in and out of the ship so often it is threatening to wear out the boarding tube,

and each time it returns we get an update on the empath's progress, or rather

lack of it. And there is no need to belabor the point about our respective

responsibilities. Obviously you wish to use the ship for an unauthorized mission

and you are concealing the details so that any blame attached to me as a result

of a future inquiry will be minimal. You are cutting comers again, Doctor, but

in this instance I sympathize and will accept any instructions you care to

give."

Fletcher broke off, and for the first time in Conway's experience of the man

the Captain's cold, impassive, almost disdainful expression softened and the

voice lost its irritatingly pedantic quality. "But it is my guess that you will

order me to take Rhabwar to Cinruss," he went on, "so that our little friend can

die among its own kind."

Before Conway could reply, Fletcher had switched him to Naydrad on the Casualty

Deck.

Half an hour later the Kelgian Charge Nurse and Conway were transferring

Prilicla, who was barely conscious and trembling only slightly by then, from

its supporting harness to a powered litter. In the corridor leading to Lock Nine

none of the medical staff questioned their action, and when any of them looked

as if they might, Conway tapped irritably at the casing of his translator pack

and pretended that it was malfunctioning. But when they were passing the

entrance to the EGCL's room, Murchison was just leaving it. She stepped quickly

in front of the litter.

"Where are you taking Prilicla?" she demanded. She sounded desperately tired and

uncharacteristically angry, so much so that the empath began to twitch weakly.

"To Rhabwar" Conway said as calmly as he could. "How is the EGCL?"

W»*~~UVIfc—W VTI II

Murchison looked at the empath, then visibly tried to control her feelings as

she replied, "Very well, all things considered. Its condition is stable. There

is a senior nurse continually in attendance. Edanelt is resting next door, only

seconds away if I anything should go wrong, but we don't expect any problems. In

fact, we are expecting it to recover consciousness fairly soon. And Thornnastor

has returned to Pathology to study the results of the tests we did on Prilicla.

That's why you shouldn't be moving Prilicla from — "

"Thornnastor can't cure Prilicla," Conway said firmly. He looked from her to the

litter and went on, "I can use your help. I Do you think you can stay on your

feet for another couple of hours? Please, there isn't much time."

Within seconds of the litter's arrival on Rhabwar's Casualty Deck, Conway was on

the intercom to Fletcher. "Captain, take us out quickly, please. And ready the

planetary lander."

"The planetary — " Fletcher began, then went on, "We haven't undocked yet, much

less reached Jump distance, and you're worrying about landing on Cinruss! Are

you sure you know what — "

"I'm not sure of anything, Captain," Conway said. "Take us out but be prepared

to check velocity at short notice, and well within Jump distance."

Fletcher broke the connection without replying, and a few seconds later the

direct vision port showed the vast metal flank of the hospital moving away.

Their velocity increased to the maximum allowed in the vicinity of the

establishment, until the nearest section of the gigantic structure was a

kilometer, then two kilometers away. But nobody was interested in the view just

then because all of Conway's attention was on Prilicla, and Murchison and

Naydrad were watching him.

"Back there," the pathologist said suddenly, "you said that even Thornnastor

could not cure Prilicla. Why did you say that?"

"Because there was nothing wrong with Prilicla," Conway said. He ignored

Murchison's unladylike gape of surprise and Naydrad's wildly undulating fur and

spoke to the empath. "Isn't that so, little friend?"

"I think so, friend Conway," Prilicla said, speaking for the

StO IUM UtlNtMAL 63

first time since coming on board. "Certainly there is nothing wrong with me now.

But I am confused."

"You're confused!" Murchison began, and stopped because Conway was again at the

communicator.

"Captain," he said, "return at once to Lock Nine to take on another patient.

Switch on all of your exterior lighting and ignore the traffic instructions. And

please patch me through to Level One Six Three, the EGCL's recovery room.

Quickly."

"Right," the Captain coldly said, "but I want an explanation."

"You'll get one—" Conway began. He broke off as the Captain's angry features

were replaced by a view of the recovery room with the attending nurse, a

Kelgian, curled like a furry question mark beside the EGCL. Its report on the

patient's condition was brief, accurate, and, to Conway, terrifying.

He broke contact and returned to the Captain. Apologetically he said, "There,

isn't much time so I would like you to listen while I explain the situation, or

what I think is the situation, to the others here. I had intended that the

lander be fitted with remote-controlled medical servomechs and used as an

isolation unit, but there isn't time for that now. The EGCL is waking up. All

hell could break loose in the hospital at any minute."

Quickly he explained his theory about the EGCL and the reasoning which had led

to it, ending with the proof which was Prilicla's otherwise inexplicable

recovery.

"The part of this which bothers me," he concluded grimly, is having to subject

Prilicla to the same degree of emotional torture once again."

. The empath's limbs trembled at the remembered pain, but •t said, "I can accept

it, friend Conway, now that I know the condition will be temporary."

But removing the EGCL was not as easy as had been the abduction of Prilicla. The

Kelgian duty nurse was disposed to |^8ue, and it took all of Naydrad's powers of

persuasion and ttle combined ranks of Murchison and Conway to make it do 33 'l

was told. And while they were arguing, Conway could j6^ the wildly rippling and

twitching fur of the two nurses, the udden, almost manic changes of facial

expression in Murchi-

son, and the emotional overreaction in all of them, in spite of his earlier

warning of what would happen if they did not control their feelings. By the time

the transfer of the patient to Rhab-war's litter was underway, so much fuss had

been created that someone was sure to report it. Conway did not want that.

The patient was coming to. There was no time to go through proper channels, no

time for long and repeated explanations. Then suddenly he had to find time,

because both Edanelt and O'Mara were in the room. It was the Chief Psychologist

who spoke first.

"Conway! What do you think you're doing with that patient?"

"I'm kidnapping it!" Conway snapped back sarcastically. Quickly he went on, "I'm

sorry, sir, we are all overreacting. We can't help it, but try hard to be calm.

Edanelt, will you help me transfer the EGCL's support systems to the litter.

There , isn't much time left so I'll have to explain while we work."

The Melfan Senior dithered for a moment, the tapping of its six crablike legs

against the floor reflecting its indecision, then it spoke. "Very well, Conway.

But if I am not satisfied with your explanation the patient stays here."

"Fair enough," said Conway. He looked at O'Mara, whose face was showing the

indications of a suddenly elevated blood pressure, and went on, "You had the

right idea at the beginning, but everyone was too busy to talk to you. It should

have occurred to me, too, if the GLNO tape and concern for Prilicla hadn't

confused me by—"

"Omit die flattery and excuses, Conway," O'Mara broke in, "and get on with it."

Conway was helping Murchison and Naydrad lift the EGCL into the litter while

Edanelt and the other nurse checked the siting of the biosensors. Without

looking up he went on, "Whenever we encounter a new intelligent species the

first thing we are supposed to ask ourselves is how it got that way. Only the

dominant life-form on a planet has the opportunity, the security and leisure, to

develop a civilization capable of interstellar travel."

At first Conway had not been able to see how the EGCL's people had risen to

dominance on their world, how they had fought their way to the top of their

evolutionary tree. They had

no physical weapons of offense, and their snaillike apron of muscle which

furnished locomotion was incapable of moving them fast enough to avoid natural

enemies. Their carapace was a defense of sorts in that it protected vital

organs, but that osseus shell was mounted high on the body, making it top-heavy

and an easy prey for any predator who had only to topple it over to get at the

soft underside. Its manipulatory appendages were flexible and dexterous, but too

short and lightly muscled to be a deterrent. On their home world the EGCLs

should have been one of nature's losers. They were not, however, and there had

to be a reason.

It had come to him slowly, Conway went on, while he was moving through the

chlorine and light-gravity sections. In every ward there had been cases of

patients with known and properly diagnosed ailments displaying, or at least

complaining about, atypical symptoms. The demand for painkilling medication had

been unprecedented. Conditions which should have caused a minor degree of

discomfort were, it seemed, inflicting severe pain. He had been aware of some of

this pain himself, but had put that down to a combination of his imagination and

the effect of the Cinrusskin tape.

He had already considered and discarded the idea that the trouble was

psychosomatic because the condition was too widespread, but then he thought

about it again.

During their return from the disaster site with the sole surviving EGCL,

everyone had felt understandably low about the mission's lack of success and

because Prilicla was giving cause for concern. But in retrospect there was

something wrong, unprofessional, about their reactions. They were feeling things

too strongly, overreacting, developing in their own fashions the same kind of

hypersensitivity which had affected Prilicla and which had affected the patients

and staff on the Illensan and the Nallajim levels. Conway had felt it himself;

the vague stomach pains, the discomfort in hands and fingers, the

ov-erexcitability in circumstances which did not warrant it. But the effect had

diminished with distance, because when he vis-ited O'Mara's office for the GLNO

tape and later for the era-sure, he had felt normal and unworried except for the

usual degree of concern over a current case, accentuated in this instance

because the patient was Prilicla.

The EGCL was receiving the best possible attention from Thornnastor and Edanelt,

so it was not on his mind to any large extent. Conway had been sure of that.

"But then I began to think about its injuries," Conway went on, "and the way I

had felt on the ship and within three levels of the EGCL operation. In the

hospital while I had the GLNO tape riding me, I was an empath without empathy.

But I seemed to be feeling things—emotions, pains, conditions which did not

belong to me. I thought that, because of fatigue and the stress of that time, I

was generating sympathetic pains. Then it occurred to me that if the type of

discomfort being suffered by the EGCL were subtracted from the symptoms of the

medics and patients on those six levels and the intensity of the discomfort

reduced, then the affected patients and staff would be acting and reacting

normally. This seemed to point toward—"

"An empath!" O'Mara said. "Like Prilicla."

"Not like Prilicla," Conway said firmly. "Although it is possible that the

empathic faculty possessed by the preintelligent ancestors of both species was

similar."

But their prehistoric world was an infinitely more dangerous place than Cinruss

had been, Conway continued, and in any case the EGCLs lacked the ability of the

Cinrusskins quite literally to fly from danger. And in such a savage environment

there was little advantage in having an empathic faculty other than as a highly

unpleasant early warning system, and so the ability to receive emotions had been

lost. It was probable that they no longer received even the emotional radiation

of their own kind.

They had become organic transmitters, reflectors and fo-cusers and magnifiers of

their own feelings and those of the beings around them. The indications were

that the faculty had evolved to the stage where they had no conscious control

over the process.

"Think of the defensive weapon that makes," Conway explained. The EGCL's life

support and sensors had been transferred to the litter and it was ready to

leave. "If a predator tries to attack it, the anger and hunger it feels for its

victim together with the fear and pain, if the victim was hurt or wounded, would

be magnified, bounced back, and figuratively hit the attacker in the teeth. I

can only guess at the order of emotional amplification used. But the effect on

the predator, especially

if there were others in the vicinity whose feelings were also being amplified,

would be discouraging to say the least, also very confusing. It might have the

effect of having them attack each other.

"We already know the effect of a deeply unconscious EGCL on the patients and

staff three levels above and below this one," Conway went on grimly. "Now

consciousness is returning and I don't know what will happen, or how

far-reaching the effect will be. We have to get it away from here before the

hospital's patients have their own as well as the EGCL's pain magnified to an

unknown but major degree, and their medical attendants thrown into a steadily

accelerating state of disorder and panic because they, too, will receive the

reflected pain and—"

He broke off and tried to control his own growing panic, then he said harshly,

"We have to get it away from the hospital now, without further delays or

arguments."

O'Mara's face had lost its angry red coloration while Con-way had been talking,

until now it looked gray and bloodless. He said, "Don't waste time talking,

Doctor. I shall accompany you. There will be no further delays or arguments."

When- they reached Rhabwar's Casualty Deck the EGCL was still not fully

conscious and Prilicla was again being seriously affected by the ambient

emotional radiation which was being amplified and bounced off their patient. The

discomfort diminished sharply with increasing distance from the hospital, the

empath told them, and the awakening EGCL was radiating only a relatively low

intensity of discomfort from the sites of the recent surgery—but Prilicla did

not have to tell them that because they could all feel it for themselves.

"I have been thinking about the problem of communicating with these people,"

O'Mara said thoughtfully. "If they are all high-powered transmitters and

reflectors of emotional radia-they may not be aware of what they are doing, only

that ave an automatic, nonmaterial defense against everything and everyone

wishing them harm. The job of establishing com-munications with them may not be

easy and is likely to be a

long-range affair, unless our basic premise is wrong and we—"

"My first idea," Conway broke in, "was to put it in the lander with

remote-controlled medical servomechs. Then I

thought there should be one medic, a volunteer, in atten-dance—"

"I won't ask who," O'Mara said dryly, and smiled as Con-way's embarrassment

bounced off the EGCL and hit them.

"—because if ever there was case demanding isolation," Conway ended, "this is

it."

The Chief Psychologist nodded. "What I had been about to say was that we may

have miscalculated. Certainly we could never treat EGCLs in hospital where the

patients surrounding them were in pain, even slight pain. But the situation here

in the ship isn't too bad. I can feel pains in the equivalent sites to where the

EGCL is hurting, but nothing I can't handle. And the rest of you are emoting

concern; for the patient, and this is not unpleasant even when magnified. It

seems that if you don't think badly toward the patient, it can't bounce anything

too unpleasant back at you. It's surprising. 1 feel just the way I always do,

except more so."

"But it is regaining consciousness," Conway protested. "There should be an

intensification of—"

"There isn't," O'Mara cut in. "That is very obvious, Con-way. Could the reason

be because the patient is regaining consciousness? Think about it. Yes, Doctor,

we can all feel you feeling 'Eureka!'"

"Of courser Conway said, and paused because his pleasure and excitement at

seeing the answer, magnified by the EGCL, was causing Prilicla's wings to go

into the series of slow, rippling undulations which indicated intense pleasure

in a Cin-russkin. It also counteracted the aches which he and everyone else were

feeling from the pateint. He thought, What a weird experience the cultural

contact specialists were going to have with this species.

Aloud he said, "The process of reflecting and magnifying the feelings, hostile

or otherwise, of the people around them is a defense mechanism which would,

naturally, be at its most effective when the being is helpless, vulnerable, or

unconscious. With a return to consciousness the effect seems to diminish but

the empathic reflections are still strong. The result is that everyone around

them will have an empathic faculty not unlike Prilicla's, and yet the EGCLs are

deaf to each other's emotional radiation because they are transmitters only.

"Being like Prilicla," he went on, looking across at the empath, "is something

of a mixed blessing. But the EGCL would be a nice perspn to have around if we

were having a good time — "

"Control here," the voice of the Captain broke in. "I have some information on

your patient's species. Federation Archives have signaled the hospital to the

effect that this race — their name for themselves is the Duwetz — was contacted

briefly by an exploring Hudlar ship before the formation of the Galactic

Federation. Enough information was obtained for the basic Duwetz language to be

programmed into the present-day translation computers, but contact was severed

because of serious psychological problems among the crew. We are advised to

proceed with caution."

"The patient," Prilicla said suddenly, "is awake."

Conway moved closer to the EGCL and tried to think positive, reassuring

thoughts toward it. He noted with relief that the biosensors and associated

monitors were indicating a weak but stable condition; that the damaged lung was

again working satisfactorily and the bandages immobilizing the two rejoined

appendages were firmly in position. The extensive suturing on the muscular apron

and ambulatory pad at the base were well up to Thornnastor and Edanelt's high

standards, as were the deftly inserted staples which gleamed in neat rows where

the carapace fractures had been. Obviously the being was in considerable

discomfort in spite of the painkilling medication Thonnastor had synthesized for

its particular metabolism. But Pain was not the predominant feeling it was

transmitting, and rear and hostility were entirely absent.

Two of its three remaining eyes swiveled to regard them while the other one was

directed toward the viewport where Rector Twelve General Hospital, now almost

eight kilometers Aslant, blazed like some vast, surrealistic piece of jewelry

against the interstellar darkness. The feelings which washed -Tough them, so

intensely that they trembled or caught their breathss or rippled their fur, were

of curiosity and wonder.

"I'm not an organ mechanic like you people," O'Mara said stiffly, "but I would

say that with this case the prognosis is favorable."

The ambulance ship Rhabwar had mad the trip from Sector General to the scene of

the supposed disaster in record time and with a precision of astrogation, Conway

thought, which would cause Lieutenant Dodds to exhibit symptoms of cranial

swelling for many days to come. But as the information was displayed on the

Casualty Deck's repeater screens, it became clear to the watching medical team

that this was not going to be a fast rescue—that this might not, in fact, be a

rescue mission at all.

The fully extended sensor net revealed no sign of a distressed ship, nor any

wreckage or components of such a ship. Even the finely divided, expanding cloud

of debris which would have indicated a catastrophic malfunction in the veseel's

reactor was missing. All there was to be seen was the characteristic shape of a

dead and partially fused distress beacon at a distance of a few hundred meters

and, about three million kilometers beyond it, the bright crescent shape which

was one of this systems P!anets.

Major Fletcher's voice came from the speaker. The Captain did not sound pleased.

"Doctor," he said. "We cannot assume that this was a simple false alarm.

Hyperspace radio distress beacons are highly expensive hunks of machinery for

one thing, and I have yet to hear of an intelligent species who does not have an

aversion to crying their equivalent of wolf. 1 think the crew must have

panicked, then discovered that the condition of the ship was not as distressed

as they at first thought. They may have resumed their journey or. tried for a

planetary landing to effect repairs. We'll have to eliminate the latter

possibility before we leave. Dodds?"

"The system has been surveyed," the Astrogator's voice replied. "G-type sun,

seven planets with one, the one we can see, habitable in the short term by

warm-blooded oxygen breathers. No indigenous intelligent life. Course for a

close approach and search, sir?"

"Yes," Fletcher said. "Haslam, pull in your long-range sensors and set up for a

planetary surface scan. Lieutenant Chen, I'll need impulse power, four Gs, on my

signal. And Haslam, just in case the ship is down and trying to signal its

presence, monitor the normal and hyperradio frequencies."

A few minutes later they felt the deck press momentarily against their feet as

the artifical gravity system compensated for the four-G thrust. Conway,

Pathologist Murchison, and Charge Nurse Naydrad moved closer to the repeater

where Dodds had displayed the details of the target planet's gravity pull,

atmospheric composition and pressure, and the environmental data which made it

just barely habitable. The empathic Doctor Prilicla clung ;o the safety of the

ceiling and observed the screen at slightly longer range.

It was the Charge Nurse, its silvery fur rippling in agitation, who spoke first.

"This ship isn't supposed to land on unprepared surfaces," Naydrad said. "That

ground is—is rough."

"Why couldn't they have stayed in space like good little distressed aliens,"

Murchison said to nobody in particular, "and waited to be rescued?"

Conway looked at her and said thoughtfully, "It is possible that their condition

of distress was nonmechanical. Injury, sickness, or psychological disturbances

among the crew, perhaps, problems which have since been resolved. If it was a

physical problem then they should have stayed out here, since it is easier to

effect repairs in weightless conditions."

"Not always, Doctor," Fletcher's voice cut in sharply from

;;the Control Deck. "If the physical problem was a badly holed hull, a

breathable atmosphere around them might seem more desirable than weightless and

airless space. No doubt you have medical preparations to make."

Conway felt a surge of anger at the other's thinly veiled suggestion that he

tend to his medical knitting and stop trying to tell the Captain his business.

Beside him Murchison was breathing heavily and Naydrad's fur was tufting and

rippling as if blown by a strong wind, while above them the emotion-sensitive

Prilicla's six insectile legs and iridescent wings quivered in the emotional

gale they were generating. Out of consideration for the empath, Conway tried to

control his feelings, as did the others.

It was ^understandable that Fletcher, the ship's commander, liked to have the

last word, but he knew and accepted the fact that on Sector General's special

ambulance ship he had to relinquish command to the senior medic, Conway, during

the course of a rescue. Fletcher was a good officer, able, resourceful, and one

of the Federation's top men in the field of comparative extraterrestrial

technology. But there were times during the short period while responsibility

was being passed to Senior Physician Conway when his manner became a trifle

cool, formal—even downright nasty.

Prilicla's trembling diminished and the little empath tried to say something

which would further improve the quality of the emotional radiation around it.

"If the lately distressed vessel has landed on this planet," it said timidly,

"then we know that the crew belongs to one of the oxygen-breathing species and

the preparations to receive casualties, if any, will be relatively simple."

"That's true," Conway said, laughing.

"Only thirty-eight different species fall into that category," Murchison said,

and added dryly, "that we know of."

Rhabwar's sensors detected a small concentration of metal and associated

low-level radiation, which on an uninhabited Pianet could only mean the presence

of a grounded ship, while they were still two diameters out. As a result they

were able to decelerate and enter atmosphere for a closer look after only l*o

orbits.

The ambulance ship was a modified Monitor Corps cruiser

and, as such, the largest of the Federation vessels capable of aerodynamic

maneuvering in atmosphere. It sliced through the brown, sand-laden air like a

great white dart, trailing a sonic Shockwave loud enough to wake the dead or, at

the very least, to signal its presence to any survivors capable of receiving

audio stimulus.

Visibility was nil as they approached the grounded ship. The whole area was in

the grip of one of the sandstorms which regularly swept this harsh, near-desert

world, and the picture of the barren, mountainous surface was a sensor

simulation rather than direct vision. It accurately reproduced the succession

of wind-eroded hills and rocky outcroppings and the patches of thorny vegetation

which clung to them. Then suddenly they were above and past the grounded ship.

Fletcher pulled Rhabwar into a steep climb which became a ponderous loop as they

curved back for a slower pass over the landing site. This time, as they flew low

over the other ship at close to stalling speed, there was a brief cessation in

the storm and they were able to record the scene in near-perfect detail.

Rhabwar was climbing into space again when the Captain said, "I can't put this

ship down anywhere near that area, Doctor. I'm afraid we'll have to check for

survivors, if there are any, with the planetary lander. There aren't any obvious

signs of life from the wreck."

Conway studied the still picture of the crash site on his screen for a moment

before replying. It was arguable whether the ship had made a heavy landing or a

barely controlled crash. Much less massive than Rhabwar, it had been designed to

land on its tail, but one of the three stabilizer fins had collapsed on impact,

tipping the vessel onto its side. In spite of this the hull was relatively

undamaged except for a small section amidships which had been pierced by a low

ridge of rock. There was no visible evidence of damage other than that caused by

the crash.

All around the wreck at distances varying from twenty to forty meters there were

an number of objects—Conway counted twenty-seven of them in all—which the sensor

identified as organic material. The objects had not changed position between the

first and second of Rhabwar's thunderous fly-bys, so the probability was that

they were either dead or deeply uncon-

scious. Conway stepped up the magnification until the outlines became indistinct

in the heat shimmer, and shook his head in bafflement.

The objects had been, or were, living creatures, and even though they had been

partly covered by windblown sand, he could see a collection of protuberances,

fissures, and angular projections which had to be sensory organs and limbs.

There was a general similarity in shape but a marked difference in size of the

beings, but he thought they were more likely to be representatives of different

subspecies rather than adults and their young at different stages of

development.

"Those life-forms are new to me," the pathologist said, standing back from the

screen. She looked at Conway and the others in turn. There was no dissent.

Conway thumbed the communicator button. "Captain,"he said briskly, "Murchison

and Naydrad will go down with me. Prilicla will remain on board to receive

casualties." Normally that would have been the Kelgian Charge Nurse's job, but

nobody there had to be told that the fragile little empath would last for only a

few minutes on the surface before being blown away and smashed against the rocky

terrain. He went on, "I realize that four people on the lander will be a tight

squeeze, but initially I'd like to take a couple of pressure litters and the

usual portable equipment—"

"One large pressure litter, Doctor," Fletcher broke in. 'There will be five

people on board. I am going down as well in case there are technical problems

getting into the wreck. You're forgetting that if the life-forms are new to the

Federation, then their spaceship technology could be strange as well. Dodds will

fetch anything else you need on the next trip down. Can you be ready at the

lander bay in fifteen minutes?"

"We'll be there," Conway said, smiling at the eagerness in the other's voice.

Fletcher wanted to look at the inside of that wrecked ship just as badly as

Conway wanted to investigate the internal workings of its crew. And if there

were survivors, Rhabwar would shortly be engaged in conducting another medial

first contact with all the hidden problems, both clinical and cultural, which

that implied.

Fletcher's eagerness was underlined by the fact that he rather than Dodds took

the vehicle down and landed it in a ridiculously

small area of flat sand within one hundred meters of the wreck. From the surface

the wind-eroded rock outcroppings looked higher, sharper, and much more

dangerous, but the sandstorm had died down to a stiff breeze which lifted the

grains no more than a few feet above the ground. From the orbiting Rhabwar,

Haslam reported occasional wind flurries passing through their area which might

briefly inconvenience them.

One of the flurries struck while they were helping Naydrad unload the litter, a

bulky vehicle whose pressure envelope was capable of reproducing the gravity,

pressure, and atmosphere requirements of most of the known life-forms. Gravity

nullifiers compensated for the litter's considerable weight, making it easily

manageable by one person, but when the sudden wind caught it, Naydrad, Dodds,

and Conway had to throw themselves across it to keep it from blowing away.

"Sorry about this," Lieutenant Dodds said, as if by studying the available

information on the planet he was somehow responsible for its misdemeanors. "It

is about two hours before local midday here, and the wind usually dies down by

now. It remains calm until just before sunset, and again in the middle of the

night when there is a severe drop in temperature. The sandstorms after sunset

and before dawn are very bad and last for three to five hours, when outside work

would be very dangerous. Work during the night lull is possible but

inadvisable. The local animal life is small arid omnivorous, but those thorn

carpets on the slope over there have a degree of mobility and have to be

watched, especially at night. I'd estimate five hours of daylight calm to

complete the rescue. If it takes longer than that, it would be better to spend

the night on Rhabwar and come back tomorrow."

As the Lieutenant was speaking, the wind died again so that they were able to

see the wreck, the dark objects scattered around it, and the harsh, arid

landscape shimmering in the heat. Five hours should be more than enough to ferry

up the casualties to Rhabwar for preliminary treatment. Anything done for then)

down here would be done quickly, simple first aid.

"Did they bother to name this Godforsaken planet?" the Captain asked, stepping

down from the lander's airlock.

Dodds hesitated, then said, "Trugdil, sir."

Fletcher's eyebrows rose, Murchison laughed, and they could

see agitated movements of Naydrad's fur under its lightweight suit. It was the

Kelgian who spoke first.

"The trugdil," it said, "is a species of Kelgian rodent with the particularly

nasty habit of—"

"I know," the astrogator said quickly. "But it was a Kelgian-crewed Monitor

Corps scoutship which made the discovery. In the Corps it is customary for the

Captain of the discovering ship to give his, her, or its name to the world which

has been found. But in this instance the officer waived the right and offered it

to his subordinates in turn, all of whom likewise refused to give their names to

the planet. Judging by the name it ended with, they didn't think much of the

place either. There was another case when—"

"Interesting," Conway said quietly, "but we're wasting time. Prilicla?"

Through his helmet phones, the empath's voice replied at once. "I hear you,

friend Conway. Lieutenant Haslam is relaying an overall picture of the area to

me through the telescope, and your helmet vision pickups enable me to see all

that you see. Standing by'."

"Very good," Conway said. To the others he went on, "Naydrad will accompany me

with the litter. The rest of you split up and take a quick look at the other

casualties. If any of them are moving, or there are indications of recent

movement, call Pathologist Murchison or me at once."

As they moved off he added, "It is important that we don't waste time on

cadavers at the expense of possible survivors. But be careful. This is a new

life-form to us, and we are likewise strange to it. Physically we may resemble

something it fears, and there is the added factor of the survivor being weak, in

pain, and mentally confused. Guard against an instinctive, violent reaction

from them which, in normal circumstances, would not occur." He stopped talking

because the others were already fanning our and the first casualty, lying very

still and partly covered by sand, was only a few meters away.

As Naydrad helped him scoop sand from around the body Conway saw that the being

was six-limbed, with a stubby, cylindrical torso with a spherical head at one

end and possibly a tail at the other extremity, although the severity of the

injuries made it difficult to be sure. The two forelimbs terminated in

long, flexible digits. There were two recognizable eyes, partially concealed by

heavy lids, and various slits and orifices which were doubtless aural and

olfactory sensors and the openings for respiration and ingestion. The tegument,

which was pale brown shading to a deeper, reddish color on its top surface,

showed many incised wounds and abrasions which had bled freely but had since

congealed and become encrusted with sand—perhaps the sand had assisted in the

process of coagulation. Even the large wound at the rear, which looked as if it

might be the result of a traumatic amputation, was remarkably dry.

Conway bent closer and began going over the body with his scanner. There was no

evidence of fracturing or of damaged or displaced organs, so far as he could

see, so the being could" be moved without risk of complicating its injuries.

Naydrad was waiting with the litter to see whether it was a survivor for

immediate loading or a cadaver for later dissection, when Con-way's scanner's

sensors detected cardiac activity, extremely feeble but undoubtedly present, and

respiration so slow and shallow that he had almost missed it.

"Are you getting this, Prilicla?" he said.

"Yes, friend Conway," replied the empath. "A most interesting life-form."

"There is considerable tissue wastage," he went on, still using the scanner.

"Possibly the result of dehydration. And there is a similarity in degree and

type of the injuries which I find strange..." He trailed off into silence as

Naydrad helped him lift the casualty into the litter.

"No doubt it has already occurred to you, friend Conway," Prilicla said, using

the form of words which was the closest it ever came to suggesting that someone

had missed the obvious, "that the dehydration and the deeper coloration on the

upper areas of the epidermis may be connected with local environmental factors,

and the redness is due to sunburn."

It had not occurred to Conway, but fortunately the emotional radiation

associated with his embarrassment was well beyond the range of the empath. He

indicated the litter and said, "Naydrad, don't forget to fit the sun filter."

In his phones he heard Murchison laughing quietly, then she said, "It hadn't

occurred to me, either, so don't feel bad

about it. But I have a couple of beasties over here I'd like you to look at.

Both are alive, just barely, with a'large number of incised wounds. There is a

great disparity in mass between them, and the arrangement of the internal organs

in the large one is, well, peculiar. For instance, the alimentary canal is—"

"Right now," Conway broke in, "we must concentrate on separating the living and

the dead. Detailed examinations and discussions will have to wait until we're

back on the ship, so spend as little time as possible on each one. But I know

how you feel—my casualty has some peculiarities as well."

"Yes, Doctor," she replied coldly, in spite of his half apology. Pathologists,

even beautiful ones like Murchison, he thought, were strange people.

"Captain? Lieutenant Dodds?" he said irritably. "Any other survivors?"

"I haven't been looking at them closely, Doctor," Retcher replied. There was an

odd harshness in his voice. Possibly the condition of the crash victims was

distressing to a nonmedical man, Conway thought, and some of these casualties

were in really bad shape. But before he could reply the Captain went on, "I've

been moving around the area quickly, counting them and looking to see if any

have been covered by sand or hidden between rocks. There are twenty-seven of

them in all. But the positioning of the bodies is odd, Doctor. It's as if the

ship was in imminent danger of blowing up or catching fire, and they used the

last of their remaining strength to escape from it.

"The sensors show no such danger," he added.

Dodds waited for a few seconds to be sure that the Captain had finished

speaking, then said, "Three alive and showing slight movement. One that looks

dead, but you're the doctor, Doctor."

' "Thank you," Conway said dryly. "We'll look at them as soon as possible.

Meanwhile, Lieutenant, help Naydrad load the litter, please."

He joined Murchison then, and for the next hour they moved among the casualties,

assessing the degree of injury and readying them for transfer to the lander.

The litter was almost full and had space for two of the medium-sized casualties,

which they had tentatively classified as belonging to physiological

type DCMH,. or one of the large DCOJs. The very small DCLGs, which were less

than half the mass of the DCMH Conway had first examined, were left for the time

being because they all showed flickerings of life. As yet neither Murchison nor

Con-way could make sense of them physiologically. She thought the small DCLGs

might be nonintelligent lab animals or possibly ship's pets, while Conway was

convinced that the large DCOJs were food animals, also nonintelligent. But with

newly discovered e xtra-terrestrial life-forms, one could never be sure of

anything, and all of them would therefore have to be treated as patients.

Then they found one of the small aliens who was quite definitely dead. Murchison

said briskly, "I'll work on it in the lander. Give me fifteen minutes and I'll

have something to tell Prilicla about their basal metabolism before the

casualties begin arriving."

A flurry of wind blew the sand disturbed by her feet ahead of her as she moved

toward the lander, the small cadaver supported by her shoulder and one arm while

the other hand, carrying her med kit, acted as a counterbalance. Conway was

about to suggest that a proper examination on Rhabwar, where the full laboratory

facilities were available, would be better. But Murchis-on would already have

considered doing that and decided agai nst it, for two obvious reasons: If she

returned to the ambulance ship with Dodds and Naydrad, some of the casualties

already loaded would have to be left behind, and she needed to tell Prilicla

only enough for the empath to provide emergency surgery and supportive treatment

until the survivors were taken to Sector General.

"Captain, you overheard?" Conway said. "I'd like Dodds and Naydrad to take off

as soon as Pathologist Murchison is through. It looks as if three trips will be

necessary to lift all of them, and another for ourselves. We're going to be

pushed for time if th is is to be wrapped up before the sunset storm hits the

area."

There wa_s no reply from Fletcher, which usually signified assent when Conway

was in command. He went on, "Murchison will stay behind and assemble another

batch of casualties for the next lift. We'll collect them where there is shelter

from

the sun and sand. The lee side of the wreck would do, or better still, inside it

if there isn't too much debris."

"No, Doctor," the Captain said. "I'm worried about what we might find on that

ship."

Conway did not reply, but the sigh he gave as he continued his examination of

the casualty he was working on made his impatience clear. Fletcher was one of

the Monitor Corps' acknowledged experts in the field of alien ship technology.

This was the reason he had been given command of Sector General's most advanced

ambulance ship—it had long been recognized that a rescue mission's greatest

danger was to the rescuers, who would be looking for survivors in a distressed

vessel whose technology and operating principles they did not understand.

Fletcher was careful, conscientious, highly competent, and did not as a rule

worry out loud about his work or ability to carry it out. Conway was still

wondering about the Captain's uncharacteristic behavior when a shadow fell

across the casualty he was examining.

Fletcher was standing over him and looking as worried as he had sounded. "I

realize, Doctor," the Captain said awkwardly, "that during rescue operations

you have the rank. I want you to know that I go along with this willingly. But

on this occasion I believe the circumstances are such that complete authority

should revert to me." He glanced back at the wreck and then down at the badly

injured alien. "Doctor, do you have any experience in forensic medicine?"

Conway sat back on his haunches and simply gaped at him. Retcher took a deep

breath and went on. "The distribution and condition of the casualties around the

wreck seemed wrong to me," he said seriously. "It indicated a rapid evacuation

of a relatively undamaged ship, even though our sensors showed no radiation or

fire hazard. As well, all of the casualties were severely injured to varying

degrees and with the same type of wounding. It seemed to me that some of them

would have been able to make a greater distance from their ship than others, yet

sll of them collapsed within a relatively small radius from the wreck. This made

me wonder whether the injuries had been sustained inside the ship or close to

where they were lying."

"A local predator," Conway said, "which attacked them as

they came out already shocked and weakened as a result of the crash."

The Captain shook his head. "No life-form capable of inflicting such injuries

inhabits this world. Most of the injuries I've seen are incised wounds or those

caused by the removal of a limb. This suggests the use of a sharp instrument of

some kind. The user of the instrument may or may not be still on board the ship.

If it is on board, it may be that the beings who escaped were the lucky ones, in

which case I hate to think of what we may find inside the wreck. But you can see

now why I must resume overall responsibility, Doctor.

"The Monitor Corps is the Federation's law-enforcement arm," he concluded

quietly. "It seems to me that a very serious-crime has been committed, and I am

a policeman first and an ambulance driver second."

Before Con way could reply, Murchison said, "The condition of this cadaver, and

the other casualties I've examined, does not preclude such a possibility."

'Thank you, ma'am," the Captain said. "That is why I want the medical team back

on Rhabwar while Dodds and I arrest this criminal. If things go wrong, Chen and

Haslam can get you back to the hospital—"

"Haslam, sir," the Communications Officer's voice broke in. "Shall I request

Corps assistance?"

The Captain did not reply at once, and Con way began thinking that the other's

theory could very well explain why a previously undamaged ship had released a

distress beacon and then left the scene to try for a planetary landing.

Something had gotten loose among the crew, perhaps. Something which might have

been confined had escaped, something very, very nasty. With an effort Conway

brought his runaway imagination under control. "We can't be absolutely sure that

a criminal was responsible for this. A nonintelligent experimental animal which

broke loose, injured and perhaps maddened with pain, could have done—"

"Animals use teeth and claws, doctor," the Captain broke in. "Not knives."

"This is a completely new species," Conway replied. "We don't know anything

about them, their culture or their codes of behavior. They may be ignorant of

our particular laws."

"Ignorance of the law," Fletcher said impatiently, "has never been an acceptable

excuse for committing a criminal act against another intelligent being. Just as

ignorance of law by the innocent victim does not exclude the being concerned

from its protection."

"I agree—" Conway began. "But I am not completely sure that a crime has been

committed," he went on. "Until I am sure, you, Haslam, will not send for help.

But keep a close watch on this area and if anything moves, apart from the

survivors or ourselves, let me know at once. Very soon Dodds will be taking off

with the lander and—"

"Naydrad and the casualties," Murchison ended for him. Quietly but firmly she

went on, "Your theory scares hell out of me, Captain, but it is still only a

theory. You've admitted as much yourself. The facts are that there are a large

number of casualties all around us. They don't know it yet but they are entitled

to the protection of Federation law. Whether their injuries are due to the crash

or to being carved up by some psychopathic or temporarily deranged alien, they

are also entitled, under that same law, to all necessary medical assistance."

The Captain looked toward the lander where the Pathologist was still working on

the specimen, then back to the Doctor.

"I've nothing to add," Conway said.

Fletcher remained silent while Murchison completed her investigation and Dodds

and Naydrad transferred two casualties into the lander. He did not speak while

the vehicle was taking off or when Conway selected a spot under a large

outcropping of rock which would give waiting casualties shelter from the sun and

windblown sand. Neither did he offer to help them carry the injured e-ts to the

assembly point even though, without the litter, it was hot, back-breaking work.

Instead he moved among the e-ts with his vision pickup, recording them

individually before and after the ground had been disturbed around ftem by

Murchison and Conway, and always positioning himself between the two medics and

the wreck.

Plainly the Captain was taking his strange, new role as a Policeman and

protector of the innocent bystanders very seriously indeed.

The cooling unit in his suit did not seem to be working very *eH and Conway

would have loved to open his visor for a few

minutes. But doing that, even in the shelter of the outcropping, would have

meant letting in a lot of windblown sand.

"Let's rest for a while," he said as they placed another casualty beside its

fellows. "Time we had a talk with Prilicla."

"That is a pleasure at any time, friends Murchison and Conway," the empath said

promptly. "While I am, of course, beyond the range of the emotional radiation

being generated down there, I sympathize and hope that your feelings of anxiety

about the criminal are not too unpleasant."

"Our feelings of bewilderment are much stronger," Conway said dryly. "But maybe

you can help relieve them by going over our information, incomplete as it is,

before the first casualties reach you."

There was still a little doubt about the accuracy of the physiological

classifications, Conway explained, but there were three separate but related

types—DCLG, DCMH, and DCOJ. The wounds fell into two general categories, incised

and abraded wounds which could have resulted when the ship's occupants were

hurled against sharp-edged metal during the crash, and a traumatic amputation of

major limbs which was so prevalent among the casualties that an explanation

other than the crash was needed to explain them.

All of the survivors had body temperatures significantly greater than the norm

for warm-blooded oxygen breathers, indicating a high metabolic rate and a

hyperactive life-form. This was supported by the uniformly deep state of

unconsciousness displayed by all of the casualties, and the evidence of

dehydration and malnutrition. Beings who burned up energy rapidly rarely

lingered in a semiconscious state. There were also signs that the beings had an

unusual ability to control bleeding from severe wounds. Coagulation in the

incised wounds, perhaps assisted by the presence of the sand, was rapid but not

abnormally so, while the stumps at the amputation sites showed little evidence

of bleeding.

"Supportive treatment to relieve the dehydration and malnutrition is all that

can be done until we get them to the hospital," Conway went on. "Murchison has

already specified the nutrients suited to their metabolism. You can also insert

sutures as you see fit. If the load is too great for you, which in my opinion it

is, retain Naydrad and send down only the pilot with

the litter. Murchison can ride with the casualties on the next trip. She will

stay with you while Naydrad comes down for the last batch."

There was a moment's silence, then the empath said, "I wider-stand, friend

Conway. But have you considered the fact that your suggestion will mean three

members of the medical team being on Rhabwar for a lengthy period and only one,

yourself, on the surface where medical assistance is most urgently needed? I

.am sure that, with the aid of the Casualty Deck's handling devices and the

assistance of friends Haslam and Chen, I can cope with these patients."

It was possible that Prilicla could cope with the patients provided they

remained unconscious. But if they came to suddenly and reacted instinctively to

their strange and, to them, perhaps frightening surroundings, and to the giant

but incredibly fragile insect medic hovering over them, Conway shuddered to

think of what might happen to the empath's eggshell body and pipestem limbs.

Before he could reply, Prilicla was speaking again. .

"I am beyond the range of your emotional radiation, of course," the empath said,

"but from long contact with the both of you I know of the strength of the

emotional bond between friend Murchison and yourself. This, taking into account

the strong possibility that there is a very dangerous life-form loose down

there, is undoubtedly a factor in your decision to send her to the safety of the

ship. But perhaps friend Murchison would suffer less emotional discomfort if she

remained with you."

Murchison looked up from the casualty she was attending. "Is that what you were

thinking?"

"No," Conway lied.

She laughed and said, "You heard that, Prilicla? He is a Person utterly lacking

in consideration and sensitivity. I should have married someone like you."

"I am highly complimented, friend Murchison," the empath Said. "But you have too

few legs."

There was the sound of Fletcher clearing his throat disapprovingly at this

sudden and unseemly levity, but the Captain

did

not speak. He could no doubt appreciate as well as any of the need to relieve

fear tensions.

"Very well," Con way said. "Pathologist Murchison will remain with her feet, and

too few legs, on Trugdil. Doctor Prilicla, you will keep Charge Nurse Naydrad

with you, since it will obviously be of greater assistance in preparing and

presenting the casualties for examination and treatment than would the Engineer

and Communications officer. Haslam or Dodds can return with the litter and

medical supplies which we will specify later. Questions?"

"No questions, friend Conway," Prilicla said. "The lander is docking now."

Murchison and Conway returned their full attention to the casualties. The

Captain was examining the hull of the wreck. They could hear him tapping at the

outer skin and making the metallic scraping noises characteristic of magnetic

sound sensors being moved across the surfaces. The wind kept changing direction

so that the casualties in the shadow of the outcropping were sheltered only from

the sun and not the wind-driven sand.

From Rhabwar Haslam reported that the area was being affected by a small, local

sandstorm which should clear before the lander returned in half an hour. He

added reassuringly that nothing was moving in the area except themselves and

several patches of ambulating thorn bushes, which would lose -a race against a

debilitated tortoise.

All but three of the casualties had been moved to the outcropping, and while

Conway was bringing them in the pathologist was protecting the others from the

wind and sand by loosely wrapping them in transparent plastic sheets after first

attaching a small oxygen cylinder to each survivor. The tanks released a metered

quantity of gas calculated to satisfy the metabolic requirements of the entity

concerned. They had decided that encasing the casualties in makeshift oxygen

tents could do no harm since the pure oxygen would assist the weak respiration

and aid in the healing of the wounds, but with a completely new life-form one

could never be sure of anything. Certainly the treatment showed no sign of

returning any of the casualties to consciousness.

"The uniformly deep level of unconsciousness bothers me," Murchison said as

Conway returned carrying, with difficulty, one of the large aliens they had

classified as DCOJ. "The level

does not bear any relation to the number or severity of the wounds. Could they

be in a state of hibernation?"

"The onset was sudden," Conway said doubtfully. "They were in the process of

fleeing their ship, according to the Captain. Hibernation usually occurs in a

place of safety, not when the being concerned is in immediate physical danger."

"I was thinking of an involuntary form of hibernation," Murchison said, "perhaps

induced by their injuries, which enables them to survive until help

arrives—What was thatT

That was a loud, metallic screeching noise which came from the wreck. It lasted

for a few seconds, then there was a moment's silence before it was repeated.

They could hear heavy breathing in their suit phones so it had to be coming from

Fletcher.

"Captain," Murchison said, "are you all right?"

"No trouble, ma'am," Fletcher replied at once. "I've found a hatch in what

appears to be a cargo hold. It is, or was, a simple hermetically sealed door

rather than an airlock. When the ship tipped over the door couldn't open fully

because the outer edge dug into the sand, which I've now cleared away. The hatch

opens freely now but the hinges were warped in the crash, as you probably heard.

Two of the occupants were trying to escape, but couldn't squeeze through the

narrow opening. They are one of the large- and one of the medium-sized types,

both with amputation wounds, neither of them moving. Shall I bring them to you?"

"I'd better look at them first," Conway said. "Give me a few minutes to finish

with this one."

As they were placing the last casualty inside its makeshift oxygen tent,

Murchison said, "Have you found any trace of the criminal, Captain?"

"Other than the wounding on these two, no ma'am," Fletcher replied. "My sensors

pick up no trace of bodily movement inside the ship, nothing but a few quiet,

intermittent sounds suggesting settling debris. I'm pretty sure it is outside

the ship somewhere."

"In that case," she said, looking at Conway, "I'll go with you."

The wind died and the sand settled as they neared the wreck

so that they could see clearly the black rectangular opening in the hull just at

ground level, and the arm of the Captain waving at them from inside it. There

were so many other openings caused by sprung plating and access hatches that

without Fletcher's signal they would not have known which gap was the right

one. From outside it looked as if the ship was ready to fall apart, but when

they crawled through the opening and stood up their helmet lights showed little

evidence of internal damage.

"How did the others get out?" Conway asked. He knelt and began running his

scanner over the larger of the two casualties. There was evidence of a traumatic

amputation of a major limb but the other injuries were superficial.

"There is a large personnel hatch on the upper surface of the hull forward,"

Fletcher replied. "At least it was on the upper side after the ship toppled.

Presumably they had to slide down the curve of the hull and jump to the ground,

or move along the ship to the prow, which isn't very far from the ground, and

jump from there. These two were unlucky."

"One of them was very unlucky," Murchison said. "The DCOJ is dead. Its injuries

were not as severe as the other cases I've seen, but there is evidence of lung

damage by a corrosive gas of some kind, according to my analyzer. What about

your DCMH?"

"This one is alive," Conway said. "Similar general condition, including the

lung damage. Probably it is simply a much tougher life-form than the other two."

"I wonder about this DCOJ life-form," Murchison said thoughtfully. "Is it

intelligent at all? The small DCLG and the DCMH almost certainly are: The limb

extremities terminate in specialized manipulators, and the former seems to have

developed six hands and no feet. But the big DCOJ has four feet and two clawed

forward appendages, and is otherwise made up of teeth and a large system of

stomachs."

"Which is empty," Conway said. After a moment he added, "All of the cases I've

examined so far had empty stomachs."

"Mine as well," Murchison said. They stared at each other for a moment, then

Conway said, "Captain,"

Fletcher had been working on what seemed to be the inboard entrance to the hold,

reaching high above his head because he was standing on a wall with the floor

and ceiling on each side

of him. There was a loud click and a door swung downward and hung open. The

Captain made a self-satisfied sound and joined them.

"Yes, Doctor."

Conway cleared his throat and said, "Captain, we have a theory about your

criminal. We think that the condition of distress which caused this ship to

release its beacon was hunger. All of the casualties we've examined so far have

had empty stomachs. It is possible, therefore, that your criminal is a crew

member who turned cannibal."

Before Fletcher could reply, the voice of Prilicla sounded in their phones.

"Friend Conway," the empath said timidly. "I have not yet examined all of the

casualties you sent up, but those I have examined display symptoms of

dehydration and tissue wastage indicative of hunger and thirst. But the

condition is not far enough advanced for death to be imminent. Your hypothetical

criminal must have attacked the other crew members before lack of food became a

serious problem. The being was hungry but not starving to death. Are you sure

that the creature is intelligent?"

"No," Conway said. "But if Murchison and I have missed it while examining the

first of the casualties, and at that time we were more concerned with charting

the injuries than in the contents, if any, of their stomachs, the beastie could

be on Rhabwar now. So if you find a well-fed casualty, get Haslam and Chen to

restrain it, quickly. The Captain has a professional interest in it."

"That I have," Fletcher said grimly. He was about to go on when Haslam, who had

relieved Dodds as lander pilot, interrupted to say that he would be touching

down in six minutes and would need help loading the litter.

By packing the litter and strapping casualties, sometimes |wo to a couch in the

crew's positions, Haslam was able to lift just over half of the remaining

survivors. There was no change 'n the condition of the remaining casualties. The

shadow of the outcropping had lengthened, though the air was still warm; the sky

remained clear and there was no wind. Murchison said fhat she could usefully

spend the time until the lander returned 'nvestigating, so far as she was able

with her portable equip-

ment, the large DCOJ cadaver they had left in the wreck. The medium-sized DCMH

survivor had gone up with Haslam.

It was obvious from the start that Fletcher found the dissection distasteful,

and when Murchison told him that there was enough light for the work from the

helmet spots of Conway and herself, he left quickly and began climbing among the

containers fastened to the now-vertical deck beside them. After about fifteen

minutes he reported that his scanner showed the contents to be identical and,

judging by the amount of packing used, were almost certainly cargo rather than

ship's stores. He added that he intended moving into the corridor outside the

hold to explore, look for other casualties, and gather evidence.

"Do you have to do it now, Captain?" Murchison said wor-v riedly, looking up.

Conway turned to regard Fletcher, too, but somehow his eyes did not rise above

the level of the other's waist and the weapon attached to it.

"Do you know, Captain," he said quietly, "you have been wearing a sidearm ever

since Rhabwar's first mission, and I've barely noticed it? It was just a part of

your uniform, like the cap and insignia. Now it looks even more conspicuous than

your backpack."

Fletcher looked uncomfortable as he said, "We're taught that the psychological

effect of displaying a weapon is negligible among the law-abiding, but

increases in direct proportion to the guilt or harmful intentions of the

criminal or potential lawbreaker. However, the effect of my weapon was purely

psychological until Lieutenant Haslam brought down the charges for it a few

minutes ago." Defensively he added, "There was no need to wear a loaded weapon

on an ambulance ship, and I'd no reason to believe that this would be a police

operation."

Murchison laughed softly and returned to her work, and Conway joined her. As the

Captain turned to go, he said, "We can't spend much time here, but I must make

as full a report as possible of the incident and all relevant circumstances.

This is a new species to the Federation, a different technology, and the purpose

of this ship might have a bearing on the case. Was our criminal a responsible

being, perhaps a captive, or an unintelligent animal? If it was intelligent was

it deranged, and if so why? And was the distressed condition of the ship and

crew a contributory factor? I know that it is difficult to conceive of

extenuating circumstances for grievous wounding and cannibalism, but until all

the facts are known—"

He broke off and placed his sensor against the deck beside him. A few seconds

later he went on, "There is nothing other than ourselves moving inside the

wreck. I've left the outside hatch open only a few inches. If anything tried to

get in you will have plenty of warning, either from the beastie itself forcing

it open against the sand or from the sensors on Rhabwar. I can get back to you

in plenty of time in any case, so you have nothing to worry about."

While they resumed the dissection they could follow every step of the Captain's

progress stern ward, because he insisted on verbally describing and amplifying

the pictures he was sending up to Dodds. The corridor was low and not very

roomy by Earth-human standards, he reported. He had to crawl on hands and knees

and it would be difficult to turn around to come back other than at an

intersection. Cable looms and air or hydraulic pipelines ran along the sidewalls

of the corridor, and coarse-mesh netting was. attached to the floor and ceiling

indicating that the ship did not possess an artificial gravity system.

Aft of the compartment occupied by the medics there was another cargo deck, and

beyond that the unmistakable shapes of the hyperdrive generators. Further aft

the reactor and thrust-ers were sealed from him and heavily shielded, but the

sensor indications were that there had been a complete power shutdown—probably

an automatic safety measure built into the design—when the ship had toppled. But

he could detect a residue of power in some of the corridor lines which he

thought might be associated with an emergency lighting circuit, and he thought

he had identified a light switch.

It was a light switch, he confirmed a few seconds later. A large stretch of the

corridor was illuminated. The lighting was uncomfortably bright but his eyes

were adjusting to it. He was moving amidships.

They heard him pause outside their cargo hold, and suddenly the lights came on

all over the ceiling beside them. Conway switched off his now-unnecessary helmet

light.

"Thank you, Captain," he said, then continuing the discussion he had been

having with Murchison, went on, "There is capacity for a large brain in the

cranium, but we cannot assume

that all of the available'volume is used for cerebration. I don't see how a

beastie with four feet and two manipulators which are little more than claws

could be a tool user, much less a crew member of a starship. And those teeth

bother me. They are certainly not those of a predator. In the distant past they

might have been fearsome natural weapons, but now their condition shows that

they have not much to do."

Murchison nodded. "The stomach system is overlarge in relation to the mass of

the being," she said, "yet there is no evidence of adipose or excess edible

tissue which would be present if it was an animal bred for food. And the stomach

resembles that of an Earth-type ruminant. The digestive system is odd, too, but

I'd have to work out the whole intake to elimination cycle to make any sense out

of it, and I can't do that down here. I'd love to know what these things ate

before their food ran out."

"I'm passing a storage deck of some kind," Fletcher said at that point. "It is

divided into large racks with passages between mem. The racks are filled with

containers of different colors and sizes with funnellike dispensers at one end.

There are wastebins holding empties, and some of the full and empty containers

have spilled out into the corridor."

"May I have samples, please," Murchison said quickly, "of both."

"Yes, ma'am," the Captain replied. "Considering the starved condition of the

survivors they are more likely to contain paint or lubricant than food. But I

expect you have to eliminate all possibilities, like me. I am moving toward the

next—Oh!"

Conway opened his mouth to ask what was happening but the Captain forestalled

him.

"I switched on the lighting for this section and found two more casualties," he

reported. "One is a DCMH, one of the medium-sized ones, which was crushed by a

buckled structural member and certainly dead. The other is the small, DCLG

life-form, with one amputation wound, not moving. I'm fairly sure that it's

dead, too. This is the section of the ship which fell across the outcropping

when she tipped over.

"The internal structure is badly deformed," he went on, "with sprung deck and

wall plating all over the place. There are also two large, wall-mounted

cylinders which seem to have

been the reservoir for a hydraulic actuator system. Both have been ruptured and

their connecting lines fractured, and there is a faint fog surrounding them as

if some of the contents remains and is evaporating.

"Ahead the corridor is partly blocked by wreckage," he continued. "I can move it

but there will be a lot of noise, so don't—"

"Captain," Conway broke in. "Can you please bring us the DCLG and a sample of

the hydraulic fluid with the other samples as soon as you can." To Murchison he

added, "I'd like to know if the lung damage is associated with that leakage. It

would eliminate another possibility."

Fletcher sounded irritated at having to break off his investigation of the

ship. He said shortly, "They'll be outside your hold entrance in ten minutes,

Doctor."

By the time Conway had retrieved the samples the Captain had already returned to

the midships section, but once again his investigation was interrupted, this

time by Lieutenant Dodds.

"The lander is ready to leave, sir," the Astrogator said. There was a certain

hesitancy in his voice as he went on, "I'm afraid there will be time for only

one round trip before sunset, so would the Doctor and you decide which

casualties should be lifted and which left there for retrieval tomorrow? With

you three and Haslam on board just over half of the remaining casualties can be

lifted, less if you bring up all portable equipment."

"I'm not leaving unattended casualties down here," Conway said firmly. "The drop

in temperature and the sandstorms would probably finish them!"

"Maybe not," Murchison said thoughtfully. "If we have to leave some of them, and

it seems we've no choice, we could cover them with sand. They have a high body

temperature, the sand is a good insulator, and they are already sealed up with a

self-contained oxygen supply."

"I've heard of doctors burying their mistakes," Conway began dryly, but Dodds

broke in again.

"Sorry, there is a problem there, Ma'am," he said. "There 316 four large thorn

patches moving toward the wreck. Slowly, af course, but we estimate their

arrival just before midnight. According to my information the thorns are

omnivorous and

trap mobile prey by slowly encircling it, often at a distance, and allowing the

animal to scratch itself on the thorns. These secrete a poison which is

paralyzing or lethal, depending on the size of the prey and number of scratches.

When the prey is immobilized the thorn clump inserts its roots and removes

whatever nutrient material there is available.

"I don't think your buried casualties," he added grimly, "would survive till

morning."

Murchison swore in very unladylike fashion, and Conway said, "We could move them

into the hold here and seal the hatch. We would need heaters and a medical

monitor arid— I'm still not happy about leaving them unattended."

"Obviously this is something which will have to be carefully considered,

Doctor," the Captain said. "Your casualties wilf not only have to be attended,

they may have to be defended as well. Dodds, how long can you delay the launch?"

"Half an hour, sir," the Astrogator said. "Then allowing another half hour for

the trip and at least an hour on the surface to load up and make provision for

the other casualties. If the lander does not leave in two and a half hours there

will be serious problems with the wind and sand during take-off."

"Very well," Fletcher said. "We should reach a decision in half an hour. Hold

the lander until then."

But there was very little discussion and the decision was made, in spite of

anything Murchison and Conway could say to the contrary, by the Captain.

Fletcher stated that the two medics on Trugdil had done everything possible for

the casualties and could do nothing further without the facilities of Rhabwar,

except keep them under observation. The Captain insisted that he was capable of

doing that, and of defending them in case they were attacked again.

He was sure that the criminal responsible for their injuries was not currently

on the ship, but it might return to the shelter of the wreck when the cold and

the sandstorms returned, or even to escape the advancing thorn clumps. He added

that the proper place for all of the medical team was on Rhabwar where the

casualties there could t?e given proper attention.

"Captain," Conway said angrily, unable to refute his arguments, "in the medical

area I have complete authority."

UCINCttAU. »/

"Then why don't you exercise it responsibly, Doctor?" Fletcher replied.

"Captain," Murchison broke in quickly, trying to head off an argument which

could sour relations on the ambulance ship for weeks to come. "The DCLG specimen

you found was not badly injured, compared with some of the others, but it was

defunct, I'm afraid. Severe inflammation of the breathing passages and massive

lung damage similar to the one you found in the hold. Both sets of lungs

contained traces of the sample you took from the hydraulic reservoir. That is

lethal stuff, Captain, so don't open your visor anywhere near a leak."

"Thank you, ma'am, I won't," Fletcher said calmly, and went on, "Dodds, you can

see that the stretch of corridor ahead has been crushed almost flat. There is

enough space for crew members to squeeze through, but I will have to cut away a

lot of this jagged metal—"

Conway switched off his radio and touched his helmet against Murchison's so that

they could speak privately. He said furiously, "Whose side are you on?"

She grinned at him through her visor, but before she could reply Prilicla's

voice rustled timidly from the phones. The empath, too, was trying to calm a

potentially unpleasant source of emotional radiation.

"Friend Conway," it said, "while friend Fletcher's arguments are valid, and I

would personally welcome the presence of friend Murchison and yourself back on

board, friend Naydrad and myself are coping adequately with the patients, all of

whom are in a stable condition with the exception of three of the small DCLGs

who are showing a slight reduction in body temperature."

"Deepening shock, do you think?" Conway asked.

"No, friend Conway," Prilicla replied. "There seems to be a slight improvement

in their general condition."

"Emotional radiation?"

"Nothing on the conscious level, friend Conway," the empath replied, "but there

are unconscious feelings of deprivation, and need."

"They are all hungry," Conway said dryly, "except one."

"The thought of that one is abhorrent to me, too," Prilicla

said. "But to return to the condition of the patients: The lung damage and

inflammation of the breathing passages noted by friend Murchison is repeated, to

a much lesser degree of severity, in the other survivors, and the cause is

correctly attributed to the damaged reservoir. But it is possible that

operating in Trugdil conditions with the less sensitive portable equipment—"

"Prilicla," Conway said impatiently, "what you mean is that we were too blind or

stupid to spot an important medical:datum, but you are too nice a person to hurt

our feelings. But intense impatience and curiosity can be unpleasant emotions,

too, so just tell us what you discovered, Doctor."

"I am sorry, friend Conway," said the empath. "It is that the food passage as

well as the breathing passage is similarly inflamed. The condition is relatively

mild, not obvious as are the other areas of inflammation, but is present in

uniform intensity in all of the survivors regardless of physiological

classification. I wondered if there was anything on their ship which would

explain this.

"I am also puzzled by the amputation wounds," Prilicla went on. "I have been

suturing incised wounds, none of which have penetrated to vital organs, and

generally tidying up. But the stumps I have covered with sterile dressings only

until the possibility of replacing the original limbs has been eliminated. Have

you found anything down there which might be a missing limb or organ? Or have

you given thought to the shape, size, and purpose of these missing parts?"

From amidships there were sounds of metal scraping against metal and of erratic,

heavy breathing in their phones as the Captain cleared an obstruction. When it

was quiet again, Murchison said, "Yes, Doctor, but I've formed no firm

conclusions. There is a fairly complex nerve linkage to the stump in all three

types and, in the case of the big DCOJ, a collapsed, tubular connection whose

origin I have been unable to trace because of its close association with the

very complex upper intestinal tract. But taking into account the positioning of

these limbs or organs, which are at the base of the spine in the two smaller

life-forms and on the medial underside of the large one, all 1 can say is that

the missing parts must have been considered particularly edible by the attacker

since it did not remove any-

thing else. I have no clear idea of the size or shape of the missing parts, but

my guess would be that they are probably tails, genitalia, or mammaries—"

"I'm sorry to interrupt a medical conference, ma'am," Fletcher broke in, in a

tone which suggested that he was very glad to interrupt before it could go any

farther. He went on quickly, "Doctor Conway, I've found another DCMH. It is

tangled up in bedding, not moving, and seems to be uninjured. I thought you

might like to examine it here rather than have it pulled through the wreckage in

the corridor."

"I'm on my way," Conway said.

He climbed out of the hold and crawled along the corridor in the Captain's wake,

listening as Fletcher resumed his commentary. Immediately forward of the

cleared section of corridor the Captain had found the Dormitory Deck. It was

characteristic of the early type of hyperships which did not have artificial

gravity, and was filled with rows of sandwich-style double hammocks which

retained the sleeper in weightless conditions. The hammocks were suspended on

shock absorbers so as to double as acceleration couches for off-duty crew

members.

There were three distinct sizes of hammock, so the ship had the DCLG, DCMH, and

DCOJ life-forms in the crew— which proved that even the large and apparently

unintelligent DCOJs were ship's personnel and not lab animals. Judging by the

number and size of the hammocks, the two smaller life-forms outnumbered the

large one by three to one.

He had made a quick count of the hammocks, the Captain said as Conway was

passing the damaged hydraulic system reservoir, and the total number, thirty,

agreed with the number of casualties found outside and inside the ship, which

meant that the missing criminal was almost certainly not of any of the three

species who served as the crew.

It was difficult to be precise regarding occurrences on the Dormitory Deck,

Fletcher explained, because loose objects, ornaments, and personal effects had

collected on the wall when the ship had fallen on its side. But one third of the

hammocks were neatly stowed while the remaining two thirds looked as though they

had been hastily vacated. No doubt the neat hammocks belonged to the crew

members on duty, but the Captain thought it strange that if the ship operated a

one-watch-on, two-

off duty roster the rest of the crew were in their bunks instead of half of them

being outside the dormitory on a recreation deck. But then he was forgetting the

fact that the safest place during the landing maneuver would be inside the

acceleration hammocks.

The Captain was backing out of the dormitory as Conway reached it. Fletcher

pointed and said, "It is close to the inner hull among the DCMH hammocks. Call

me if you need help, Doctor."

He turned and began crawling toward the bows again. But he did not get very far

because by the time Conway reached the casualty he could hear the hiss of the

cutting torch and the Captain's heavy breathing.

It took only a few minutes to piece together what had happened. Two of the

hammock's supports had broken due to the lateral shock when the ship had

fallen—they had been designed to withstand vertical G forces, not horizontal

ones—and the hammock had swung downward throwing its occupant against the

suddenly horizontal wall. There was an area of subcutaneous bleeding where the

DCMH's head had struck, but no sign of a fracture. The blow had not been fatal,

but it had been enough to render the being unconscious or dazed until the highly

lethal vapor from the damaged reservoir had invaded its lungs. This one had been

doubly unlucky, Conway thought as he carefully drew it the rest of the way from

its hammock and extended his examination. There was one wound, the usual one, at

the base of its spine. Conway's scalp prickled at the thought that the attacker

had been inside the dormitory and had struck even at a victim in its hammock.

What sort of creature was it? Small rather than large, he thought. Vicious. And

fast. He looked quickly around the dormitory, then returned his attention to the

cadaver.

"That's unusuaJ," he said aloud. "This one has what seems to be a small quantity

of partially digested food in its stomach." "You think that's unusual."

Murchison said in a baffled tone. "The sample containers from the storage deck

contain food. Liquid, a powdery solid, and some fibrous material, but all

high-grade nutrient suited to the metabolisms of all three life-forms. What was

the excuse for cannibalism? And why

OC-w I v-ti vji_iNi_nr\i_ ivi

the blazes was everybody starving? The whole deck is packed with food!"

"Are you sure—?" began Conway, when he was cut off by a voice in his phones

which was so distorted that he could not tell who was speaking.

"What is that thing?"

"Captain?" he said doubtfully.

"Yes, Doctor." The voice was still distorted, but recognizable.

"You—you've found the criminal?"

"No, Doctor," Fletcher replied harshly. "Another victim. Definitely another

victim—"

"It's moving, sir!" Dodds voice broke in.

"Doctor," the Captain went on, "can you come at once. You too, ma'am."

Fletcher was crouched inside the entrance of what had to be the ship's Control

Deck, using the cutting torch on the tangle of wreckage which almost filled the

space between the ceiling and floor. The place was a shambles, Conway saw by the

light coming through the open hatch above them and the few strips of emergency

lighting which were still operating. Practically all of the ceiling-mounted

equipment had torn free in the fall; ruptured piping and twisted, jagged-edged

supporting brackets projected into the space above the control couches on the

deck opposite.

The control couches had been solidly mounted and had remained in position, but

they were empty, their restraining webbing hanging loose—except for one. This

was a very large, deep cupola around which the other couches were closely

grouped, and it was occupied.

Conway began to climb toward it, but the foothold he had been using gave way

suddenly and a stub of broken-off piping dug him painfully in the side without,

fortunately, rupturing his suit.

"Careful, damn it!" Fletcher snapped. "We don't need another casualty."

"Don't bite my head off, Captain," Conway said, then laughed nervously at his

unfortunate choice of words.

He cringed inwardly as he climbed toward the central cupola

in the wake of the Captain, thinking that the crew on duty and those in the

Dormitory Deck had had to find a way through this mess, and in great haste

because of the toxic vapor flooding through the ship. They were much smaller

than Earth-humans, of course, but even so they must have been badly cut by that

tangle of metal. In fact, they had been badly cut, with the exceptions of the

DCMH in the dormitory and the new life-form above them, neither of whom had

attempted to escape.

"Careful, Doctor," the Captain said.

An idea which had been taking shape at the back of his mind dissolved.

Irritably, Conway said, "What can it do except look at me and twitch its

stumps?"

The casualty hung sideways in its webbing against the lower lip of the cupola, a

great fleshy, elongated pear shape perhaps four times the mass of an adult

human. The narrow end terminated in a large, bulbous head mounted on a walrus

neck which was arched downward so that the two big, widely spaced eyes could

regard the rescuers. Conway could count seven of the feebly twitching stumps

projecting through gaps in the webbing, and there were probably others he could

not see.

He braced himself against a control console which had remained in place and

took out his scanner, but delayed beginning the examination until Murchison, who

had just arrived, could climb up beside him. Then he said firmly, "We will have

to remain with this casualty overnight, Captain. Please instruct Lieutenant

Haslam to evacuate all the other casualties on the next trip, and to bring down

the litter stripped of nonessential life-support equipment so that it will

accommodate this new casualty. We also need extra air tanks for ourselves and

oxygen for die casualty, heaters, lifting gear, and webbing, and anything else

you think we need."

For a long moment the Captain was silent, then he said, "You heard the Doctor,

Haslam."

Fletcher did not speak to them while they were examining the new casualty other

than to warn them when a piece of loose wreckage was about to fall. The Captain

did not have to be told that a wide path would have to be cleared between the

big control cupola and the open hatch if the litter was to be guided in and out

again carrying the large alien. It was likely to be a long, difficult job

lasting most of the coming night, made more

SCO I Utt

difficult by ensuring that none of the debris struck Murchison, Conway, or their

patient. But the two medics were much too engrossed in their examination to

worry about the falling debris.

"I won't attempt to classify this life-form," Conway said nearly an hour later

when he was summing up their findings for Doctor Prilicla. "There are, or were,

ten limbs distributed laterally, of varying thicknesses judging by the stumps.

The sole exception is the one on the underside which is thicker than any of the

others. The purpose of these missing limbs, the number and type of manipulatory

and ambulatory appendages, is unknown.

"The brain is large and well developed," he want on, looking aside at Murchison

for corroboration, "with a small, separate lobe with a high mineral content in

the cell structure suggesting one of the V classifications—"

"A wide-range telepath?" Prilicla broke in excitedly.

"I'd say not," Conway replied. "Telepathy limited to its own species, perhaps,

or possibly simple empathy. This is borne out by the-fact that its ears are well

developed and the mouth, although very small and toothless, has shown itself

capable of modulating sounds. A being who talks and listens cannot be a

wide-range telepath, since the telepathic faculty is supplemented by a spoken

language. But the being did not display agitation on seeing us, which could mean

that it is aware our intentions toward it are good.

"Regarding the airway and lungs," Conway continued, "you can see that there is

the usual inflammation present but that the lung damage is minor. We are

assuming that since the being was unable to move when the gas permeated the

ship, it was able, with its large lung capacity, to hold its breath until most

of the toxic vapor had dissipated. But the digestive system is baffling us. The

food passage is extremely narrow and seems to have collapsed in several places,

and with few teeth for chewing food it is difficult... to see how—"

Con way's voice slowed to a stop while his mind raced on. Beside him Murchison

was making self-derogatory remarks because she, too, had not spotted it sooner,

and Prilicla said, 'Are you thinking what I am thinking, friends?"

There was no need to reply. Conway said, "Captain, where are you?"

.

Fletcher had cleared a narrow path for himself to the open hatch. While they had

been talking they had heard his boots moving back and forth along the outer

hull, but for the past few minutes there had been silence.

"On the ground outside, Doctor," Fletcher replied. "I've been trying to find the

best way of moving out the big one. In my opinion we can't swing it down the

sides of the wreck, too much sprung plating and debris, and the stern isn't much

better. We'll have to lower it from the prow. But carefully. I jarred my ankles

badly when I jumped from it to the sand, which is only about an inch deep over a

gently sloping shelf of rock in that area. Obviously the big life-form needed a

special elevator to board and debark, because the extending ladder arrangement

below the hatch is usable only by the three smaller life-forms.

"I'm about to reenter the ship through the cargo hold hatch," he ended. "Is

there a problem?"

"No, Captain," Conway said. "But on your way here would you bring the cadaver

from the Dormitory Deck?"

Fletcher grunted assent and Murchison and Conway resumed their discussion with

Prilicla, stopping frequently to verify with their scanners the various points

raised. When the Captain arrived pushing the dead DCMH ahead of him, Conway had

just finished attaching an oxygen tank and breathing tube to the patient and

covering its head in a plastic envelope against the time when, during the night,

the entry hatch would be closed and the fumes produced by the cutting torch

against the metal and plastic debris might turn out to be even more toxic than

those from the hydraulic reservoir.

They took the cadaver from Fletcher and, holding it above their heads, fitted it

into one of the control couches designed for it. The big alien did not react and

they tried it in a second, then a third couch. This time the patient's stub

tentacles began to twitch and one of them made contact with the DCMH. It

maintained the contact for several seconds then slowly withdrew and the big

entity became still again.

Conway gave a long sigh, then said, "It fits, it all fits. Prilicla, keep your

patients on oxygen and IV fluids. I don't think they will return to full

consciousness until they have food as well, but the hospital can synthesize that

when we get back." To Murchison he said, "All we need now is an analysis of the

stomach contents of that cadaver. But don't do the dissection here, do it in the

corridor. It would probably, well, upset the Captain."

"Not me," Fletcher said, who was already at work with his cutting torch. "I

won't even look."

Murchison laughed and pointed to the patient hanging above them. She said, "He

was talking about the other Captain, Captain."

Before Fletcher could reply, Haslam announced that he would be landing in

fifteen minutes.

"Better stay with the patient while I help the Captain load the lander," Conway

told Murchison. "Radiate feelings of reassurance at it; that's all we can do

right now. If we all left it might think it was being abandoned."

"You intend leaving her here alone?" Fletcher said harshly.

"Yes, but there is no danger — " Conway began, when the voice of Dodds

interrupted him.

"There is nothing moving within a twenty-mile radius of the wreck, sir," he said

reassuringly, "except thorn patches."

Fletcher said very little while they were helping Haslam move the casualties

from the outcropping into the lander and while they were pushing the litter with

its load of spare equipment to the wreck. It was unlike the Captain, who

usually spoke his mind no matter who or what was bothering him, to behave this

way. But Conway's mind was too busy with other things to have time to probe.

"I was thinking," Conway said when they reached the open cargo hatch, "that

according to Dodds the thorn patches are attracted to food and warmth. We are

going to create a lot of warmth inside the wreck, and there is a storage deck

filled with food containers as well. Suppose we move as much food as we can from

the wreck and scatter it in front of the thorn clumps — that might make them

lose interest in the wreck for a while."

"I hope so," Fletcher said.

The lander took off in a small, self-created sandstorm as Conway was dragging

the first containers of food toward the edge of the nearest thorn patch, which

was about four hundred meters astern of the wreck. They had agreed that Fletcher

would move the containers from the storage deck to the ground outside the hatch,

and Conway would scatter them along the front of the advancing thorns. He had

wanted to use,the litter with its greater capacity and gravity neutralizers, but

Naydrad had stated in its forthright fashion that the Doctor was unused to

controlling the vehicle and if the gravity settings were wrong or a part of the

load fell off, the litter would disappear skyward or blow weightlessly away.

Conway was forced to do it the hard way.

"Make this the last one, Doctor," the Captain said as he was coming in from his

eighth round trip. "The wind is rising."

The shadow of the wreck had lengthened steadily as he worked and the sky had

deepened in color. The suit's sensors showed a marked drop in the outside

temperature, but Conway had been generating so much body heat himself that he

had not noticed it. He threw the containers as far in front and to each side of

him as he could, opening some of them to make sure that the thorns would know

that the unopened containers also held food, although they could probably sense

that for themselves. The thorn clumps covered the sand across a wide front like

black, irregular crosshatching, seemingly motionless. But every time he looked

away for a few minutes then back again, they were closer.

Suddenly the thorn patches and everything else disappeared behind a dark-brown

curtain of sand and a gust of wind punched him in the back, knocking him to his

knees. He tried to get to his feet but an eddy blew him onto his side. Half

crawling and half running, he headed back toward the wreck, although by then he

had no clear idea where it was. The storm-driven sand was hissing so loudly

against his helmet that he could barely hear Dodds' voice.

"My sensors show you heading toward the thorns, Doctor," the astrogator said

urgently. "Turn right about one hundred ten degrees and the wreck is about three

hundred meters distant."

Fletcher was outside the cargo hatch with his suit spotlight turned to maximum

power to guide him in. The Captain pushed him through the hatch and closed it

behind him. The crash had warped the hatch so that sand continued to blow in

around the edges, except near the bottom where it came through in a steady

trickle.

"Within a few minutes the outside of the hatch will be sealed

by a sand drift," Fletcher said without looking at Conway. "It will be difficult

for our cannibal to get in. Dodds will spot it on the sensors anyway and I'll

have time to take the necessary steps."

Conway shook his head and said, "We've nothing to worry about except the wind,

sand, and thorn patches." Silently he added, If that wasn't enough.

The Captain grunted and began climbing through the hatch leading to the

corridor, and Conway crawled after him. But it was not until Fletcher slowed to

pass the leaking hydraulic reservoir, which was steaming very faintly now, that

Conway spoke.

"Is there anything else bothering you, Captain?"

Fletcher stopped and for the first time in over an hour looked directly at the

Doctor. He said, "Yes, there is. That creature in the Control Deck bothers me.

Even in the hospital, what can you do for it, a multiple amputee? It will be

completely helpless, little more than a live specimen for study. I'm wondering

if it would not be better just to let the cold take it and—"

"We can do a great deal for it, Captain," Conway broke in, "if we can get it

safely through the night. Weren't you listening to Murchison, Prilicla, and me

discussing the case?"

"Yes and no, Doctor," Fletcher said, moving forward again. "Some of it was quite

technical, and you might as well have been talking untranslated Kelgian so far

as I was concerned."

Conway laughed quietly and said, "Then I had better translate."

The alien vessel had released, its distress beacon, he explained, not because

of a technical malfunction but because of serious illness on board which had

affected the entire crew. Presumably the least affected crew members were on

duty on the Control Deck while the rest were confined to their hammocks. It was

still not clear why the ship had to put down on a planet. Possibly there were

physiological reasons why a planetary gravity or atmosphere was needed, or

maybe the weightless conditions on board aggravated the condition and they

could not provide artificial gravity by using their thrusters because the crew

were fast losing consciousness. Whatever the reason they had made an emergency

landing on Trugdil. There

were much better landing sites on the planet, but their degree of urgency must

have been extreme and they had landed here.

Conway broke off as they entered the Control Deck because Murchison was high

above them closing the personnel hatch. She said, "Don't let me interrupt you,

but now that we will be using the cutting torches in a confined space, I'm going

to take the patient off pure oxygen. It seems to be breathing easily now. Would

one part oxygen to four inert.be suitable, Doctor?"

"Fine," Conway said. "I'll help you."

The hissing of sand against the outer hull rose suddenly and the whole ship

seemed to lurch sideways. There was a screeching and banging sound from

amidships, which halted suddenly as a section of hull plating tore free and blew

away.

"A piece of the wreck has blown away," Dodds reported unnecessarily, then went

on, "The thorn patches have halted over the food containers, and those nearby

are converging on the area. But there are other large clumps off to the side

which are still heading directly for the wreck. They are moving quite fast. The

wind is behind them and they are letting it carry them forward using only enough

of their root system to maintain a loose hold on the ground. At this rate they

could be at the ship in half an hour."

It was as if an enormous, soft pillow struck the side of the ship. The deck

tilted under their feet, then righted itself. This time it sounded as if maniacs

with sledgehammers were attacking three different sections of the hull until, a

few seconds later, the banging ceased. But to the sound of the sand beating

against the hull plating was added the discordant moaning and whistling of the

wind as it forced its way into the wreck.

"Our defenses," the Captain said worriedly, "have become decidedly porous. But

go on, Doctor."

"The ship made an emergency landing here," Conway resumed, "because they had no

time to look for a better spot. It was a good landing, all things considered,

and it was sheer bad luck that they toppled and as a result ruptured that

hydraulic reservoir. If they hadn't done so it is possible that their illness,

whatever the cause, would have run its course and in time they would have taken

off again. Or maybe the first sandstorm would have knocked them over anyway. But

instead they crash-landed and found themselves suddenly in a wreck which was

rapidly

filling with toxic fumes. Weakened by their condition as they were, they had to

get out fast and, because the escape routes aft led past the source of the

contaminant and were partly blocked by wreckage from the fall, they had to

evacuate through the Control Deck here and along the upper surface of the hull,

then slide to the ground.

"They injured themselves very seriously in doing so," Con-way added.

He paused for a moment to help Murchison change over the patient's air supply.

From the stern there was a clanking sound which reverberated steadily and

monotonously throughout the ship. One of the pieces of wreckage was refusing to

become detached. Conway raised his voice.

"The reason they did not move far from their ship was probably two-fold," he

continued. "As a result of the debilitating effects of their illness, they did

not have the strength to move farther, and I suspect there were strong

psychological reasons for remaining close to their ship. Their physical

condition, the high temperatures, and the indications of malnutrition

observed, which we mistakenly assumed to be due to enforced starvation, were

symptoms of the disease. The state of deep unconsciousness may also have been a

symptom, or possibly some kind of hibernation mode which they adopt when injured

or otherwise distressed and assistance is likely to be delayed, and which slows

the metabolic rate and reduces bleeding."

Fletcher was readying his cutting torch and looking baffled. He said, "Disease

and injuries caused by escaping from the wreck I can believe. But what about the

missing limbs and—"

"Dodds, sir," Rhobwar's astrogator broke in. "I'm afraid the midnight drop in

wind strength will not affect your area. There are local weather disturbances.

Three large thorn patches have reached the stern and sections of the peripheral

growth are entering the food storage deck. A lot of hull plating is missing

there. Once they open that concentrated store of food they'll probably lose

interest in anything else." His optimism sounded forced.

Murchison said, "We're not completely sure that it was a disease that caused the

trouble, Captain. From the analysis of the stomach contents of the cadaver from

the dormitory deck.

the indications are that it was a severe gastrointestinal infection caused by a

bug native to their home planet, and the symptom which led us to suspect

malnutrition was total regurgitation of stomach contents in all of the other

cases. The casualty from the dormitory had been knocked unconscious before the

process was complete and was asphyxiated shortly afterward so that involuntary

regurgitation did not take place. But it is also possible that the ship's own

food supply was contaminated and that caused the trouble."

Conway wondered if it was possible for a mobile omnivorous vegetable to get

food poisoning, and if it would take effect in time to save them from the

thorns. He rather doubted it.

"Thank you, Ma'am," Fletcher said, and went on, "About the missing limbs?"

"There are no missing limbs. Captain," she replied. "Or perhaps the crew are all

missing the same organ, their head. The large number of the other injuries

concealed the truth at first, but there are no missing limbs, and there is no

criminal."

Fletcher looked at Conway, too polite to express his disbelief to the

pathologist in words, and the Doctor took over the explanation. But he had to

work as he talked because he and Murchison were faced with the long, difficult

job of transferring the big alien from its cupola to the litter.

It was hard to imagine the set of environmental circumstances which had caused

such an essentially helpless life-form to evolve, become dominant, and in time

achieve a culture capable of star travel, Conway said, but these gross,

limbless, and all too obviously immobile creatures had done just that. It was a

host-symbiote, they now knew, who had developed multiple symbiotes specialized

so as to act as short-and long-range manipulators and sensors. Its stumps and

the areas which on the casualties had been mistaken for amputation sites were

the interfaces which joined the host creature to its symbiotes when physical

activity became necessary or the host required sustenance.

It was likely that a strong mental as well as physical bond existed between the

host Captain and its crew, but continuous contact was not needed because in and

around the wreck there had been three times the number of crew members as there

OC-V-/ I \jr\ \3CINCnMI_

I I I

were organic connectors on the host. It was also probable that the host entity

did not sleep and provided continual, nonphys-ical support to its symbiotes.

This was borne out by the type of emotional radiation being picked up on Rhabwar

by Prili-cla—confusion and feelings of loss. The host Captain's telepathic or

empathic faculty did not reach as far as the ambulance ship's orbit.

"The smallest, DCLG life-form is independently intelligent and performs the

finer, more intricate manipulative operations," Murchison joined in, clarifying

the situation in her own mind as well as for the Captain, who had disappeared

briefly into the corridor to check on the position of the thorns. "As is the

slightly larger DCMH. But the function of the big DCOJ is purely that of eating

and supplying predigested food to the host. There is evidence, however, that all

three of these life-forms have their own ingestion, digestion, and reproductive

systems, but one of them must figure in the transfer of sperm or ova between

immobile host creatures—"

She broke off as the Captain returned, his cutter in one hand and what looked

like a short, tangled piece of barbed wire in the other. He said, "The thorns

have grown out of the food storage deck and are halfway along the corridor. I

brought you a sample, ma'am."

She took it from him carefully and Conway joined her for a closer look. It was

like a dark-brown, three-dimensional zigzag with fine green thorns growing out

of every angle, except one which sprouted a long, tapering hollow tube like the

vegetable equivalent of a hypodermic needle, and which was probably a root.

She snipped off the thorns with surgical scissors and let them drop into her

analyzer.

"Why did we have to wear lightweight suits?" she said a few minutes later. "A

scratch from a thorn won't kill you, but three or four would. What are you

doing, Captain?"

Fletcher was unclipping the signal flare from his backpack. He said, "You can

see from the charring on the stem that they burn. I removed that sample with the

cutting torch. But the flame isn't self-sustaining. Maybe this will stunt its

growth for a while. Stay clear of the corridor entrance, both of you. These

things were not meant to be used in a confined space."

He set the timer on the flare and threw it as hard as he could

into the corridor. The beam of light which poured out of the entrance was so

intense that it looked almost solid, and the hissing of the flare was louder

even than the sand lashing against the outer hull. The beam maintained its

intensity but began to flicker as smoke poured from the entrance. The thorns

were burning, Conway thought excitedly, and hoped that the pyrotechnics were

not worrying their patient too much. It seemed to be unusually agitated—

There was a sudden, crashing detonation. Pieces of the flare, burning thorn

branches, and parts of the dissected DCMH erupted from the corridor entrance,

and the cupola edge Conway was gripping seemed to jerk in his hands. He hung on

desperately as the vertical deck swung toward him, accompanied by the. screech

of tearing metal. There was a softer shock and the metallic noises ceased. The

emergency lighting had died but there was enough illumination from the

sputtering pieces of flare and their helmet lights to show that the patient had

fallen out of its cupola and was hanging directly above him, suspended only by

its webbing, sections of which were beginning to tear.

"The litter!" Conway shouted. "Help me!"

There was so much smoke from the flare that all he could see clearly were

Murchison's and the Captain's helmet lights. He let go his hold with one hand

and felt around for the litter, which had been left drifting weightlessly with

repulsors set to one negative G so as to make the vehicle easier to maneuver in

the confined space. He found it and a few seconds later felt other hands

steadying it. Above him the alien hung like a great organic tree trunk with its

stumps projecting between the webbing, ready to fall and crush him and probably

kill itself on the charred but still poisonous thorns below them.

Suddenly it sagged closer. Conway flinched, but the rest of the webbing was

holding it. He felt for the control panel of the litter. "Get it under the

things!" he shouted. "Right under its center of gravity, that's it."

Gradually he increased the repulsion until the litter was pressing firmly

against the underside of the patient, and again until the being's entire weight

was being supported and the webbing was simply holding it against any lateral

movement. He became aware of the voice of Dodds in his phones, asking over and

over again what had happened and were they all right.

"We're all right," Fletcher said angrily. "And you tell us what happened,

Lieutenant. What are your sensors for?"

"An explosion at the site of the damaged hydraulic reservoir, sir," DQdds said,

sounding relieved. "The stuff is highly inflammable as well as toxic, it seems,

and the flare set it off. The explosion broke the back of the ship where it lies

across that rock outcropping, and now the prow is lying on the sand, too.

Amidships and stern sections have been stripped of plating by the explosion and

the wind. The ship looks very open, sir."

The smoke had cleared but fine clouds of sand were blowing through the Control

Deck from somewhere. Fletcher said dryly, "I believe you, Dodds. It is also very

cold. How long until pickup?"

"Just under three hours, sir," Dodds replied. "Sunrise is in two hours and the

wind should have abated an hour later."

The two portable heaters and spare cutting torch had been shaken loose by the

explosion and had fallen into the thorns. One of the heaters was still

functioning but its .effect was severely reduced by the icy, sand-laden wind

sweeping out of the corridor. Conway shivered and clenched his teeth, both to

stop them chattering and in reaction to the indescribable noise of the wind

screaming through the bare bones of the stern section and the irregular,

thunderous din of the remaining plating shaking itself loose. He resiled the

portable lights, which had survived the explosion, so that they were within a

few feet of the litter. They gave a little warmth.

More than an hour was spent completing the transfer of the alien from its cupola

to the litter and securing it in the vehicle. The being, too, was suffering from

the cold—its organic connectors twitched continuously and patterns of wrinkles

marched across its smooth, featureless body. Conway tried to find something to

wrap around it, but all that was available was the control cupola webbing from

its own and the crew's positions. By the time he had finished, the being was

virtually cocooned in the stuff and the few areas of skin visible were still

twitching and wrinkling.

They moved it up to the sealed personnel hatch, hoping that the available heat

would rise and it would be fractionally warmer UP there. The difference, to

Conway, was indetectable. He wondered if it would be possible to rescue the

other heater, but when he looked down he saw that a fresh, uncharred tangle of

thorns had grown in from the corridor and was climbing toward them.

"Doctor," said Fletcher quickly, indicating a large ceiling panel which was held

in position by a single remaining support strut. "Hold onto that while I cut it

free."

They dropped the panel onto the thorns and knotted loose pieces of webbing

together into a rope so that the Captain could lower himself onto its center.

The panel buckled slightly under his weight but the thorns beneath the plate

were forced down by two meters or more. Fletcher kneeled carefully on his

makeshift raft and unlimbered his cutting torch. With,the flame focused down to

a long, thin needle he attacked the thorns all* around him.

After nearly six hours of constant use the power pack was exhausted. When the

flame dimmed and died, Fletcher got carefully to his feet and began flexing and

straightening his legs, bouncing the section of plating up and down. The thorns

were forced lower. He paused for a rest and still the plate continued to sink.

But now the needle-sharp thorns were growing in from the edges of the raft,

slowly submerging it.

The rope of webbing was barely within reach. Fletcher steadied himself, jumped,

and caught the end in a double grip as the plate teetered and disappeared

sideways under the thorns. Conway climbed down as far as he could and pulled the

rope close so that Fletcher could get his feet onto the edge of a projecting

cabinet.

"Did you see the way that thing moved itself from under the plate and surrounded

you, Captain?" Murchison said when they rejoined her. "It's very slow, but do

you think we are hurting a potentially intelligent vegetable life-form?"

"Yes, ma'am," the Captain said with feeling, "but not nearly enough."

"Eighty minutes to go, sir," Dodds said.

They detached the few pieces of wreckage and equipment that could be dislodged

by hand and dropped them onto the thorns, but with little effect. Fletcher and

Conway took turns hacking at the growth with a metal support strut, but still it

grew slowly toward them. Soon there was not enough space to move around freely

or exercise to keep warm, or more

accurately, less cold. They could only huddle close to the personnel hatch,

teeth clenched together to keep from chattering, and watch the thorns creep

closer.

The scene was being relayed to Rhabwar and was causing increasing concern.

Lieutenant Haslam said suddenly, "I can launch now, sir, and—"

"No," the Captain said firmly. "If you touch down before it is safe to do so and

the lander is blown over, nobody here will get out of this mess—"

He broke off because his voice had suddenly sounded very loud.

The wind had died.

"Open up," Fletcher said. "Let's get out of here."

The dark-blue morning sky showed through the opening hatch and a negligible

quantity of sand blew in. They maneuvered the litter and its trussed-up

casualty through the opening and onto the upper surface of the hull.

"The lull may be temporary, sir," Dodds warned. "There are still a few squalls

running through your area."

The rising sun was still hidden behind sand clouds, but there was more than

enough light to see that the surface had been drastically altered overnight by

the shifting of many sand drifts. From midships to stem the wreck was denuded of

plating, but the skeleton had been filled out by a tightly packed tangle of

thorns. The upper surface of the ship forward to the prow was intact, and the

rocky shelf ahead was clear of thorns.

•"One large squall will hit you in about twelve minutes," Dodds added.

They jammed the litter against the open hatch and attached its magnetic grapples

to the hull. Then they secured their suit safety lines to the massive hinge and

threw themselves across the litter, hooking their fingers into the webbing

around the casualty. It was just one more physical indignity for the alien

captain, Conway thought, but by now the being was probably Past caring about

such things.

Abruptly the sky was dark again and the wind and sand tore M them, threatening

to lift them bodily off the hull. Conway desperately gripped the webbing as he

felt the magnetic grap-begin to slide and the litter slue around. He wondered if

the wind would blow him beyond the surrounding

thorns were he to let go his grip and his safety line. But his fingers were

locked in a cramp and he felt that his arms, like those of the alien Captain,

were about to be separated from his torso. Then as suddenly as it had come the

wind died and it was light again.

He saw that Murchison, Fletcher, and the patient were still safely attached to

the litter. But he did not move. It grew brighter and he could feel the sun

warming his side when the sand lashed at them again, accompanied by a

high-pitched, screaming thunder.

"Extrovert!" Murchison yelled.

Conway looked up to see the lander hovering ahead of the ship and blasting sand

in all directions with its thrusters. Haslam touched down on the shelf of rock

which was clear of thorns, barely fifty meters from them.

There were no problems while moving the litter to the other ship, and no

shortage of time to do it even though the thorns were already inching toward it.

Before loading it on board, Conway removed the extra webbing and the makeshift

eye protection from the patient and gave it a thorough examination. In spite of

everything it had gone through it was alive and, in Conway's opinion, very well.

"How about the others, Prilicla?" he asked.

"The temperatures of all of them have come down, friend Conway," the empath

replied. "They are radiating strong feelings of hunger, but not on the level of

distress. Since the food supply on the wreck has been lost, and may have been

contaminated anyway, they will have to wait until the hospital's synthesizers

provide some. Otherwise they are emoting feelings of confusion and loss.

"But they will feel much better," Prilicla added, "when they rejoin their

Captain."

COMBINED OPERATION

They emerged into normal space at a point whose coordinates placed them far out

on the galactic rim and where the brightest object to be seen was a nearby sun

burning coldly against a faint powdering of stars. But as Conway stared through

Control's direct vision port, it became obvious that the emptiness was only

apparent, because suddenly both the radar and long-range sensor displays were

indicating two contacts, very close together and just under two thousand

kilometers distant. For the next few minutes Conway expected to be ignored.

"Control, Power Room," Captain Fletcher said briskly. "I Want maximum thrust in

five minutes. Astrogator, give me the numbers to put us alongside that trace,

and the ETA."

Lieutenants Chen and Dodds, seven decks below and a few feet away respectively,

acknowledged. Then Lieutenant Has-tam, from the Communications position, joined

in.

"Sir," he said without taking his attention from his displays, "the sensor

readings suggest that the larger trace has the mass, ^nfiguration, and antennae

deployment of a scoutship engaged °n survey duty. The other trace is currently

unidentifiable, but relative positions might indicate a recent collision."

"Very well," the Captain said. He touched his transmit stud and, speaking slowly

and distinctly, he went on, "This is the ambulance ship Rhabwar, operating out

of Sector Twelve General Hospital, responding to your distress beacon released

six plus hours ago. We will close with you in—"

"Fifty-three minutes," Dodds supplied.

"—If you are able to communicate, please identify yourselves, specify the

nature of your trouble, and list the type and number of casualties."

In the supernumerary's position Con way leaned forward intently, even though the

difference of a few centimeters could not affect the clarity of any incoming

message. But when the voice did come it sounded apologetic rather than

distressed. .

"The Monitor Corps scoutship Tyrell here, Major Nelson commanding," it said. "It

was our distress beacon, but we released it on behalf of the wreck you see

beside us. Our medical officer isn't sure, you understand, because its medical

experience covers only three species, but it thinks that there may still be life

on board."

"Doctor—" the Captain began, looking across at Conway. But before he could go

on, Haslam was reporting again.