"I like you almost as much as I like Murgatroyd! Yes! Korvan will never know, and he'll be a great man." Then she added defensively, "But I don't think he'll only discover things from hints I drop him. He'll make wonderful discoveries." "Of which," said Calhoun, "the most remarkable is you. Good luck, Maril!" She went away smiling. But she wiped her eyes when she was out of the ship. Presently the Med Ship lifted. Calhoun aimed it for the next planet on the list of those he was to visit. After this one more he'd return to sector headquarters with a biting report to make on the way things had been handled before him. "Overdrive coming, Murgatroyd!" Then the stars went out and there was silence, and privacy, and a faint, faint, almost unbearable series of background sounds which kept the Med Ship from being totally unendurable. Long, long days later the ship broke out of overdrive and Calhoun guided it to a round and sunlit world. In due time he thumbed the communicator button. "Calling ground," he said crisply. "Calling ground! Med Ship _Aesclipus Twenty_ reporting arrival and asking coordinates for landing. Purpose of landing is planetary health inspection. Our mass is fifty standard tons." There was a pause while the beamed message went many, many thousands of miles. Then the speaker said, "_Aesclipus Twenty_, repeat your identification!" Calhoun repeated it patiently. Murgatroyd watched with bright eyes. Perhaps he hoped to be allowed to have another long conversation with somebody by communicator. "You are warned," said the communicator sternly, "that any deceit or deception about your identity or purpose in landing will be severely punished. We take few chances, here! If you wish to land notwithstanding this warning--" "I'm coming in," said Calhoun. "Give me the coordinates." He wrote them down. His expression was slightly pained. The Med Ship drove on, in solar system drive. Murgatroyd said, "_Chee-chee? Chee?_" Calhoun sighed. "That's right, Murgatroyd! Here we go again!" * * * * * FEAR RIDES THE ROCKETS The Interstellar Medical Service was just about the only remaining galactic organization that every one of the hundreds of inhabited planets respected. So when their service broke down in Star Sector Twelve, it created a very dangerous situation. When Calhoun took his Med ship out of overdrive near that sector's planet Weald, he was vaguely aware of the risks. But the crisis came home to him with a crash the moment he radioed in for landing coordinates. "Contamination! Full mobilization! Red alert! Death to blueskins!" Such were the nature of his greetings. And it began to look like a case of the cosmic jitters that only the most drastic of orbital surgery could cure.