7
From the viewpoint of Darians, who were also blueskins, the decisionof Calhoun's guilt and the decision to execute him were reasonableenough. Maril protested fiercely, and her testimony agreed withCalhoun's in every respect, but from a blueskin viewpoint their ownstatements were damning.
Calhoun had taken four young astrogators to space. They were the onlysemiskilled 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.
So far there was no disagreement. He'd proposed to make them morecompetent pilots; more capable of driving a ship to Orede, forexample, to raid the enormous cattle herds there. And he'd had themdrive the Med Ship to Weald, against which there could be noobjection.
But just before arrival he had tricked all four of them by giving themdrugged coffee. He'd destroyed the lethal bacterial cultures they'dbeen ordered to dump on Weald. Then he'd sent the four student pilotsoff separately, so he and Maril claimed, in huge ships crammed withgrain. But those ships were not to be believed in, anyhow.
Nobody believed in shiploads of grain to be had for the taking. Theydid know that the only four partially experienced space pilots on Darahad been taken away and by Calhoun's own story sent out of the shipafter they'd been drugged.
Had they been trained, and had they been helped or even permitted tosow the seeds of plague on Weald, and had they come back prepared topass on training to other men to handle other space ships nowfeverishly being built in hidden places on Dara, then Dara might havea chance of survival.
But a space battle with only partly trained pilots would be hazardousat best. With no trained pilots at all, it would be hopeless. SoCalhoun, by his own story, appeared to have doomed every living beingon Dara to massacre 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. Calhounhad shattered Dara's feeble hope of resistance. Weald had some shipsand could build or buy others faster than Dara could hope to constructthem.
Equally important, Weald had a plenitude of experienced spacemen toman some 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, then Dara was doomed. But if hedid not tell the truth it was equally doomed by his actions. SoCalhoun 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 blueskinplanet. Half-starved men with grisly blue blotches on their skins,marched him to the center of the largest level space on the planetwhich was not desperately being cultivated. Their hatred showed intheir expressions. Bitterness and fury surrounded Calhoun like a wall.Most of Dara would have liked to have seen him killed in a manner asatrocious as his crime, but no conceivable death would be satisfying.
So the affair was coldly businesslike, with not even insults offeredto him. He was left to stand alone in the very center of thelanding-grid floor. There were a hundred blasters which would fireupon him at the same instant. He would not only be killed; he would bedestroyed. He would be vaporized by the blue-white flames poured uponhim.
His death was remarkably close, nothing remaining but the order tofire, when loudspeakers from the landing-grid office froze everything.One of the grain ships from Weald had broken out of overdrive and itspilot was triumphantly calling for landing coordinates. The gridoffice relayed his call to loudspeaker circuits as the quickest way toget it on the communication 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 isto deliver 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 tobe used as a decoy by the men of Weald! Presently the giant ship onits second voyage to Dara--the first had been a generation ago, whenit threatened death and destruction--appeared as a dark pinpoint inthe sky. It came down and down, and presently it hovered over thecenter of the tarmac, where Calhoun composedly stood on the spot wherehe was to have 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 thegrid's metal-lace wall.
The big ship touched ground, and its exit port revolved and opened,and the student pilot stood there grinning and heaving out handfuls 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 ecstatically admiringcitizens of Dara. They shouted praise and rejoicing in his ears untilhe was half-deafened, and they almost tore his clothing from them intheir desire to touch, to pat, to assure him of their gratitude andaffection, 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 toground on the following day.
When 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.I think it likely that we can raid the Wealdian grain fleet one moretime, and in so doing get the beginning of a fleet for defense. Iinsist, however, that it must not be used in combat. We might as wellbe sensible about this situation! After all, four shiploads of grainwon't break the famine! They'll help a lot, but they're only thebeginning of what'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 fromdropping bombs if we can get the grain fleet and some capableastrogators."
"How?"
He told them. It was not possible to tell the whole story of what heconsidered sensible behavior. An emotional program can be presentedand accepted immediately. A plan of action which is actuallyintelligent, considering all elements of a situation, has to beaccepted piecemeal. Even so, the military men growled.
"We've plenty of heavy elements," said one. "If we'd used our brains,we'd have more bombs than Weald can hope for! We could turn that wholeplanet into a smoking cinder!"
"Which," said Calhoun acidly, "would give you some satisfaction butnot 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 tobuild an emergency device for my ship, and I'll want the four pilotsI've trained and twenty more candidates. And I'd like to have somedecent rations! The last trip brought back two million bushels ofgrain. You can certainly spare adequate food for twenty men for a fewdays!"
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 mineon Orede. It was essentially a tank of liquid oxygen, packed in thespace from which stores had been taken away. When the ship's airsupply was pumped past it, first moisture and then CO_{2} froze out.
Then the air flowed over the liquefied oxygen at a rate to replace theCO_{2} with more useful breathing material. Then the moisture wasrestored to the air as it warmed again. For so long as the
oxygenlasted, fresh air for any number of men could be kept purified andbreathable. The Med Ship's normal equipment could take care of no morethan ten. But with this it could journey to Weald with almost anycomplement on board.
Maril stayed on Dara when the Med Ship left. Murgatroyd protestedshrilly when he discovered her about to be closed out by the closingairlock.
"_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, who crisply madecontact with the landing-grid office, and very efficiently supervisedas the grid took the ship up. The other three of the fourfirst-trained men explained every move to sub-classes assigned toeach. Calhoun moved about, listening and making certain that theinstruction was up to standard.
He felt queer, acting as the supervisor of an educational institutionin space. He did not like it. There were twenty-four men besidehimself crowded into the Med Ship's small interior. They got in eachother's way. They trampled on each other. There was always somebodyeating, and always somebody sleeping, and there was no need whateverfor the background tape to keep the ship from being intolerablyquiet. But the air system worked well enough, except once when thereheating unit quit and the air inside the ship went down belowfreezing before the trouble could be found and corrected.
The journey to Weald, this time, took seven days because of thetraining program in effect. Calhoun bit his nails over the delay. Butit was necessary for each of the students to make his own line-ups onWeald's sun, and compute distances, and for each of them to practisemaneuverings that would presently be called for. Calhoun hopeddesperately that preparations for active warfare did not move fast onWeald.
He believed, however, that in the absence of direct news from Dara,Wealdian officials would take the normal course of politicos. They hadproclaimed the ship from Orede an attack from Dara. Therefore, theywould specialize on defensive measures before plumping for offense.They'd get patrol ships out to spot invasion ships long before theyworked on a fleet to destroy the blueskins. It would meet the publicdemand for defense.
Calhoun was right. The Med Ship made its final approach to Weald underCalhoun's own control. He'd made brightness-measurements on hisprevious journey and he used them again. They would not be strictlyaccurate, because a sunspot could knock all meaning out of any readingbeyond two decimal places. But the first breakout was just far enoughfrom the Wealdian system for Calhoun to be able to pick out itsplanets with the electron telescope at maximum magnification. He couldaim for Weald itself, allowing, of course, for the lag in the apparentmotion of its image because of the limited speed of light. He triedthe briefest of overdrive hops, and came out within the solar systemand well inside any watching 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.Of course radars spotted the Med Ship as an object, but nobody paidattention. It was not headed for Weald. It was probably assumed to bea guard boat itself. Such mistakes do happen.
Again from the storage space from which supplies had been removed,Calhoun produced vacuum suits. The four first students went out, eachescorting a less-accustomed neophyte and all fastened firmly togetherwith space ropes. They warmed the interiors of four ships and went onto others. 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, ofcourse. It came droning, droning up the forty-odd thousand miles fromthe planet. Calhoun swore. He could not call his students and tellthem what was toward. The guard ship would overhear. He could nottrust untried young men to act rationally if they were unaware and theguard ship arrived and matter-of-factly attempted to board one ofthem.
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,in order. One was Calhoun. The second was coffee. The third waspretending to converse like a human being. The speaker saidexplosively, "You there, identify yourself!"
"_Chee-chee-chee-chee!_" observed Murgatroyd. He wriggled withpleasure and added, reasonably enough, "_Chee!_"
The communicator bawled, "Calling ground! Calling ground! Listen tothis! 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 ofstill-lifeless grain ships. It was highly improbable that the guardboat would carry an electron telescope. Most likely it would have onlyan echo-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 andits sun. Even electron telescopes on the ground--and electrontelescopes were ultimately optical telescopes with electronicamplification--could not get a good image of the ship through sunlitatmosphere.
"_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'sno human voice," it said harshly. "Approach its ship and send back animage. Don't fire first unless it heads for ground."
The guard ship swerved and headed for the Med Ship. It was still avery long 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 awayfrom the fleet of grain ships.
He swung his electron telescope on them. He saw a spacesuited 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,and found the Med Ship gone. He'd go back inside and turn on acommunicator.
"_Chee!_" said Murgatroyd.
The heavy voice boomed. "You there! This is a human-occupied world! Ifyou come in peace, cut your drive and let our guard ship approach!"
Murgatroyd replied in an interested but doubtful tone. The boomingvoice bellowed. Another voice of higher authority took over.Murgatroyd was entranced that so many people wanted to talk to him. Hemade what for him was practically an oration. The last voice spokepersuasively and suavely.
"_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 dryly. "This is Med Ship _AesclipusTwenty_. I called here a couple of weeks ago. You've been talking tomy _tormal_, Murgatroyd."
A pause. A blank pause. Then profanity of deep and savageintemperance.
"I've been on Dara," said Calhoun.
Dead silence fell.
"There's a famine there," said Calhoun deliberately. "So the grainships you've had in orbit have been taken away by men fromDara--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 suavevoice said waspishly, "Well? The Med Service will hear of yourinterference!"
"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--irridium, uranium, that sortof thing."
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, uraniummelts at 1150 deg. centigrade, and tungsten at 3370 deg. and irridium at2350 deg.. You could load such things and melt them down in space and thentow them home. And you can actually sterilize a lot of other usefulmaterials!"
The suave voice was infuriated: "I'll report this! You'll suffer forthis!"
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 landon Dara, take whatever property they think wise--to pay for damagedone by blueskins, of course--and get back to Wealdian ships withabsolutely no danger of carrying contagion. If you'll make sure therecording'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 notuse the 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 toblast me out of space. I sign off."
The Med Ship disappeared from normal space, and entered thatimprobably stressed area of extension which it formed about itself andin which physical constants were wildly strange. For one thing, thespeed of light in overdrive-stressed space had not been measured yet.It was too high. For another, a ship could travel very many times186,000 miles per second in overdrive.
The Med Ship did just that. There was nobody but Calhoun andMurgatroyd on board. There was companionable silence, with only thesmall threshold-of-perception sounds which one did not often notice.
Calhoun luxuriated in regained privacy. For seven days he'd hadtwenty-four other human beings crowded into the two cabins of theship, with never so much as one yard of space between himself andsomeone 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 mayremember on Dara that I'm responsible for some ten million bushels ofgrain reaching them. Maybe, just possibly, they'll listen to me andact sensibly. After all, there's only one way to break a famine. Notwith ten million bushels for a whole planet! And certainly not withbombs!"
Driving direct, without pausing for practising, the Med Ship couldarrive at Dara in a little more than five days. Calhoun looked forwardto relaxation. As a beginning he made ready to give himself anadequate meal for the first time since first landing on Dara. Then,presently, he sat down to a double meal of Darian famine-rations,which were far from appetizing. But there wasn't anything else onboard.
He had some pleasure later, though, envisioning what went on in thenormal, non-overdrive universe. Suns flared, and comets hurtled ontheir way, and clouds formed and dropped down rain, and all sorts ofcelestial and meteorological phenomena took place. On Weald,obviously, there would be purest panic.
The vanishing of the grain fleet wouldn't be charged againsttwenty-four men. A Darian fleet would be suspected, and with thesuspicion would come terror, and with terror a governmental crisis.Then there'd be a frantic seizure of any craft that could take tospace, and the agitated improvisation of a space fleet.
But besides that, biological-warfare technicians would examineCalhoun's instructions for equipment by which armed men could belanded on a plague-stricken planet and then safely taken off again.Military and governmental officials would come to the eminently saneconclusion that while Calhoun could not well take active measuresagainst blueskins, as a sane and proper citizen of the galaxy he wouldbe on the side of law and order and propriety and justice--in short,of Weald. So they ordered sample anticontagion suits made according toCalhoun's directions, and they had them tested. They worked admirably.
On Dara, while Calhoun journeyed placidly back to it, grain wasdistributed lavishly, and everybody on the planet had their cerealration almost doubled. It was still not a comfortable ration, but therelief was great. There was considerable gratitude felt for Calhoun,which as usual included a lively anticipation of further favors tocome. Maril was interviewed repeatedly, as the person best able todiscuss him, and she did his reputation no harm. That was all thathappened on Dara....
No. There was something else. A very curious thing, too. There was aspread of mild symptoms which nobody could exactly call a disease.They lasted only a few hours. A person felt slightly feverish, and rana temperature 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 arerarely recorded, because few people think to go to a doctor. That wasthe case here.
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 mostgratifying.
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 would 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 predicted any of these items in advance,but it was unlikely that anyone did. Nobody but Calhoun, however,would ever have put them together and hoped very urgently that thingswould work out. He could see a promising total result. In fact, in theMed Ship hurtling through space, on the fourth day of his journey, hethought of an improvement that could be made in the sum of all thosehappenings when they got mixed together.
He got back to Dara. Maril came to the Med Ship. Murgatroyd greetedher with enthusiasm.
"Something strange has happened," said Maril, very much subdued. "Itold you that sometimes blueskin markings fade out on children, andthen neither they nor their children ever have markings again."
"Yes," said Calhoun. "I remember that you told me."
"And you were reminded of a group of viruses on Tralee. You said 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 thatthat's what happens to the blueskin markings on Darians. He thinksthat people 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, "youwere working with some culture material. You wrote quite a lot aboutit in the 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?"
"This is a long discussion," said Calhoun. "Does it arrive at apoint?"
"It does," said Maril. "Thousands of people are having theirpigment-spots fade away. Not only children but grownups. And Korvanhas found out that it always seems to happen after a day when theyfelt feverish and very thirsty, and then felt all right again. Youtried out something that made you feverish and thirsty. I had it too,in the ship. Korvan thinks there's been an epidemic of something thatis obliterating the blue spots on everybody that catches it. There arealways trivial epidemics that nobody notices. Korvan's found evidenceof 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 thatwipes 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, "Iknow you did it! But the question is, are you going to tell? Whenpeople find they're not blueskins any longer, when there's no suchthing 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'sfound the proof. He's very proud. I'd have to tell him how the ideasgot into his head if you were going to tell. And he'd be ashamed andangry."
Calhoun considered, staring at her.
"How it happened doesn't matter," he said at last. "The idea ofanybody doing it deliberately would be disturbing, too. It shouldn'tget about. So it seems much the best thing for Korvan to discoverwhat's happened to the blueskin pigment, and how it happened. But notwhy."
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 spaceand driving for Dara.
* * * * *
8
There were small scout ships which came on ahead of the main fleet.They'd originally been guard boats, intended for solar system dutyonly and 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,of all 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 flittered 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 the blueskins had seized and rushedaway. If the scouts looked for them, they did not find them.
Dara offered no opposition to the 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 the scouts reported monotonously that they saw nosign of the stolen fleet. But the stolen fleet was the only means bywhich the planet could be defended. There could be no point in apitched battle in emptiness. But a fleet with a planet to back itmight 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 possible suicidedashes of defending ships which might blow themselves up near contactwith their enemies.
But a fleet cannot travel some light-years through space to make amere threat. And the Wealdian fleet was furnished with the materialfor total devastation. It could drop bombs from hundreds, orthousands, or even tens of thousands of miles away. It could cover theworld of Dara with mushroom clouds springing up and spreading to makea continuous pall of atomic-fusion products. And they could settledown and kill every living thing not destroyed by the explosionsthemselves. Even the creatures of the deepest oceans would die ofdeadly, purposely-contrived fallout particles.
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 saidthat a ship in overdrive had carried word to a Darian fleet in space.The Darian fleet now hurtled toward Weald. It was a fleet ofthirty-seven giant ships. They carried such-and-such bombs insuch-and-such quantities. Unless its orders were countermanded, itwould deliver those bombs on Weald, set to explode. If Weald bombedDara, the orders could not be withdrawn. So Weald could bomb Dara. Itcould destroy all life on the pariah planet. But Weald would die withit.
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 wouldaccept payment of the grain ships and their cargos. It would pay iningots of irridium and uranium and tungsten, and gold if Weald wishedit, for all damages Weald might claim.
It would even pay indemnity for the miners of Orede, who had died byaccident but perhaps in some sense through its fault. It would pay.But if it were bombed, Weald must spout atomic fire and the fleet ofWeald 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 was almostrevolution to insist upon resistance, however hopeless and howeverfatal. But not all of Dara realized that a vital change had come aboutin the state of things on Dara. The enemy fleet had not a hint of it.
In menacing array, the invading fleet spread itself about the skies 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 touchedgently. Its occupants were apprehensive, but hungry for the loot theyhad been assured was theirs. The ship's outer hull would be sterilizedbefore it returned to Weald, of course. And there was adequateprotection for the landing-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 were doublegarments of plastic, with air tanks inside the inner flexibleenvelope.
Men wearing such sag-suits could walk about on Dara. They could workon Dara. They could loot with impunity and all contamination mustremain outside the suits, and on their return to their ships theywould simply stand in the airlocks while corrosive gases swirledaround them, killing any possible organism of disease. Then, for extraassurance, when air from Weald filled the airlock again, the men wouldburn the outer plastic covering and step into the ship without everhaving come within two layers of plastic of infection.
What loot they gathered, obviously, could be decontaminated before itwas returned to Weald. Metals could be melted, if necessary. Gemscould be sterilized. It was a most satisfactory discovery, to realizethat blueskins could be not only scorned but robbed. There was onlyone bit of irrelevant information the space fleet of Weald did nothave.
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-gridwore make-up to look like they did have blue pigment in their skins.They didn't. The Wealdian landing-party tested the grid's operation.They brought down another giant ship. Then another. And another.
Parties in the shiny sag-suits spread through the city. There were thehuge stockpiles of precious metals, brought in readiness to besurrendered and carried away. Some men set to work to load these into
the holds of the ships of Weald. Some went forthrightly after personalloot.
They came upon very few Darians. Those they saw kept sullenly awayfrom them. They entered shops and took what they fancied. Theyzestfully removed the treasure of banks.
Triumphant and scornful reports went up to the hovering great ships.The blueskins, said the reports, were spiritless and cowardly. Theypermitted themselves to be robbed. They kept out of the way. It hadbeen observed that the population was streaming out of the city,fleeing because they feared the ships' landing-parties. The blueskinshad abjectly produced all they'd promised of precious metals, butthere 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 oftheir hulls began. There was jealousy among the ships in space forthose upon the ground. The first-landed ships had had their choice ofloot. There were squabblings about priorities, now that the navy ofWeald plainly had a license to steal. There was confusion among themembers of the landing-parties. Discipline disappeared. Men in plasticsag-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 withloot found their ships already lifted off to make room for others.They were pushed into re-embarking-parties of other ships. There weremore and more men to be found on ships where they did not belong, andmore and more not to be found where they did.
By the time half the fleet had been aground, there was no longer anypretense of holding a ship down until all its crew returned. Therewere too many other ships' companies clamoring for their turn to loot.The rosters of many ships, indeed, bore no particular relationship tothe men actually on board.
There were less than fifteen ships whose to-be-fumigated holds werestill emptied, 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 alertedfor action. The message ship, ordering the Darian fleet away fromWeald, had been sent off long since. No other ship could get away now!The Darians could take their choice: accept the consequences ofsurrender, or the fleet would rise to throw down bombs.
Calhoun was asking politely to be taken to the Wealdian admiral whenthe trouble began. It wasn't on the ground, at all. Everything wasunder splendid control where a landing force occupied the grid and allthe ground immediately about it. The space admiral had headquarters inthe 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 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 aDarian ocean.
The space admiral found himself in command of fifteen ships only outof all his former force. The rest of the fleet went through a periodof hysterical madness. In some ships it lasted for minutes only. Inothers it went on for half an hour or more. Then they hung overhead,but did not reply to calls.
Calhoun arrived at the spaceport with Murgatroyd riding on hisshoulder. A bewildered officer in a sag-suit halted him.
"I've come," said Calhoun, "to speak to the admiral. My name isCalhoun and I'm Med Service, and I think I met the admiral at abanquet 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 toexplain it to the admiral. He needs to know what's happened, if he'sto take 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 oftheir suits, when they would burn the outer layers and step, asepticand happy, into a Wealdian ship again. There they could think how richthey were 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.Now nobody has them."
"Nonsense!" rasped the admiral. "And what has that got to do with thissituation?"
"Why, everything," said Calhoun mildly. "It seems that Darians canpass for Wealdians whenever they please. That they _are_ passing forWealdians. That they've been mixing with your men, wearing sag-suitsexactly like the one you're wearing now. They've been going aboardyour ships in the confusion of returning looters. There's not a shipnow aloft, which has been aground today, which hasn't from one tofifteen 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, "ifyou believe its crews have been exposed to carriers of the Daraplague. 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 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 toprotect 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 havebarricaded themselves in the control rooms of most if not all yourships. You haven't got a fleet. The few ships who will obey yourorders--if they drop one bomb, our fleet off Weald will drop fifty.
"I don't think you'd better order offensive action. Instead, I thinkyou'd better have your fleet medical officers come and learn some ofthe facts of life. There's no need for war between Dara and Weald, butif you insist...."
The admiral made a choking noise. He could have ordered Calhounkilled, but there was a certain appalling fact. The men aground fromthe fleet were breathing Wealdian air from tanks. It would last solong only. If they were taken on board the still obedient shipsoverhead, Darians would unquestionably be mixed with them. There wasno way to take off the parties now aground without exposing them tocontact with Darians, on the ground or in the ships. There was no wayto sort out the Darians.
"I--I will give the orders," said the admiral thickly. "I do not knowwhat you devils plan, but--I do not know how to stop you."
"All that's necessary," said Calhoun warmly, "is an open mind. There'sa misunderstanding to be cleared up, and some principles of planetaryhealth practises to be explained, and a certain amount of prejudicethat has to be thrown away. But nobody need die of changing theirminds. The Interstellar Medical Service has proved that over andover!"
Murgatroyd, perched on his shoulder, felt that it was time to takepart in 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. Hehad to preside at various meetings of the medical officers of thefleet and the health officials of Dara. He had to make explanations,and correct misapprehensions, and delicately suggest such biologicalexperiments as would prove to the doctors of Weald that there wa
s nolonger a plague on Dara, whatever had been the case three generationsbefore.
He had to sit by while an extremely self-confident young Dariandoctor--one of his names was Korvan--rather condescendinglydemonstrated that the former blue pigmentation was a viral productquite unconnected with the plague, and that it had been wiped out by avery trivial epidemic of such and such.
Calhoun regarded that young man with a detached interest. Marilthought him wonderful, even if she had to give him the material forhis work. He agreed with her that he was wonderful. Calhoun shruggedand went on with his own 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 had to recall thetwenty-seven ships once floating in orbit about Weald. Most of themwould be used for some time, to bring beef from Orede. Some would haulmore grain from Weald. It would be paid for. There would be a need forcommercial missions to be exchanged between Weald and Dara. Therewould have to be....
It was a full week before he could go to the little Med Ship andprepare for departure. Even then there were matters to be attended to.All the food-supplies that had been removed could not be replaced.There were biological samples to be replaced and some to be destroyed.
Maril came to the Med Ship again when he was almost ready to leave.She did not seem comfortable.
"I wanted you to meet Korvan," she said regretfully.
"I met him," said Calhoun. "I think he will be a most prominentcitizen, 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 desirableto you, which is something I couldn't manage."
"You didn't try," said Maril. "Just as I didn't try to be fascinatingto you. 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. "And I doubt he'll everlook at another woman. He looks forward to splendid discoveries. Iwish he didn't."
Calhoun did not ask the obvious question. Instead, he saidthoughtfully, "There's something you could do. It needs to be done.The Med Service in this sector has been badly handled. There are anumber of discoveries that need to be made. I don't think your Korvanwould relish having things handed to him on a visible silver platter.But they should be known...."
Maril said, "I can guess what you mean. I dropped hints about the waythe blueskin markings went away, yes. You've got books for me?"
Calhoun nodded. He found them.
"If we had only fallen in love with each other, Maril, we'd be a team!Too bad! These are a wedding present you'll do well to hide."
She put her hands in his.
"I like you almost as much as I like Murgatroyd! Yes! Korvan willnever know, and he'll be a great man." Then she added defensively,"But I don't think he'll only discover things from hints I drop him.He'll make wonderful discoveries."
"Of which," said Calhoun, "the most remarkable is you. Good luck,Maril!"
She went away smiling. But she wiped her eyes when she was out of theship.
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.
"Overdrive coming, Murgatroyd!"
Then the stars went out and there was silence, and privacy, and afaint, faint, almost unbearable series of background sounds which keptthe Med Ship from being totally unendurable.
Long, long days later the ship broke out of overdrive and Calhounguided it to a round and sunlit world. In due time he thumbed thecommunicator button.
"Calling ground," he said crisply. "Calling ground! Med Ship_Aesclipus Twenty_ reporting arrival and asking coordinates forlanding. Purpose of landing is planetary health inspection. Our massis fifty standard tons."
There was a pause while the beamed message went many, many thousandsof miles. Then the speaker said, "_Aesclipus Twenty_, repeat youridentification!"
Calhoun repeated it patiently. Murgatroyd watched with bright eyes.Perhaps he hoped to be allowed to have another long conversation withsomebody by communicator.
"You are warned," said the communicator sternly, "that any deceit ordeception about your identity or purpose in landing will be severelypunished. We take few chances, here! If you wish to landnotwithstanding this warning--"
"I'm coming in," said Calhoun. "Give me the coordinates."
He wrote them down. His expression was slightly pained. The Med Shipdrove on, in solar system drive. Murgatroyd said, "_Chee-chee? Chee?_"
Calhoun sighed.
"That's right, Murgatroyd! Here we go again!"
* * * * *
FEAR RIDES THE ROCKETS
The Interstellar Medical Service was just about the only remaininggalactic organization that every one of the hundreds of inhabitedplanets respected. So when their service broke down in Star SectorTwelve, it created a very dangerous situation.
When Calhoun took his Med ship out of overdrive near that sector'splanet Weald, he was vaguely aware of the risks. But the crisis camehome to him with a crash the moment he radioed in for landingcoordinates.
"Contamination! Full mobilization! Red alert! Death to blueskins!"Such were the nature of his greetings.
And it began to look like a case of the cosmic jitters that only themost drastic of orbital surgery could cure.
Murray Leinster, whose real name is Will F. Jenkins, has beenentertaining the public with his exciting fiction for several decades.Called the dean of modern science-fiction, he was writing theseamazing super-science adventures back in the early twenties beforethere ever was such a thing as an all-fantasy magazine. His shortstories, novelettes, and serial novels have appeared in most of themajor American magazines, both slick and pulp, and many have beenreprinted all over the world. He has made a distinguished name forhimself (or rather two names) in the fields of adventure, historical,western, sea, and suspense stories.
Ace Books has still available the following Murray Leinster novels:CITY ON THE MOON (D-277), THE PIRATES OF ZAN and THE MUTANT WEAPON(D-403), and THE FORGOTTEN PLANET (D-528).
* * * * *
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F-113 REBELS OF THE RED PLANET by Charles Fontenay _and_ 200 YEARS TO CHRISTMAS by J. T. McIntosh
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