"A _tormal,_" said Calhoun. "He's not a pet. Your medical men will know something about him. This is a Med Ship and I'm a Med Ship man, and he's an important member of the crew. He's a Med Ship _tormal_ and he stays with me!" The man with the blue hand said harshly; "There's somebody waiting to ask you questions. Here!" A ground-car came rolling out from the side of the landing-grid enclosure. The ground-car ran on wheels, and wheels were not much used on modern worlds. Dara was behind the times in more ways than one. "This car will take you to Defense and you can tell them anything you want. But don't try to sneak back in this ship! It'll be guarded!" The ground-car was enclosed, with room for a driver and the three from the Med Ship. But armed men festooned themselves about its exterior and it went bumping and rolling to the massive ground-layer girders of the grid. It rolled out under them and there was paved highway. It picked up speed. There were buildings on either side of the road, but few showed lights. This was night-time, and the men at the landing-grid had set a pattern of hunger, so that the silence and the dark buildings did not seem a sign of tranquility and sleep, but of exhaustion and despair. The highway lamps were few, by comparison with other inhabited worlds, and the ground-car needed lights of its own to guide its driver over a paved surface that needed repair. By those moving lights other depressing things could be seen. Untidiness. Buildings not kept up to perfection. Evidences of apathy. The road hadn't been cleaned lately. There was 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?" He moved his head in negation, but did not speak. "I left--two years ago," said Maril. "It was just beginning then. Rationing hadn't started then--." The driver said evenly; "There's rationing now!" * * * * * The car went on and on. A vast open space appeared ahead. Lights about its perimeter seemed few and pale. "E-everything seems--worse. Even the lights." "Using all the power," said the driver, "to warm up ground to grow crops where it ought to be winter. Not doing too well, either." Calhoun knew, somehow, that Maril moistened her lips. "I--was sent," she explained to the driver, "to go ashore on Trent and then make my way to Weald. I--mailed reports of what I found out back to Trent. Somebody got them back to here whenever--it was possible." The driver said; "Everybody knows the man on Trent disappeared. Maybe he got caught, maybe somebody saw him without makeup. Or maybe he just quit being one of us. What's the difference? No use!"