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Updated: June 19, 2025
But he and all the men on the ship were still crazy with panic from the gas they were re-breathing until they died!" Silence. After a long interval, Maril asked; "You don't think the Darians intended to kill?" "I think they were stupid!" said Calhoun angrily. "Somebody's always urging the police to use panic-gas in case of public tumult. But it's too dangerous.
There was no way to take off the parties now aground without exposing them to contact with Darians, on the ground or in the ships. There was no way to sort out the Darians. "I I will give the orders," said the admiral thickly. "I do not know what you devils plan, but I don't know how to stop you." "All that's necessary," said Calhoun warmly, "is an open mind.
Parties in the shiny sag-suits spread through the city. There were the huge stockpiles of precious metals, brought in readiness to be surrendered and carried away. Some men set to work to load these into the holds of the ships of Weald. Some went forthrightly after personal loot. They came upon very few Darians. Those they saw kept sullenly away from them.
Maril thought him wonderful, even if she had to give him the material for his work. Calhoun shrugged and went on with his work. The return of loot. Mutual, full, and complete agreement that Darians were no longer carriers of plague, if they had ever been. Unless Weald convinced other worlds of this, Weald itself would join Dara in isolation from neighboring worlds.
They were young men who did not look quite as hungry as most Darians, but there was a reason for that. Their leader introduced himself and the others. They were the astrogators of the ship Dara had built to try to bring food from Orede. They were not good enough, said their self-appointed leader. They overshot their destination. They came out of overdrive too far off line.
And Calhoun noted that they were no better fed than the guards at the spaceport. They regarded Calhoun and Maril with oddly burning, eyes. It was, of course, because the two of them showed no signs of hunger. They obviously had not been on short rations. Darians had this, now, to increase a hatred which was inevitable anyhow, directed at all peoples off their own planet.
The message ship, ordering the Darian fleet away from Weald, had been sent off long since. No other ship could get away now! The Darians could take their choice: accept the consequences of surrender, or the fleet would rise to throw down bombs. Calhoun was asking politely to be taken to the Wealdian admiral when the trouble began. It wasn't on the ground, at all.
"On nearly all your ships aloft your crews are crazy from panic gas. They'll stay that way until the air is changed. Darians have barricaded themselves in the control rooms of most if not all your ships. You haven't got a fleet. The few ships who will obey your orders if they drop one bomb, our fleet off Weald will drop fifty. "I don't think you'd better order offensive action.
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.
The return of loot, mutual, full, and complete agreement that Darians were no longer carriers of plague, if they had ever been unless Weald convinced other worlds of this, Weald itself would join Dara in isolation from neighboring worlds. A messenger ship had to recall the twenty-seven ships once floating in orbit about Weald. Most of them would be used for some time, to bring beef from Orede.
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