"Unfortunately, when the miners panicked, they stampeded into the ship. Also unfortunately, panic-gas got into the ship with them. So they stayed panicked while the astrogator--in panic!--took off and headed for Weald and threw on the overdrive--which would be set for Weald anyhow--because that would be the fastest way to run away from whatever he imagined he feared. 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. Nobody knows what one man will do in a panic. Take a hundred or two or three and panic them all, and there's no limit to their craziness! The whole thing was handled wrong!" "But you don't blame them?" "For being stupid, yes," said Calhoun fretfully. "But if I'd been in their place, perhaps ..." "Where were you born?" asked Maril suddenly. Calhoun jerked his head around. He said; "No! Not where you're guessing--or hoping. Not on Dara. Just because I act as if Darians were human doesn't mean I have to be one! I'm a Med Service man, and I'm acting as I think I should." His tone became exasperated. "Dammit, I'm supposed to deal with health situations, actual and possible causes of human deaths! 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. When she nodded he said bitterly; "Famine conditions already?" When she nodded again he said drearily; "And of course famine is the great-grandfather of health problems! And that's right in my lap with all the rest!" He stood up. Then he sat down again. "I'm tired!" he said flatly. "I'd like to get some sleep." Maril understood. She picked up a book and went into the other cabin. * * * * * Alone in the control compartment, he tried to relax, but it was not possible. He flung himself into a comfortable chair and considered the situation of the people of the planet Dara. Those people were marked by patches of blue pigment as an inherited consequence of a plague of three generations past. Dara was a planet of pariahs, excluded from the human race by those who had been conditioned to fear them.