplessly. + +"I'm sorry," he repeated, "Drink your coffee!" + +"I don't want it," she said bitterly. "I'd like to die!" + +"If you stay around where I am," Calhoun told her, "you may get your +wish. All right. There'll be no more questions, I promise." + +She turned and moved toward the door to the sleeping-cabin. Calhoun +looked after her. + +"Maril," he called out to her. + +"What?" + +"Why were you crying?" + +"You wouldn't understand," she said evenly. + +Calhoun shrugged his shoulders almost up to his ears. He was a +professional man. In his profession he was not incompetent. But there is +no profession in which a really competent man tries to understand women. +Calhoun annoyedly had to let fate or chance or disaster take care of +Maril's personal problems. He had larger matters to cope with. + +But he had something to work on, now. He hunted busily in the reference +tapes. He came up with an explicit collection of information on exactly +the subject he needed. He left the control-room to go down into the +storage areas of the Med Ship's hull. He found an ultra-frigid storage +box, whose contents were kept at the temperature of liquid air. He +donned thick gloves, used a special set of tongs, and extracted a tiny +block of plastic in which a sealed-tight phial of glass was embedded. It +frosted instantly he took it out, and when the storage-box was closed +again the block was covered with a thick and opaque coating of frozen +moisture. + +He went back to the control-room and pulled down the panel which made +available a small-scale but surprisingly adequate biological laboratory. +He set the plastic block in a container which would raise it very, very +gradually to a specific temperature and hold it there. It was, +obviously, a living culture from which any imaginable quantity of the +same culture could be bred. Calhoun set the apparatus with great +exactitude. + +"This," he told Murgatroyd, "may be a good day's work. Now I think I can +rest." + +Then, for a long while, there was no sound or movement in the Med Ship. +The girl 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. + +But it was quite otherwise when another ship-day began with the taped +sounds of morning activities as faint as echoes but nevertheless +establishing an atmosphere of their own. + + * * * * * + +Calhoun examined the plastic block and its contents. He read the +instruments which had cared for it while he slept. He put the block--no +longer frosted--in the culture-microscope and saw its enclosed, +infinitesimal particles of life in the process of multiplying on the +food that had been frozen with them when they were reduced to the spore +condition. He beamed. He replaced the block in the incubation oven and +faced the day cheerfully. + +Maril greeted him with great reserve. They breakfasted. + +"I've been thinking," said Maril evenly. "I think I can get you a +hearing for--whatever ideas you may have to help Dara." + +"Kind of you," murmured Calhoun. "May I ask whose influence you'll +exert?" + +"There's a man," said Maril reservedly, "who--thinks a great deal of me. +I don't know his present official position, but he was certain to become +prominent. I'll tell him how you've acted up to now, and your attitude, +and of course that you're Med Service. He'll be glad to help you, I'm +sure." + +"Splendid!" said Calhoun, nodding. "That will be Korvan." + +She started. + +"How did you know?" + +"Intuition," said Calhoun drily. "All right. I'll count on him." + +But he did not. He worked in the tiny biological lab all that ship-day +and all the next. The girl remained quiet. + +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. + +Calhoun sat down at the control-board and watched the clock. + +"I've got things lined up," he told Maril wrily, "if only they work out. +_If_ I can make somebody on Dara listen and follow my advice and _if_ +Weald doesn't get ideas and isn't doing what I suspect it is, maybe +something can be done." + +"I'm sure you'll do your best," said Maril politely. + +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 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 ... + +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. + +Calhoun saw that Maril sat tensely, twisting her fingers within each +other, until the ship actually touched ground. + +Then he opened the exit-port, and faced armed men in the darkness, with +blast-rifles trained on him. There was a portable cannon trained on the +Med Ship itself. + +"Come out!" rasped a voice. "If you try anything you get blasted! Your +ship and its contents are seized by the planetary government!" + + + + +CHAPTER 5 + + +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. + +"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!" + +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. + +"Oh, you're one of us, eh?" said the guard-leader sardonically. "You'll +have a chance to prove that! Come out of there!" + +Calhoun spoke abruptly; + +"This is a Med Ship," he said. "There are medicines and bacterial +cultures, inside it. They shouldn't be meddled with. Here on Dara you've +had enough of plagues!" + +The man with the blue hand said as sardonically as before; + +"I said the government was taking over your ship! It won't be looted. +But you're not taking a full cargo of food away! In fact, it's not +likely you're leaving!" + +"I want to speak to someone in authority," snapped Calhoun. "We've just +come from Weald." He felt bristling hatred all about him as he named +Weald. "There's tumult there. They're talking about dropping fusion +bombs here. It's important that I talk to somebody with the authority to +take a few sensible precautions!" + +He descended to the ground. There was a panicky "_Chee! Chee!_" from +behind him, and Murgatroyd came dashing to swarm up his body and cling +apprehensively to his neck. + +"What's that?" + +"A _tormal,_" said Calhoun. "He's not a pet. Your medical men will know +something about him. This is a Med Ship and I'm a Med Ship man, and he's +an important member of the crew. He's a Med Ship _tormal_ and he stays +with me!" + +The man with the blue hand said harshly; + +"There's somebody waiting to ask you questions. Here!" + +A 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. + +"This car will take you to Defense and you can tell them anything you +want. But don't try to sneak back in this ship! It'll be guarded!" + +The 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. + +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. + +Even the fact that there were no stars added to the feeling of +wretchedness and gloom and--ultimately--of hunger. + +Maril spoke nervously to the driver. + +"The famine isn't any better?" + +He moved his head in negation, but did not speak. + +"I left--two years ago," said Maril. "It was just beginning then. +Rationing hadn't started then--." + +The driver said evenly; + +"There's rationing now!" + + * * * * * + +The car went on and on. A vast open space appeared ahead. Lights about +its perimeter seemed few and pale. + +"E-everything seems--worse. Even the lights." + +"Using all the power," said the driver, "to warm up ground to grow crops +where it ought to be winter. Not doing too well, either." + +Calhoun knew, somehow, that Maril moistened her lips. + +"I--was sent," she explained to the driver, "to go ashore on Trent and +then make my way to Weald. I--mailed reports of what I found out back to +Trent. Somebody got them back to here whenever--it was possible." + +The driver said; + +"Everybody knows the man on Trent disappeared. Maybe he got caught, +maybe somebody saw him without makeup. Or maybe he just quit being one +of us. What's the difference? No use!" + +Calhoun found himself wincing a little. The driver was not angry. He was +hopeless. But men should not despair. They shouldn't accept hostility +from those about them as a device of fate for their destruction. They +shouldn't ... + +Maril said quickly to him; + +"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." + +"I gathered as much," said Calhoun. "It was up to Med Service to see +that that didn't happen. It's up to Med Service now to see that it +stops." + +"Too late now for anything," said the driver, "whatever Med Service may +be! They're talking about cutting down our population so there'll be +food enough for some to live. There are two questions about it: who's to +be kept alive and why." + +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; + +"There was someone--Korvan--" Calhoun didn't catch the rest of the name, +Maril said hesitantly; "He was working on food-plants. I--thought he +might accomplish something ..." + +The driver said caustically; + +"Sure! Everybody's heard about him! He came up with a wonderful thing! +He and his outfit worked out a way to process weeds so they can be +eaten. And they can. You can fill your belly and not feel hungry, but +it's like eating hay. You starve just the same. He's still working. Head +of a government division." + +The 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. + +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. + +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. + +"My name is Calhoun," said Calhoun briskly. "I've the usual Med Service +credentials. Now ..." + +He did not wait to be questioned. He told them of the appalling state of +things in the Twelfth Sector of the Med Service, so that men had been +borrowed from other sectors to remedy the intolerable, and he was one of +them. He told of his arrival at Weald and what had happened there, from +the excessively cautious insistence that he prove he was not a Darian, +to the arrival of the death-ship from Orede. He was giving them the news +affecting them, as they had not heard it before. + +He went on to tell of his stop at Orede and his purpose, and his +encounter with the men he found there. When he finished there was +silence. He broke it. + +"Now," he said, "Maril's an agent of yours. She can add to what I've +told you. I'm Med Service. I have a job to do here to 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." + +Someone laughed without mirth. + +"What will you recommend for long-continued undernourishment?" he asked +derisively. "That's our health problem!" + +"I recommend food," said Calhoun. + +"Where'll you fill the prescription?" + +"I've the answer to that, too," said Calhoun curtly. "I'll want to talk +to any space-pilots you've got. Get your astrogators together and I +think they'll approve my idea." + +The silence was totally skeptical. + +"Orede ..." + +"Not Orede," said Calhoun. "Weald will be hunting that planet over for +Darians. If they find any, they'll drop bombs here." + +"Our only space-pilots," said a tall man, presently, "are on Orede now. +If you've told the truth, they'll probably head back because of your +warning. They should bring meat." + +His mouth worked peculiarly, and Calhoun knew that it was at the thought +of food. + +"Which," said another man sharply, "goes to the hospitals! I haven't +tasted meat in two years!" + +"Nobody has," growled another man still. "But here's this man Calhoun. +I'm not convinced he can work magic, but we can find out if he lies. Put +a guard on his ship. Otherwise let our health men give him his head. +They'll find out if he's from this Medical Service he tells of! And this +Maril--" + +"I--can be identified," said Maril. "I was sent to gather information +and 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." + +Someone laughed harshly. + +"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!" + +Maril swallowed. + +"I'd like to see him," she repeated. "And my family." + +Some of the blue-splotched men turned away. A broad-shouldered man said +bluntly; + +"Don't look for them to be glad to see you. And you'd better not show +yourself in public. You've been well fed. You'll be hated for that." + +Maril began to cry. Murgatroyd said bewilderedly; + +"_Chee! Chee!_" + +Calhoun held him close. There was confusion. And Calhoun found the +Minister of Health at hand--he looked most harried of all the officials +gathered to question Calhoun--and proposed that he get a look at the +hospital situation right away. + + * * * * * + +It wasn't practical. With all the population on half rations or less, +when night came people needed to sleep. Most people, indeed, slept as +many hours out of the traditional twenty-four as they could manage. It +was much more pleasant to sleep than to be awake and constantly nagged +at by continued hunger. And there was the matter of simple decency. +Continuous gnawing hunger had an embittering effect upon everyone. +Quarrelsomeness was a common experience. And people who would normally +be the leaders of opinion felt shame because they were obsessed by +thoughts of food. It was best when people slept. + +Still, Calhoun was in the hospitals by daybreak. What he found moved him +to savage anger. There were too many sick children. In every case +undernourishment contributed to their sickness. And there was not enough +food to make them well. Doctors and nurses denied themselves food to +spare it for their patients. + +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. + +He was, of course, a Med Service _tormal_, and _tormals_ were creatures +of talent. They'd originally been found on a planet in the Deneb area, +and they were engaging and friendly small animals, but the remarkable +fact about them was that they couldn't contract any disease. Not any. +They had a built-in, explosive reaction to bacterial and viral toxins, +and there hadn't yet been any pathogenic organism discovered to which a +_tormal_ could not more or less immediately develop antibody-resistance. +So that in interstellar medicine _tormals_ were priceless. Let +Murgatroyd be infected with however localized, however specialized an +inimical organism, and presently some highly valuable defensive +substance could be isolated from his blood and he'd remain in his usual +exuberant good health. When the antibody was analyzed by those +techniques of microanalysis the Service had developed,--why--that was +that. The antibody could be synthesized and one could attack any +epidemic with confidence. + +The tragedy for Dara was, of course, that no Med Ship had come 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. + +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. + +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. + + * * * * * + +Meanwhile Calhoun worked doggedly; in the hospitals while the patients +were awake and in the Med Ship--under guard--afterward. He had hunger +cramps now, but he tested a plastic cube with a thriving biological +culture in it. He worked at increasing his store of it. He'd snipped +samples of pigmented skin from dead patients in the hospitals, and +examined the pigmented areas, and very, very painstakingly verified a +theory. It took an electron microscope to do it, but he found a virus in +the blue patches which matched the type discovered on Tralee. The Tralee +viruses had effects which were passed on from mother to child, and +heredity had been charged with the observed results of quasi-living +viral particles. And then Calhoun very, very carefully introduced into a +virus culture the material he had been growing in a plastic cube. He +watched what happened. + +He was satisfied, so much so that immediately afterward he barely +managed to stagger off to bed. + +That night the ship from Orede came in, packed with frozen bloody +carcasses of cattle. Calhoun knew nothing of it. But next morning Maril +came back. There were shadows under her eyes and her expression was of +someone who has lost everything that had meaning in her life. + +"I'm all right," she insisted, when Calhoun commented. "I've been +visiting my family. I've seen--Korvan. I'm quite all right." + +"You haven't eaten any better than I have," Calhoun observed. + +"I--couldn't!" admitted Maril. "My sisters--my little sisters--so +thin.... There's rationing for everybody and it's all efficiently +arranged. They even had rations for me. But I couldn't eat! I--gave most +of my food to my sisters and they--squabbled over it!" + +Calhoun said nothing. There was nothing to say. Then she said in a no +less desolate tone; + +"Korvan said I was foolish to come back." + +"He could be right," said Calhoun. + +"But I had to!" protested Maril. "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!" + +"I hope," said Calhoun, "to do something about that. If I can get hold +of an astrogator or two." + +"The--ship that was on Orede came in during the night," Maril told him +shakily. "It was loaded with frozen meat, but one 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." + +She said abruptly; + +"There are some prisoners. They were miners. They were crowded out of +the ship. The Darians who'd stampeded the cattle took them prisoners. +They had to!" + +"True," said Calhoun. "It wouldn't have been wise to leave Wealdians +around on Orede with their throats cut. Or living, either, to tell about +a rumor of blueskins. Even if their throats will be cut now. Is that the +program?" + +Maril shivered. + +"No ... They'll be put on short rations like everybody else. And people +will watch them. The Wealdians expect to die of plague any minute +because they've been with Darians. So people look at them and laugh. +But it's not funny." + +"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." + +Maril wrung her hands. + +"C--come here," she said in a low tone. + + * * * * * + +There was an armed guard in the control-room of the ship. He'd watched +Calhoun a good part of the previous day as Calhoun performed his +mysterious work. He'd been off-duty and now was on duty again. He was +bored. So long as Calhoun did not touch the control-board, though, he +was uninterested. He didn't even turn his head when Maril led the way +into the other cabin and slid the door shut. + +"The astrogators are coming," she said swiftly. "They'll bring some +boxes with them. They'll ask you to instruct them so they can handle our +ship better. They lost themselves coming back from Orede, no, they +didn't lose themselves, but they lost time--enough time almost to make +an extra trip for meat. They need to be experts. I'm to come along, so +they can be sure that what you teach them is what you've been doing +right along." + +Calhoun said; + +"Well?" + +"They're crazy!" said Maril vehemently. "They knew Weald would do +something monstrous sooner or later. But they're going to try to stop it +by 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!" + +Calhoun said drily; + +"This pays me off for being too sympathetic with blueskins! But if I'd +been hungry for a couple of years, and was despised to boot by the +people who kept me hungry, I suppose I might react the same way. No," he +said curtly as she opened her lips to speak again. "Don't tell me the +trick. Considering everything, there's only one trick it could be. But I +doubt profoundly that it would work. All right." + +He slid the door back and returned to the control-room. Maril followed +him. He said detachedly; + +"I've been working on a problem outside of the food one. It isn't the +time to talk about it right now, but I think I've solved it." + +Maril turned her head, listening. There were footsteps on the tarmac +outside the ship. Both doors of the airlock were open. Four men came in. +They were young men who did not look quite as hungry as most Darians, +but there was a reason for that. Their leader introduced himself and the +others. They were the astrogators of the ship Dara had built to try to +bring food from Orede. They were not good enough, said their +self-appointed leader. They overshot their destination. They came out of +overdrive too far off line. They needed instructions. + +Calhoun nodded, and observed that he'd been asking for them. + +"We've got orders," said their leader, steadily, "to come on board and +learn from you how to handle this ship. It's better than the one we've +got." + +"I asked for you," repeated Calhoun. "I've an idea I'll explain as we go +along. Those boxes?" + +Someone was passing in iron boxes through the airlock. One of the four +very carefully brought them inside. + +"They're rations," said a second young man. "We don't go anywhere +without rations--except Orede." + +"Orede, yes. I think we were shooting at each other there," said Calhoun +pleasantly. "Weren't we?" + +"Yes," said the young man. + +He was neither cordial nor antagonistic. He was impassive. Calhoun +shrugged. + +"Then we can take off immediately. Here's the communicator and there's +the button. You might call the grid and arrange for us to be lifted." + +The young man seated himself at the control-board. Very professionally, +he went through the routine of preparing to lift by landing-grid, which +routine has not changed in two hundred years. He went briskly ahead +until the order to lift. Then Calhoun stopped him. + +"Hold it!" + +He pointed to the airlock. Both doors were open. The young man at the +control-board flushed vividly. One of the others closed and dogged the +doors. + + * * * * * + +The ship lifted. Calhoun watched with seeming negligence. But he found +occasion for a dozen corrections of procedure. This was presumably a +training voyage of his own suggestion. Therefore when the blueskin pilot +would have flung the Med Ship into undirected overdrive, Calhoun grew +stern. He insisted on a destination. He suggested Weald. The young men +glanced at each other and accepted the suggestion. He made the acting +pilot look up the intrinsic 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. + +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. + +Calhoun did not try to make things easy for them. He was hungry and +easily annoyed. It was sound training tactics to be severe, and to +phrase all suggestions as commands. He put the four young men in command +of the ship in turn, under his direction. He continued to use Weald as a +destination, but he set up problems in which the Med Ship came out of +overdrive pointing in an unknown direction and with a precessory motion. +He made the third of his students identify Weald in the celestial globe +containing hundreds of millions of stars, and get on course in overdrive +toward it. The fourth was suddenly required to compute the distance to +Weald from such data as he could get from observation, without reference +to any records. + +By this time the first man was chafing to take a second turn. Calhoun +gave each of them a second gruelling lesson. He gave them, in fact, a +highly condensed but very sound course in the art of travel in space. +His young students took command in four-hour watches, with at least one +breakout from overdrive in each watch. He built up enthusiasm in them. +They ignored the discomfort of being hungry, though there had been no +reason for them to stint on food in Orede--in growing pride in what they +came to know. + +When Weald was a first-magnitude star, the four were not highly +qualified astrogators, to be sure, but they were vastly better spacemen +than at the beginning. Inevitably, their attitude toward Calhoun was +respectful. He'd been irritable and right. To the young, the combination +is impressive. + +Maril had served as passenger only. In theory she was to compare +Calhoun's lessons with his practise when alone. But he did nothing on +this journey which--teaching considered--was different from the two +interstellar journeys Maril had made with him. She occupied the +sleeping-cabin during two of the six watches of each ship-day. She +operated the food-readier, which was almost completely emptied of its +original store of food;--confiscated by the government of Dara. That +amount of food would make no difference to the planet, but it was wise +for everyone on Dara to be equally ill-fed. + +On the sixth day out from Dara, the sun of Weald had a magnitude of +minus five-tenths.[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. + + [A] Earth's sun, from Earth, is of magnitude roughly minus thirty-six. + +"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." + + * * * * * + +"And now," said Calhoun, "I suppose you'll tell me the truth about those +boxes you brought on board. You said they were rations, but they haven't +been opened in six days. I have an idea what they mean, but you tell +me." + +The four looked uncomfortable. There was a long pause. + +"They could be," said Calhoun detachedly, "cultures to be dumped on +Weald. Weald is making plans to wipe out Dara. So some fool has decided +to get Weald too busy fighting a plague of its own to bother with you. +Is that right?" + +The young men stirred uneasily. "Well--l--l, sir," said one of them, +unhappily, "that's what we were ordered to do." + +"I object," said Calhoun. "It wouldn't work. I just left Weald a little +while back, remember. They've been telling themselves that some day Dara +would try that. They've made preparations to fight any imaginable +contagion you could drop on them. Every so often somebody claims it's +happening. It wouldn't work." + +"But--" + +"In fact," said Calhoun, "I will not permit you to do anything of the +kind." + +One of the young men, staring at Calhoun, nodded suddenly. His eyes +closed. He jerked his head erect and looked bewildered. A second sank +heavily into a chair. He said remotely, "Thish sfunny!" and abruptly +went to sleep. The third found his knees giving 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 with difficulty, +yet reproachfully; + +"'Thought y'were our frien'!" + +He collapsed. + +Calhoun very soberly tied them hand and foot and laid them out +comfortably on the floor. Maril watched, white-faced, her hand to her +throat. "What have you done to them? Are they dead?" + +"No," said Calhoun, "just drugged. They'll wake up presently." + +Maril said in a tense and desperate whisper; + +"You're--betraying us! You're going to take us to Weald." + +"No," said Calhoun. "We'll only orbit around it. First, though, I want +to get rid of those damned packed-up cultures. They're dead, by the way. +I killed them with supersonics a couple of days ago, while a fine +argument was going on about distance-measurements by variable Cepheids +of known period." + +He put the four boxes carefully in the 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. + +"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!" + +The universe vanished. The customary unpleasant sensations accompanied +the change. Murgatroyd burped. + + + + +CHAPTER 6 + + +A large part of the firmament was blotted out by the blindingly bright +half-disk of Weald, as it shone in the sunshine. It had 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. + +There was relative silence inside the ship. Maril watched Calhoun in a +sort of despairing indecision. The four young blueskins still slept, +still bound hand and foot upon the control-room floor. Murgatroyd +regarded them, and Maril, and Calhoun in turn, and his small and furry +forehead wrinkled helplessly. + +"They can't have landed what I'm looking for!" protested Calhoun as his +search had no result. "They can't. It would be too sensible for them to +have done it!" + +Murgatroyd said "_Chee!_" in a subdued voice. + +"But where the devil did they put them?" demanded Calhoun. "A polar +orbit would be ridiculous! They--" Then he grunted in disgust. "Oh! Of +course! Now, where's the landing-grid?" + +He worked busily for minutes, checking the position of the Wealdian +landing-grid--mapped in the Sector Directory--against the look of +continents and seas on the half-disk so plainly visible outside. He +found what he wanted. He put on the ship's solar-system drive. + +"I wish," he complained to Maril, "I wish I could think straight the +first time! And it's so obvious! If you want to put something out in +space, and not have it interfere with traffic, in what sort of orbit and +at what distance will you put it?" + +Maril did not answer. + +"Obviously," said Calhoun, "you'll put it as far as possible from the +landing-pattern of ships coming in to the 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." + +He scribbled for a moment. + +"Which means forty-two thousand miles high, give or take a few hundred, +and--here! And I was hunting for it in a close-in orbit!" + +He grumbled to himself. He waited while the solar-system drive pushed +the Med Ship a quarter of the way around the bright planet below. The +sunset line vanished and the planet's disk became a complete circle. +Then Calhoun listened to the monitor earphones again, and grunted once +more, and changed course, and presently made a noise indicating +satisfaction. + +Again presently he abandoned instrument-control and peered directly out +of a port, handling the solar-system drive with great care. Murgatroyd +said depressedly; + +"_Chee!_" + +"Stop worrying," commanded Calhoun. "We haven't been challenged, and +there is a beacon transmitter at work, just to make sure that nobody +bumps into what we're looking for. It's a great help, because we do want +to bump,--gently." + +Stars swung across the port out of which he looked. Something dark +appeared,--and then straight lines and exact curvings. Even Maril, +despairing and bewildered as she was, caught sight of something vastly +larger than the Med Ship, floating in space. She stared. The Med Ship +maneuvered very cautiously. She saw another large object. A third. A +fourth. There seemed to be dozens of them. + +They were 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. + +Calhoun jockeyed his small ship with infinite care. Presently there came +the gentlest of impacts and then a clanking sound. The appearance out +the vision-port became stationary, but still unbelievable. The Med Ship +was grappled magnetically to a vast surface of welded metal. + +Calhoun relaxed. He opened a wall-panel and brought out a vacuum suit. +He began briskly to get it on. + +"Things 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!" + +Maril said drearily; + +"I don't know what you've done, except--" + +Calhoun blinked at her, in the act of hauling the vacuum suit over his +shoulders. + +"Isn't it self-evident?" he demanded. "I've been giving astrogation +lessons to these characters. I certainly didn't do it to help them dump +germ-cultures on Weald! I brought them here! Don't you see the point? +These are space-ships. They're in orbit around Weald. They're not manned +and they're not controlled. In fact, they're nothing but sky-riding +storage bins!" + +He seemed to consider the explanation complete. He wriggled his arms +into the sleeves and gloves of the suit. He slung the air-tanks over his +shoulder and hooked them to the suit. + +"I'll be back," he said. "I hope with good news. I've reason to be +hopeful, though, because these Wealdians are very practical men. They +have things all prepared and tidy. I suspect I'll find these ships with +stores of air and fuel--maybe even food--so that if Weald should manage +to make a deal for the stuff stored out here in them, they'd only have +to bring out crews." + + * * * * * + +He lifted the space-helmet down from its rack and put it on. He tested +it, reading the tank air-pressure, power-storage, and other data from +the lighted miniature instruments visible through pinholes above his +eye-level. He fastened a space-rope about himself, speaking through the +helmet's opened face-plate. + +"If our friends should wake up before I get back," he added, "please +restrain them. I'd hate to be marooned." + +He went waddling into the airlock with the coil of space-rope over one +vacuum-suited arm. The inner lock door closed behind him A little later +Maril heard the outer lock open. Then soundlessness. + +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. + +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. + +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. + +Murgatroyd looked at her hopefully. + +"_Chee?_" he asked shrilly. + +She shook her head. It became a habit to act as if Murgatroyd were a +human being. + +"N-no," she said unsteadily. "Not yet." + +More time passed. An unbearably long time. Then there was the faintest +of clankings. It repeated. Then, abruptly, there were noises in the +airlock. They continued. They were fumbling noises. + +The outer airlock door closed. The inner door opened. Dense white fog +came out of it. There was motion. Calhoun followed the fog out of the +lock. He carried objects which had been weightless, but were suddenly +heavy in the ship's gravity-field. There were two space-suits and a +curious assortment of parcels. He spread them out, flipped aside the +face-plate, and said briskly; + +"This stuff is cold! Turn a heater on it, will you Maril?" + +He began to work his way out of his vacuum-suit. + +"Item," he said. "The ships are fuelled _and_ provisioned. A practical +tribe, the Wealdians! The ships are ready to take off as soon as they're +warmed up inside. A half-degree sun doesn't radiate heat enough to keep +a ship warm, when the rest of the cosmos is effectively near zero +Kelvin. Here, point the heaters like this." + +He adjusted the radiant-heat dispensers. The fog disappeared where their +beams played. But the metal 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. + +"Item," said Calhoun again, getting his arms out of the vacuum-suit +sleeves. "The controls are pretty nearly standard. Our sleeping friends +will be able to astrogate them back to Dara without trouble, provided +only that nobody comes out here to bother us before they leave." + +He shed the last of the space-suit, stepping out of its legs. + +"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." + +Maril said; + +"But--there isn't any hope for Dara! No real hope!" + +He gaped at her. + +"What do you think we're here for?" + + * * * * * + +He set to work to restore his four recent students to consciousness. It +was not a difficult task. The dosage, mixed in the coffee 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. + +"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 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?" + +He got four. Not immediately, because they were ashamed that he'd made +it impossible to carry out their original fanatic plan, and now offered +something much better to make up for it. They raged. But half a million +bushels of grain meant that people who must otherwise die might live. + +Ultimately, truculently, first one and then another angrily agreed. + +"Good!" said Calhoun. "Now, how many of you dare risk the trip alone? +I've got one grain-ship warming up. There are plenty of others around +us. Every one of you can take a ship and half a million bushels to Dara, +if you have the nerve?" + +The atmosphere changed. Suddenly they clamored for the task he offered +them. They were still acutely uncomfortable. He'd bossed them and taught +them until they felt capable and glamorous and proud. Then he'd pinned +their ears back. But if they returned to Dara with four enemy ships and +unimaginable quantities of food with which to break the famine.... + +There was work to be done first, of course. Only one ship was so far +warming up. Three more had to be entered, in 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. + +Still, presently his four students shook hands with him, with the fine +tolerance of young men intending much greater achievements than their +teacher. They wouldn't speak on communicator again, because their +messages might be picked up on Weald. + +Of course for this action to be successful, it had to be performed with +the stealth of sneak-thieves. + + * * * * * + +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 ... + +One ship vanished. It had gone into overdrive, heading for Dara at many +times the speed of light. Another. Two more. + +That was all. The remainder of the fleet hung clumsily in emptiness. And +Calhoun worriedly went over in his mind the lessons he'd given in such a +pathetically small number of days. If the four ships reached Dara, their +pilots would be heroes. Calhoun had presented them with that estate over +their bitter objection. But they would glory in it, if they reached +Dara. + +Maril looked at him with very strange eyes. + +"Now what?" she asked. + +"We hang around," said Calhoun, "to see if anybody comes up from Weald +to find out what's happened. It's always possible to pick up a sort of +signal when a ship goes into overdrive. Usually it doesn't mean a thing. +Nobody pays any attention. But if somebody comes out here--" + +"What?" + +"It'll be regrettable," said Calhoun. He was suddenly very tired. "It'll +spoil any chance of our coming back and stealing some more food--like +interstellar mice. If they find out what we've done they'll expect us to +try it again. They might get set to fight. Or they might simply land the +rest of these ships." + +"If I'd realized what you were about," said Maril, "I'd have joined in +the lessons. I could have piloted a ship." + +"You wouldn't have wanted to," said Calhoun. He yawned. "You wouldn't +want to be a heroine." + +"Why?" + +"Korvan," said Calhoun. He yawned again. "I've asked about him. He's +been trying very desperately to deserve well of his fellow blueskins. +All he's accomplished is develop a way to starve painlessly. He wouldn't +feel comfortable with a girl who'd helped make starving unnecessary. +He'd admire you politely, but he'd never marry you. And you know it." + +She shook her head, but it was not easy to tell whether she denied the +reaction of Korvan--whom Calhoun had never met--or denied that he was +more important to her than anything else. The last was what Calhoun +plainly implied. + +"You don't seem to be trying to be a hero!" she protested. + +"I'd enjoy it," admitted Calhoun, "but I have a job to do. It's got to +be done. It's much more important than being admired." + +"You could take another ship back," she told him. "It would be worth +more to Dara than the Med Ship is! And then everybody would realize that +you'd planned everything." + +"Ah!" said Calhoun. "But you've no idea how much this ship matters to +Dara!" + +He seated himself at the controls. He slipped headphones over his ears. +He listened. Very, very carefully, he monitored all the wave-lengths and +wave-forms he could discover in use on Weald. There was no mention of +the oddity of behavior of shiploads of surplus grain aloft. There was no +mention of the ships at all. 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. + +After a full hour of it, Calhoun flipped off his receptor and swung the +Med Ship to an exact, painstakingly precise aim at the sun around which +Dara rolled. He said; + +"Overdrive coming, Murgatroyd!" + +Murgatroyd grabbed. The stars went out and the universe reeled and the +Med Ship became a sort of cosmos all its own. + +Calhoun yawned again. + +"Now there's nothing to be done for a day or two," he said wearily, "and +I'm beginning to understand why people sleep all they can, on Dara. It's +one way not to feel hungry." + +Maril said tensely; + +"You're going back? After they took the ship from you?" + +"The job's not finished," he explained. "Not even the famine's ended, +and the famine's a second-order effect. If there were no such thing as a +blueskin, there'd be no famine. Food could be traded for. We've got to +do something to make sure there are no more famines." + +She looked at him oddly. + +"It would be desirable," she said with irony. "But you can't do it." + +"Not today, no," he admitted. Then he said longingly, "I'm about to +catch up on some sleep." + +Maril rose and went into the other cabin. He settled down into the chair +and fell instantly asleep. + + * * * * * + +For very many ship-hours, then, there was no action or activity or +happening of any imaginable consequence in the Med Ship. Very, very far +away, light-years distant and light years apart, four shiploads of grain +hurtled toward the famine-stricken planet of blueskins. Each great ship +had a single semi-skilled blueskin for pilot and crew. Thousands of +millions of suns blazed with violence appropriate to their stellar types +in a galaxy of which a very small proportion had been explored and +colonized by humanity. The human race was now to be counted in +quadrillions on scores of hundreds of inhabited worlds, but the tiny Med +Ship seemed the least significant of all possible created things. It +could travel between star-systems and even star-clusters, but it was not +yet capable of crossing the continent of suns on which the human race +arose. And between any two solar systems the journeying of the Med Ship +consumed much time. Which would be maddening for someone with no work to +do or no resources in himself, or herself. + +On the second ship-day Calhoun labored painstakingly and somewhat +distastefully at the little biological laboratory. Maril watched him in +a sort of brooding silence. Murgatroyd slept much of the time, with his +furry tail wrapped meticulously across his nose. + +Toward the end of the day Calhoun finished his task. He had a matter of +six or seven cubic centimeters of clear liquid as the conclusion of a +long process of culturing, and examination by microscope, and again +culturing plus final filtration. He looked at a clock and calculated +time. + +"Better wait until tomorrow," he observed, and put the bit of clear +liquid in a temperature-controlled place of safe-keeping. + +"What is it?" asked Maril. "What's it for?" + +"It's part of a job I have on hand," said Calhoun. He considered. "How +about some music?" + +She looked astonished. But he set up an instrument and fed microtape +into it and settled back to listen. Then there was music such as she had +never heard before. 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. + +When he tapered off the stirring symphonies of Kun Gee with +tranquilizing, soothing melodies from the Rim School of composers, Maril +regarded him with a very peculiar gaze indeed. + +"I think I understand now," she said slowly, "why you don't act like +other people. Toward me, for example. The way you live gives you what +other people have to 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." + +He thought it over. + +"Med Ship routine is designed to keep one healthy in his mind," he +admitted. "It works pretty well. It satisfies all my mental appetites. +But naturally there are instincts--" + +[Illustration] + +She waited. He did not finish. + +"What do you do about instincts that work and music and such things +can't satisfy?" + +Calhoun grinned wrily; + +"I'm stern with them. I have to be." + +He stood up and plainly expected her to go into the other cabin for the +night. She did. + + * * * * * + +It was after breakfast-time of the next ship-day when he got out the +sample of clear liquid he'd worked so long to produce. "We'll see how it +works," he observed. "Murgatroyd's handy in case of a slip-up. It's +perfectly safe so long as he's aboard and there are only the two of us." + +She watched as he injected half a cc under his own skin. Then she +shivered a little. + +"What will it do?" + +"That remains to be seen." He paused a moment. "You and I," he said with +some dryness, "make a perfect test for anything. If you catch something +from me, it will be infective indeed!" + +She gazed at him utterly without comprehension. + +He took his own temperature. He brought out the folios which were his +orders, covering each of the planets he should give a standard Medical +Service inspection. Weald was there. Dara wasn't. But a Med Service man +has much freedom of action, even when only keeping up the routine of +normal Med Service. When catching up on badly neglected operations, he +necessarily has much more. Calhoun went over the folios. + +Two hours later he took his temperature again. He looked pleased. He +made an entry in the ship's log. Two hours later yet he found himself +drinking thirstily and looked more pleased still. He made another entry +in the log and matter-of-factly drew a small quantity of blood from his +own vein and called to Murgatroyd. Murgatroyd submitted amiably to the +very trivial operation Calhoun carried out. Calhoun put away the +equipment and saw Maril staring at him with a certain look of shock. + +"It doesn't hurt him," Calhoun explained. "Right after he's born there's +a tiny spot on his flank that has the pain-nerves desensitized. +Murgatroyd's all right. That's what he's for!" + +"But he's--your friend!" + +"He's my assistant. I don't ask anything of him that I can do myself. +But we're both Med Service. And I do things for him that he can't do for +himself. For example, I make coffee for him." + +Murgatroyd heard the familiar word. He said; + +"_Chee!_" + +"Very well," agreed Calhoun. "We'll all have some." + +He made coffee. Murgatroyd sipped at the cup especially made for his +little paws. Once he scratched at the place on his flank which had no +pain-nerves. It itched. But he was perfectly content. Murgatroyd would +always be contented when he was somewhere near Calhoun. + +Another hour went by. Murgatroyd climbed up into Calhoun's lap and with +a determined air went to sleep there. Calhoun disturbed him long enough +to get an instrument out of his pocket. He listened to Murgatroyd's +heartbeat with it while Murgatroyd dozed. + +"Maril," he said. "Write down something for me. The time, and +ninety-six, and one-twenty over ninety-four." + +She obeyed, not comprehending. Half an hour later--still not stirring to +disturb Murgatroyd--he had her write down another time and sequence of +figures, only slightly different from the first. Half an hour later +still, a third set. But then he put Murgatroyd down, well satisfied. + +He took his own temperature. He nodded. + +"Murgatroyd and I have one more chore to do," he told her. "Would you go +in the other cabin for a moment?" + +She went disturbedly into the other cabin. Calhoun drew a sample of +blood from the insensitive area on Murgatroyd's flank. Murgatroyd +submitted with complete confidence in the man. In ten minutes Calhoun +had diluted the sample, added an anticoagulant, shaken it up thoroughly, +and filtered it to clarity with all red and white corpuscles removed. +Another Med Ship man would have considered that Calhoun had had +Murgatroyd prepare a splendid small sample of antibody-containing serum, +in case something got out of hand. It would assuredly take care of two +patients. + +But a Med Ship man would also have known that it was simply one of those +scrupulous precautions a Med Ship man takes when using cultures from +store. + +Calhoun put the sample away and called Maril back and offered no +explanation. She said; + +"I'll fix lunch." She hesitated. "You brought some food from the first +Weald ship. Do you want it?" + +He shook his head. + +"I'm squeamish," he admitted. "The trouble on Dara is Med Service fault. +Before my time, but still--I'll stick to rations until everybody eats." + + * * * * * + +He watched her unobtrusively as the day went on. Presently he considered +that she was slightly flushed. Shortly after the evening meal of +singularly unappetizing Darian rations, she drank thirstily. He did not +comment. He brought out cards and showed her a complicated game of +solitaire in which mental arithmetic and expert use of probability +increased one's chance of winning. + +By midnight, 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. + +Calhoun wrote up the log. He added the notes that Maril had made for +him, of Murgatroyd's pulse and blood-pressure after the injection of the +same culture that produced fever and thirstiness in himself and +later--without contact with him or the culture--in Maril. He put a +professional comment at the end. + +"The culture seems to have retained its normal characteristics during +long storage in the spore state. It 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 symptoms, in prompt and +complete repetition, without physical contact." + +He went to sleep, with Murgatroyd curled up in his cubbyhole. + +The Med Ship broke out of overdrive at 1300 hours, ship time. Calhoun +made contact with the grid and was promptly lowered to the ground. + +It was almost two hours later--1500 hours ship-time--when the people of +Dara were informed by broadcast that Calhoun was publicly to be +executed; immediately. + + + + +CHAPTER 7 + + +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. + +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. + +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 +own story, appeared to have doomed every living being on Dara to +massacre from the bombs of Weald. + +It was this last angle which destroyed any chance of anybody believing +in such fairy-tale objects as ships loaded down with grain. Calhoun had +shattered Dara's feeble hope of resistance. Weald had some ships and +could build or buy others faster than Dara could hope to construct them. +Equally important, Weald had a plenitude of experienced spacemen to man +some ships fully and train the crews of others. If it had become +desperately busy fighting plague, then a fleet to exterminate life on +Dara would be delayed. Dara might have gained time at least to build +ships which could ram their enemies and destroy them that way. + +But Calhoun had made it impossible. If he told the truth and Weald +already had a fleet of huge ships which only needed to be emptied of +grain and filled with guns and men--why--Dara was doomed. But if he did +not tell the truth it was equally doomed by his actions. So Calhoun +would be killed. + +His execution was to take place in the open space of the landing-grid, +with vision-cameras transmitting the sight over all the blueskin planet. +Half-starved men, with grisly blue blotches on their skins, marched him +to the center of the largest level space on the planet which was not +desperately being cultivated. Their hatred showed in their expressions. +Bitterness and fury surrounded Calhoun like a wall. Most of Dara would +have liked to see him killed in a manner as atrocious as his crime, but +no conceivable death would be satisfying. + +So the affair was coldly businesslike, with not even insults offered to +him. He was left to stand alone in the very center of the landing-grid +floor. There were a hundred blasters which would fire upon him at the +same instant. He would not only be killed; he would be destroyed. He +would be vaporized by the blue-white flames poured upon him. + + * * * * * + +His death was remarkably close. Nothing 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. + +"_Calling ground_," boomed the triumphant voice of the first of the +student pilots Calhoun had trained. "_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!_" + +At first, nobody dared believe it. But the pilot could be seen on +vision. He was known. No blueskin would be left alive long enough to be +used as a decoy by the men of Weald! Presently the giant ship on its +second voyage to Dara--the first had been a generation ago, when it +threatened death and destruction--appeared as a dark pinpoint in the +sky. It came down and down, and presently it hovered over the center of +the tarmac, where Calhoun composedly stood on the spot where he was to +have been executed. + +The landing-grid crew shifted the ship to one side, and only then did +Calhoun stroll in a leisurely fashion toward the Med Ship by the grid's +metal-lace wall. + +The big ship touched ground, and its exit-port revolved and opened, and +the student pilot stood there grinning and heaving out 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. + +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. + +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. + +Then Calhoun faced the executive and cabinet of Dara for the second +time. His tone and manner were very dry. + +"Now," he said curtly, "I would like a few more astrogators to train. I +think it likely that we can raid the Wealdian grain-fleet one 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!" + +"How much grain can we hope for?" demanded a man with a blue mark +covering all his chin. + +Calhoun told him. + +"How long before Weald can have a fleet overhead, dropping fusion +bombs?" demanded another, grimly. + +Calhoun named a time. But then he said; + +"I think we can keep them from dropping bombs if we can get the +grain-fleet and some capable astrogators." + +"What do you have in mind?" + +He told them. It was not possible to tell the whole story of what he +considered sensible behavior. An emotional program can be presented and +accepted immediately. A plan of action which is actually intelligent, +considering all elements of a situation, has to be accepted piecemeal. +Even so, the military men growled. + +"We've plenty of heavy elements," said one, 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!" + +"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!" + + * * * * * + +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. + +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. + +"_Chee!_" he said indignantly. "_Chee! Chee!_" + +"No," said Calhoun, "we'll be crowded enough anyhow. We'll see her +later." + +He nodded to one of the first four student pilots, 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 +about, listening and making certain that the instruction was up to +standard. + +He felt queer, acting as the supervisor of an educational institution in +space. He did not like it. There were twenty-four men beside himself +crowded into the Med Ship's small interior. They got in each other's +way. They trampled on each other. There was always somebody eating, and +always somebody sleeping, and there was no need whatever for the +background tape to keep the ship from being intolerably quiet. But the +air-system worked well enough, except once when the reheater unit quit +and the air inside the ship went down below freezing before the trouble +could be found and corrected. + +The journey to Weald, this time, took seven days because of the training +program in effect. Calhoun bit his nails over the delay. But it was +necessary for each of the students to make his own line-ups on Weald's +sun, and compute distances, and for each of them to practise +maneuverings that would presently be called for. Calhoun hoped +desperately that preparations for active warfare--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. + +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. + +That was pure fortune. It continued. He'd broken through the screen of +guard-ships in undetectable overdrive. He was within half an hour's +solar-system drive of the grain-fleet. There was no alarm, at first. Of +course radars spotted the Med Ship as an object, but nobody paid +attention. It was not headed for Weald. It was probably assumed to be a +guard-boat itself. Such mistakes do happen. It reached the grain-fleet. + +Again from the storage-space from which supplies had been removed, +Calhoun produced vacuum suits. The four first students went out, each +escorting a less-accustomed neophyte and all fastened firmly together +with space-ropes. They warmed the interiors of four ships and went on to +others. Presently there were eight ships making ready for an +interstellar journey, each with a scared but resolute new pilot +familiarizing himself with its controls. There were sixteen ships. +Twenty. Twenty-three. + + * * * * * + +A guard-ship came humming out from Weald. It would be armed, of course. +It came droning, droning up the forty-odd thousand miles from the +planet. Calhoun swore. He could not call his students and tell them what +was 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. + +Then he was inspired. He called Murgatroyd, placed him before the +communicator, and set it at voice-only transmission. This was familiar +enough, to Murgatroyd. He'd often seen Calhoun use a communicator. + +"_Chee!_" shrilled Murgatroyd. "_Chee-chee!_" + +A startled voice came out of the speaker. + +"_What's that?_" + +"_Chee_," said Murgatroyd zestfully. + +The communicator was talking to him. Murgatroyd adored three things in +order. One was Calhoun. The second was coffee. The third was pretending +to converse like a human being. The speaker said explosively; + +"_You there, identify yourself!_" + +"_Chee-chee-chee-chee!_" observed Murgatroyd. He wriggled with pleasure +and added, reasonably enough, "_Chee!_" + +The communicator bawled; + +"_Calling ground! Calling ground! Listen to this! Something that ain't +human's talking at me on a communicator! Listen in an' tell me what to +do!_" + +Murgatroyd interposed with another shrill; + +"_Chee!_" + +Then Calhoun pulled the Med Ship slowly away from the clump of +still-lifeless grain-ships. It was highly improbable that the guard-boat +would carry an electron telescope. Most likely it would have only an +echo-radar, and so could determine only that an object of some sort +moved of its own accord in space. Calhoun let the Med Ship accelerate. +That would be final evidence. The grain-ships were between Weald and its +sun. Even electron telescopes on the ground--and electron-telescopes +were ultimately optical telescopes with electronic amplification--even +electron telescopes on the ground could not get a good image of the ship +through sunlit atmosphere. + +"_Chee?_" asked Murgatroyd solicitously. "_Chee-chee-chee?_" + +"_Is it blueskins?_" shakily demanded the voice from the guard-boat. +"_Ground! Ground! Is it blueskins?_" + +A heavy, authoritative voice came in with much greater volume. + +"_That's no human voice_," it said harshly. "_Approach its ship and send +back an image. Don't fire first unless it heads for ground._" + +The guard-ship swerved and headed for the Med Ship. It was still a very +long way off. + +"_Chee-chee_," said Murgatroyd encouragingly. + +Calhoun changed the Med Ship's course. The guard-ship changed course +too. Calhoun let it draw nearer,--but only a little. He led it away from +the fleet of grain-ships. + +He swung his electron telescope on them. He saw a 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. + +"_Chee!_" said Murgatroyd. + +The heavy voice boomed; + +"_You there! This is a human-occupied world! If you come in peace, cut +your drive and let our guard-ship approach!_" + +Murgatroyd replied in an interested but doubtful tone. The booming voice +bellowed. Another voice of higher authority took over. Murgatroyd was +entranced that so many people wanted to talk to him. He made what for +him was practically an oration. The last voice spoke persuasively and +suavely. + +"_Chee-chee-chee-chee_," said Murgatroyd. + +One of the grain-ships flickered and ceased to be. It had gone into +overdrive. Another. And another. Suddenly they began to flick out of +sight by twos and threes. + +"_Chee_," said Murgatroyd with a note of finality. + +The last grain-ship vanished. + +"Calling guard-ship," said Calhoun drily. "This is Med ship Aesclipus +Twenty. I called here a couple of weeks ago. You've been talking to my +_tormal_, Murgatroyd." + +A pause. A blank pause. Then profanity of deep and savage intemperance. + +"I've been on Dara," said Calhoun. + +Dead silence fell. + +"There's a famine there," said Calhoun deliberately. "So the grain-ships +you've had in orbit have been taken away by men from Dara--blueskins if +you like--to feed themselves and their families. They've been dying of +hunger and they don't like it." + +There was a single burst of the unprintable. Then the formerly suave +voice said waspishly; + +"_Well? The Med Service will hear of your interference!_" + +"Yes," said Calhoun. "I'll report it myself. I have a message for you. +Dara is ready to pay for every ounce of grain and for the ships it was +stored in. They'll pay in heavy metals,--iridium, uranium,--that sort of +thing." + +The suave voice fairly curdled. + +"_As if we'd allow anything that was ever on Dara to touch ground +here!_" + +"Ah! But there can be sterilization. To begin with metals, uranium melts +at 1150° centigrade, and tungsten at 3370° and 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!" + +The suave voice said infuriatedly; + +"_I'll report this! You'll suffer for this!_" + +Calhoun said pleasantly; + +"I'm sure that what I say is being recorded, so that I'll add that it's +perfectly practical for Wealdians to land on Dara, take whatever +property they think wise,--to pay for damage done by blueskins, of +course--and get back to Wealdian ships with absolutely no danger of +carrying contagion. If you'll make sure the recording's clear." + + * * * * * + +He described, clearly and specifically, exactly how a man could be +outfitted to walk into any area of any conceivable contagion, do +whatever seemed necessary in the way of looting--but Calhoun did not use +the word--and then return to his fellows with no risk whatever of +bringing back infection. He gave exact details. Then he said; + +"My radar says you've four ships converging on me to blast me out of +space. I sign off." + +The Med Ship disappeared from normal space, and entered that improbably +stressed area of extension which it formed about itself and in which +physical constants were wildly strange. For one thing, the speed of +light in overdrive-stressed space had not been measured yet. It was too +high. For another, a ship could travel very many times 186000 miles per +second in overdrive. + +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. + +Calhoun luxuriated in regained privacy. For seven days he'd had +twenty-four other human beings crowded into the two cabins of the ship, +with never so much as one yard of space between himself and someone +else. One need not be snobbish to wish to be alone sometimes! + +Murgatroyd licked his whiskers thoughtfully. + +"I hope," said Calhoun, "that things work out right. But they may +remember on Dara that I'm responsible for some ten million bushels of +grain reaching them. Maybe--just possibly--they'll listen to me and act +sensibly. After all, there's only one way to break a famine. Not with +ten million bushels for a whole planet! And certainly not with bombs!" + +Driving direct, without pausing for 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. + + * * * * * + +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. + +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. + +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 ... + +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. + +Calhoun looked ahead a little, too. Presently the fleet of grain-ships +would arrive and unload and lift again for Orede, and this time they +would make an infinity of slaughter among wild cattle-herds, and bring +back incredible quantities of fresh-slaughtered frozen beef. Almost +everybody would get to taste meat again, which would be most gratifying. + +Then, the industries of Dara would labor at government-required tasks. +An astonishing amount of fissionable material would be fashioned into +bombs--a concession by Calhoun--and plastic factories make an +astonishing number of plastic sag-suits. And large shipments of heavy +metals in ingots would be made to the planet's capital city and there +would be some guns and minor items.... + +Perhaps somebody could have 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. + + * * * * * + +He landed on Dara. Maril came to the Med Ship. Murgatroyd greeted her +with enthusiasm. + +"Something unusual has happened," said Maril, very much subdued. "I told +you that--sometimes blueskin markings fade out on children, and then +neither they nor their children ever have blueskin markings again." + +"Yes," said Calhoun. "I remember." + +"And you were reminded of a group of viruses on Tralee. You said they +only took hold of people in terribly bad physical condition, but then +they could be passed on from mother to child. Until--sometimes--they +died out." + +Calhoun blinked. + +"Yes...." + +"Korvan," said Maril very carefully, "Has worked out an idea that that's +what happens to the blueskin markings on--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." + +"Interesting," said Calhoun, noncommittally. + +"And when we went to Weald," said Maril very carefully indeed, "you were +working with some culture-material. You wrote quite a lot about it in +the ship's log. You gave yourself an injection. Remember? And +Murgatroyd? You wrote down your temperature, and Murgatroyd's?" She +moistened her lips. "You said that if infection passed between us, +something would be very infectious indeed?" + +"What are you driving at?" + +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." + +"Remarkable!" said Calhoun. + +"Did you--do it?" asked Maril. "Did you start a harmless epidemic +that--wipes out the virus that makes blueskins?" + +Calhoun said in feigned astonishment; + +"How can you think such a thing, Maril?" + +"Because I was there," said Maril. She said somehow desperately; "I know +you did it! But the question is--are you going to tell? When people find +they're not blueskins any longer--when there's no such thing as a +blueskin any longer--will you tell them why?" + +"Naturally not," said Calhoun. "Why?" Then he guessed. "Has Korvan--." + +"He thinks," said Maril, "that he thought it up all by himself. He's +found the proof. He's--very proud. I'd have to tell him the truth if you +were going to tell. And he'd be ashamed and--angry." + +Calhoun considered, staring at her. + +"How it happened doesn't matter," he said at last. "The idea of anybody +doing it deliberately would be disturbing, too. It shouldn't get about. +So it seems much the best thing for Korvan to discover what's happened +to the blueskin pigment, and how it happened, but not why." + +She read his face carefully. + +"You aren't doing it as a favor to me," she decided. "You'd rather it +was that way." + +She looked at him for a long time, until he squirmed. Then she nodded +and went away. + +An hour later the Wealdian space-fleet was reported, massed in space and +driving for Dara. + + + + +CHAPTER 8 + + +There were small scout-ships which came on ahead of the main fleet. +They'd originally been guard-boats, intended for solar-system duty only +and quite incapable of overdrive. They'd come from Weald in the +cargo-holds of the liners now transformed into fighting ships. The +scouts swept low, transmitting fine-screen images back to the fleet, of +all 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. + +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. + +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. + +Hours passed. The Wealdian main fleet waited. There was no offensive +movement by the fleet. There was no defensive action from the ground, +With fusion-bombs certain to be involved in any actual conflict, there +was something like an embarrassed pause. The Wealdian ships were ready +to bomb. They were less anxious to be vaporized by possible +suicide-dashes of defending ships who might blow themselves up near +contact with their enemies. + +But a fleet cannot travel some light-years through space to make a mere +threat. And the Wealdian fleet was furnished with the material for total +devastation. It could drop bombs from hundreds, or thousands, or even +tens of thousands of miles away. It could cover the world of Dara with +mushroom clouds springing up and spreading to make a continuous pall of +atomic-fusion products. And they could settle down and kill every living +thing not destroyed by the explosions themselves. Even the creatures of +the deepest oceans would die of deadly, purposely-contrived fallout +particles. + +The Wealdian fleet contemplated its own destructiveness. It found no +capacity for defense on Dara. It moved forward. + +But then a message went out from the capital city of Dara. It said that +a ship in overdrive had carried word to a Darian fleet in space. The +Darian fleet now hurtled toward Weald. It was a fleet of thirty-seven +giant ships. They carried such-and-such bombs in such-and-such +quantities. Unless its orders were countermanded, it would deliver those +bombs on Weald--set to explode. If Weald bombed Dara, the orders could +not be withdrawn. So Weald could bomb Dara. It could destroy all life on +the pariah planet. But Weald would die with it. + +The fleet ceased its advance. The situation was a stalemate with pure +desperation on one side and pure frustration on the other. This was no +way to end the war. Neither planet could trust the other, even for +minutes. If they did not destroy each other simultaneously, as now was +possible, each would expect the other to launch an unwarned attack at +some other moment. Ultimately one or the other must perish, and the +survivor would be the one most skilled in treachery. + +But then the pariah planet made a new proposal. It would send a +messenger-ship to stop its own fleet's bombardment if Weald would accept +payment 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 perhaps in some sense through its +fault. It would pay.... But if it were bombed, Weald must spout atomic +fire and the fleet of Weald would have no home planet to return to. + + * * * * * + +This proposal seemed both craven and foolish. It would allow the fleet +of Weald to loot and then betray Dara. But it was Calhoun's idea. It +seemed plausible to the admirals of Weald. They felt only contempt for +blueskins. Contemptuously, they accepted the semi-surrender. + +The broadcast waves of Dara told of agreement, and wild and fierce +resentment filled the pariah planet's people. There was +almost--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-- + +In menacing array, the invading fleet spread itself about the skies of +Dara, well beyond the atmosphere. Harsh voices talked with increasing +arrogance to the landing-grid staff. A monster ship of Weald came +heavily down, riding the landing-grid's force-fields. It touched gently. +Its occupants were apprehensive, but hungry for the loot they had been +assured was theirs. The ship's outer hull would be sterilized before it +returned to Weald, of course. And there was adequate protection for the +landing-party. + +Men came out of the ship's ports. They wore the double, transparent +sag-suits Calhoun had suggested, which had been painstakingly tested, +and which were perfect protection against contagion. They 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. + +That information was that the people of Dara weren't blueskins any +longer. There'd been a trivial epidemic. + +The sag-suited men of Weald went zestfully about their business. They +took over the landing-grid's operation, driving the Darian operators +away. For the first time in history the operators of a landing-grid wore +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. + +Parties in the shiny sag-suits spread through the city. There 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. + +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. + +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. + +More ships came down, and more. Some of the first, heavily loaded, were +lifted to emptiness again and the process of decontamination of their +hulls began. There was jealousy among the ships in space for those upon +the ground. The first-landed ships had had their choice of loot. There +were squabblings about priorities, now that the navy of Weald plainly +had a license to steal. There was confusion among the members of the +landing-parties. Discipline disappeared. Men in plastic sag-suits roved +about as individuals, seeking what they might loot. + + * * * * * + +There were armed and alerted landing-parties around the grid itself, of +course, but the capital city of Dara lay open. Men coming back with loot +found their ships already lifted off to make room for others. They were +pushed into 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. + +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. + +It was amusing. The space-admiral of Weald ordered his ships alerted for +action. The message-ship, ordering the Darian fleet away from Weald, +had been sent off long since. No other ship could get away now! The +Darians could take their choice; accept the consequences of surrender, +or the fleet would rise to throw down bombs. + +Calhoun was asking politely to be taken to the Wealdian admiral when the +trouble began. It wasn't on the ground, at all. Everything was under +splendid control where a landing-force occupied the grid and all the +ground immediately about it. The space admiral had headquarters in the +landing-grid office. Reports came in, orders were issued, admirably +crisp salutes were exchanged among sag-suited men.... Everything was in +perfect shape there. + +But there was panic among the ships in space. Communicators gave off +horrified, panic-stricken yells. There were screamings. Intelligible +communications ceased. Ships plunged crazily this way and that. Some +vanished in overdrive. At least one plunged at full power into a Darian +ocean. + +The space-admiral found himself in command of fifteen ships only, out of +all his former force. The rest of the fleet went through a period of +hysterical madness. In some ships it lasted for minutes only. In others +it went on for half an hour or more. Then they hung overhead, but did +not reply to calls. + +Calhoun arrived at the space-port with Murgatroyd riding on his +shoulder. A bewildered officer in a sag-suit halted him. + +"I've come," said Calhoun, "to speak to the admiral. My name is Calhoun +and I'm Med Service, and I think I met the Admiral at a banquet a few +weeks ago. He'll remember me." + +"You'll have to wait," protested the officer. "There's some trouble--" + +"Yes," said Calhoun. "I know about it. I helped design it. I want to +explain it to the admiral. He needs to know what's happened, if he's to +take appropriate measures." + +There were jitterings. Many men in sag-suits had still no idea that +anything had gone wrong. Some appeared, brightly carrying loot. Some +hung eagerly around the airlocks of ships on the grid tarmac, waiting +their turns to stand in corrosive gases for the decontamination of their +suits, when they would burn the outer layers and step, aseptic and +happy, into a Wealdian ship again. There they could think how rich they +were going to be back on Weald. + +But the situation aloft was bewildering and very, very ominous. There +was strident argument. Presently Calhoun stood before the Wealdian +admiral. + +"I came to explain something," said Calhoun pleasantly. "The situation +has changed. You've noticed it, I'm sure." + +The admiral glared at him through two layers of plastic, which covered +him almost like a gift-wrapped parcel. + +"Be quick!" he rasped. + +"First," said Calhoun, "there are no more blueskins. An epidemic of +something or other has made the blue patches on the skins of Darians +fade out. There have always been some who didn't have blue patches. Now +nobody has them." + +"Nonsense!" rasped the admiral. "And what has that got to do with this +situation?" + +"Why, everything," said Calhoun mildly. "It 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." + +The admiral roared. Then his face turned gray. + +"You can't take your fleet back to Weald," said Calhoun gently, "if you +believe its crews have been exposed to carriers of the Dara plague. You +wouldn't be allowed to land, anyhow." + +The admiral said through stiff lips; + +"I'll blast--" + +"No," said Calhoun, again gently. "When you ordered all ships alerted +for action, the Darians on each ship released panic-gas. They only +needed tiny, pocket-sized containers of the gas for the job. They had +them. They only needed to use air-tanks from their sag-suits to protect +themselves against the gas. They kept them handy. On nearly all your +ships aloft your crews are crazy from panic-gas. They'll stay that way +until the air is changed. Darians have barricaded themselves in the +control-rooms of most if not all your ships. You haven't got a fleet. 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...." + +The Admiral made a choking noise. He could have ordered Calhoun killed, +but there was a certain appalling fact. The men aground from the fleet +were breathing Wealdian air from tanks. It would last so long only. If +they were taken on board the still obedient ships overhead, Darians +would unquestionably be mixed with them. There was no way to take off +the parties now aground without exposing them to contact with Darians, +on the ground or in the ships. There was no way to sort out the Darians. + +"I--I will give the orders," said the admiral thickly. "I--do not know +what you devils plan, but--I don't know how to stop you." + +"All that's necessary," said Calhoun warmly, "is an open mind. There's a +misunderstanding to be cleared up, and some principles of planetary +health practises to be explained, and a certain amount of prejudice that +has to be thrown away. But nobody need die of changing their minds. The +Interstellar Medical service has proved that over and over!" + +Murgatroyd, perched on his shoulder, felt that it was time to take part +in the conversation. He said; + +"_Chee-chee!_" + +"Yes," agreed Calhoun. "We do want to get the job done. We're behind +schedule now." + + * * * * * + +It was not, of course, possible for Calhoun to leave immediately. He had +to preside at various meetings of the medical officers of the fleet 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. + +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. + +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.... + +Maril came to the Med Ship again when he was almost ready to leave. She +did not seem comfortable. + +"I wish you could like Korvan," she said regretfully. + +"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." + +Maril smiled very faintly. + +"But you don't admire him." + +"I wouldn't say that," protested Calhoun. "After all, he is attractive +to you, which is something I couldn't manage." + +"You didn't try," said Maril. "Just as I didn't try to be fascinating to +you. Why?" + +Calhoun spread out his hands. But he looked at Maril with respect. Not +every woman could have faced the fact that a man did not feel impelled +to make passes at her. It is simply a fact that has nothing to do with +desirability or charm or anything else. + +"You're going to marry him," he said. "I hope you'll be very happy." + +"He's the man I want," said Maril frankly. "He looks forward to splendid +discoveries. I'm sorry it's so important to him." + +Calhoun did not ask the obvious question. Instead, he said thoughtfully; + +"There's something you could do.... It needs to be done. The Med Service +in this sector has been badly handled. There are a number +of--discoveries that need to be made. I don't think your Korvan would +relish having things handed to him on a visible silver platter. But they +should be known...." + +Maril said wrily; + +"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?" + +Calhoun nodded. He brought them to her. + +"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." + +She put her hands in his. + +"I like you--almost as much as I like Murgatroyd! Yes! Korvan will never +know, and he'll be a great man." Then she added defensively, "And not +just from these books! He'll make his own wonderful discoveries." + +"Of which," said Calhoun, "the most remarkable is you. Good luck +Maril!" + + * * * * * + +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; + +"Overdrive coming, Murgatroyd!" + +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. + +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. + +"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." + +There was a pause while the beamed message went many, many thousands of +miles. Then the speaker said; + +"_Aesclipus Twenty, repeat your identification!_" + +Murgatroyd said; + +"_Chee-chee? Chee?_" + +Calhoun sighed. + +"That's right, Murgatroyd! Here we go again!" + + +THE END + + + + + +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 29448-8.txt or 29448-8.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. 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You may copy it, give it away or +re-use it under the terms of the Project Gutenberg License included +with this eBook or online at www.gutenberg.org + + +Title: 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. 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You may copy it, give it away or +re-use it under the terms of the Project Gutenberg License included +with this eBook or online at www.gutenberg.org + + +Title: Pariah Planet + +Author: Murray Leinster + +Release Date: July 18, 2009 [EBook #29448] + +Language: English + +Character set encoding: ASCII + +*** 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 + + + + + + + + [Transcriber's Note: + + 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.] + + + + +[Illustration] + +COMPLETE BOOK-LENGTH NOVEL + + + + +PARIAH PLANET + +By MURRAY LEINSTER + +Illustrated by FINLAY + + _When the blue plague appeared on the planet of Dara, fear struck + nearby worlds. The fear led to a hate that threatened the lives of + millions and endangered the Galactic peace._ + + + + +CHAPTER I + + +The little Med Ship came out of overdrive and the stars were strange and +the Milky Way seemed unfamiliar. Which, of course, was because the Milky +Way and the local Cepheid marker-stars were seen from an unaccustomed +angle and a not-yet-commonplace pattern of varying magnitudes. But +Calhoun grunted in satisfaction. There was a banded sun off to port, +which was good. A breakout at no more than sixty light-hours from +one's destination wasn't bad, in a strange sector of the Galaxy and +after three light-years of journeying blind. + +[Illustration] + +"Arise and shine, Murgatroyd," said Calhoun. "Comb your whiskers. Get +set to astonish the natives!" + +A sleepy, small, shrill voice said; + +"_Chee!_" + +Murgatroyd the _tormal_ came crawling out of his small cubbyhole. He +blinked at Calhoun. + +"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." + +Murgatroyd said; + +"_Chee-chee!_" + +He began to make his toilet, first licking his right-hand whiskers and +then his left. Then he stood up and shook himself and looked +interestedly at Calhoun. _Tormals_ are companionable small animals. They +are charmed when somebody speaks to them. They find great, deep +satisfaction in imitating the actions of humans, as parrots and mynahs +and parrokets imitate human speech. But _tormals_ have certain useful, +genetically transmitted talents which make them much more valuable than +mere companions or pets. + +Calhoun got a light-reading for the banded sun. It could hardly be an +accurate measure of distance, but it was a guide. He said; + +"Hold on to something, Murgatroyd!" + +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. + +The sun Weald burned huge and terrible in space. It was close, now. Its +disk covered half a degree of arc. + +"Very neat," observed Calhoun. "Weald Three is our port, Murgatroyd. The +plane of the ecliptic would be--Hm...." + +He swung the outside electron telescope, picked up a nearby bright +object, enlarged its image to show details, and checked it against the +local star-pilot. He calculated a moment. The distance was too short for +even the briefest of overdrive hops, but it would take time to get there +on solar-system drive. + +He thumbed down the communicator-button and spoke into a microphone. + +"Med Ship Aesclipus Twenty reporting arrival and asking coordinates for +landing. 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 ..." + +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. + + * * * * * + +A voice came out of the communicator; + +"_Aesclipus Twenty, repeat your identification!_" + +Calhoun went to the control-board. + +"Aesclipus Twenty," he said patiently, "is a Med Ship, sent by the +Interstellar Medical Service to make a planetary health inspection on +Weald. Check with your public health authorities. This is the first Med +Ship visit in twelve standard years, I believe, which is inexcusable. +But your health authorities will know all about it. Check with them." + +The voice said truculently; + +"_What was your last port?_" + +Calhoun named it. This was not his home sector, but Sector Twelve had +gotten into a very bad situation. Some of its planets had gone unvisited +for as long as twenty years, and twelve between inspections was almost +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. + +So he was very patient. He named the planet last inspected, the one from +which he'd set out for Weald Three. The voice from the communicator said +sharply; + +"_What port before that?_" + +Calhoun named the one before the last. + +"_Don't drive any closer,_" said the voice harshly, "_or you'll be +destroyed!_" + +Calhoun said coldly; + +"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 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!" + +Silence. Calhoun clicked off and poured himself another cup of coffee. +Murgatroyd held out his cup for a refill. Calhoun gave it to him. + +"I hate to put on an official hat, Murgatroyd," he said annoyedly, "but +there are some people who won't have any other way." + +Murgatroyd said "_Chee!_" and sipped at his cup. + + * * * * * + +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. + + * * * * * + +In fifteen minutes a different voice came from the speaker. + +"_Med Ship Aesclipus! Med Ship Aesclipus!_" + +Calhoun answered and the voice said anxiously; + +"_'Sorry about the challenge, but we have the blueskin problem always +with us. We have to be extremely careful! Will you come in, please?_" + +"I'm on my way," said Calhoun. + +"_The planetary health authorities,_" said the voice, more anxiously +still, "_are very anxious to be cooperative. We need Med Service help! +We lose a lot of sleep over the 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._" + +"He's lying," Calhoun told Murgatroyd, "but he's more scared than +hostile." + +He picked up the order-folio on Weald Three. He gave the information +about the last Med Ship visit. He clicked off. + +"What?" he asked, "is a blueskin?" + +He'd read the folio on Weald, of course, but as the ship swam onward +through emptiness he went through it again. The last medical inspection +had been only perfunctory. Twelve years earlier--instead of three--a +Med Ship had landed on Weald. There had been official conferences with +health officials. There was a report on the birth-rate, the death-rate, +the anomaly-rate, and a breakdown of all reported communicable diseases. +But that was all. There were no special comments and no overall picture. + +Presently Calhoun found the word in a Sector dictionary, where words of +only local usage were to be found. + +"Blueskin; Colloquial term for a person recovered from a plague which +left large patches of blue pigment irregularly distributed over the +body. Especially, inhabitants of Dara. The condition is said to be +caused by a chronic, 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...." + +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. + +"Since plague, special license from Med Service is required for +landing." + +That was all. Absolutely all. + +The communicator said suavely; + +"_Med Ship Aesclipus Twenty! Come in on vision, please!_" + +Calhoun went to the control-board and threw on vision. + +"Well, what now?" he demanded. + +His screen lighted. A bland face looked out at him. + +"_We have--ah--verified your statements,_" said the third voice from +Weald. "_Just one more item. Are you alone in your ship?_" + +"Of course," said Calhoun, frowning. + +"_Quite alone?_" insisted the voice. + +"Obviously!" said Calhoun. + +"_No other living creature?_" insisted the voice again. + +"Of--Oh!" said Calhoun annoyedly. He called over his shoulder. +"Murgatroyd! Come here!" + +Murgatroyd hopped to his lap and gazed interestedly at the screen. The +bland face changed remarkably. The voice changed even more. + +"_Very good!_" it said. "_Very, very good! Blueskins do not have_ +tormals! _You are Med Service! By all means come in. Your coordinates +will be ..._" + +Calhoun wrote them down. He clicked off the communicator again and +growled to Murgatroyd; + +"So I might have been a blueskin, eh? And you're my passport, because +only Med Ships have members of your tribe aboard! What the hell's the +matter, Murgatroyd? They act like they think somebody's trying to get +down on their planet with a load of plague-germs!" + +He grumbled to himself for minutes. The life of a Med Ship man is not +exactly a sinecure, at best. It means long periods in empty space in +overdrive, which is absolute and deadly tedium. Then two or three days +aground, checking official documents and statistics, and asking +questions to see how many of the newest medical techniques have reached +this planet or that, and the supplying of information about such as have +not arrived. Then lifting out to space for long periods of tedium, to +repeat the process somewhere else. Med Ships carry only one man because +two could not stand the close contact without quarreling with each +other. But Med Ships do carry _tormals_, like Murgatroyd, and a _tormal_ +and a man can get along indefinitely, like a man and a dog. It is a +highly unequal friendship, but it seems to be satisfactory to both. + +Calhoun was very much annoyed with the way the Med Service had been +operated in Sector Twelve. He was one of many men at work to correct the +results of incompetence in directing Med Service in 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. + +The condition shown by the landing-grid suspicions was a case in point. +Blueskins were people who inherited a splotchy skin-pigmentation from +other people who'd survived a plague. Weald plainly maintained a +one-planet quarantine against them. But a quarantine is normally an +emergency measure. The Med Service should have taken over, wiped out the +need for a quarantine, and then lifted it. It hadn't been done. + +Calhoun fumed to himself. + + * * * * * + +The world of Weald Three grew brighter and brighter and became a disk. +The disk had ice-caps and a reasonable proportion of land and water +surface. The Med Ship decelerated, and voices notified observation from +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. + +The business of landing was all very familiar, from the blue rim which +appeared at the limb of the planet from one diameter out, to the +singular flowing-apart of the surface features as the ship sank still +lower. There was the circular landing-grid, rearing skyward for nearly a +mile. It could let down interstellar liners from emptiness and lift them +out to emptiness again, with great convenience and economy for everyone. + +It landed the Med Ship in its center, and there were officials to greet +Calhoun, and he knew in advance the routine part of his visit. There +would be an interview with the planet's chief executive, by whatever +title he was called. There would be a banquet. Murgatroyd would be +petted by everybody. There would be painful efforts to impress Calhoun +with the splendid conduct of public health matters on Weald. He would be +told much scandal. He might find one man, somewhere, who passionately +labored to advance the welfare of his fellow humans by finding out how +to keep them well, or failing that how to make them well when they got +sick. And in two days, or three, Calhoun would be escorted back to the +landing-grid, and lifted out to space, and he'd spend long empty days in +overdrive and land somewhere else to do the whole thing all over again. + +It all happened exactly as he expected, with one exception. Every human +being he met on Weald wanted to talk about blueskins. Blueskins and the +idea of blueskins obsessed everyone. Calhoun listened without asking +questions until he had the picture of what blueskins meant to the people +who talked of them. Then he knew there would be no use asking questions +at random. Nobody mentioned ever having seen a blueskin. Nobody +mentioned a specific event in which a blueskin had at any named time +taken part. But everybody was afraid of blueskins. It was a patterned, +an inculcated, a stage-directed fixed idea. And it found expression in +shocked references to the vileness, the depravity, the monstrousness of +the blueskin inhabitants of Dara, from whom Weald must at all costs be +protected. + +It did not make sense. So Calhoun listened politely until he found an +undistinguished medical man who wanted some special information about +gene-selection as practised halfway across the galaxy. He invited that +man to the Med Ship, where he supplied the information not hitherto +available. He saw his guest's eyes shine a little with that joyous awe a +man feels when he finds out something he has wanted long and badly to +know. + +"Now," said Calhoun, "tell me something! Why does everybody on this +planet hate the inhabitants of Dara? It's light-years away. Nobody +claims to have suffered in person from them. Why make a point of hating +them?" + +The Wealdian doctor grimaced. + +"They've blue patches on their skins. They're different from us. So they +can be pictured as a danger and our political parties can make an +election issue out of competing for the privilege of defending us from +them. They had a plague on Dara, once. They're accused of still having +it ready for export." + +"Hm," said Calhoun. "The story is that they want to spread contagion +here, eh? Doesn't anybody"--his tone was sardonic--"doesn't anybody urge +that they be massacred as an act of piety?" + +"Yes--s--s--s," admitted the doctor reluctantly. "It's mentioned in +political speeches." + +"But how's it rationalized?" demanded Calhoun. "What's the argument to +make pigment-patches involve moral and physical degradation, as I'm +assured is the case?" + +"In the public schools," said the doctor, "the children are taught that +blueskins are now carriers of the disease they survived three +generations ago! That they hate everybody who isn't a blueskin. That +they are constantly scheming to introduce their plague here so most of +us will die and the rest become blueskins. That's beyond rationalizing. +It can't be true, but it's not safe to doubt it." + +"Bad business," said Calhoun coldly. "That sort of thing usually costs +lives, in the end. It could lead to massacre!" + +"Perhaps it has, in a way," said the doctor unhappily. "One doesn't like +to think about it." He paused, 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!" + +"Tell me," said Calhoun. + +"We armed ships in a hurry," admitted the doctor, "We chased their +space-ship back to Dara. We hung in space off the planet. We told them +we'd blast their world from pole to pole if they ever dared take to +space again. We made them destroy their one ship, and we watched on +visionscreens as it was done." + +"But you gave them food?" + +"No," said the doctor ashamedly. "They were blueskins." + +"How bad was the famine?" + +"Who knows? Any number may have starved! And we kept a squadron of armed +ships in their skies for years. To keep them from spreading the plague, +we said. And some of us believed it, probably!" + +The doctor's tone was purest irony. + +"Lately," he said, "there's been a move for economy in our government. +Simultaneously, we began to have a series of 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!" + +"And Dara?" + +The Doctor shrugged. He stood up. + +"Our hatred of Dara," he said, again ironically, "has produced one +thing. Roughly halfway between here and Dara there's a two-planet solar +system, Orede. There's a usable planet there. It was proposed to build +an outpost of Weald there, against blueskins. Cattle were landed to run +wild and multiply and make a reason for colonists to settle there. They +did, but nobody wants to move 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!" + +"I see," said Calhoun, frowning. + +The doctor moved toward the Med Ship's exit-port. + +"I answered your questions," he said grimly. "But if I talked to anyone +else as I've done to you, I'd be lucky only to be driven into exile!" + +"I shan't give you away," said Calhoun. He did not smile. + +When the doctor had gone, Calhoun said deliberately; + +"Murgatroyd, you should be grateful that you're a _tormal_ and not a +man. There's nothing about being a _tormal_ to make you ashamed!" + +Then he grimly changed his garments for the full-dress uniform of the +Med Service. There was to be a banquet at which he would sit next to the +planet's chief executive and hear innumerable speeches about the +splendor of Weald. Calhoun had his own, strictly Med Service opinion of +the planet's latest and most boasted-of achievement. It was a domed city +in the polar regions, where nobody ever had to go outdoors. He was less +than professionally enthusiastic about the moving streets, and much less +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. + +But it was not Calhoun's function to criticize when it could be avoided. +Med Service had been badly managed in Sector Twelve. So at the banquet +Calhoun made a brief and diplomatic address in which he temperately +praised what could be praised, and did not mention anything else. + +The chief executive followed him. As head of the government he paid some +tribute to the Med Service. But then he reminded his hearers proudly of +the high culture, splendid health, and remarkable prosperity of the +planet since his political party took office. This, he said, 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. + +When he sat down, Calhoun said very politely; + +"It looks like some day it should be practical politics to urge the +massacre of all blueskins. Have you thought of that?" + +The chief executive said comfortably; + +"The idea's been proposed. It's good politics to urge it, but it would +be foolish to carry it out. People vote against blueskins. Wipe them +out, and where'd you be?" + +Calhoun ground his teeth, quietly. + + * * * * * + +There were more speeches. Then a messenger, white-faced, arrived with a +written note for the chief executive. He read it and passed it to +Calhoun. It was from the Ministry of Health. The space-port reported +that a ship had just broken out 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. + +"It'll be blueskins," said that astute person, firmly. "They're +next-door to Orede. That's who's done this. It wouldn't surprise me if +they'd seeded Orede with their plague, and this ship came from there to +give us warning!" + +"There's no evidence for anything of the sort," protested Calhoun. "A +ship simply came out of overdrive and didn't signal further. That's +all." + +"We'll see," said the chief executive ominously. "We'll go directly to +the spaceport." + +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. + +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. + +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. + +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. + +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 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. + +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. + +"Let a volunteer go aboard," commanded the chief executive. "Have him +report what he finds." + +A pause. Then the solemn announcement of an intrepid volunteer's name, +from far, far away. Calhoun listened, frowning darkly. This pompous +heroism wouldn't be noticed in the Med Service. It would be routine +behavior. + +Suspenseful, second-by-second reports. The volunteer had rocketed +himself across the emptiness between the two again-separated ships. He +had opened the airlock from outside. He'd gone in. He'd closed the outer +airlock door. He'd opened the inner. He reported. + +The relayed report was almost incoherent, what with horror and +incredulity and the feeling of doom that came upon the volunteer. The +ship was a bulk-cargo ore-carrier, designed to run between Orede and +Weald with 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. + +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! + +But they hadn't starved. Air-scarcity killed them before the ship came +out of overdrive. + +A remarkable thing was that there was no written message in the ship's +log which referred to its take-off. There was no memorandum of the +taking on of such an impossible number of passengers. + +"The blueskins did it," said the chief executive of Weald. He was pale. +All about Calhoun men looked sick and shocked and terrified. "It was the +blueskins! We'll have to teach them a lesson!" Then he turned to +Calhoun. "The volunteer who went on that ship ... He'll have to stay +there, won't he? He can't be brought back to Weald without bringing +contagion ..." + +Calhoun raged at him. + + + + +CHAPTER 2 + + +There was a certain coldness in the manner of those at the Weald +spaceport when the Med Ship left next morning. Calhoun was not popular +because Weald was scared. It had been conditioned to scare easily, where +blueskins might be involved. Its children were trained to react +explosively when the word "blueskin" was uttered in their hearing, and +its adults tended to say "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. + +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. + +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 reentered 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. + +Calhoun was quite right, but Weald in general considered that he'd +persuaded the government to take an unreasonable risk. + +There were other reasons for disapproving of him. Calhoun had been +unpleasantly frank. The coming of the death-ship stirred to frenzy those +people who believed that all blueskins should be exterminated as a pious +act. They'd appeared on every 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! + +One of these vehement orators even asserted that Calhoun agreed that no +other course was possible, speaking for the Interstellar Medical +Service. And Calhoun furiously demanded a chance to deny it by +broadcast, and he made a bitter and indiscreet speech from which a +planet-wide audience inferred that he thought them fools. He did. + +So he was definitely unpopular when his ship lifted from Weald. He'd +curtly given his destination as Orede, from which the death-ship had +come. The landing-grid locked on, raised the small 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. + +He aimed for his destination, his face very grim. He said savagely; + +"Get set, Murgatroyd! Overdrive coming!" + + * * * * * + +He thumbed down the overdrive button. The universe of stars went out, +while everything living in the ship felt the customary sensations of +dizziness, of nausea, and of a 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. + +But within seconds random tiny noises began. There was a reel and there +were sound-speakers to keep the ship from sounding like a grave. The +reel played and the speakers gave off minute creakings, and meaningless +hums, and very tiny noises of every imaginable sort, all of which were +just above the threshold of the inaudible. + +Calhoun fretted. Sector Twelve was in very bad shape. A conscientious +Med Service man would never have let the anti-blueskin obsession go +unmentioned in a report on Weald. Health is not only a physical affair. +There is mental health, also. When mental health goes a civilization can +be destroyed more surely and more terribly than by any imaginable war or +plague-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. + +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. + +"I think," said Calhoun dourly, "that I'll have some coffee." + +"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. + +Calhoun turned his head. Murgatroyd sat on the floor, his long tail +coiled reflectively about a chair-leg. He watched the door of the Med +Ship's sleeping-cabin. + +"Murgatroyd," said Calhoun. "I mentioned coffee!" + +"_Chee!_" shrilled Murgatroyd. + +But he continued to look at the door. The temperature was kept lower in +the other cabin, and the look of things was different 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 +_tormal_--without becoming ship-happy. There were other carefully +thought out items in the ship with the same purpose. But none of them +should cause Murgatroyd to stare fixedly and fascinatedly at the +sleeping-cabin door. Not when coffee was in the making! + +Calhoun considered. He became angry at the immediate suspicion that +occurred to him. As a Med Service man, he was duty-bound to be +impartial. To be impartial might mean not to side absolutely with Weald +in its enmity to blueskins. The people of Weald had refused to help Dara +in a time of famine; they'd blockaded 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. + +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. + +So Calhoun made coffee. He slipped a blaster into a pocket where it +would be handy. He filled a small cup for Murgatroyd and a large one for +himself, and then a second large one. + +He tapped on the sleeping-cabin door, standing aside lest a blaster-bolt +came through it. + +"Coffee's ready," he said sardonically. "Come out and join us." + +There was a long pause. Calhoun rapped again. + +"You've a seat at the captain's table," he said more sardonically still. +"It's not polite to keep me waiting!" + + * * * * * + +He listened, alert for a rush which would be a fanatic's desperate +attempt to do murder despite premature discovery. He was prepared to +shoot quite ruthlessly. + +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. + +"H-how did you know I was there?" she asked shakily. She moistened her +lips. "You didn't see me! I was in a closet, and you didn't even enter +the room!" + +Calhoun said grimly; + +"I've sources of information." He pointed to Murgatroyd. + +The girl did not move. Her eyes went from Murgatroyd to Calhoun. + +"And now," said Calhoun, "do you want to tell me your story? You have +one ready, I'm sure." + +"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." + +"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." + +She shivered a little. + +"I'm--running away ..." + +"Ah!" said Calhoun. "In that case I'll take you back." + +"No!" she said fiercely. "I'll--I'll die first! I'll wreck this ship +first!" + +Her hand came from behind her. There was a tiny blaster in it. But it +shook visibly as she tried to aim it. + +"I'll--shoot out the controls!" + +Calhoun blinked. He'd had to make a drastic change in his estimate of +the situation the instant he saw that the stowaway was a girl. Now he +had to make another when her threat was not to kill him but to disable +the ship. Women are rarely assassins, and when they are they don't use +energy weapons. Daggers and poisons are more typical. + +"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." + +Murgatroyd, for no reason whatever, felt it necessary to enter the +conversation. He said; + +"_Chee-chee-chee!_" + +"A very sensible suggestion," observed Calhoun. "We'll sit down and have +a cup of coffee." To the girl he said, "I'll take you to Orede, since +that's where you say you want to go." + +"I--there's a boy there--" + +Calhoun shook his head. + +"No," he said reprovingly. "Nearly all the mining colony had packed +itself into the ship that came into Weald with everybody dead. But not +all. And there's been no check of what men were in the ship and what men +weren't. You wouldn't go to Orede if it were likely your fellow had died +on the way to you. Here's your coffee. Sugar or saccho, and do you take +cream?" + +She trembled a little, but she took the cup. + +"I--don't understand--." + +"Murgatroyd and I," explained Calhoun--and he did not know whether he +spoke out of anger or something else--"we are do-gooders. We go around +trying to keep people from getting killed. It's our profession. We +practise it even on our own behalf. We want to stay alive. So since you +make such drastic threats, we will take you where you want to go. +Especially since we're going there anyhow." + +"You--don't believe anything I've said!" It was a statement. + +"Not a word," admitted Calhoun. "But you'll probably tell us something +more believable presently. When did you eat last?" + +"Yesterday--." + +"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. + + * * * * * + +Calhoun deliberately immersed himself in the Galactic Directory, looking +up the planet Orede. He was headed there, but he'd had no reason to +inform himself about it before. Now he read with every appearance of +absorption. + +The girl ate daintily. Murgatroyd watched with highly amiable interest. +But she looked acutely uncomfortable. + +Calhoun finished with the Directory. He got out the 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. + +He kept himself casually busy, ignoring the girl. A Med Ship man has +resources of study and meditation with which to occupy himself during +overdrive travel from one planet to another. Calhoun made use of those +resources. He acted as if he were completely unconscious of the +stowaway. But Murgatroyd watched her with charmed attention. + +Hours after her discovery, she said uneasily; + +"Please?" + +Calhoun looked up. + +"Yes?" + +"I--don't know exactly how things stand." + +"You are a stowaway," said Calhoun. "Legally, I have the right to put +you out the airlock. It doesn't seem necessary. There's a cabin. When +you're sleepy, use it. Murgatroyd and I can make out quite well here. +When you're hungry, you now know how to get something to eat. When we +land on Orede, you'll probably go about whatever business you have +there. That's all." + +She stared at him. + +"But--you don't believe what I've told you!" + +"No," agreed Calhoun. But he didn't add to the statement. + +"But--I will tell you," she offered. "The police were after me. I had to +get away from Weald! I had to! I'd stolen--" + +He shook his head. + +"No," he said. "If you were a thief, you'd say anything in the world +except that you were a thief. You're not ready to tell the truth yet. +You don't have to, so why tell me anything? I suggest that you get some +sleep." + +She rose slowly. Twice her lips parted as if to speak again, but then +she went into the other cabin and closed herself in. + +Murgatroyd blinked at the place where she'd disappeared and then climbed +up into Calhoun's lap, with complete assurance of welcome. He settled +himself and was silent for moments. Then he said; + +"_Chee!_" + +"I believe you're right," said Calhoun. "She doesn't belong on Weald, or +with the conditioning she'd have had, there'd be only one place she'd +dread worse than Orede, and that would be Dara. But I doubt she'd be +afraid to land even on Dara." + +Murgatroyd liked to be talked to. He liked to pretend that he carried on +a conversation, like humans. + +"_Chee-chee!_" he said with conviction. + +"Definitely," agreed Calhoun. "She's not doing this for her personal +advantage. Whatever she thinks she's doing, it's more important to her +than her own life. Murgatroyd--" + +"_Chee?_" said Murgatroyd in an inquiring tone. + +"There are wild cattle on Orede," said Calhoun. "Herds and herds of +them. I have a suspicion that somebody's been shooting them. Lots of +them. Do you agree? Don't you think that a lot of cattle have been +slaughtered on Orede lately?" + +Murgatroyd yawned. He settled himself still more comfortably in +Calhoun's lap. + +"_Chee,_" he said drowsily. + +He went to sleep, while Calhoun continued the examination of highly +condensed information. Presently he looked up the normal rate of +increase, with other data, among herds of _bivis domesticus_ 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 microorganisms and a standard vegetation +added to the practicality of human settlements on otherwise alien +worlds. But sometimes the results were strange. + +They weren't often so strange, however, as to cause some hundreds of men +to pack themselves frantically aboard a cargo-ship which couldn't +possibly sustain them, so that every man must die while the ship was in +overdrive. + +Still, by the time Calhoun turned in on a spare pneumatic mattress, he +had calculated that as few as a dozen head of cattle, turned loose on a +suitable planet, would have increased to herds of thousands or tens or +even hundreds of thousands in much less time than had probably elapsed. + +The Med Ship drove on in seemingly absolute solidity, with no sound from +without, with no sight to be seen outside, with no evidence at all that +it was not buried deep in the heart of a planet instead of flashing +through emptiness at a speed so great as to have no meaning. + + * * * * * + +Next ship-day the girl looked oddly at Calhoun when she appeared in the +control-room. "Shall I--have breakfast?" she asked uncertainly. + +"Why not?" + +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. + +About noon, ship-time, she asked; + +"When will we get to Orede?" + +Calhoun told her absently, as if he were thinking of something else. + +"What--what do you think happened there? I mean, to make that tragedy in +the ship?" + +"I don't know," said Calhoun. "But I disagree with the authorities on +Weald. I don't think it was a planned atrocity of the blueskins." + +"Wh-what are blueskins?" + +Calhoun turned around and looked at her directly. + +"When lying," he said mildly, "you tell as much by what you pretend +isn't, as by what you pretend is. You know what blueskins are!" + +"B--but what do you think they are?" she asked. + +"There used to be a human disease called smallpox," said Calhoun. "When +people recovered from it, they were usually marked. Their skin had +little scar-pits here and there. At one time, back on Earth, it was +expected that everybody would catch smallpox sooner or later, and a +large percentage would die of it. And it was so much a matter of course +that if they printed a 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!" + +"Then you think they're--human?" + +"There's never yet been a case of reverse evolution," said Calhoun. +"Maybe pithecanthropus had a monkey uncle, but no pithecanthropus ever +went monkey." + +She turned abruptly away. But she glanced at him often during that day. +He continued to busy himself with those activities which make a Med +Ship man's life consistent with retained sanity. + +Next day she asked without preliminary; + +"Don't you believe the blueskins planned for the ship with the dead men +to arrive at Weald and spread plague there?" + +"No," said Calhoun. + +"Why?" + +"It couldn't possibly work," Calhoun told her. "With only dead men on +board, the ship wouldn't arrive at a place where the landing-grid could +bring it down. So that would be no good. And plague-stricken living men +wouldn't try to conceal that they had the plague. They might ask for +help, but they'd know they'd instantly be killed on Weald if they were +found to be plague-victims. So that would be no good, either! No, the +ship wasn't intended to land plague on Weald." + +"Are you--friendly to blueskins?" she asked uncertainly. + +"Within reason," said Calhoun, "I am a well-wisher to all the human +race. You're slipping, though. When using the word 'blueskin' you should +say it uncomfortably, as if it were a word no refined person liked to +pronounce. You don't. We'll land on Orede tomorrow, by the way. If you +ever intend to tell me the truth, there's not much time." + +She bit her lips. Twice, during the remainder of the day, she faced him +and opened her mouth as if to speak, and then turned away again. Calhoun +shrugged. He had fairly definite ideas about her, by now. He carefully +kept them tentative, but no girl born and raised on Weald would +willingly go to Orede, with all of Weald believing that a shipload of +miners preferred death to remaining there. It tied in, like everything +else that was unpleasant, to blueskins. Nobody from Weald would dream of +landing on Orede! Not now! + + * * * * * + +A little before the Med Ship was due to break out from overdrive, the +girl said very carefully; + +"You've been--very kind. I'd like to thank you. I--didn't really believe +I would--live to get to Orede." + +Calhoun raised his eyebrows. + +"I--wish I could tell you everything you want to know," she added +regretfully. "I think you're--really decent. But some things...." + +Calhoun said caustically; + +"You've told me a great deal. You weren't born on Weald. You weren't +raised there. The people of Dara--notice that I don't say blueskins, +though they are--the people of Dara have made at least one space-ship +since Weald threatened them with extermination. There is probably a new +food-shortage on Dara now, leading to pure desperation. Most likely it's +bad enough to make them risk landing on Orede to kill cattle and freeze +beef to help. They've worked out." + +She gasped and sprang to her feet. She snatched out the tiny blaster in +her pocket. She pointed it waveringly at him. + +"I--have to kill you!" she cried desperately. "I--I have to!" + +Calhoun reached out. She tugged despairingly at the blaster's trigger. +Nothing happened. Before she could realize that she hadn't turned off +the safety, Calhoun twisted the weapon from her fingers. He stepped +back. + +"Good girl!" he said approvingly. "I'll give this back to you when we +land. And thanks. Thanks very much!" + +She stared at him. "Thanks? When I tried to kill you?" + +"Of course!" said Calhoun. "I'd made guesses. I couldn't know that they +were right. When you tried to kill me, you confirmed every one. Now, +when we land on Orede I'm going to get you to try to put me in touch +with your friends. It's going to be tricky, because they must be pretty +well scared about that ship. But it's a highly desirable thing to get +done!" + +He went to the ship's control-board and sat down before it. + +"Twenty minutes to break-hour," he observed. + +Murgatroyd peered out of his little cubbyhole. His eyes were anxious. +_Tormals_ are amiable little creatures. During the days in overdrive, +Calhoun had paid less than the usual amount of attention to Murgatroyd, +while the girl was fascinating. They'd made friends, awkwardly on the +girl's part, very pleasantly on Murgatroyd's. But only moments ago there +had been bitter emotion in the air. Murgatroyd had fled to his cubbyhole +to escape it. He was distressed. Now that there was silence again, he +peered out unhappily. + +"_Chee?_" he queried plaintively. "_Chee-chee-chee?_" + +Calhoun said matter-of-factly; + +"It's all right, Murgatroyd. If we aren't blasted as we try to land, we +should be able to make friends with everybody and get something +accomplished." + +The statement was hopelessly inaccurate. + + + + +CHAPTER 3 + + +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 coordinates 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. + +"There is a landing-grid," said Calhoun, frowning, "and if they're using +it to load fresh meat for Dara, from the herds I'm told about, it should +be manned. But they don't seem to intend to answer. Maybe they think +that if they pretend I'm not here I'll go away." + +He reflected, and his frown deepened. + +"If I didn't know what I 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?" + +She shook her head. + +"You don't know," said Calhoun, "or won't tell, yet. But they ought to +be told about the arrival of that ship at Weald, and what Weald thinks +about it! My guess is that you came to tell them. It isn't likely that +Dara gets news direct from Weald. Where were you put ashore from Dara, +when you set out to be a spy?" + +Her lips parted to speak. But she compressed them tightly. She shook her +head again. + +"It must have been plenty far away," said Calhoun restlessly. "Your +people would have built a ship, and made fine forged papers for it, and +they'd travel so far from this part of space that when they landed +nobody would think of Dara. They'd use makeup to cover the blue spots, +but maybe it was so far away that blueskins had never been heard of!" + +Her face looked pinched, but she did not reply. + +"Then they'd land half a dozen of you, with a supply of 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?" + +She began to grow pale. + +"I'm not a mind-reader," said Calhoun. "But it adds up. You're from +Dara. You've been on Weald. It's practically certain that there are +other, agents, if you like that word better, on Weald. And there hasn't +been a plague on Weald so you people aren't carriers of it. But you +knew it in advance, I think. How'd you learn? Did a ship in some sort of +trouble land there, on Dara?" + +"Y-yes," said the girl. "We wouldn't let it go again. But the people +didn't catch--they didn't die--they lived--." + +She stopped short. + +"It's not fair to trap me!" she cried passionately, "It's not fair!" + +"I'll stop," said Calhoun. + +He turned to the control-board. The Med Ship was only planetary +diameters from Orede, now, and the electron telescope showed shining +stars in leisurely motion across its screen. Then a huge, gibbous +shining shape appeared, and there were irregular patches of that muddy +color which is sea-bottom, and varicolored areas which were plains and +forests. Also there were mountains. Calhoun steadied the image and +squinted at it. + +"The mine," he observed, "was found by members of a hunting-party, +killing wild cattle for sport." + + * * * * * + +Even a small planet has many millions of square miles of surface, and a +single human installation on a whole world will not be easy to find by +random search. But there were clues to this one. Men hunting for sport +would not choose a tropic nor an arctic climate to hunt in. So if they +found a mineral deposit, it would have been in a temperate zone. Cattle +would not be found deep in a mountainous terrain. The mine would not be +on a prairie. The settlement on Orede, then, would be near the edge of +mountains, not far from a prairie such as wild cattle would frequent, +and it would be in a temperate climate. Forested areas could be ruled +out. And there would be a landing-grid. Handling only one ship at a +time, it might be a very small grid. It need be only hundreds of yards +across and less than half a mile high. But its shadow would be +distinctive. + +Calhoun searched among low mountains near unforested prairie in a +temperate zone. He found a speck. He enlarged it 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. + +"But they don't answer our call," observed Calhoun, "so we go down +unwelcomed." + +He inverted the Med Ship and the emergency-rockets boomed. The ship +plunged planetward. + +A long time later it was deep in the planet's atmosphere. The noise of +its rockets had become thunderous, with air to carry and to reinforce +the sound. + +"Hold on to something, Murgatroyd," commanded Calhoun. "We may have to +dodge some ack." + +But nothing came up from below. The Med Ship again inverted itself, and +its rockets pointed toward the planet and poured out pencil-thin, +blue-white, high-velocity flames. It checked slightly, but continued to +descend. It was not directly above the grid. It swept downward until +almost level with the peaks of the mountains in which the mine lay. It +tilted again, and swept onward over the 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. + +But there was no sign. Then the rockets bellowed, and the ship slowed +its forward motion, hovered momentarily, and settled to solidity outside +the framework of the grid. The grid was small, as Calhoun reasoned. But +it reached interminably toward the sky. + +The 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. + +Calhoun put a blaster in his pocket and stood up. + +"We'll see what it looks like outside," he said with a certain grimness. +"I don't quite believe what the visionscreens show." + + * * * * * + +Minutes later he stepped down to the ground from the Med Ship's +exit-port. The ship had landed perhaps a hundred feet from what once had +been a wooden building. In it, ore from the mines was concentrated and +the useless tailings carried away by a 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. + +The look of the ground about the building-sites was simply and purely +impossible. It was a mass of hoofprints. Cattle by thousands and tens of +thousands had trampled everything. Cattle had burst in the wooden sides +of the buildings. Cattle had piled themselves up against the beams +upholding roofs until the buildings collapsed. Then cattle had gone +plunging over the wrecked buildings until there was nothing left but +indescribable chaos. Many, many cattle had died in the crush. There were +heaps of dead beasts about the metal girders which were the foundation +of the landing-grid. The air was tainted by the smell of carrion. + +The settlement had been destroyed, positively, by stampeded cattle in +tens or hundreds of thousands charging blindly through and over and upon +it. Senselessly, they'd trampled each other to horrible shapelessnesses. +The mine-shaft was not choked, because enormously strong timbers had +fallen across and blocked it. But everything else was pure destruction. + +Calhoun said evenly; + +"Clever! Very clever! You can't blame men when beasts stampede! We +should accept the evidence that some monstrous herd, making its way +through a mountain pass, somehow went crazy and bolted for the plains +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 _and_ cattle, in the same +place,--that's a little too much at one time!" + +"How," asked Calhoun directly, "do you intend to get in touch with your +friends here?" + +"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?" + +"If they're sane, they won't," said Calhoun. "The one undesirable thing, +here, would be human footprints on top of cattle-tracks. If your friends +are a meat-getting party from Dara, as I believe, they should cover up +their tracks, get off-planet as fast as possible, and pray that no signs +of their former presence are ever discovered. That would be their best +first move, certainly!" + +"What should I do?" she asked helplessly. + +"I'm far from sure. At a guess, and for the moment, probably nothing. +I'll work something out ... I've got the devil of a job before me, +though. I can't spend too much time here." + +"You can--leave me here...." + +He grunted and turned away. It was naturally unthinkable that he should +leave another human being on a supposedly uninhabited planet, with the +knowledge that it might actually be uninhabited, and the further +knowledge that any visitors would have the strongest of possible reasons +to hide themselves away. + +He believed that there were Darians here, and the girl in the Med +ship--so he also believed--was 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. + +Considered detachedly, the odds were that there was again a +food-shortage on Dara. That blueskins, in desperation, had raided or +were raiding or would raid the cattle-herds of Orede for food to carry +back to their home planet. That somehow the miners on Orede had found +that they had blueskin neighbors, and died of the consequences of their +terror. It was a risky guess to make on such evidence as Calhoun +considered he had, but no other guess was possible. + +If his guess 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. + +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. + + * * * * * + +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. + +He worked for a long time. Then he shrugged and gave it up. He'd +repeated to absolute tedium the facts that any Darians--blueskins--on +Orede ought to know. There'd been no answer. And it was all too likely +that if he'd been received, that those who heard him took his message +for a trick to discover if there were any hearers. + +He clicked off at last and stood up, shaking his head. Suddenly the Med +Ship seemed empty. Then he saw Murgatroyd staring 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; + +"How long ago, Murgatroyd?" + +"_Chee!_" said Murgatroyd indignantly. + +It wasn't an answer, but it showed that Murgatroyd was vexed that he'd +been left behind. He and the girl were close friends, now. If she'd left +Murgatroyd in the ship when he wanted to go with her, she wasn't coming +back. + +Calhoun swore. Then he made certain. She was not in the ship. He flipped +the outside-speaker switch and said curtly into the microphone; + +"Coffee! Murgatroyd and I are having coffee. Will you come back, +please?" + +He repeated the call, and repeated it again. Multiplied as his voice was +by the speakers, she should hear him within a mile. She did not appear. +He went to a small and inconspicuous closet and armed himself. A Med +Ship man was not ever expected to fight, but there were blast-rifles +available for extreme emergency. + +When he'd slung a power-pack over his shoulder and reached the airlock, +there was still no sign of his late stowaway. He stood in the airlock +door for long minutes, staring angrily about. Almost certainly she +wouldn't be looking in the mountains for men of Dara come here for +cattle. He used a pair of binoculars, first at low-magnification to +search as wide an area down-valley as possible, and then at highest +power to search the most likely routes. + +He found a small, bobbing speck beyond a far-away hillcrest. It was her +head. It went down below the hilltop. + +He snapped a command to Murgatroyd, and when the _tormal_ was on the +ground outside, he locked the port with that combination that nobody but +a Med Ship man was at all likely to discover or use. + +"She's an idiot!" he told Murgatroyd sourly. "Come along! We've got to +be idiots too!" + +He set out in pursuit. + +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 plain stretched away to the horizon. +There were at least two large masses and many smaller clumps of what +could only be animals gathered together. Cattle. + +But here the girl was plainly in view. Calhoun increased his stride. He +began to gain on her. She did not look behind. + +Murgatroyd said "_Chee!_" in a complaining tone. + +"I should have left you behind," agreed Calhoun dourly, "but there was +and is a chance I won't get back. You'll have to keep on hiking." + +He plodded on. His memory of the terrain around the mining settlement +told him that there was no definite destination in the girl's mind. But +she was in no such despair as to want deliberately to be lost. She'd +guessed, Calhoun believed, that if there were Darians on the planet, +they'd keep the landing-grid under observation. If they saw her leave +that area and could see that she was alone, they should intercept her to +find out the meaning of the Med Ship's landing. Then she could identify +herself as one of them and give them the terribly necessary warning of +Weald's suspicions. + +"But," said Calhoun sourly, "if she's right, they'll have seen me +marching after her now, which spoils her scheme. And I'd like to help +it, but the way she's going is too dangerous!" + + * * * * * + +He went down into one of the hollows of the uneven plain. He saw a clump +of a dozen or so cattle a little distance away. The bull looked up and +snorted. The cows regarded him truculently. Their air was not one of +bovine tranquility. + +He was up the farther hillside and out of sight before the bull worked +himself up to a charge. Then Calhoun suddenly remembered one of the +items in the data about cattle he'd looked into just the other day. He +felt himself grow pale. + +"Murgatroyd!" he said sharply. "We've got to catch up! Fast! Stay with +me if you can, but ..." He was jog-trotting as he spoke--"even if you +get lost I have to hurry!" + +He ran fifty paces and walked fifty paces. He ran fifty and walked +fifty. He saw her, atop a rolling of the ground. She came to a full +stop. He ran. He saw her turn to retrace her steps. He flung to the +safety of the blast-rifle and let off a roaring blast at the ground for +her to hear. + +Suddenly she was fleeing desperately, toward him. He plunged on. She +vanished down into a hollow. Horns appeared over the hillcrest she'd +just left. Cattle appeared. Four--a dozen--fifteen--twenty. They moved +ominously in her wake. He saw her again, running frantically over +another upward swell of the prairie. He let off another blast to guide +her. He ran on at top speed with Murgatroyd trailing anxiously behind. +From time to time Murgatroyd called "_Chee-chee-chee!_" in frightened +pleading not to be abandoned. + +More cattle appeared against the horizon. Fifty or a hundred. They came +after the first clump. The first-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. + + * * * * * + +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. + +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. + +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. + +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. + +It lasted for minutes. Then the 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. + +Calhoun thoughtfully touched the barrel of his blast-rifle and winced at +its scorching heat. + + * * * * * + +"I just realized," he said coldly, "that I don't know your name. What is +it?" + +"M-maril," said the girl. She swallowed. "Th-thank you--." + +"Maril," said Calhoun, "you are an idiot! It was half-witted at best to +go off by yourself! You could have been lost! You could have cost me +days of hunting for you, days badly needed for more important matters!" +He stopped and took breath. "You may have spoiled what little chance +I've got to do something about the plans Weald's already making!" + +He said more bitterly still; + +"And I had to leave Murgatroyd behind to get to you in time! He was +right in the path of that charge!" + +He turned away from her and said dourly; + +"All right! Come on back to the ship. We'll go to Dara. We'd have to, +anyhow. But Murgatroyd--" + +Then he heard a very small sneeze. Out of a rolling wall of +still-roiling dust, Murgatroyd appeared forlornly. He was dust-covered, +and draggled, and his tail 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, "_Chee!_" in a disconsolate voice. Then +he sat down and waited for Calhoun to pick him up. + +When Calhoun did so, Murgatroyd clung to him pathetically and said, +"_Chee-chee!_" and again "_Chee-chee!_" with the intonation of one +telling of incredible horrors and disasters endured. + +Calhoun headed back for the valley, the settlement and the Med Ship. +Murgatroyd clung to his neck. The girl Maril followed visibly shaken. + +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. Those with calves darkly suspected +Calhoun of designs upon their offspring. + +It was a relief to enter the valley again. But it was two miles more to +the landing-grid with the Med Ship beside it and the reek of carrion in +the air. + +They were perhaps two hundred feet from the ship when a blast-rifle +crashed and its bolt whined past Calhoun so close that he felt the +monstrous heat. There had been no challenge. There was no warning. There +was simply a shot which came horribly close to ending Calhoun's career +in a completely arbitrary fashion. + + + + +CHAPTER 4 + + +Five minutes later Calhoun had located one would-be killer behind a mass +of splintered planking that once had been a wall. He set the wood afire +by a blaster-bolt and then viciously sent other bolts all around the man +it had sheltered when he fled from the flames. He could have killed him +ten times over, but it was more desirable to open communication. So he +missed, intentionally. + +Maril had cried out that she came from Dara and had word for them, but +they did not answer. There were three men with heavy-duty blast-rifles. +One was the one Calhoun had burned out of his hiding-place. That man's +rifle exploded when the flames hit it. Two remained. One--so Calhoun +presently discovered--was working his way behind underbrush to a shelf +from which he could shoot down at Calhoun. Calhoun had dropped into a +hollow and pulled Maril to cover at the first shot. The second man +happily planned to get to a point where he could shoot him like a fish +in a barrel. The third man had fired half a dozen times and then +disappeared. Calhoun estimated that he intended to get around to the +rear, in hope there was no protection from that direction for Calhoun. +It would take some time for him to manage it. + +So Calhoun industriously concentrated his fire on the man trying to get +above him. He was behind a boulder, not too dissimilar to Calhoun's +breastwork. Calhoun set fire to the brush at the point at which the +other man aimed. That, then, made his effort useless. Then Calhoun sent +a dozen bolts at the other man's rocky shield. It heated up. Steam rose +in a whitish mass and blew directly away from Calhoun. He saw that +antagonist flee. He saw him so clearly that he was positive that there +was a patch of blue pigment on the right-hand side of the back of his +neck. + +He grunted and swung to find the third. That man moved through thick +undergrowth, and Calhoun set it on fire in a neat pattern of spreading +flames. Evidently, these men had had no training in battle-tactics with +blast-rifles. The third man also had to get away. He did. But something +from him arched through the smoke. It fell to the ground directly upwind +from Calhoun. White smoke puffed up violently. + +It was instinct that made Calhoun react as he did. He jerked the girl +Maril to her feet and rushed her toward the Med Ship. Smoke from the +flung bomb upwind barely swirled around him and missed Maril altogether. +Calhoun, though, got a whiff of something strange, not scorched or +burning vegetation at all. He ceased to breathe and plunged onward. In +clear air he emptied his lungs and refilled them. They were then halfway +to the ship, with Murgatroyd prancing on ahead. + +But then Calhoun's heart began to pound furiously. His muscles twitched +and 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. + +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. + +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. + +"They--they don't realize," said Maril desperately. "If they only +knew--." + +"Talk to them, if you like," said Calhoun. His teeth chattered and he +raged, because the symptom was of terror he denied. + +He pushed a button on the control-board. He pointed to a microphone. He +got at an oxygen-bottle and inhaled deeply. Oxygen, obviously, should be +an antidote for panic, since the symptoms of terror act to increase the +oxygenation of the 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. + + * * * * * + +He turned to Maril. She hadn't spoken into the mike yet. + +"They--may not be from Dara!" she said shakily. "I just thought! They +could be somebody else--maybe criminals who planned to raid the mine for +a shipload of its ore ..." + +"Nonsense!" said Calhoun. "I saw one of them clearly enough to be sure. +But they're skeptical characters. I'm afraid there may be more on the +way here wherever they keep themselves. Anyhow, now we know some of them +are in hearing! I'll take advantage of that and we'll go on." + +He took the microphone. Instants later his voice boomed in the stillness +outside the ship, cutting through the thin shrill of invisible small +creatures. + +"This is the Med Ship Aesclipus Twenty," said Calhoun's voice, amplified +to a shout. "I left Weald four days ago, one day after the cargo-ship +from here arrived with everybody on board dead. On Weald they don't know +how it happened, but they suspect blueskins. Sooner or later they'll +search here. Get away! Cover up your tracks! Hide all signs that you've +ever been here! Get the hell away, fast! One more warning! There's talk +of fusion-bombing Dara. They're scared! If they find your +traces, they'll be more scared still! So cover up your tracks +and--get--away--from--here!" + +The many-times-multiplied voice rolled and echoed among the hills. But +it was very clear. Where it could be heard it could be understood, and +it could be heard for miles. + +But there was no response to it. Calhoun waited a reasonable time. Then +he shrugged and seated himself at the control-board. + +"It isn't easy," he observed, "to persuade desperate men that they've +out-smarted themselves! Hold hard, Murgatroyd!" + +[Illustration] + +The rockets bellowed. Then there was a tremendous noise to end all +noises, and the ship began to climb. It sped up and up and up. By the +time it was out of atmosphere it had velocity enough to coast to clear +space and Calhoun cut the rockets altogether. He busied himself with +those astrogational chores which began with orienting oneself to +galactic directions after leaving a planet which rotates at its own +individual speed. Then one computes the overdrive course to another +planet, from the respective coordinates of the world one is leaving and +the one one aims for. Then,--in this case at any rate--there was the +very finicky task of picking out a fourth-magnitude star of whose +planets one was his destination. He aimed for it with ultra-fine +precision. + +"Overdrive coming," he said presently. "Hold on!" + +Space reeled. There was nausea and giddiness and a horrible sensation of +falling in a wildly unlikely spiral. Then stillness, and solidity, and +the blackness of the Pit outside the Med Ship. The little craft was in +overdrive again. + +After a long while, the girl Maril said uneasily. + +"I don't know what you plan now--." + +"I'm going to Dara," said Calhoun. "On Orede I tried to get the +blueskins there to get going, fast. Maybe I succeeded. I don't know. But +this thing's been mishandled! Even if there's a famine, people shouldn't +do things out of desperation!" + +"I know now that I was--very foolish--." + +"Forget it," commanded Calhoun. "I wasn't talking about you. Here I run +into a situation that the Med Service should have caught and cleaned up +generations ago! But it's not only a Med Service obligation, it's a +current mess! Before I could begin to get at the basic problem, those +idiots on Orede--. It'd happened before I reached Weald! An emotional +explosion triggered by a ship full of dead men that nobody intended to +kill." + +Maril shook her head. + + * * * * * + +"Those Darian characters," said Calhoun 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!" + +She waited for him to explain. + +"I know I'm guessing, but it fits!" he said distastefully. "So something +had to be done. Either the mining settlement had to be wiped out or the +story that blueskins were on Orede had to be discredited. The blueskins +tried for both. They used panic-gas on a herd of cattle and it made them +crazy and they charged the settlement like the four-footed lunatics they +are! And the blueskins used panic-gas on the settlement itself as the +cattle went through. It should have settled the whole business nicely. +After it was over every man in the settlement would believe he'd been +out of his head for a while, and he'd have the crazy state of the +settlement to think about, 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!" + +Again she waited. So Calhoun said very wrily indeed; + +"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!" + +Silence. After a long interval, Maril asked; + +"You don't think the--Darians intended to kill?" + +"I think they were stupid!" said Calhoun angrily. "Somebody's always +urging the police to use panic-gas in case of public tumult. But it's +too dangerous. Nobody knows what one man will do in a panic. Take a +hundred or two or three and panic them all, and there's no limit to +their craziness! The whole thing was handled wrong!" + +"But you don't blame them?" + +"For being stupid, yes," said Calhoun fretfully. "But if I'd been in +their place, perhaps ..." + +"Where were you born?" asked Maril suddenly. + +Calhoun jerked his head around. He said; + +"No! Not where you're guessing--or hoping. Not on Dara. Just because I +act as if Darians were human doesn't mean I have to be one! I'm a Med +Service man, and I'm acting as I think I should." His tone became +exasperated. "Dammit, I'm supposed to deal with health situations, +actual and possible causes of human deaths! And if Weald thinks it finds +proof that blueskins are in space again and caused the death of +Wealdians it won't be healthy! They're halfway set anyhow to drop +fusion-bombs on Dara to wipe it out!" + +Maril said fiercely; + +"They might as well drop bombs. It'll be quicker than starvation, at +least!" + +Calhoun looked at her more exasperatedly than before. + +"It is a crop failure again?" he demanded. When she nodded he said +bitterly; "Famine conditions already?" When she nodded again he said +drearily; "And of course famine is the great-grandfather of health +problems! And that's right in my lap with all the rest!" + +He stood up. Then he sat down again. + +"I'm tired!" he said flatly. "I'd like to get some sleep." + +Maril understood. She picked up a book and went into the other cabin. + + * * * * * + +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. + +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. + +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. + +So Calhoun pondered ... + + * * * * * + +A long time later Calhoun heard small sounds which were not normal on a +Med Ship in overdrive. They were not part of the random noises carefully +generated to keep the silence of the ship endurable. Calhoun raised his +head. He listened sharply. No sound could come from outside. + +He knocked on the door of the sleeping-cabin. The noises stopped +instantly. + +"Come out," he commanded through the door. + +"I'm--I'm all right," said Maril's voice. But it was not quite steady. +She paused. "I was just having a bad dream." + +"I wish," said Calhoun, "that you'd tell me the truth occasionally! Come +out, please!" + +There were stirrings. After a little the door opened and Maril appeared. +She looked as if she'd been crying. She said quickly; + +"I probably look queer, but it's because I was asleep." + +"To the contrary," said Calhoun, fuming, "you've been lying awake +crying. I don't know why. I've been out here wishing I could 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?" + +She swallowed. + +"I'll try." + +"Coffee?" he asked. + +Murgatroyd popped his head out of his miniature sleeping-cabin. + +"_Chee?_" he asked interestedly. + +"Go back to sleep!" snapped Calhoun. + +He began to pace back and forth. + +"I need to know something about the pigment patches," he said jerkily. +"Maybe it sounds crazy to think of such things now. First things first, +you know. But 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." + +"I haven't any at all," said the girl reservedly. + +"I thought--" + +"Not everybody," she said defensively. "Nearly, yes. But not all. Some +people don't have them. Some people are born with bluish splotches on +their skin, but they fade out while they're children. When they grow up +they're just like--the people of Weald or any other world. And their +children never have them." + +Calhoun stared. + +"You couldn't possibly be proved to be a Darian, then?" + +She shook her head. Calhoun remembered, and started the coffee-maker. + +"When you left Dara," he said, "You were carried a long, long way, to +some planet where they'd practically never heard of Dara, and where the +name meant nothing. You could have settled there, or anywhere else and +forgotten about Dara. But you didn't. Why not, since you're not a +blueskin?" + +"But I am!" she said fiercely. "My parents, my brothers and sisters, and +Korvan--." + +Then she bit her lip. Calhoun took note but did not comment on the name +that she had mentioned. + +"Then your parents had the splotches fade, so you never had them," he +said absorbedly. "Something like that happened on Tralee, once! There's +a virus--a whole group of virus particles! Normally we humans are immune +to them. One has to be in terrifically bad physical condition for them +to take hold and produce whatever effects they do. But once they're +established they're passed on from mother to child.... And when they die +out it's during childhood, too!" + +He poured coffee for the two of them. As usual, Murgatroyd swung down to +the floor and said impatiently; + +"_Chee! Chee! Chee!_" + +Calhoun absently filled Murgatroyd's tiny cup and handed it to him. + +"But this is marvellous!" he said exuberantly. "The blue patches +appeared after the plague, didn't they? After people recovered--when +they recovered?" + + * * * * * + +Maril stared at him. His mind was filled with strictly professional +considerations. He was not talking to her as a person. She was purely a +source of information. + +"So I'm told," said Maril reservedly. "Are there any more humiliating +questions you want to ask?" + +He gaped at her. Then he said ruefully; + +"I'm stupid, Maril, but you're touchy. There's nothing personal." + +"There is to me!" she said fiercely. "I was born among blueskins, and +they're of my blood, and they're hated and I'd have been killed on Weald +if I'd been known as--what I am! And there's Korvan, who arranged for me +to be sent away as a spy and advised me to do just what you +said,--abandon my home world and everybody I care about! Including him! +It's personal to me!" + +Calhoun wrinkled his forehead helplessly. + +"I'm sorry," he repeated, "Drink your coffee!" + +"I don't want it," she said bitterly. "I'd like to die!" + +"If you stay around where I am," Calhoun told her, "you may get your +wish. All right. There'll be no more questions, I promise." + +She turned and moved toward the door to the sleeping-cabin. Calhoun +looked after her. + +"Maril," he called out to her. + +"What?" + +"Why were you crying?" + +"You wouldn't understand," she said evenly. + +Calhoun shrugged his shoulders almost up to his ears. He was a +professional man. In his profession he was not incompetent. But there is +no profession in which a really competent man tries to understand women. +Calhoun annoyedly had to let fate or chance or disaster take care of +Maril's personal problems. He had larger matters to cope with. + +But he had something to work on, now. He hunted busily in the reference +tapes. He came up with an explicit collection of information on exactly +the subject he needed. He left the control-room to go down into the +storage areas of the Med Ship's hull. He found an ultra-frigid storage +box, whose contents were kept at the temperature of liquid air. He +donned thick gloves, used a special set of tongs, and extracted a tiny +block of plastic in which a sealed-tight phial of glass was embedded. It +frosted instantly he took it out, and when the storage-box was closed +again the block was covered with a thick and opaque coating of frozen +moisture. + +He went back to the control-room and pulled down the panel which made +available a small-scale but surprisingly adequate biological laboratory. +He set the plastic block in a container which would raise it very, very +gradually to a specific temperature and hold it there. It was, +obviously, a living culture from which any imaginable quantity of the +same culture could be bred. Calhoun set the apparatus with great +exactitude. + +"This," he told Murgatroyd, "may be a good day's work. Now I think I can +rest." + +Then, for a long while, there was no sound or movement in the Med Ship. +The girl 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. + +But it was quite otherwise when another ship-day began with the taped +sounds of morning activities as faint as echoes but nevertheless +establishing an atmosphere of their own. + + * * * * * + +Calhoun examined the plastic block and its contents. He read the +instruments which had cared for it while he slept. He put the block--no +longer frosted--in the culture-microscope and saw its enclosed, +infinitesimal particles of life in the process of multiplying on the +food that had been frozen with them when they were reduced to the spore +condition. He beamed. He replaced the block in the incubation oven and +faced the day cheerfully. + +Maril greeted him with great reserve. They breakfasted. + +"I've been thinking," said Maril evenly. "I think I can get you a +hearing for--whatever ideas you may have to help Dara." + +"Kind of you," murmured Calhoun. "May I ask whose influence you'll +exert?" + +"There's a man," said Maril reservedly, "who--thinks a great deal of me. +I don't know his present official position, but he was certain to become +prominent. I'll tell him how you've acted up to now, and your attitude, +and of course that you're Med Service. He'll be glad to help you, I'm +sure." + +"Splendid!" said Calhoun, nodding. "That will be Korvan." + +She started. + +"How did you know?" + +"Intuition," said Calhoun drily. "All right. I'll count on him." + +But he did not. He worked in the tiny biological lab all that ship-day +and all the next. The girl remained quiet. + +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. + +Calhoun sat down at the control-board and watched the clock. + +"I've got things lined up," he told Maril wrily, "if only they work out. +_If_ I can make somebody on Dara listen and follow my advice and _if_ +Weald doesn't get ideas and isn't doing what I suspect it is, maybe +something can be done." + +"I'm sure you'll do your best," said Maril politely. + +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 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 ... + +As it turned out, Dara was desperate. The Med Ship came out nearly a +light-month from the sun about which the planet Dara revolved. Calhoun +went into a short hop toward it. Then Dara was on the other side of the +blazing yellow star. It took time to reach it. He called down, +identifying himself and the ship and asking for coordinates so his ship +could be brought to ground. There was confusion, as if the request were +so unusual that the answers were not ready. The grid, too, was on the +planet's night side. Presently the ship was locked onto by the grid's +force-fields. It went downward without incident. + +Calhoun saw that Maril sat tensely, twisting her fingers within each +other, until the ship actually touched ground. + +Then he opened the exit-port, and faced armed men in the darkness, with +blast-rifles trained on him. There was a portable cannon trained on the +Med Ship itself. + +"Come out!" rasped a voice. "If you try anything you get blasted! Your +ship and its contents are seized by the planetary government!" + + + + +CHAPTER 5 + + +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. + +"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!" + +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. + +"Oh, you're one of us, eh?" said the guard-leader sardonically. "You'll +have a chance to prove that! Come out of there!" + +Calhoun spoke abruptly; + +"This is a Med Ship," he said. "There are medicines and bacterial +cultures, inside it. They shouldn't be meddled with. Here on Dara you've +had enough of plagues!" + +The man with the blue hand said as sardonically as before; + +"I said the government was taking over your ship! It won't be looted. +But you're not taking a full cargo of food away! In fact, it's not +likely you're leaving!" + +"I want to speak to someone in authority," snapped Calhoun. "We've just +come from Weald." He felt bristling hatred all about him as he named +Weald. "There's tumult there. They're talking about dropping fusion +bombs here. It's important that I talk to somebody with the authority to +take a few sensible precautions!" + +He descended to the ground. There was a panicky "_Chee! Chee!_" from +behind him, and Murgatroyd came dashing to swarm up his body and cling +apprehensively to his neck. + +"What's that?" + +"A _tormal,_" said Calhoun. "He's not a pet. Your medical men will know +something about him. This is a Med Ship and I'm a Med Ship man, and he's +an important member of the crew. He's a Med Ship _tormal_ and he stays +with me!" + +The man with the blue hand said harshly; + +"There's somebody waiting to ask you questions. Here!" + +A 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. + +"This car will take you to Defense and you can tell them anything you +want. But don't try to sneak back in this ship! It'll be guarded!" + +The 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. + +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. + +Even the fact that there were no stars added to the feeling of +wretchedness and gloom and--ultimately--of hunger. + +Maril spoke nervously to the driver. + +"The famine isn't any better?" + +He moved his head in negation, but did not speak. + +"I left--two years ago," said Maril. "It was just beginning then. +Rationing hadn't started then--." + +The driver said evenly; + +"There's rationing now!" + + * * * * * + +The car went on and on. A vast open space appeared ahead. Lights about +its perimeter seemed few and pale. + +"E-everything seems--worse. Even the lights." + +"Using all the power," said the driver, "to warm up ground to grow crops +where it ought to be winter. Not doing too well, either." + +Calhoun knew, somehow, that Maril moistened her lips. + +"I--was sent," she explained to the driver, "to go ashore on Trent and +then make my way to Weald. I--mailed reports of what I found out back to +Trent. Somebody got them back to here whenever--it was possible." + +The driver said; + +"Everybody knows the man on Trent disappeared. Maybe he got caught, +maybe somebody saw him without makeup. Or maybe he just quit being one +of us. What's the difference? No use!" + +Calhoun found himself wincing a little. The driver was not angry. He was +hopeless. But men should not despair. They shouldn't accept hostility +from those about them as a device of fate for their destruction. They +shouldn't ... + +Maril said quickly to him; + +"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." + +"I gathered as much," said Calhoun. "It was up to Med Service to see +that that didn't happen. It's up to Med Service now to see that it +stops." + +"Too late now for anything," said the driver, "whatever Med Service may +be! They're talking about cutting down our population so there'll be +food enough for some to live. There are two questions about it: who's to +be kept alive and why." + +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; + +"There was someone--Korvan--" Calhoun didn't catch the rest of the name, +Maril said hesitantly; "He was working on food-plants. I--thought he +might accomplish something ..." + +The driver said caustically; + +"Sure! Everybody's heard about him! He came up with a wonderful thing! +He and his outfit worked out a way to process weeds so they can be +eaten. And they can. You can fill your belly and not feel hungry, but +it's like eating hay. You starve just the same. He's still working. Head +of a government division." + +The 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. + +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. + +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. + +"My name is Calhoun," said Calhoun briskly. "I've the usual Med Service +credentials. Now ..." + +He did not wait to be questioned. He told them of the appalling state of +things in the Twelfth Sector of the Med Service, so that men had been +borrowed from other sectors to remedy the intolerable, and he was one of +them. He told of his arrival at Weald and what had happened there, from +the excessively cautious insistence that he prove he was not a Darian, +to the arrival of the death-ship from Orede. He was giving them the news +affecting them, as they had not heard it before. + +He went on to tell of his stop at Orede and his purpose, and his +encounter with the men he found there. When he finished there was +silence. He broke it. + +"Now," he said, "Maril's an agent of yours. She can add to what I've +told you. I'm Med Service. I have a job to do here to 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." + +Someone laughed without mirth. + +"What will you recommend for long-continued undernourishment?" he asked +derisively. "That's our health problem!" + +"I recommend food," said Calhoun. + +"Where'll you fill the prescription?" + +"I've the answer to that, too," said Calhoun curtly. "I'll want to talk +to any space-pilots you've got. Get your astrogators together and I +think they'll approve my idea." + +The silence was totally skeptical. + +"Orede ..." + +"Not Orede," said Calhoun. "Weald will be hunting that planet over for +Darians. If they find any, they'll drop bombs here." + +"Our only space-pilots," said a tall man, presently, "are on Orede now. +If you've told the truth, they'll probably head back because of your +warning. They should bring meat." + +His mouth worked peculiarly, and Calhoun knew that it was at the thought +of food. + +"Which," said another man sharply, "goes to the hospitals! I haven't +tasted meat in two years!" + +"Nobody has," growled another man still. "But here's this man Calhoun. +I'm not convinced he can work magic, but we can find out if he lies. Put +a guard on his ship. Otherwise let our health men give him his head. +They'll find out if he's from this Medical Service he tells of! And this +Maril--" + +"I--can be identified," said Maril. "I was sent to gather information +and 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." + +Someone laughed harshly. + +"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!" + +Maril swallowed. + +"I'd like to see him," she repeated. "And my family." + +Some of the blue-splotched men turned away. A broad-shouldered man said +bluntly; + +"Don't look for them to be glad to see you. And you'd better not show +yourself in public. You've been well fed. You'll be hated for that." + +Maril began to cry. Murgatroyd said bewilderedly; + +"_Chee! Chee!_" + +Calhoun held him close. There was confusion. And Calhoun found the +Minister of Health at hand--he looked most harried of all the officials +gathered to question Calhoun--and proposed that he get a look at the +hospital situation right away. + + * * * * * + +It wasn't practical. With all the population on half rations or less, +when night came people needed to sleep. Most people, indeed, slept as +many hours out of the traditional twenty-four as they could manage. It +was much more pleasant to sleep than to be awake and constantly nagged +at by continued hunger. And there was the matter of simple decency. +Continuous gnawing hunger had an embittering effect upon everyone. +Quarrelsomeness was a common experience. And people who would normally +be the leaders of opinion felt shame because they were obsessed by +thoughts of food. It was best when people slept. + +Still, Calhoun was in the hospitals by daybreak. What he found moved him +to savage anger. There were too many sick children. In every case +undernourishment contributed to their sickness. And there was not enough +food to make them well. Doctors and nurses denied themselves food to +spare it for their patients. + +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. + +He was, of course, a Med Service _tormal_, and _tormals_ were creatures +of talent. They'd originally been found on a planet in the Deneb area, +and they were engaging and friendly small animals, but the remarkable +fact about them was that they couldn't contract any disease. Not any. +They had a built-in, explosive reaction to bacterial and viral toxins, +and there hadn't yet been any pathogenic organism discovered to which a +_tormal_ could not more or less immediately develop antibody-resistance. +So that in interstellar medicine _tormals_ were priceless. Let +Murgatroyd be infected with however localized, however specialized an +inimical organism, and presently some highly valuable defensive +substance could be isolated from his blood and he'd remain in his usual +exuberant good health. When the antibody was analyzed by those +techniques of microanalysis the Service had developed,--why--that was +that. The antibody could be synthesized and one could attack any +epidemic with confidence. + +The tragedy for Dara was, of course, that no Med Ship had come 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. + +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. + +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. + + * * * * * + +Meanwhile Calhoun worked doggedly; in the hospitals while the patients +were awake and in the Med Ship--under guard--afterward. He had hunger +cramps now, but he tested a plastic cube with a thriving biological +culture in it. He worked at increasing his store of it. He'd snipped +samples of pigmented skin from dead patients in the hospitals, and +examined the pigmented areas, and very, very painstakingly verified a +theory. It took an electron microscope to do it, but he found a virus in +the blue patches which matched the type discovered on Tralee. The Tralee +viruses had effects which were passed on from mother to child, and +heredity had been charged with the observed results of quasi-living +viral particles. And then Calhoun very, very carefully introduced into a +virus culture the material he had been growing in a plastic cube. He +watched what happened. + +He was satisfied, so much so that immediately afterward he barely +managed to stagger off to bed. + +That night the ship from Orede came in, packed with frozen bloody +carcasses of cattle. Calhoun knew nothing of it. But next morning Maril +came back. There were shadows under her eyes and her expression was of +someone who has lost everything that had meaning in her life. + +"I'm all right," she insisted, when Calhoun commented. "I've been +visiting my family. I've seen--Korvan. I'm quite all right." + +"You haven't eaten any better than I have," Calhoun observed. + +"I--couldn't!" admitted Maril. "My sisters--my little sisters--so +thin.... There's rationing for everybody and it's all efficiently +arranged. They even had rations for me. But I couldn't eat! I--gave most +of my food to my sisters and they--squabbled over it!" + +Calhoun said nothing. There was nothing to say. Then she said in a no +less desolate tone; + +"Korvan said I was foolish to come back." + +"He could be right," said Calhoun. + +"But I had to!" protested Maril. "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!" + +"I hope," said Calhoun, "to do something about that. If I can get hold +of an astrogator or two." + +"The--ship that was on Orede came in during the night," Maril told him +shakily. "It was loaded with frozen meat, but one 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." + +She said abruptly; + +"There are some prisoners. They were miners. They were crowded out of +the ship. The Darians who'd stampeded the cattle took them prisoners. +They had to!" + +"True," said Calhoun. "It wouldn't have been wise to leave Wealdians +around on Orede with their throats cut. Or living, either, to tell about +a rumor of blueskins. Even if their throats will be cut now. Is that the +program?" + +Maril shivered. + +"No ... They'll be put on short rations like everybody else. And people +will watch them. The Wealdians expect to die of plague any minute +because they've been with Darians. So people look at them and laugh. +But it's not funny." + +"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." + +Maril wrung her hands. + +"C--come here," she said in a low tone. + + * * * * * + +There was an armed guard in the control-room of the ship. He'd watched +Calhoun a good part of the previous day as Calhoun performed his +mysterious work. He'd been off-duty and now was on duty again. He was +bored. So long as Calhoun did not touch the control-board, though, he +was uninterested. He didn't even turn his head when Maril led the way +into the other cabin and slid the door shut. + +"The astrogators are coming," she said swiftly. "They'll bring some +boxes with them. They'll ask you to instruct them so they can handle our +ship better. They lost themselves coming back from Orede, no, they +didn't lose themselves, but they lost time--enough time almost to make +an extra trip for meat. They need to be experts. I'm to come along, so +they can be sure that what you teach them is what you've been doing +right along." + +Calhoun said; + +"Well?" + +"They're crazy!" said Maril vehemently. "They knew Weald would do +something monstrous sooner or later. But they're going to try to stop it +by 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!" + +Calhoun said drily; + +"This pays me off for being too sympathetic with blueskins! But if I'd +been hungry for a couple of years, and was despised to boot by the +people who kept me hungry, I suppose I might react the same way. No," he +said curtly as she opened her lips to speak again. "Don't tell me the +trick. Considering everything, there's only one trick it could be. But I +doubt profoundly that it would work. All right." + +He slid the door back and returned to the control-room. Maril followed +him. He said detachedly; + +"I've been working on a problem outside of the food one. It isn't the +time to talk about it right now, but I think I've solved it." + +Maril turned her head, listening. There were footsteps on the tarmac +outside the ship. Both doors of the airlock were open. Four men came in. +They were young men who did not look quite as hungry as most Darians, +but there was a reason for that. Their leader introduced himself and the +others. They were the astrogators of the ship Dara had built to try to +bring food from Orede. They were not good enough, said their +self-appointed leader. They overshot their destination. They came out of +overdrive too far off line. They needed instructions. + +Calhoun nodded, and observed that he'd been asking for them. + +"We've got orders," said their leader, steadily, "to come on board and +learn from you how to handle this ship. It's better than the one we've +got." + +"I asked for you," repeated Calhoun. "I've an idea I'll explain as we go +along. Those boxes?" + +Someone was passing in iron boxes through the airlock. One of the four +very carefully brought them inside. + +"They're rations," said a second young man. "We don't go anywhere +without rations--except Orede." + +"Orede, yes. I think we were shooting at each other there," said Calhoun +pleasantly. "Weren't we?" + +"Yes," said the young man. + +He was neither cordial nor antagonistic. He was impassive. Calhoun +shrugged. + +"Then we can take off immediately. Here's the communicator and there's +the button. You might call the grid and arrange for us to be lifted." + +The young man seated himself at the control-board. Very professionally, +he went through the routine of preparing to lift by landing-grid, which +routine has not changed in two hundred years. He went briskly ahead +until the order to lift. Then Calhoun stopped him. + +"Hold it!" + +He pointed to the airlock. Both doors were open. The young man at the +control-board flushed vividly. One of the others closed and dogged the +doors. + + * * * * * + +The ship lifted. Calhoun watched with seeming negligence. But he found +occasion for a dozen corrections of procedure. This was presumably a +training voyage of his own suggestion. Therefore when the blueskin pilot +would have flung the Med Ship into undirected overdrive, Calhoun grew +stern. He insisted on a destination. He suggested Weald. The young men +glanced at each other and accepted the suggestion. He made the acting +pilot look up the intrinsic 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. + +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. + +Calhoun did not try to make things easy for them. He was hungry and +easily annoyed. It was sound training tactics to be severe, and to +phrase all suggestions as commands. He put the four young men in command +of the ship in turn, under his direction. He continued to use Weald as a +destination, but he set up problems in which the Med Ship came out of +overdrive pointing in an unknown direction and with a precessory motion. +He made the third of his students identify Weald in the celestial globe +containing hundreds of millions of stars, and get on course in overdrive +toward it. The fourth was suddenly required to compute the distance to +Weald from such data as he could get from observation, without reference +to any records. + +By this time the first man was chafing to take a second turn. Calhoun +gave each of them a second gruelling lesson. He gave them, in fact, a +highly condensed but very sound course in the art of travel in space. +His young students took command in four-hour watches, with at least one +breakout from overdrive in each watch. He built up enthusiasm in them. +They ignored the discomfort of being hungry, though there had been no +reason for them to stint on food in Orede--in growing pride in what they +came to know. + +When Weald was a first-magnitude star, the four were not highly +qualified astrogators, to be sure, but they were vastly better spacemen +than at the beginning. Inevitably, their attitude toward Calhoun was +respectful. He'd been irritable and right. To the young, the combination +is impressive. + +Maril had served as passenger only. In theory she was to compare +Calhoun's lessons with his practise when alone. But he did nothing on +this journey which--teaching considered--was different from the two +interstellar journeys Maril had made with him. She occupied the +sleeping-cabin during two of the six watches of each ship-day. She +operated the food-readier, which was almost completely emptied of its +original store of food;--confiscated by the government of Dara. That +amount of food would make no difference to the planet, but it was wise +for everyone on Dara to be equally ill-fed. + +On the sixth day out from Dara, the sun of Weald had a magnitude of +minus five-tenths.[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. + + [A] Earth's sun, from Earth, is of magnitude roughly minus thirty-six. + +"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." + + * * * * * + +"And now," said Calhoun, "I suppose you'll tell me the truth about those +boxes you brought on board. You said they were rations, but they haven't +been opened in six days. I have an idea what they mean, but you tell +me." + +The four looked uncomfortable. There was a long pause. + +"They could be," said Calhoun detachedly, "cultures to be dumped on +Weald. Weald is making plans to wipe out Dara. So some fool has decided +to get Weald too busy fighting a plague of its own to bother with you. +Is that right?" + +The young men stirred uneasily. "Well--l--l, sir," said one of them, +unhappily, "that's what we were ordered to do." + +"I object," said Calhoun. "It wouldn't work. I just left Weald a little +while back, remember. They've been telling themselves that some day Dara +would try that. They've made preparations to fight any imaginable +contagion you could drop on them. Every so often somebody claims it's +happening. It wouldn't work." + +"But--" + +"In fact," said Calhoun, "I will not permit you to do anything of the +kind." + +One of the young men, staring at Calhoun, nodded suddenly. His eyes +closed. He jerked his head erect and looked bewildered. A second sank +heavily into a chair. He said remotely, "Thish sfunny!" and abruptly +went to sleep. The third found his knees giving 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 with difficulty, +yet reproachfully; + +"'Thought y'were our frien'!" + +He collapsed. + +Calhoun very soberly tied them hand and foot and laid them out +comfortably on the floor. Maril watched, white-faced, her hand to her +throat. "What have you done to them? Are they dead?" + +"No," said Calhoun, "just drugged. They'll wake up presently." + +Maril said in a tense and desperate whisper; + +"You're--betraying us! You're going to take us to Weald." + +"No," said Calhoun. "We'll only orbit around it. First, though, I want +to get rid of those damned packed-up cultures. They're dead, by the way. +I killed them with supersonics a couple of days ago, while a fine +argument was going on about distance-measurements by variable Cepheids +of known period." + +He put the four boxes carefully in the 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. + +"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!" + +The universe vanished. The customary unpleasant sensations accompanied +the change. Murgatroyd burped. + + + + +CHAPTER 6 + + +A large part of the firmament was blotted out by the blindingly bright +half-disk of Weald, as it shone in the sunshine. It had 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. + +There was relative silence inside the ship. Maril watched Calhoun in a +sort of despairing indecision. The four young blueskins still slept, +still bound hand and foot upon the control-room floor. Murgatroyd +regarded them, and Maril, and Calhoun in turn, and his small and furry +forehead wrinkled helplessly. + +"They can't have landed what I'm looking for!" protested Calhoun as his +search had no result. "They can't. It would be too sensible for them to +have done it!" + +Murgatroyd said "_Chee!_" in a subdued voice. + +"But where the devil did they put them?" demanded Calhoun. "A polar +orbit would be ridiculous! They--" Then he grunted in disgust. "Oh! Of +course! Now, where's the landing-grid?" + +He worked busily for minutes, checking the position of the Wealdian +landing-grid--mapped in the Sector Directory--against the look of +continents and seas on the half-disk so plainly visible outside. He +found what he wanted. He put on the ship's solar-system drive. + +"I wish," he complained to Maril, "I wish I could think straight the +first time! And it's so obvious! If you want to put something out in +space, and not have it interfere with traffic, in what sort of orbit and +at what distance will you put it?" + +Maril did not answer. + +"Obviously," said Calhoun, "you'll put it as far as possible from the +landing-pattern of ships coming in to the 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." + +He scribbled for a moment. + +"Which means forty-two thousand miles high, give or take a few hundred, +and--here! And I was hunting for it in a close-in orbit!" + +He grumbled to himself. He waited while the solar-system drive pushed +the Med Ship a quarter of the way around the bright planet below. The +sunset line vanished and the planet's disk became a complete circle. +Then Calhoun listened to the monitor earphones again, and grunted once +more, and changed course, and presently made a noise indicating +satisfaction. + +Again presently he abandoned instrument-control and peered directly out +of a port, handling the solar-system drive with great care. Murgatroyd +said depressedly; + +"_Chee!_" + +"Stop worrying," commanded Calhoun. "We haven't been challenged, and +there is a beacon transmitter at work, just to make sure that nobody +bumps into what we're looking for. It's a great help, because we do want +to bump,--gently." + +Stars swung across the port out of which he looked. Something dark +appeared,--and then straight lines and exact curvings. Even Maril, +despairing and bewildered as she was, caught sight of something vastly +larger than the Med Ship, floating in space. She stared. The Med Ship +maneuvered very cautiously. She saw another large object. A third. A +fourth. There seemed to be dozens of them. + +They were 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. + +Calhoun jockeyed his small ship with infinite care. Presently there came +the gentlest of impacts and then a clanking sound. The appearance out +the vision-port became stationary, but still unbelievable. The Med Ship +was grappled magnetically to a vast surface of welded metal. + +Calhoun relaxed. He opened a wall-panel and brought out a vacuum suit. +He began briskly to get it on. + +"Things 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!" + +Maril said drearily; + +"I don't know what you've done, except--" + +Calhoun blinked at her, in the act of hauling the vacuum suit over his +shoulders. + +"Isn't it self-evident?" he demanded. "I've been giving astrogation +lessons to these characters. I certainly didn't do it to help them dump +germ-cultures on Weald! I brought them here! Don't you see the point? +These are space-ships. They're in orbit around Weald. They're not manned +and they're not controlled. In fact, they're nothing but sky-riding +storage bins!" + +He seemed to consider the explanation complete. He wriggled his arms +into the sleeves and gloves of the suit. He slung the air-tanks over his +shoulder and hooked them to the suit. + +"I'll be back," he said. "I hope with good news. I've reason to be +hopeful, though, because these Wealdians are very practical men. They +have things all prepared and tidy. I suspect I'll find these ships with +stores of air and fuel--maybe even food--so that if Weald should manage +to make a deal for the stuff stored out here in them, they'd only have +to bring out crews." + + * * * * * + +He lifted the space-helmet down from its rack and put it on. He tested +it, reading the tank air-pressure, power-storage, and other data from +the lighted miniature instruments visible through pinholes above his +eye-level. He fastened a space-rope about himself, speaking through the +helmet's opened face-plate. + +"If our friends should wake up before I get back," he added, "please +restrain them. I'd hate to be marooned." + +He went waddling into the airlock with the coil of space-rope over one +vacuum-suited arm. The inner lock door closed behind him A little later +Maril heard the outer lock open. Then soundlessness. + +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. + +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. + +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. + +Murgatroyd looked at her hopefully. + +"_Chee?_" he asked shrilly. + +She shook her head. It became a habit to act as if Murgatroyd were a +human being. + +"N-no," she said unsteadily. "Not yet." + +More time passed. An unbearably long time. Then there was the faintest +of clankings. It repeated. Then, abruptly, there were noises in the +airlock. They continued. They were fumbling noises. + +The outer airlock door closed. The inner door opened. Dense white fog +came out of it. There was motion. Calhoun followed the fog out of the +lock. He carried objects which had been weightless, but were suddenly +heavy in the ship's gravity-field. There were two space-suits and a +curious assortment of parcels. He spread them out, flipped aside the +face-plate, and said briskly; + +"This stuff is cold! Turn a heater on it, will you Maril?" + +He began to work his way out of his vacuum-suit. + +"Item," he said. "The ships are fuelled _and_ provisioned. A practical +tribe, the Wealdians! The ships are ready to take off as soon as they're +warmed up inside. A half-degree sun doesn't radiate heat enough to keep +a ship warm, when the rest of the cosmos is effectively near zero +Kelvin. Here, point the heaters like this." + +He adjusted the radiant-heat dispensers. The fog disappeared where their +beams played. But the metal 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 +reevaporated to make fog, which warmed up and disappeared and was +immediately replaced. + +"Item," said Calhoun again, getting his arms out of the vacuum-suit +sleeves. "The controls are pretty nearly standard. Our sleeping friends +will be able to astrogate them back to Dara without trouble, provided +only that nobody comes out here to bother us before they leave." + +He shed the last of the space-suit, stepping out of its legs. + +"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." + +Maril said; + +"But--there isn't any hope for Dara! No real hope!" + +He gaped at her. + +"What do you think we're here for?" + + * * * * * + +He set to work to restore his four recent students to consciousness. It +was not a difficult task. The dosage, mixed in the coffee 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. + +"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 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?" + +He got four. Not immediately, because they were ashamed that he'd made +it impossible to carry out their original fanatic plan, and now offered +something much better to make up for it. They raged. But half a million +bushels of grain meant that people who must otherwise die might live. + +Ultimately, truculently, first one and then another angrily agreed. + +"Good!" said Calhoun. "Now, how many of you dare risk the trip alone? +I've got one grain-ship warming up. There are plenty of others around +us. Every one of you can take a ship and half a million bushels to Dara, +if you have the nerve?" + +The atmosphere changed. Suddenly they clamored for the task he offered +them. They were still acutely uncomfortable. He'd bossed them and taught +them until they felt capable and glamorous and proud. Then he'd pinned +their ears back. But if they returned to Dara with four enemy ships and +unimaginable quantities of food with which to break the famine.... + +There was work to be done first, of course. Only one ship was so far +warming up. Three more had to be entered, in 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. + +Still, presently his four students shook hands with him, with the fine +tolerance of young men intending much greater achievements than their +teacher. They wouldn't speak on communicator again, because their +messages might be picked up on Weald. + +Of course for this action to be successful, it had to be performed with +the stealth of sneak-thieves. + + * * * * * + +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 ... + +One ship vanished. It had gone into overdrive, heading for Dara at many +times the speed of light. Another. Two more. + +That was all. The remainder of the fleet hung clumsily in emptiness. And +Calhoun worriedly went over in his mind the lessons he'd given in such a +pathetically small number of days. If the four ships reached Dara, their +pilots would be heroes. Calhoun had presented them with that estate over +their bitter objection. But they would glory in it, if they reached +Dara. + +Maril looked at him with very strange eyes. + +"Now what?" she asked. + +"We hang around," said Calhoun, "to see if anybody comes up from Weald +to find out what's happened. It's always possible to pick up a sort of +signal when a ship goes into overdrive. Usually it doesn't mean a thing. +Nobody pays any attention. But if somebody comes out here--" + +"What?" + +"It'll be regrettable," said Calhoun. He was suddenly very tired. "It'll +spoil any chance of our coming back and stealing some more food--like +interstellar mice. If they find out what we've done they'll expect us to +try it again. They might get set to fight. Or they might simply land the +rest of these ships." + +"If I'd realized what you were about," said Maril, "I'd have joined in +the lessons. I could have piloted a ship." + +"You wouldn't have wanted to," said Calhoun. He yawned. "You wouldn't +want to be a heroine." + +"Why?" + +"Korvan," said Calhoun. He yawned again. "I've asked about him. He's +been trying very desperately to deserve well of his fellow blueskins. +All he's accomplished is develop a way to starve painlessly. He wouldn't +feel comfortable with a girl who'd helped make starving unnecessary. +He'd admire you politely, but he'd never marry you. And you know it." + +She shook her head, but it was not easy to tell whether she denied the +reaction of Korvan--whom Calhoun had never met--or denied that he was +more important to her than anything else. The last was what Calhoun +plainly implied. + +"You don't seem to be trying to be a hero!" she protested. + +"I'd enjoy it," admitted Calhoun, "but I have a job to do. It's got to +be done. It's much more important than being admired." + +"You could take another ship back," she told him. "It would be worth +more to Dara than the Med Ship is! And then everybody would realize that +you'd planned everything." + +"Ah!" said Calhoun. "But you've no idea how much this ship matters to +Dara!" + +He seated himself at the controls. He slipped headphones over his ears. +He listened. Very, very carefully, he monitored all the wave-lengths and +wave-forms he could discover in use on Weald. There was no mention of +the oddity of behavior of shiploads of surplus grain aloft. There was no +mention of the ships at all. 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. + +After a full hour of it, Calhoun flipped off his receptor and swung the +Med Ship to an exact, painstakingly precise aim at the sun around which +Dara rolled. He said; + +"Overdrive coming, Murgatroyd!" + +Murgatroyd grabbed. The stars went out and the universe reeled and the +Med Ship became a sort of cosmos all its own. + +Calhoun yawned again. + +"Now there's nothing to be done for a day or two," he said wearily, "and +I'm beginning to understand why people sleep all they can, on Dara. It's +one way not to feel hungry." + +Maril said tensely; + +"You're going back? After they took the ship from you?" + +"The job's not finished," he explained. "Not even the famine's ended, +and the famine's a second-order effect. If there were no such thing as a +blueskin, there'd be no famine. Food could be traded for. We've got to +do something to make sure there are no more famines." + +She looked at him oddly. + +"It would be desirable," she said with irony. "But you can't do it." + +"Not today, no," he admitted. Then he said longingly, "I'm about to +catch up on some sleep." + +Maril rose and went into the other cabin. He settled down into the chair +and fell instantly asleep. + + * * * * * + +For very many ship-hours, then, there was no action or activity or +happening of any imaginable consequence in the Med Ship. Very, very far +away, light-years distant and light years apart, four shiploads of grain +hurtled toward the famine-stricken planet of blueskins. Each great ship +had a single semi-skilled blueskin for pilot and crew. Thousands of +millions of suns blazed with violence appropriate to their stellar types +in a galaxy of which a very small proportion had been explored and +colonized by humanity. The human race was now to be counted in +quadrillions on scores of hundreds of inhabited worlds, but the tiny Med +Ship seemed the least significant of all possible created things. It +could travel between star-systems and even star-clusters, but it was not +yet capable of crossing the continent of suns on which the human race +arose. And between any two solar systems the journeying of the Med Ship +consumed much time. Which would be maddening for someone with no work to +do or no resources in himself, or herself. + +On the second ship-day Calhoun labored painstakingly and somewhat +distastefully at the little biological laboratory. Maril watched him in +a sort of brooding silence. Murgatroyd slept much of the time, with his +furry tail wrapped meticulously across his nose. + +Toward the end of the day Calhoun finished his task. He had a matter of +six or seven cubic centimeters of clear liquid as the conclusion of a +long process of culturing, and examination by microscope, and again +culturing plus final filtration. He looked at a clock and calculated +time. + +"Better wait until tomorrow," he observed, and put the bit of clear +liquid in a temperature-controlled place of safe-keeping. + +"What is it?" asked Maril. "What's it for?" + +"It's part of a job I have on hand," said Calhoun. He considered. "How +about some music?" + +She looked astonished. But he set up an instrument and fed microtape +into it and settled back to listen. Then there was music such as she had +never heard before. 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. + +When he tapered off the stirring symphonies of Kun Gee with +tranquilizing, soothing melodies from the Rim School of composers, Maril +regarded him with a very peculiar gaze indeed. + +"I think I understand now," she said slowly, "why you don't act like +other people. Toward me, for example. The way you live gives you what +other people have to 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." + +He thought it over. + +"Med Ship routine is designed to keep one healthy in his mind," he +admitted. "It works pretty well. It satisfies all my mental appetites. +But naturally there are instincts--" + +[Illustration] + +She waited. He did not finish. + +"What do you do about instincts that work and music and such things +can't satisfy?" + +Calhoun grinned wrily; + +"I'm stern with them. I have to be." + +He stood up and plainly expected her to go into the other cabin for the +night. She did. + + * * * * * + +It was after breakfast-time of the next ship-day when he got out the +sample of clear liquid he'd worked so long to produce. "We'll see how it +works," he observed. "Murgatroyd's handy in case of a slip-up. It's +perfectly safe so long as he's aboard and there are only the two of us." + +She watched as he injected half a cc under his own skin. Then she +shivered a little. + +"What will it do?" + +"That remains to be seen." He paused a moment. "You and I," he said with +some dryness, "make a perfect test for anything. If you catch something +from me, it will be infective indeed!" + +She gazed at him utterly without comprehension. + +He took his own temperature. He brought out the folios which were his +orders, covering each of the planets he should give a standard Medical +Service inspection. Weald was there. Dara wasn't. But a Med Service man +has much freedom of action, even when only keeping up the routine of +normal Med Service. When catching up on badly neglected operations, he +necessarily has much more. Calhoun went over the folios. + +Two hours later he took his temperature again. He looked pleased. He +made an entry in the ship's log. Two hours later yet he found himself +drinking thirstily and looked more pleased still. He made another entry +in the log and matter-of-factly drew a small quantity of blood from his +own vein and called to Murgatroyd. Murgatroyd submitted amiably to the +very trivial operation Calhoun carried out. Calhoun put away the +equipment and saw Maril staring at him with a certain look of shock. + +"It doesn't hurt him," Calhoun explained. "Right after he's born there's +a tiny spot on his flank that has the pain-nerves desensitized. +Murgatroyd's all right. That's what he's for!" + +"But he's--your friend!" + +"He's my assistant. I don't ask anything of him that I can do myself. +But we're both Med Service. And I do things for him that he can't do for +himself. For example, I make coffee for him." + +Murgatroyd heard the familiar word. He said; + +"_Chee!_" + +"Very well," agreed Calhoun. "We'll all have some." + +He made coffee. Murgatroyd sipped at the cup especially made for his +little paws. Once he scratched at the place on his flank which had no +pain-nerves. It itched. But he was perfectly content. Murgatroyd would +always be contented when he was somewhere near Calhoun. + +Another hour went by. Murgatroyd climbed up into Calhoun's lap and with +a determined air went to sleep there. Calhoun disturbed him long enough +to get an instrument out of his pocket. He listened to Murgatroyd's +heartbeat with it while Murgatroyd dozed. + +"Maril," he said. "Write down something for me. The time, and +ninety-six, and one-twenty over ninety-four." + +She obeyed, not comprehending. Half an hour later--still not stirring to +disturb Murgatroyd--he had her write down another time and sequence of +figures, only slightly different from the first. Half an hour later +still, a third set. But then he put Murgatroyd down, well satisfied. + +He took his own temperature. He nodded. + +"Murgatroyd and I have one more chore to do," he told her. "Would you go +in the other cabin for a moment?" + +She went disturbedly into the other cabin. Calhoun drew a sample of +blood from the insensitive area on Murgatroyd's flank. Murgatroyd +submitted with complete confidence in the man. In ten minutes Calhoun +had diluted the sample, added an anticoagulant, shaken it up thoroughly, +and filtered it to clarity with all red and white corpuscles removed. +Another Med Ship man would have considered that Calhoun had had +Murgatroyd prepare a splendid small sample of antibody-containing serum, +in case something got out of hand. It would assuredly take care of two +patients. + +But a Med Ship man would also have known that it was simply one of those +scrupulous precautions a Med Ship man takes when using cultures from +store. + +Calhoun put the sample away and called Maril back and offered no +explanation. She said; + +"I'll fix lunch." She hesitated. "You brought some food from the first +Weald ship. Do you want it?" + +He shook his head. + +"I'm squeamish," he admitted. "The trouble on Dara is Med Service fault. +Before my time, but still--I'll stick to rations until everybody eats." + + * * * * * + +He watched her unobtrusively as the day went on. Presently he considered +that she was slightly flushed. Shortly after the evening meal of +singularly unappetizing Darian rations, she drank thirstily. He did not +comment. He brought out cards and showed her a complicated game of +solitaire in which mental arithmetic and expert use of probability +increased one's chance of winning. + +By midnight, 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. + +Calhoun wrote up the log. He added the notes that Maril had made for +him, of Murgatroyd's pulse and blood-pressure after the injection of the +same culture that produced fever and thirstiness in himself and +later--without contact with him or the culture--in Maril. He put a +professional comment at the end. + +"The culture seems to have retained its normal characteristics during +long storage in the spore state. It revived and reproduced rapidly. I +injected .5 cc under my skin and in less than one hour my temperature +was 30.8 deg.C. An hour later it was 30.9 deg.C. This was its peak. It +immediately returned to normal. The only other observable symptom was +slightly increased thirst. Blood-pressure and pulse remained normal. The +other person in the Med Ship displayed the same symptoms, in prompt and +complete repetition, without physical contact." + +He went to sleep, with Murgatroyd curled up in his cubbyhole. + +The Med Ship broke out of overdrive at 1300 hours, ship time. Calhoun +made contact with the grid and was promptly lowered to the ground. + +It was almost two hours later--1500 hours ship-time--when the people of +Dara were informed by broadcast that Calhoun was publicly to be +executed; immediately. + + + + +CHAPTER 7 + + +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. + +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. + +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 +own story, appeared to have doomed every living being on Dara to +massacre from the bombs of Weald. + +It was this last angle which destroyed any chance of anybody believing +in such fairy-tale objects as ships loaded down with grain. Calhoun had +shattered Dara's feeble hope of resistance. Weald had some ships and +could build or buy others faster than Dara could hope to construct them. +Equally important, Weald had a plenitude of experienced spacemen to man +some ships fully and train the crews of others. If it had become +desperately busy fighting plague, then a fleet to exterminate life on +Dara would be delayed. Dara might have gained time at least to build +ships which could ram their enemies and destroy them that way. + +But Calhoun had made it impossible. If he told the truth and Weald +already had a fleet of huge ships which only needed to be emptied of +grain and filled with guns and men--why--Dara was doomed. But if he did +not tell the truth it was equally doomed by his actions. So Calhoun +would be killed. + +His execution was to take place in the open space of the landing-grid, +with vision-cameras transmitting the sight over all the blueskin planet. +Half-starved men, with grisly blue blotches on their skins, marched him +to the center of the largest level space on the planet which was not +desperately being cultivated. Their hatred showed in their expressions. +Bitterness and fury surrounded Calhoun like a wall. Most of Dara would +have liked to see him killed in a manner as atrocious as his crime, but +no conceivable death would be satisfying. + +So the affair was coldly businesslike, with not even insults offered to +him. He was left to stand alone in the very center of the landing-grid +floor. There were a hundred blasters which would fire upon him at the +same instant. He would not only be killed; he would be destroyed. He +would be vaporized by the blue-white flames poured upon him. + + * * * * * + +His death was remarkably close. Nothing 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-coordinates. The grid office relayed +his call to loudspeaker circuits as the quickest way to get it on the +communication system of the whole planet. + +"_Calling ground_," boomed the triumphant voice of the first of the +student pilots Calhoun had trained. "_Calling ground! Pilot Franz in +captured ship requests coordinates for landing! Purpose of landing, to +deliver half a million bushels of grain captured from the enemy!_" + +At first, nobody dared believe it. But the pilot could be seen on +vision. He was known. No blueskin would be left alive long enough to be +used as a decoy by the men of Weald! Presently the giant ship on its +second voyage to Dara--the first had been a generation ago, when it +threatened death and destruction--appeared as a dark pinpoint in the +sky. It came down and down, and presently it hovered over the center of +the tarmac, where Calhoun composedly stood on the spot where he was to +have been executed. + +The landing-grid crew shifted the ship to one side, and only then did +Calhoun stroll in a leisurely fashion toward the Med Ship by the grid's +metal-lace wall. + +The big ship touched ground, and its exit-port revolved and opened, and +the student pilot stood there grinning and heaving out 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. + +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. + +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. + +Then Calhoun faced the executive and cabinet of Dara for the second +time. His tone and manner were very dry. + +"Now," he said curtly, "I would like a few more astrogators to train. I +think it likely that we can raid the Wealdian grain-fleet one 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!" + +"How much grain can we hope for?" demanded a man with a blue mark +covering all his chin. + +Calhoun told him. + +"How long before Weald can have a fleet overhead, dropping fusion +bombs?" demanded another, grimly. + +Calhoun named a time. But then he said; + +"I think we can keep them from dropping bombs if we can get the +grain-fleet and some capable astrogators." + +"What do you have in mind?" + +He told them. It was not possible to tell the whole story of what he +considered sensible behavior. An emotional program can be presented and +accepted immediately. A plan of action which is actually intelligent, +considering all elements of a situation, has to be accepted piecemeal. +Even so, the military men growled. + +"We've plenty of heavy elements," said one, 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!" + +"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!" + + * * * * * + +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. + +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. + +"_Chee!_" he said indignantly. "_Chee! Chee!_" + +"No," said Calhoun, "we'll be crowded enough anyhow. We'll see her +later." + +He nodded to one of the first four student pilots, 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 +about, listening and making certain that the instruction was up to +standard. + +He felt queer, acting as the supervisor of an educational institution in +space. He did not like it. There were twenty-four men beside himself +crowded into the Med Ship's small interior. They got in each other's +way. They trampled on each other. There was always somebody eating, and +always somebody sleeping, and there was no need whatever for the +background tape to keep the ship from being intolerably quiet. But the +air-system worked well enough, except once when the reheater unit quit +and the air inside the ship went down below freezing before the trouble +could be found and corrected. + +The journey to Weald, this time, took seven days because of the training +program in effect. Calhoun bit his nails over the delay. But it was +necessary for each of the students to make his own line-ups on Weald's +sun, and compute distances, and for each of them to practise +maneuverings that would presently be called for. Calhoun hoped +desperately that preparations for active warfare--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. + +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. + +That was pure fortune. It continued. He'd broken through the screen of +guard-ships in undetectable overdrive. He was within half an hour's +solar-system drive of the grain-fleet. There was no alarm, at first. Of +course radars spotted the Med Ship as an object, but nobody paid +attention. It was not headed for Weald. It was probably assumed to be a +guard-boat itself. Such mistakes do happen. It reached the grain-fleet. + +Again from the storage-space from which supplies had been removed, +Calhoun produced vacuum suits. The four first students went out, each +escorting a less-accustomed neophyte and all fastened firmly together +with space-ropes. They warmed the interiors of four ships and went on to +others. Presently there were eight ships making ready for an +interstellar journey, each with a scared but resolute new pilot +familiarizing himself with its controls. There were sixteen ships. +Twenty. Twenty-three. + + * * * * * + +A guard-ship came humming out from Weald. It would be armed, of course. +It came droning, droning up the forty-odd thousand miles from the +planet. Calhoun swore. He could not call his students and tell them what +was 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. + +Then he was inspired. He called Murgatroyd, placed him before the +communicator, and set it at voice-only transmission. This was familiar +enough, to Murgatroyd. He'd often seen Calhoun use a communicator. + +"_Chee!_" shrilled Murgatroyd. "_Chee-chee!_" + +A startled voice came out of the speaker. + +"_What's that?_" + +"_Chee_," said Murgatroyd zestfully. + +The communicator was talking to him. Murgatroyd adored three things in +order. One was Calhoun. The second was coffee. The third was pretending +to converse like a human being. The speaker said explosively; + +"_You there, identify yourself!_" + +"_Chee-chee-chee-chee!_" observed Murgatroyd. He wriggled with pleasure +and added, reasonably enough, "_Chee!_" + +The communicator bawled; + +"_Calling ground! Calling ground! Listen to this! Something that ain't +human's talking at me on a communicator! Listen in an' tell me what to +do!_" + +Murgatroyd interposed with another shrill; + +"_Chee!_" + +Then Calhoun pulled the Med Ship slowly away from the clump of +still-lifeless grain-ships. It was highly improbable that the guard-boat +would carry an electron telescope. Most likely it would have only an +echo-radar, and so could determine only that an object of some sort +moved of its own accord in space. Calhoun let the Med Ship accelerate. +That would be final evidence. The grain-ships were between Weald and its +sun. Even electron telescopes on the ground--and electron-telescopes +were ultimately optical telescopes with electronic amplification--even +electron telescopes on the ground could not get a good image of the ship +through sunlit atmosphere. + +"_Chee?_" asked Murgatroyd solicitously. "_Chee-chee-chee?_" + +"_Is it blueskins?_" shakily demanded the voice from the guard-boat. +"_Ground! Ground! Is it blueskins?_" + +A heavy, authoritative voice came in with much greater volume. + +"_That's no human voice_," it said harshly. "_Approach its ship and send +back an image. Don't fire first unless it heads for ground._" + +The guard-ship swerved and headed for the Med Ship. It was still a very +long way off. + +"_Chee-chee_," said Murgatroyd encouragingly. + +Calhoun changed the Med Ship's course. The guard-ship changed course +too. Calhoun let it draw nearer,--but only a little. He led it away from +the fleet of grain-ships. + +He swung his electron telescope on them. He saw a 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. + +"_Chee!_" said Murgatroyd. + +The heavy voice boomed; + +"_You there! This is a human-occupied world! If you come in peace, cut +your drive and let our guard-ship approach!_" + +Murgatroyd replied in an interested but doubtful tone. The booming voice +bellowed. Another voice of higher authority took over. Murgatroyd was +entranced that so many people wanted to talk to him. He made what for +him was practically an oration. The last voice spoke persuasively and +suavely. + +"_Chee-chee-chee-chee_," said Murgatroyd. + +One of the grain-ships flickered and ceased to be. It had gone into +overdrive. Another. And another. Suddenly they began to flick out of +sight by twos and threes. + +"_Chee_," said Murgatroyd with a note of finality. + +The last grain-ship vanished. + +"Calling guard-ship," said Calhoun drily. "This is Med ship Aesclipus +Twenty. I called here a couple of weeks ago. You've been talking to my +_tormal_, Murgatroyd." + +A pause. A blank pause. Then profanity of deep and savage intemperance. + +"I've been on Dara," said Calhoun. + +Dead silence fell. + +"There's a famine there," said Calhoun deliberately. "So the grain-ships +you've had in orbit have been taken away by men from Dara--blueskins if +you like--to feed themselves and their families. They've been dying of +hunger and they don't like it." + +There was a single burst of the unprintable. Then the formerly suave +voice said waspishly; + +"_Well? The Med Service will hear of your interference!_" + +"Yes," said Calhoun. "I'll report it myself. I have a message for you. +Dara is ready to pay for every ounce of grain and for the ships it was +stored in. They'll pay in heavy metals,--iridium, uranium,--that sort of +thing." + +The suave voice fairly curdled. + +"_As if we'd allow anything that was ever on Dara to touch ground +here!_" + +"Ah! But there can be sterilization. To begin with metals, uranium melts +at 1150 deg. centigrade, and tungsten at 3370 deg. and iridium at 2350 +deg. You could load such things and melt them down in space and then tow +them home. And you can actually sterilize a lot of other useful +materials!" + +The suave voice said infuriatedly; + +"_I'll report this! You'll suffer for this!_" + +Calhoun said pleasantly; + +"I'm sure that what I say is being recorded, so that I'll add that it's +perfectly practical for Wealdians to land on Dara, take whatever +property they think wise,--to pay for damage done by blueskins, of +course--and get back to Wealdian ships with absolutely no danger of +carrying contagion. If you'll make sure the recording's clear." + + * * * * * + +He described, clearly and specifically, exactly how a man could be +outfitted to walk into any area of any conceivable contagion, do +whatever seemed necessary in the way of looting--but Calhoun did not use +the word--and then return to his fellows with no risk whatever of +bringing back infection. He gave exact details. Then he said; + +"My radar says you've four ships converging on me to blast me out of +space. I sign off." + +The Med Ship disappeared from normal space, and entered that improbably +stressed area of extension which it formed about itself and in which +physical constants were wildly strange. For one thing, the speed of +light in overdrive-stressed space had not been measured yet. It was too +high. For another, a ship could travel very many times 186000 miles per +second in overdrive. + +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. + +Calhoun luxuriated in regained privacy. For seven days he'd had +twenty-four other human beings crowded into the two cabins of the ship, +with never so much as one yard of space between himself and someone +else. One need not be snobbish to wish to be alone sometimes! + +Murgatroyd licked his whiskers thoughtfully. + +"I hope," said Calhoun, "that things work out right. But they may +remember on Dara that I'm responsible for some ten million bushels of +grain reaching them. Maybe--just possibly--they'll listen to me and act +sensibly. After all, there's only one way to break a famine. Not with +ten million bushels for a whole planet! And certainly not with bombs!" + +Driving direct, without pausing for 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. + + * * * * * + +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. + +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. + +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 ... + +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 deg. centigrade, and drank more water +than usual. Then his temperature went back to normal and he forgot all +about it. There have always been such trivial epidemics. They are rarely +recorded, because few people think to go to a doctor. That was the case +here. + +Calhoun looked ahead a little, too. Presently the fleet of grain-ships +would arrive and unload and lift again for Orede, and this time they +would make an infinity of slaughter among wild cattle-herds, and bring +back incredible quantities of fresh-slaughtered frozen beef. Almost +everybody would get to taste meat again, which would be most gratifying. + +Then, the industries of Dara would labor at government-required tasks. +An astonishing amount of fissionable material would be fashioned into +bombs--a concession by Calhoun--and plastic factories make an +astonishing number of plastic sag-suits. And large shipments of heavy +metals in ingots would be made to the planet's capital city and there +would be some guns and minor items.... + +Perhaps somebody could have 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. + + * * * * * + +He landed on Dara. Maril came to the Med Ship. Murgatroyd greeted her +with enthusiasm. + +"Something unusual has happened," said Maril, very much subdued. "I told +you that--sometimes blueskin markings fade out on children, and then +neither they nor their children ever have blueskin markings again." + +"Yes," said Calhoun. "I remember." + +"And you were reminded of a group of viruses on Tralee. You said they +only took hold of people in terribly bad physical condition, but then +they could be passed on from mother to child. Until--sometimes--they +died out." + +Calhoun blinked. + +"Yes...." + +"Korvan," said Maril very carefully, "Has worked out an idea that that's +what happens to the blueskin markings on--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." + +"Interesting," said Calhoun, noncommittally. + +"And when we went to Weald," said Maril very carefully indeed, "you were +working with some culture-material. You wrote quite a lot about it in +the ship's log. You gave yourself an injection. Remember? And +Murgatroyd? You wrote down your temperature, and Murgatroyd's?" She +moistened her lips. "You said that if infection passed between us, +something would be very infectious indeed?" + +"What are you driving at?" + +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." + +"Remarkable!" said Calhoun. + +"Did you--do it?" asked Maril. "Did you start a harmless epidemic +that--wipes out the virus that makes blueskins?" + +Calhoun said in feigned astonishment; + +"How can you think such a thing, Maril?" + +"Because I was there," said Maril. She said somehow desperately; "I know +you did it! But the question is--are you going to tell? When people find +they're not blueskins any longer--when there's no such thing as a +blueskin any longer--will you tell them why?" + +"Naturally not," said Calhoun. "Why?" Then he guessed. "Has Korvan--." + +"He thinks," said Maril, "that he thought it up all by himself. He's +found the proof. He's--very proud. I'd have to tell him the truth if you +were going to tell. And he'd be ashamed and--angry." + +Calhoun considered, staring at her. + +"How it happened doesn't matter," he said at last. "The idea of anybody +doing it deliberately would be disturbing, too. It shouldn't get about. +So it seems much the best thing for Korvan to discover what's happened +to the blueskin pigment, and how it happened, but not why." + +She read his face carefully. + +"You aren't doing it as a favor to me," she decided. "You'd rather it +was that way." + +She looked at him for a long time, until he squirmed. Then she nodded +and went away. + +An hour later the Wealdian space-fleet was reported, massed in space and +driving for Dara. + + + + +CHAPTER 8 + + +There were small scout-ships which came on ahead of the main fleet. +They'd originally been guard-boats, intended for solar-system duty only +and quite incapable of overdrive. They'd come from Weald in the +cargo-holds of the liners now transformed into fighting ships. The +scouts swept low, transmitting fine-screen images back to the fleet, of +all 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. + +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. + +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. + +Hours passed. The Wealdian main fleet waited. There was no offensive +movement by the fleet. There was no defensive action from the ground, +With fusion-bombs certain to be involved in any actual conflict, there +was something like an embarrassed pause. The Wealdian ships were ready +to bomb. They were less anxious to be vaporized by possible +suicide-dashes of defending ships who might blow themselves up near +contact with their enemies. + +But a fleet cannot travel some light-years through space to make a mere +threat. And the Wealdian fleet was furnished with the material for total +devastation. It could drop bombs from hundreds, or thousands, or even +tens of thousands of miles away. It could cover the world of Dara with +mushroom clouds springing up and spreading to make a continuous pall of +atomic-fusion products. And they could settle down and kill every living +thing not destroyed by the explosions themselves. Even the creatures of +the deepest oceans would die of deadly, purposely-contrived fallout +particles. + +The Wealdian fleet contemplated its own destructiveness. It found no +capacity for defense on Dara. It moved forward. + +But then a message went out from the capital city of Dara. It said that +a ship in overdrive had carried word to a Darian fleet in space. The +Darian fleet now hurtled toward Weald. It was a fleet of thirty-seven +giant ships. They carried such-and-such bombs in such-and-such +quantities. Unless its orders were countermanded, it would deliver those +bombs on Weald--set to explode. If Weald bombed Dara, the orders could +not be withdrawn. So Weald could bomb Dara. It could destroy all life on +the pariah planet. But Weald would die with it. + +The fleet ceased its advance. The situation was a stalemate with pure +desperation on one side and pure frustration on the other. This was no +way to end the war. Neither planet could trust the other, even for +minutes. If they did not destroy each other simultaneously, as now was +possible, each would expect the other to launch an unwarned attack at +some other moment. Ultimately one or the other must perish, and the +survivor would be the one most skilled in treachery. + +But then the pariah planet made a new proposal. It would send a +messenger-ship to stop its own fleet's bombardment if Weald would accept +payment 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 perhaps in some sense through its +fault. It would pay.... But if it were bombed, Weald must spout atomic +fire and the fleet of Weald would have no home planet to return to. + + * * * * * + +This proposal seemed both craven and foolish. It would allow the fleet +of Weald to loot and then betray Dara. But it was Calhoun's idea. It +seemed plausible to the admirals of Weald. They felt only contempt for +blueskins. Contemptuously, they accepted the semi-surrender. + +The broadcast waves of Dara told of agreement, and wild and fierce +resentment filled the pariah planet's people. There was +almost--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-- + +In menacing array, the invading fleet spread itself about the skies of +Dara, well beyond the atmosphere. Harsh voices talked with increasing +arrogance to the landing-grid staff. A monster ship of Weald came +heavily down, riding the landing-grid's force-fields. It touched gently. +Its occupants were apprehensive, but hungry for the loot they had been +assured was theirs. The ship's outer hull would be sterilized before it +returned to Weald, of course. And there was adequate protection for the +landing-party. + +Men came out of the ship's ports. They wore the double, transparent +sag-suits Calhoun had suggested, which had been painstakingly tested, +and which were perfect protection against contagion. They 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. + +That information was that the people of Dara weren't blueskins any +longer. There'd been a trivial epidemic. + +The sag-suited men of Weald went zestfully about their business. They +took over the landing-grid's operation, driving the Darian operators +away. For the first time in history the operators of a landing-grid wore +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. + +Parties in the shiny sag-suits spread through the city. There 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. + +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. + +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. + +More ships came down, and more. Some of the first, heavily loaded, were +lifted to emptiness again and the process of decontamination of their +hulls began. There was jealousy among the ships in space for those upon +the ground. The first-landed ships had had their choice of loot. There +were squabblings about priorities, now that the navy of Weald plainly +had a license to steal. There was confusion among the members of the +landing-parties. Discipline disappeared. Men in plastic sag-suits roved +about as individuals, seeking what they might loot. + + * * * * * + +There were armed and alerted landing-parties around the grid itself, of +course, but the capital city of Dara lay open. Men coming back with loot +found their ships already lifted off to make room for others. They were +pushed into reembarking-parties of other ships. There were more and more +men to be found on ships where they did not belong, and more and more +not to be found where they did. By the time half the fleet had been +aground, there was no longer any pretense of holding a ship down until +all its crew returned. There were too many other ships' companies +clamoring for their turn to loot. The rosters of many ships, indeed, +bore no particular relationship to the men actually on board. + +There were less than fifteen ships whose to-be-fumigated holds were +still 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. + +It was amusing. The space-admiral of Weald ordered his ships alerted for +action. The message-ship, ordering the Darian fleet away from Weald, +had been sent off long since. No other ship could get away now! The +Darians could take their choice; accept the consequences of surrender, +or the fleet would rise to throw down bombs. + +Calhoun was asking politely to be taken to the Wealdian admiral when the +trouble began. It wasn't on the ground, at all. Everything was under +splendid control where a landing-force occupied the grid and all the +ground immediately about it. The space admiral had headquarters in the +landing-grid office. Reports came in, orders were issued, admirably +crisp salutes were exchanged among sag-suited men.... Everything was in +perfect shape there. + +But there was panic among the ships in space. Communicators gave off +horrified, panic-stricken yells. There were screamings. Intelligible +communications ceased. Ships plunged crazily this way and that. Some +vanished in overdrive. At least one plunged at full power into a Darian +ocean. + +The space-admiral found himself in command of fifteen ships only, out of +all his former force. The rest of the fleet went through a period of +hysterical madness. In some ships it lasted for minutes only. In others +it went on for half an hour or more. Then they hung overhead, but did +not reply to calls. + +Calhoun arrived at the space-port with Murgatroyd riding on his +shoulder. A bewildered officer in a sag-suit halted him. + +"I've come," said Calhoun, "to speak to the admiral. My name is Calhoun +and I'm Med Service, and I think I met the Admiral at a banquet a few +weeks ago. He'll remember me." + +"You'll have to wait," protested the officer. "There's some trouble--" + +"Yes," said Calhoun. "I know about it. I helped design it. I want to +explain it to the admiral. He needs to know what's happened, if he's to +take appropriate measures." + +There were jitterings. Many men in sag-suits had still no idea that +anything had gone wrong. Some appeared, brightly carrying loot. Some +hung eagerly around the airlocks of ships on the grid tarmac, waiting +their turns to stand in corrosive gases for the decontamination of their +suits, when they would burn the outer layers and step, aseptic and +happy, into a Wealdian ship again. There they could think how rich they +were going to be back on Weald. + +But the situation aloft was bewildering and very, very ominous. There +was strident argument. Presently Calhoun stood before the Wealdian +admiral. + +"I came to explain something," said Calhoun pleasantly. "The situation +has changed. You've noticed it, I'm sure." + +The admiral glared at him through two layers of plastic, which covered +him almost like a gift-wrapped parcel. + +"Be quick!" he rasped. + +"First," said Calhoun, "there are no more blueskins. An epidemic of +something or other has made the blue patches on the skins of Darians +fade out. There have always been some who didn't have blue patches. Now +nobody has them." + +"Nonsense!" rasped the admiral. "And what has that got to do with this +situation?" + +"Why, everything," said Calhoun mildly. "It 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." + +The admiral roared. Then his face turned gray. + +"You can't take your fleet back to Weald," said Calhoun gently, "if you +believe its crews have been exposed to carriers of the Dara plague. You +wouldn't be allowed to land, anyhow." + +The admiral said through stiff lips; + +"I'll blast--" + +"No," said Calhoun, again gently. "When you ordered all ships alerted +for action, the Darians on each ship released panic-gas. They only +needed tiny, pocket-sized containers of the gas for the job. They had +them. They only needed to use air-tanks from their sag-suits to protect +themselves against the gas. They kept them handy. On nearly all your +ships aloft your crews are crazy from panic-gas. They'll stay that way +until the air is changed. Darians have barricaded themselves in the +control-rooms of most if not all your ships. You haven't got a fleet. 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...." + +The Admiral made a choking noise. He could have ordered Calhoun killed, +but there was a certain appalling fact. The men aground from the fleet +were breathing Wealdian air from tanks. It would last so long only. If +they were taken on board the still obedient ships overhead, Darians +would unquestionably be mixed with them. There was no way to take off +the parties now aground without exposing them to contact with Darians, +on the ground or in the ships. There was no way to sort out the Darians. + +"I--I will give the orders," said the admiral thickly. "I--do not know +what you devils plan, but--I don't know how to stop you." + +"All that's necessary," said Calhoun warmly, "is an open mind. There's a +misunderstanding to be cleared up, and some principles of planetary +health practises to be explained, and a certain amount of prejudice that +has to be thrown away. But nobody need die of changing their minds. The +Interstellar Medical service has proved that over and over!" + +Murgatroyd, perched on his shoulder, felt that it was time to take part +in the conversation. He said; + +"_Chee-chee!_" + +"Yes," agreed Calhoun. "We do want to get the job done. We're behind +schedule now." + + * * * * * + +It was not, of course, possible for Calhoun to leave immediately. He had +to preside at various meetings of the medical officers of the fleet 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. + +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. + +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.... + +Maril came to the Med Ship again when he was almost ready to leave. She +did not seem comfortable. + +"I wish you could like Korvan," she said regretfully. + +"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." + +Maril smiled very faintly. + +"But you don't admire him." + +"I wouldn't say that," protested Calhoun. "After all, he is attractive +to you, which is something I couldn't manage." + +"You didn't try," said Maril. "Just as I didn't try to be fascinating to +you. Why?" + +Calhoun spread out his hands. But he looked at Maril with respect. Not +every woman could have faced the fact that a man did not feel impelled +to make passes at her. It is simply a fact that has nothing to do with +desirability or charm or anything else. + +"You're going to marry him," he said. "I hope you'll be very happy." + +"He's the man I want," said Maril frankly. "He looks forward to splendid +discoveries. I'm sorry it's so important to him." + +Calhoun did not ask the obvious question. Instead, he said thoughtfully; + +"There's something you could do.... It needs to be done. The Med Service +in this sector has been badly handled. There are a number +of--discoveries that need to be made. I don't think your Korvan would +relish having things handed to him on a visible silver platter. But they +should be known...." + +Maril said wrily; + +"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?" + +Calhoun nodded. He brought them to her. + +"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." + +She put her hands in his. + +"I like you--almost as much as I like Murgatroyd! Yes! Korvan will never +know, and he'll be a great man." Then she added defensively, "And not +just from these books! He'll make his own wonderful discoveries." + +"Of which," said Calhoun, "the most remarkable is you. Good luck +Maril!" + + * * * * * + +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; + +"Overdrive coming, Murgatroyd!" + +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. + +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. + +"Calling ground," he said crisply. "Calling ground! Med Ship Aesclipus +Twenty reporting arrival and asking coordinates for landing. Purpose of +landing, planetary health inspection. Our mass is fifty standard tons." + +There was a pause while the beamed message went many, many thousands of +miles. Then the speaker said; + +"_Aesclipus Twenty, repeat your identification!_" + +Murgatroyd said; + +"_Chee-chee? Chee?_" + +Calhoun sighed. + +"That's right, Murgatroyd! Here we go again!" + + +THE END + + + + + +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.txt or 29448.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. 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