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And if Weald thinks it finds proof that blueskins are in space again and caused the death of Wealdians it won't be healthy! They're halfway set anyhow to drop fusion-bombs on Dara to wipe it out!" Maril said fiercely; "They might as well drop bombs. It'll be quicker than starvation, at least!" Calhoun looked at her more exasperatedly than before. "It is a crop failure again?" he demanded.
That they are passing for Wealdians. That they've been mixing with your men, wearing sag-suits exactly like the one you're wearing now. They've been going aboard your ships in the confusion of returning looters. There's not a ship now aloft, that has been aground today, that hasn't from one to fifteen Darians no longer blueskins on board." The admiral roared. Then his face turned gray.
"I'm sure that what I say is being recorded, so that I'll add that it's perfectly practical for Wealdians to land on Dara, take whatever property they think wise, to pay for damage done by blueskins, of course and get back to Wealdian ships with absolutely no danger of carrying contagion. If you'll make sure the recording's clear."
An epidemic of something or other has made the blue patches on the skins of Darians fade out. There have always been some who didn't have blue patches. Now nobody has them." "Nonsense!" rasped the admiral. "And what has that got to do with this situation?" "Why, everything," said Calhoun mildly. "It means that Darians can pass for Wealdians whenever they please.
He wriggled his arms into the sleeves and gloves of the suit. He slung the air-tanks over his shoulder and hooked them to the suit. "I'll be back," he said. "I hope with good news. I've reason to be hopeful, though, because these Wealdians are very practical men. They have things all prepared and tidy.
A practical tribe, the Wealdians! The ships are ready to take off as soon as they're warmed up inside. A half-degree sun doesn't radiate heat enough to keep a ship warm, when the rest of the cosmos is effectively near zero Kelvin. Here, point the heaters like this." He adjusted the radiant-heat dispensers. The fog disappeared where their beams played.
And people will watch them. The Wealdians expect to die of plague any minute because they've been with Darians. So people look at them and laugh. But it's not funny." "It's natural," said Calhoun, "but perhaps lacking in charity. Look here! How about those astrogators? I need them for a job I have in mind." Maril wrung her hands. "C come here," she said in a low tone.
The Darians who'd stampeded the cattle took them prisoners. They had to!" "True," said Calhoun. "It wouldn't have been wise to leave Wealdians around on Orede with their throats cut. Or living, either, to tell about a rumor of blueskins. Even if their throats will be cut now. Is that the program?" Maril shivered. "No. They'll be put on short rations like everybody else. And people will watch them.
He began to work his way out of his own vacuum-suit. "Item," he said. "The ships are fuelled and provisioned. A practical tribe, the Wealdians! The ships are ready to take off as soon as they're warmed up inside. A half-degree sun doesn't radiate heat enough to keep a ship warm, when the rest of the cosmos is effectively near zero Kelvin. Here, point the heaters like this."
The Darians who'd stampeded the cattle took them prisoners. They had to!" "True," said Calhoun. "It wouldn't have been wise to leave Wealdians around on Orede with their throats cut. Or living, either, to tell about a rumor of blueskins. Even if their throats will be cut now. Is that the program?" Maril shivered. "No ... They'll be put on short rations like everybody else.
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