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Updated: September 5, 2025
This proposal seemed both craven and foolish. It would allow the fleet of Weald to loot and then betray Dara. But it was Calhoun's idea. It seemed plausible to the admirals of Weald. They felt only contempt for blueskins. Contemptuously, they accepted the semi-surrender. The broadcast waves of Dara told of agreement, and wild and fierce resentment filled the pariah planet's people.
"What what do you think happened there? I mean, to make that tragedy in the ship?" "I don't know," said Calhoun. "But I disagree with the authorities on Weald. I don't think it was a planned atrocity of the blueskins." "Wh-what are blueskins?" Calhoun turned around and looked at her directly. "When lying," he said mildly, "you tell as much by what you pretend isn't, as by what you pretend is.
Calhoun listened without asking questions until he had the picture of what blueskins meant to the people who talked of them. Then he knew there would be no use asking questions at random. Nobody mentioned ever having seen a blueskin. Nobody mentioned a specific event in which a blueskin had at any named time taken part. But everybody was afraid of blueskins.
There was plenty of mention of Dara, and blueskins, and of the vicious political fight now going on to see which political party could promise the most complete protection against blueskins. After a full hour of it, Calhoun flipped off his receptor and swung the Med Ship to an exact, painstakingly precise aim at the sun around which Dara rolled. He said, "Overdrive coming, Murgatroyd!"
When people find they're not blueskins any longer when there's no such thing as a blueskin any longer will you tell them why?" "Naturally not," said Calhoun. "Why?" Then he guessed. "Has Korvan ." "He thinks," said Maril, "that he thought it up all by himself. He's found the proof. He's very proud. I'd have to tell him the truth if you were going to tell. And he'd be ashamed and angry."
He's been trying very desperately to deserve well of his fellow blueskins. All he's accomplished is develop a way to starve painlessly. He wouldn't feel comfortable with a girl who'd helped make starving unnecessary. He'd admire you politely, but he'd never marry you. And you know it."
Nobody could have read the entire Sector directory, even with unlimited leisure during travel between solar systems. Calhoun hadn't tried. But now he went laboriously through indices and cross-references while the ship continued to travel onward. He found no other reference to blueskins. He looked up Dara.
He carefully kept them tentative, but no girl born and raised on Weald would willingly go to Orede, with all of Weald believing that a shipload of miners preferred death to remaining there. It tied in, like everything else that was unpleasant, to blueskins. Nobody from Weald would dream of landing on Orede! Not now!
It drifted like a derelict upon no course at all. It seemed ominous, and since it came from Orede, the planet nearest to Dara of the blueskins, the health ministry informed the planet's chief executive. "It'll be blueskins," said that astute person firmly. "They're next door to Orede. That's who's done this.
"No," said the doctor ashamedly. "They were blueskins." "How bad was the famine?" "Who knows? Any number may have starved! And we kept a squadron of armed ships in their skies for years. To keep them from spreading the plague, we said. And some of us believed it, probably!" The doctor's tone was purest irony. "Lately," he said, "there's been a move for economy in our government.
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