"Idiot-level," Dal said glumly. "I.Q. of about 20 on the human scale. I guess the explorers weren't much impressed; they didn't even put the planet down for a routine colonization survey." "Well, _something_ has happened down there since then. Idiots can't build interstellar radios." Jack turned to Tiger. "Are you getting them?" Tiger nodded. A voice was coming over the speaker, hesitant and apologetic, using the common tongue of the Galactic Confederation. "How soon can you come?" the voice was asking clearly, still with the sound of great reticence. "There is not much time." "But who are you?" Tiger asked. "What's wrong down there?" "We are sick, dying, thousands of us. But if you have other work that is more pressing, we would not want to delay you--" Jack shook his head, frowning. "I don't get this," he said. "What are they afraid of?" Tiger spoke into the microphone again. "We will be glad to help, but we need information about you. You have our position--can you send up a spokesman to tell us your problem?" A long pause, and then the voice came back wearily. "It will be done. Stand by to receive him." Tiger snapped off the radio receiver and looked up triumphantly at the others. "Now we're getting somewhere. If the people down there can send a ship out with a spokesman to tell us about their troubles, we've got a chance to sew up a contract, and that could mean a Star for every one of us." "Yes, but who are they?" Dal said. "And where were they when the Confederation ship was here?" "I don't know," Jack said, "but I'll bet you both that we have quite a time finding out." "Why?" Tiger said. "What do you mean?" "I mean we'd better be very careful here," Jack said darkly. "I don't know about you, but I think this whole business has a very strange smell." * * * * * There was nothing strange about the Bruckian ship when it finally came into view. It was a standard design, surface-launching interplanetary craft, with separated segments on either side suggesting atomic engines. They saw the side jets flare as the ship maneuvered to come in alongside the _Lancet_. Grapplers were thrown out to bind the emissary ship to the _Lancet_'s hull, and Jack threw the switches to open the entrance lock and decontamination chambers. They had taken pains to describe the interior atmosphere of the patrol ship and warn the spokesman to keep himself in a sealed pressure suit. On the intercom viewscreens they saw the small suited figure cross from his ship into the _Lancet_'s lock, and watched as the sprays of formalin washed down the outside of the suit.