"In my capacity as your doctor," he told her, "I must forbid you to stab me. It wouldn't be good for you." Then he said, "Look! My name's Calhoun. I came from Sector Med Headquarters to make a planetary health inspection, and some lads in the city apparently didn't want a Med Ship aground. So they tried to kill me by buttering me all over the walls of my ship, with the landing-grid field. I made what was practically a crash landing, and now I need to know what's up." The burning hatred remained in her eyes, but there was a trace of doubt. "Here," said Calhoun, "is my identification." He showed her the highly official documents which gave him vast authority--where a planetary government was willing to concede it. "Of course," he added, "papers can be stolen. But I have a witness that I'm what and who I say I am. You've heard of _tormals_? Murgatroyd will vouch for me." He called his small and furry companion. Murgatroyd advanced and politely offered a small, prehensile paw. He said "_Chee_" in his shrill voice, and then solemnly took hold of the girl's wrist in imitation of Calhoun's previous action of feeling her pulse. Calhoun watched. The girl stared at Murgatroyd. But all the galaxy had heard of _tormals_. They'd been found on a planet in the Deneb region, and they were engaging pets and displayed an extraordinary immunity to the diseases men were apt to scatter in their interstellar journeyings. A forgotten Med Service researcher made an investigation on the ability of _tormals_ to live in contact with men. He came up with a discovery which made them very much too valuable to have their lives wasted in mere sociability. There were still not enough of Murgatroyd's kind to meet the need that men had of them, and laymen had to forego their distinctly charming society. So Murgatroyd was an identification. The girl said faintly: "If you'd only come earlier.... But it's too late now! I ... thought you came from the city." "I was headed there," said Calhoun. "They'll kill you--" "Yes," agreed Calhoun, "they probably will. But right now you're ill and I'm Med Service. I suspect there's been an epidemic of some disease here, and that for some reason the people in the city don't want the Med Service to know about it. You seem to have ... whatever it is. Also you had a very curious weapon to shoot me with." The girl said drearily: "One of our group had made a hobby of such things. Ancient weapons. He had bows and arrows and--what I shot you with was a crossbow. It doesn't need power. Not even chemical explosives. So, when we ran away from the city, he ventured back in and armed us as well as he could." * * * * *