“What?--what sort of ship are you flying?” The voice was curious. “I’m matching intrinsics over your port. Talk me in when I break through the overcast.” “Talk you in?” “That’s right. My instruments are obsolete.” “Great Halstead! What else?” “I have an Ion drive. Plus two radioactive.” “Oh no!--And you still want to come in?” “I have to. My passenger’s in shock. She’s going to have a baby.” “All right--I’ll try to get you down in one piece.” “Have an ambulance ready,” Kennon said. Kennon lowered the Egg through the overcast. Ground control picked him up smoothly and took him down as though it had been rehearsed. The Egg touched down in the radioactive area of the port. Decontamination jets hissed, sluicing the ship to remove surface contamination. “Ochsner! what sort of a ship is that?” Ground Control’s startled voice came over the annunciator. “It’s an old one,” Kennon said. “That’s a gross understatement. Stand by for boarders. Ambulance coming up.” Kennon opened the airlock and two radiation-suited men entered. “At least you had sense enough to wear protective clothing in this hotbox,” one said as they carefully unwebbed Copper and carried her out of the lock. “You wait here. The Port Captain wants to see you.” “Where are you taking her? What Center?” Kennon asked. “What should you care? You’ve nearly killed her. The idea of taking a pregnant woman up in this death trap! What in Fleming’s name’s the matter with your brain?” “I had to,” Kennon said. “I had to. It was a matter of life and death.” For once, he thought wryly, the cliche was true. The Betan’s face behind the transparent helmet was disgusted and unbelieving. “I hear that sort of thing every day,” he said. “Am I supposed to believe it?” “You’d believe it if you’d have been where I was,” Kennon muttered. “Now--whe’re are you taking her?” he demanded. The man arched blond eyebrows. “To the local Medical Center--where else? There’s only one in this area.” “Thanks,” Kennon said. He watched the ambulance flit off as he waited for the Spaceport Patrol. There was no further need for the protection suit, so he peeled it off and hung it in the control-room locker. Copper was right, he mused. It did itch. The Port Captain’s men were late as usual--moving gingerly through the radiation area. A noncom gestured for him to enter their carryall. “Port Captain wants to see you,” he said. “I know,” Kennon replied. “You should have waited upstairs.” “I couldn’t. It was a matter of medicine,” Kennon said. The noncom’s face sobered. “Why didn’t you say so? All you said was that it was an emergency.” “I’ve been away. I forgot.” “You shouldn’t have done that. You’re a Betan, aren’t you?” Kennon nodded.