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One so Calhoun presently discovered was working his way behind underbrush to a shelf from which he could shoot down at Calhoun. Calhoun had dropped into a hollow and pulled Maril to cover at the first shot. The second man happily planned to get to a point where he could shoot him like a fish in a barrel. The third man had fired half a dozen times and then disappeared.
Calhoun absently filled Murgatroyd's tiny cup and handed it to him. "But this is marvellous!" he said exuberantly. "The blue patches appeared after the plague, didn't they? After people recovered when they recovered?" Maril stared at him. His mind was filled with strictly professional considerations. He was not talking to her as a person. She was purely a source of information.
For so long as the oxygen lasted, fresh air for any number of men could be kept purified and breathable. The Med Ship's normal equipment could take care of no more than ten. But with this it could journey to Weald with almost any complement on board. Maril stayed on Dara when the Med Ship left. Murgatroyd protested shrilly when he discovered her about to be closed out by the closing airlock.
Luck must have played a great part in it, but an hysterical agility in dodging must have been required, too. Calhoun headed back for the valley where the settlement had been, and the Med Ship was. Murgatroyd clung to his neck. The girl Maril followed discouragedly.
But with this it could journey to Weald with almost any complement on board. Maril stayed on Dara when the Med Ship left. Murgatroyd protested shrilly when he discovered her about to be closed out by the closing lock-door. "Chee!" he said indignantly. "Chee! Chee!" "No," said Calhoun, "we'll be crowded enough anyhow. We'll see her later."
Maril thought him wonderful, even if she had to give him the material for his work. He agreed with her that he was wonderful. Calhoun shrugged and went on with his own work.
By those moving lights other depressing things could be seen: untidiness, buildings not kept up to perfection, evidences of apathy, the road, which hadn't been cleaned lately, litter here and there. Even the fact that there were no stars added to the feeling of wretchedness and gloom and, ultimately, of hunger. Maril spoke nervously to the driver. "The famine isn't any better?"
Stars swung across the port out of which he looked. Something dark appeared, and then straight lines and exact curvings. Even Maril, despairing and bewildered as she was, caught sight of something vastly larger than the Med Ship, floating in space. She stared. The Med Ship maneuvered very cautiously. She saw another large object. A third. A fourth. There seemed to be dozens of them.
He thinks that people almost dead of the plague could get the virus, and if they recovered from the plague pass the virus on and be blueskins." "Interesting," said Calhoun, noncommittally. "And when we went to Weald," said Maril very carefully indeed, "you were working with some culture material. You wrote quite a lot about it in the ship's log. You gave yourself an injection. Remember?
Calhoun very soberly tied them hand and foot and laid them out comfortably on the floor. Maril watched, white-faced, her hand to her throat. "What have you done to them? Are they dead?" "No," said Calhoun, "just drugged. They'll wake up presently." Maril said in a tense and desperate whisper; "You're betraying us! You're going to take us to Weald." "No," said Calhoun. "We'll only orbit around it.
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