Pariah Planet Read online

  CHAPTER 7

  From the viewpoint of Darians, the decision of Calhoun's guilt and thedecision to execute him were reasonable enough. Maril protestedfiercely, and her testimony agreed with Calhoun's in every respect, butfrom a blueskin viewpoint their own statements were damning.

  Calhoun had taken four young astrogators to space. They were the onlysemi-skilled space-pilots Dara had. There were no fully qualified men.Calhoun had asked for them, and taken them out to emptiness, and therehe had instructed them in modern guidance-methods for ships of space. Sofar there was no disagreement. He'd proposed to make them more competentpilots; more capable of driving a ship to Orede, for example, to raidthe enormous cattle-herds there. And he'd had them drive the Med Ship toWeald, against which there could be no objection.

  But just before arrival he had tricked all four of them by giving themdrugged coffee. He'd destroyed the lethal bacterial cultures they'd beenordered to dump on Weald. Then he'd sent the four student pilots offseparately--so he and Maril claimed--in huge ships crammed with grain.But those ships were not to be believed in, anyhow. Nobody on Dara couldimagine 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 forthe taking. They did know that the only four partially experiencedspace-pilots on Dara had been taken away and by Calhoun's own story sentout of the ship after they'd been drugged. Had they been trained, andhad they been helped or even permitted to sow the seeds of plague onWeald, and had they come back prepared to pass on training to other mento handle other space-ships now feverishly being built in hidden placeson Dara,--why--then Dara might have a chance of survival. But aspace-battle with only partly trained pilots would be hazardous at best.With no trained pilots at all, it would be hopeless. So Calhoun, by hisown story, appeared to have doomed every living being on Dara tomassacre from the bombs of Weald.

  It was this last angle which destroyed any chance of anybody believingin such fairy-tale objects as ships loaded down with grain. Calhoun hadshattered Dara's feeble hope of resistance. Weald had some ships andcould build or buy others faster than Dara could hope to construct them.Equally important, Weald had a plenitude of experienced spacemen to mansome ships fully and train the crews of others. If it had becomedesperately busy fighting plague, then a fleet to exterminate life onDara would be delayed. Dara might have gained time at least to buildships which could ram their enemies and destroy them that way.

  But Calhoun had made it impossible. If he told the truth and Wealdalready had a fleet of huge ships which only needed to be emptied ofgrain and filled with guns and men--why--Dara was doomed. But if he didnot tell the truth it was equally doomed by his actions. So Calhounwould 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 himto the center of the largest level space on the planet which was notdesperately being cultivated. Their hatred showed in their expressions.Bitterness and fury surrounded Calhoun like a wall. Most of Dara wouldhave liked to see him killed in a manner as atrocious as his crime, butno conceivable death would be satisfying.

  So the affair was coldly businesslike, with not even insults offered tohim. He was left to stand alone in the very center of the landing-gridfloor. There were a hundred blasters which would fire upon him at thesame instant. He would not only be killed; he would be destroyed. Hewould 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 ofthe grain-ships from Weald had broken out of overdrive and its pilot wastriumphantly calling for landing-coordinates. The grid office relayedhis call to loudspeaker circuits as the quickest way to get it on thecommunication system of the whole planet.

  "_Calling ground_," boomed the triumphant voice of the first of thestudent pilots Calhoun had trained. "_Calling ground! Pilot Franz incaptured ship requests coordinates for landing! Purpose of landing, todeliver half a million bushels of grain captured from the enemy!_"

  At first, nobody dared believe it. But the pilot could be seen onvision. He was known. No blueskin would be left alive long enough to beused as a decoy by the men of Weald! Presently the giant ship on itssecond voyage to Dara--the first had been a generation ago, when itthreatened death and destruction--appeared as a dark pinpoint in thesky. It came down and down, and presently it hovered over the center ofthe tarmac, where Calhoun composedly stood on the spot where he was tohave been executed.

  The landing-grid crew shifted the ship to one side, and only then didCalhoun stroll in a leisurely fashion toward the Med Ship by the grid'smetal-lace wall.

  The big ship touched ground, and its exit-port revolved and opened, andthe student pilot stood there grinning and heaving out handsful ofgrain. There was a swarming, yelling, deliriously triumphant crowd,then, where only minutes before there'd been a mob waiting to rejoicewhen Calhoun's living body exploded into flame.

  They no longer hated Calhoun, but he had to fight his way to the MedShip, nevertheless. He was surrounded by now-ecstatically admiringcitizens 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 thefollowing day.

  Then Calhoun faced the executive and cabinet of Dara for the secondtime. His tone and manner were very dry.

  "Now," he said curtly, "I would like a few more astrogators to train. Ithink 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 besensible about this situation! After all, four shiploads of grain won'tbreak the famine! They'll help a lot, but they're only the beginning ofwhat's needed for a planetary population!"

  "How much grain can we hope for?" demanded a man with a blue markcovering all his chin.

  Calhoun told him.

  "How long before Weald can have a fleet overhead, dropping fusionbombs?" demanded another, grimly.

  Calhoun named a time. But then he said;

  "I think we can keep them from dropping bombs if we can get thegrain-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 heconsidered sensible behavior. An emotional program can be presented andaccepted 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 hisforehead colored blue. "If we'd used our brains, we'd have more bombsthan Weald can hope for! We could turn that whole planet into a smokingcinder!"

  "Which," said Calhoun acidly, "would give you some satisfaction but notan ounce of food! And food's more important than satisfaction. Now, I'mgoing to take off for Weald again. I'll want somebody to build anemergency device for my ship, and I'll want the four pilots I've trainedand twenty more candidates. And I'd like to have some decent rations!When the last trip brought back two million bushels of grain, you canspare adequate food for twenty men for a few days!"

  * * * * *

  It took some time to get the special device constructed, but the MedShip lifted in two days more. The device for which it had waited wassimply a preventive of the disaster overtaking the ship from the mine onOrede. It was essentially a tank of liquid oxygen, packed in the spacefrom which stores had been taken away. When the ship's air-supply waspumped past it, first moisture and then CO2 froze out. Then the airflowed over the liquefied oxygen at a rate to replace the CO2 with moreuseful breathing material. Then the moisture was restored to the air asit warmed again. For so long as the oxygen lasted,
fresh air for anynumber of men could be kept purified and breathable. The Med Ship'snormal equipment could take care of no more than ten. But with this itcould journey to Weald with almost any complement on board.

  Maril stayed on Dara when the Med Ship left. Murgatroyd protestedshrilly when he discovered her about to be closed out by the closinglock-door.

  "_Chee!_" he said indignantly. "_Chee! Chee!_"

  "No," said Calhoun, "we'll be crowded enough anyhow. We'll see herlater."

  He nodded to one of the first four student pilots, and he crisply madecontact with the landing-grid office. He very efficiently supervised asthe grid took the ship up. The other three of the four first-trained menexplained every move to sub-classes assigned to each. Calhoun movedabout, listening and making certain that the instruction was up tostandard.

  He felt queer, acting as the supervisor of an educational institution inspace. He did not like it. There were twenty-four men beside himselfcrowded into the Med Ship's small interior. They got in each other'sway. They trampled on each other. There was always somebody eating, andalways somebody sleeping, and there was no need whatever for thebackground tape to keep the ship from being intolerably quiet. But theair-system worked well enough, except once when the reheater unit quitand the air inside the ship went down below freezing before the troublecould be found and corrected.

  The journey to Weald, this time, took seven days because of the trainingprogram in effect. Calhoun bit his nails over the delay. But it wasnecessary for each of the students to make his own line-ups on Weald'ssun, and compute distances, and for each of them to practisemaneuverings that would presently be called for. Calhoun hopeddesperately that preparations for active warfare--or massacre--did notmove fast on Weald. He believed, however, that in the absence of directnews from Dara, Wealdian officials would take the normal course ofpoliticos. They had proclaimed the deathship from Orede an attack fromDara. Therefore they would specialize on defensive measures beforeplumping for offense. They'd get patrol-ships out to spot invasion shipslong before they worked on a fleet to destroy the blueskins. It wouldmeet the public demand for defense.

  Calhoun was right. The Med Ship made its final approach to Weald underCalhoun's own control. He'd made brightness-measurements on his previousjourney and he used them again. They would not be strictly accurate,because a sunspot could knock all meaning out of any reading beyond twodecimal places. But the first breakout was just far enough from theWealdian system for Calhoun to be able to pick out its planets withelectron telescope at maximum magnification. He could aim for Wealditself,--allowing, of course, for the lag in the apparent motion of itsimage because of the limited speed of light. He tried the briefest ofoverdrive hops, and came out within the solar system and well inside anywatching patrol.

  That was pure fortune. It continued. He'd broken through the screen ofguard-ships in undetectable overdrive. He was within half an hour'ssolar-system drive of the grain-fleet. There was no alarm, at first. Ofcourse radars spotted the Med Ship as an object, but nobody paidattention. It was not headed for Weald. It was probably assumed to be aguard-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, eachescorting a less-accustomed neophyte and all fastened firmly togetherwith space-ropes. They warmed the interiors of four ships and went on toothers. Presently there were eight ships making ready for aninterstellar journey, each with a scared but resolute new pilotfamiliarizing 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 theplanet. Calhoun swore. He could not call his students and tell them whatwas happening. The guard-ship would overhear. He could not trust untriedyoung men to act rationally if they were unwarned and the guard-shiparrived and matter-of-factly attempted to board one of them.

  Then he was inspired. He called Murgatroyd, placed him before thecommunicator, and set it at voice-only transmission. This was familiarenough, 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 inorder. One was Calhoun. The second was coffee. The third was pretendingto converse like a human being. The speaker said explosively;

  "_You there, identify yourself!_"

  "_Chee-chee-chee-chee!_" observed Murgatroyd. He wriggled with pleasureand added, reasonably enough, "_Chee!_"

  The communicator bawled;

  "_Calling ground! Calling ground! Listen to this! Something that ain'thuman's talking at me on a communicator! Listen in an' tell me what todo!_"

  Murgatroyd interposed with another shrill;

  "_Chee!_"

  Then Calhoun pulled the Med Ship slowly away from the clump ofstill-lifeless grain-ships. It was highly improbable that the guard-boatwould carry an electron telescope. Most likely it would have only anecho-radar, and so could determine only that an object of some sortmoved of its own accord in space. Calhoun let the Med Ship accelerate.That would be final evidence. The grain-ships were between Weald and itssun. Even electron telescopes on the ground--and electron-telescopeswere ultimately optical telescopes with electronic amplification--evenelectron telescopes on the ground could not get a good image of the shipthrough 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 sendback 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 verylong way off.

  "_Chee-chee_," said Murgatroyd encouragingly.

  Calhoun changed the Med Ship's course. The guard-ship changed coursetoo. Calhoun let it draw nearer,--but only a little. He led it away fromthe fleet of grain-ships.

  He swung his electron telescope on them. He saw a space-suited figureoutside one,--safely roped, however. It was easy to guess that someonehad meant to return to the Med Ship for orders or to make a report, andfound 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, cutyour drive and let our guard-ship approach!_"

  Murgatroyd replied in an interested but doubtful tone. The booming voicebellowed. Another voice of higher authority took over. Murgatroyd wasentranced that so many people wanted to talk to him. He made what forhim was practically an oration. The last voice spoke persuasively andsuavely.

  "_Chee-chee-chee-chee_," said Murgatroyd.

  One of the grain-ships flickered and ceased to be. It had gone intooverdrive. Another. And another. Suddenly they began to flick out ofsight 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 AesclipusTwenty. 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-shipsyou've had in orbit have been taken away by men from Dara--blueskins ifyou like--to feed themselves and their families. They've been dying ofhunger and they don't like it."

  There was a s
ingle burst of the unprintable. Then the formerly suavevoice 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 wasstored in. They'll pay in heavy metals,--iridium, uranium,--that sort ofthing."

  The suave voice fairly curdled.

  "_As if we'd allow anything that was ever on Dara to touch groundhere!_"

  "Ah! But there can be sterilization. To begin with metals, uranium meltsat 1150 deg. centigrade, and tungsten at 3370 deg. and iridium at 2350deg. You could load such things and melt them down in space and then towthem home. And you can actually sterilize a lot of other usefulmaterials!"

  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'sperfectly practical for Wealdians to land on Dara, take whateverproperty they think wise,--to pay for damage done by blueskins, ofcourse--and get back to Wealdian ships with absolutely no danger ofcarrying contagion. If you'll make sure the recording's clear."

  * * * * *

  He described, clearly and specifically, exactly how a man could beoutfitted to walk into any area of any conceivable contagion, dowhatever seemed necessary in the way of looting--but Calhoun did not usethe word--and then return to his fellows with no risk whatever ofbringing back infection. He gave exact details. Then he said;

  "My radar says you've four ships converging on me to blast me out ofspace. I sign off."

  The Med Ship disappeared from normal space, and entered that improbablystressed area of extension which it formed about itself and in whichphysical constants were wildly strange. For one thing, the speed oflight in overdrive-stressed space had not been measured yet. It was toohigh. For another, a ship could travel very many times 186000 miles persecond in overdrive.

  The Med Ship did just that. There was nobody but Calhoun and Murgatroydon board. There was companionable silence,--there were only the smallthreshold-of-perception sounds which one did not often notice, but whichit would have been intolerable to have stop.

  Calhoun luxuriated in regained privacy. For seven days he'd hadtwenty-four other human beings crowded into the two cabins of the ship,with never so much as one yard of space between himself and someoneelse. 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 mayremember on Dara that I'm responsible for some ten million bushels ofgrain reaching them. Maybe--just possibly--they'll listen to me and actsensibly. After all, there's only one way to break a famine. Not withten million bushels for a whole planet! And certainly not with bombs!"

  Driving direct, without pausing for practisings, the Med Ship couldarrive at Dara in little more than five days. Calhoun looked forward torelaxation. As a beginning he made ready to give himself an adequatemeal for the first time since first landing on Dara. Then, presently, hesat down wrily to a double meal of Darian famine-rations, which were farfrom appetizing. But there wasn't anything else on board.

  * * * * *

  He had some pleasure later, though, envisioning what went elsewhere. OnWeald, obviously, there would be purest panic. The vanishing of thegrain fleet wouldn't be charged against twenty-four men. A Darian fleetwould be suspected, and with the suspicion terror, and with terror agovernmental crisis. Then there'd be a frantic seizure of any craft thatcould take to space, and the agitated improvisation of a space-fleet.

  But besides that, biological-warfare technicians would examine Calhoun'sinstructions for equipment by which armed men could be landed on aplague-stricken planet and then safely taken off again. Military andgovernmental officials would come to the eminently sane conclusion thatwhile Calhoun could not well take active measures against blueskins, asa sane and proper citizen of the galaxy he would be on the side of lawand order and propriety and justice,--in short, of Weald. So theyordered sample anti-contagion suits made according to Calhoun'sdirections, and they had them tested. They worked admirably.

  On Dara, while Calhoun journeyed back to it, grain was distributedlavishly, and everybody on the planet had their cereal ration almostdoubled. It was still not a comfortable ration, but the relief wasgreat. There was considerable gratitude felt for Calhoun, which as usualincluded a lively anticipation of further favors to come. Maril wasinterviewed repeatedly, as the person best able to discuss him, and shedid his reputation no harm. That was not all that happened on Dara ...

  There was something else. Very curious thing, too. There was a curiousspread of mild symptoms which nobody could exactly call a disease. Itlasted only a few hours. A person felt slightly feverish, and ran atemperature which peaked at 30.9 deg. centigrade, and drank more waterthan usual. Then his temperature went back to normal and he forgot allabout it. There have always been such trivial epidemics. They are rarelyrecorded, because few people think to go to a doctor. That was the casehere.

  Calhoun looked ahead a little, too. Presently the fleet of grain-shipswould arrive and unload and lift again for Orede, and this time theywould make an infinity of slaughter among wild cattle-herds, and bringback incredible quantities of fresh-slaughtered frozen beef. Almosteverybody 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 intobombs--a concession by Calhoun--and plastic factories make anastonishing number of plastic sag-suits. And large shipments of heavymetals in ingots would be made to the planet's capital city and therewould be some guns and minor items....

  Perhaps somebody could have found out any of these items in advance, butit was unlikely that anybody did. Nobody but Calhoun, however, wouldever have put them together and hoped very urgently that that was theway things would work out. He could see a promising total result. Infact, in the Med ship hurtling through space, on the fourth day of hisjourney he thought of an improvement that could be made in the sum ofall those happenings when they were put together.

  * * * * *

  He landed on Dara. Maril came to the Med Ship. Murgatroyd greeted herwith enthusiasm.

  "Something unusual has happened," said Maril, very much subdued. "I toldyou that--sometimes blueskin markings fade out on children, and thenneither 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 theyonly took hold of people in terribly bad physical condition, but thenthey could be passed on from mother to child. Until--sometimes--theydied out."

  Calhoun blinked.

  "Yes...."

  "Korvan," said Maril very carefully, "Has worked out an idea that that'swhat happens to the blueskin markings on--us Darians. He thinks thatpeople almost dead of the plague could get the--virus, and if theyrecovered 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 wereworking with some culture-material. You wrote quite a lot about it inthe ship's log. You gave yourself an injection. Remember? AndMurgatroyd? You wrote down your temperature, and Murgatroyd's?" Shemoistened 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 theirpigment-spots fade away. Not only children but grownups. And--Korvan hasfound out that it always seems to happen after a day when they feltfeverish and very thirsty--and then felt all right again. You tried outsomething that made you feverish and thirsty. I had it too, in the ship.Korvan thinks there's been an
epidemic of something that--isobliterating the blue spots on everybody that catches it. There arealways trivial epidemics that nobody notices. Korvan's found evidence ofone 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 epidemicthat--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 knowyou did it! But the question is--are you going to tell? When people findthey're not blueskins any longer--when there's no such thing as ablueskin 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'sfound the proof. He's--very proud. I'd have to tell him the truth if youwere 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 anybodydoing it deliberately would be disturbing, too. It shouldn't get about.So it seems much the best thing for Korvan to discover what's happenedto 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 itwas that way."

  She looked at him for a long time, until he squirmed. Then she noddedand went away.

  An hour later the Wealdian space-fleet was reported, massed in space anddriving 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 onlyand quite incapable of overdrive. They'd come from Weald in thecargo-holds of the liners now transformed into fighting ships. Thescouts swept low, transmitting fine-screen images back to the fleet, ofall that they might see before they were shot down. They found thelanding-grid. It contained nothing larger than Calhoun's Med Ship,Aesclipus Twenty.

  They searched here and there. They flitted to and fro, scanning widebands of the surface of Dara. The planet's cities and highways andindustrial centers were wholly open to inspection from the sky. Itlooked as if the scouts hunted most busily for the fleet of formergrain-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 tooppose or to resist their search. They went darting over every portionof the hungry planet, land and seas alike, and there was no sign ofmilitary preparedness against their coming. The huge ships of the mainfleet waited while they reported monotonously that they saw no sign ofthe stolen fleet. But the stolen fleet was the only means by which theplanet could be defended. There could be no point in a pitched battle inemptiness. But a fleet with a planet to back it might be dangerous.

  Hours passed. The Wealdian main fleet waited. There was no offensivemovement by the fleet. There was no defensive action from the ground,With fusion-bombs certain to be involved in any actual conflict, therewas something like an embarrassed pause. The Wealdian ships were readyto bomb. They were less anxious to be vaporized by possiblesuicide-dashes of defending ships who might blow themselves up nearcontact with their enemies.

  But a fleet cannot travel some light-years through space to make a merethreat. And the Wealdian fleet was furnished with the material for totaldevastation. It could drop bombs from hundreds, or thousands, or eventens of thousands of miles away. It could cover the world of Dara withmushroom clouds springing up and spreading to make a continuous pall ofatomic-fusion products. And they could settle down and kill every livingthing not destroyed by the explosions themselves. Even the creatures ofthe deepest oceans would die of deadly, purposely-contrived falloutparticles.

  The Wealdian fleet contemplated its own destructiveness. It found nocapacity for defense on Dara. It moved forward.

  But then a message went out from the capital city of Dara. It said thata ship in overdrive had carried word to a Darian fleet in space. TheDarian fleet now hurtled toward Weald. It was a fleet of thirty-sevengiant ships. They carried such-and-such bombs in such-and-suchquantities. Unless its orders were countermanded, it would deliver thosebombs on Weald--set to explode. If Weald bombed Dara, the orders couldnot be withdrawn. So Weald could bomb Dara. It could destroy all life onthe pariah planet. But Weald would die with it.

  The fleet ceased its advance. The situation was a stalemate with puredesperation on one side and pure frustration on the other. This was noway to end the war. Neither planet could trust the other, even forminutes. If they did not destroy each other simultaneously, as now waspossible, each would expect the other to launch an unwarned attack atsome other moment. Ultimately one or the other must perish, and thesurvivor would be the one most skilled in treachery.

  But then the pariah planet made a new proposal. It would send amessenger-ship to stop its own fleet's bombardment if Weald would acceptpayment for the grain-ships and their cargoes. It would pay in ingots ofiridium and uranium and tungsten--and gold if Weald wished it--for alldamages Weald might claim. It would even pay indemnity for the miners ofOrede, who had died by accident but perhaps in some sense through itsfault. It would pay.... But if it were bombed, Weald must spout atomicfire and the fleet of Weald would have no home planet to return to.

  * * * * *

  This proposal seemed both craven and foolish. It would allow the fleetof Weald to loot and then betray Dara. But it was Calhoun's idea. Itseemed plausible to the admirals of Weald. They felt only contempt forblueskins. Contemptuously, they accepted the semi-surrender.

  The broadcast waves of Dara told of agreement, and wild and fierceresentment filled the pariah planet's people. There wasalmost--almost!--revolution to insist upon resistance, however hopelessand however fatal. But not all of Dara realized that a vital change hadcome about in the state of things on Dara. The enemy fleet had not ahint of it. And therefore--

  In menacing array, the invading fleet spread itself about the skies ofDara, well beyond the atmosphere. Harsh voices talked with increasingarrogance to the landing-grid staff. A monster ship of Weald cameheavily down, riding the landing-grid's force-fields. It touched gently.Its occupants were apprehensive, but hungry for the loot they had beenassured was theirs. The ship's outer hull would be sterilized before itreturned to Weald, of course. And there was adequate protection for thelanding-party.

  Men came out of the ship's ports. They wore the double, transparentsag-suits Calhoun had suggested, which had been painstakingly tested,and which were perfect protection against contagion. They could lootwith impunity, and all contamination would remain outside the suits.What loot they gathered, obviously, could be decontaminated before itwas returned to Weald. It was a most satisfactory discovery, to realizethat blueskins could be not only scorned but robbed. There was only onebit of relevant information the space-fleet of Weald did not have.

  That information was that the people of Dara weren't blueskins anylonger. There'd been a trivial epidemic.

  The sag-suited men of Weald went zestfully about their business. Theytook over the landing-grid's operation, driving the Darian operatorsaway. For the first time in history the operators of a landing-grid woremakeup to look like they did have blue pigment in their skins. TheWealdian landing-party tested the grid's operation. They brought downanother giant ship. Then another. And another.

  Parties in the shiny sag-suits spread through the city. There were thehuge stock-piles of precious metals, brought in readiness to besurrendered and carried away. Some men set to work to load these intothe holds--to be sterilized later. Some went forthrightly after personalloot.

  They came upon very few Darians. Those they saw kept sullenly away fromthem. They entered shops and took what they fancied. They zestfullyremoved the treasure of banks.

  Triumphal and
scornful reports went up to the hovering great ships. Theblueskins, said the reports were spiritless and cowardly. They permittedthemselves to be robbed. They kept out of the way. It had been observedthat the population was streaming out of the city, fleeing because theyfeared the ships' landing-parties. The blueskins had abjectly producedall 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, werelifted to emptiness again and the process of decontamination of theirhulls began. There was jealousy among the ships in space for those uponthe ground. The first-landed ships had had their choice of loot. Therewere squabblings about priorities, now that the navy of Weald plainlyhad a license to steal. There was confusion among the members of thelanding-parties. Discipline disappeared. Men in plastic sag-suits rovedabout as individuals, seeking what they might loot.

  * * * * *

  There were armed and alerted landing-parties around the grid itself, ofcourse, but the capital city of Dara lay open. Men coming back with lootfound their ships already lifted off to make room for others. They werepushed into reembarking-parties of other ships. There were more and moremen to be found on ships where they did not belong, and more and morenot to be found where they did. By the time half the fleet had beenaground, there was no longer any pretense of holding a ship down untilall its crew returned. There were too many other ships' companiesclamoring 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 werestill empty, when the watchful government of Dara broadcast a newmessage to the invaders. It requested that the looting stop. No matterwhat payment Weald claimed, it had taken payment five times over. Nowwas time to stop.

  It was amusing. The space-admiral of Weald ordered his ships alerted foraction. The message-ship, ordering the Darian fleet away from Weald,had been sent off long since. No other ship could get away now! TheDarians 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 thetrouble began. It wasn't on the ground, at all. Everything was undersplendid control where a landing-force occupied the grid and all theground immediately about it. The space admiral had headquarters in thelanding-grid office. Reports came in, orders were issued, admirablycrisp salutes were exchanged among sag-suited men.... Everything was inperfect shape there.

  But there was panic among the ships in space. Communicators gave offhorrified, panic-stricken yells. There were screamings. Intelligiblecommunications ceased. Ships plunged crazily this way and that. Somevanished in overdrive. At least one plunged at full power into a Darianocean.

  The space-admiral found himself in command of fifteen ships only, out ofall his former force. The rest of the fleet went through a period ofhysterical madness. In some ships it lasted for minutes only. In othersit went on for half an hour or more. Then they hung overhead, but didnot reply to calls.

  Calhoun arrived at the space-port with Murgatroyd riding on hisshoulder. A bewildered officer in a sag-suit halted him.

  "I've come," said Calhoun, "to speak to the admiral. My name is Calhounand I'm Med Service, and I think I met the Admiral at a banquet a fewweeks 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 toexplain it to the admiral. He needs to know what's happened, if he's totake appropriate measures."

  There were jitterings. Many men in sag-suits had still no idea thatanything had gone wrong. Some appeared, brightly carrying loot. Somehung eagerly around the airlocks of ships on the grid tarmac, waitingtheir turns to stand in corrosive gases for the decontamination of theirsuits, when they would burn the outer layers and step, aseptic andhappy, into a Wealdian ship again. There they could think how rich theywere going to be back on Weald.

  But the situation aloft was bewildering and very, very ominous. Therewas strident argument. Presently Calhoun stood before the Wealdianadmiral.

  "I came to explain something," said Calhoun pleasantly. "The situationhas changed. You've noticed it, I'm sure."

  The admiral glared at him through two layers of plastic, which coveredhim almost like a gift-wrapped parcel.

  "Be quick!" he rasped.

  "First," said Calhoun, "there are no more blueskins. An epidemic ofsomething or other has made the blue patches on the skins of Dariansfade out. There have always been some who didn't have blue patches. Nownobody has them."

  "Nonsense!" rasped the admiral. "And what has that got to do with thissituation?"

  "Why, everything," said Calhoun mildly. "It means that Darians can passfor Wealdians whenever they please. That they are passing for Wealdians.That they've been mixing with your men, wearing sag-suits exactly likethe one you're wearing now. They've been going aboard your ships in theconfusion of returning looters. There's not a ship now aloft, that hasbeen aground today, that hasn't from one to fifteen Darians--no longerblueskins--on board."

  The admiral roared. Then his face turned gray.

  "You can't take your fleet back to Weald," said Calhoun gently, "if youbelieve its crews have been exposed to carriers of the Dara plague. Youwouldn'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 alertedfor action, the Darians on each ship released panic-gas. They onlyneeded tiny, pocket-sized containers of the gas for the job. They hadthem. They only needed to use air-tanks from their sag-suits to protectthemselves against the gas. They kept them handy. On nearly all yourships aloft your crews are crazy from panic-gas. They'll stay that wayuntil the air is changed. Darians have barricaded themselves in thecontrol-rooms of most if not all your ships. You haven't got a fleet. Ifthe few ships that will obey your orders, drop one bomb, our fleet offWeald will drop fifty. I don't think you'd better order offensiveaction. Instead, I think you'd better have your fleet medical officerscome and learn some of the facts of life. There's no need for warbetween 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 fleetwere breathing Wealdian air from tanks. It would last so long only. Ifthey were taken on board the still obedient ships overhead, Darianswould unquestionably be mixed with them. There was no way to take offthe 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 knowwhat 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 amisunderstanding to be cleared up, and some principles of planetaryhealth practises to be explained, and a certain amount of prejudice thathas to be thrown away. But nobody need die of changing their minds. TheInterstellar Medical service has proved that over and over!"

  Murgatroyd, perched on his shoulder, felt that it was time to take partin the conversation. He said;

  "_Chee-chee!_"

  "Yes," agreed Calhoun. "We do want to get the job done. We're behindschedule now."

  * * * * *

  It was not, of course, possible for Calhoun to leave immediately. He hadto preside at various meetings of the medical officers of the fleet withthe health officials of Dara. He had to make explanations, and correctmisapprehensions, and delicately suggest such biological experiments aswould prove to the doctors of Weald that there was no longer a plague onDara, whatever had been the case three generations before. He had to sitby while an extremely self-confident young Darian doctor named Korvanrather condescendingly demonstrated that the former blue pigmentationwas a viral product quite unc
onnected with the plague, and that it hadbeen wiped out by a very trivial epidemic of--such and such. Calhounregarded that young man with a detached interest. Maril thought himwonderful, 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 Darianswere no longer carriers of plague, if they had ever been. Unless Wealdconvinced other worlds of this, Weald itself would join Dara inisolation from neighboring worlds. A messenger ship to recall thetwenty-seven ships once floating in orbit about Weald. Most of themwould be used for some time, now, to bring beef from Orede. Some wouldhaul more grain from Weald. It would be paid for. There would be a needfor commercial missions to be exchanged between Weald and Dara.

  It was a full week before he could go to the little Med Ship and preparefor departure. Even then there were matters to be attended to. All thefood-supplies that had been removed could not be replaced. There werebiological samples to be replaced and some to be destroyed.... Theair-tanks....

  Maril came to the Med Ship again when he was almost ready to leave. Shedid 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 mostprominent 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 attractiveto you, which is something I couldn't manage."

  "You didn't try," said Maril. "Just as I didn't try to be fascinating toyou. Why?"

  Calhoun spread out his hands. But he looked at Maril with respect. Notevery woman could have faced the fact that a man did not feel impelledto make passes at her. It is simply a fact that has nothing to do withdesirability 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 splendiddiscoveries. 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 Servicein this sector has been badly handled. There are a numberof--discoveries that need to be made. I don't think your Korvan wouldrelish having things handed to him on a visible silver platter. But theyshould be known...."

  Maril said wrily;

  "I can guess what you mean. I never went into detail about how theblueskin markings disappeared, but a few hints--You've got books forme?"

  Calhoun nodded. He brought them to her.

  "If we only fell in love with each other, Maril, we'd be a team! Toobad! 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 neverknow, and he'll be a great man." Then she added defensively, "And notjust from these books! He'll make his own wonderful discoveries."

  "Of which," said Calhoun, "the most remarkable is you. Good luckMaril!"

  * * * * *

  Presently the Med Ship lifted. Calhoun aimed it for the next planet onthe list of those he was to visit. After this one more he'd return tosector headquarters with a biting report to make on the way things hadbeen 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 MedShip from being totally unendurable.

  Long, long days later the ship broke out of overdrive and Calhoun guidedit to a round and sunlit world. In due time he thumped thecommunicator-button.

  "Calling ground," he said crisply. "Calling ground! Med Ship AesclipusTwenty reporting arrival and asking coordinates for landing. Purpose oflanding, planetary health inspection. Our mass is fifty standard tons."

  There was a pause while the beamed message went many, many thousands ofmiles. 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