Part 1 (1/2)
Pariah Planet.
by Murray Leinster.
_When the blue plague appeared on the planet of Dara, fear struck nearby worlds. The fear led to a hate that threatened the lives of millions and endangered the Galactic peace._
CHAPTER I
The little Med s.h.i.+p came out of overdrive and the stars were strange and the Milky Way seemed unfamiliar. Which, of course, was because the Milky Way and the local Cepheid marker-stars were seen from an unaccustomed angle and a not-yet-commonplace pattern of varying magnitudes. But Calhoun grunted in satisfaction. There was a banded sun off to port, which was good. A breakout at no more than sixty light-hours from one's destination wasn't bad, in a strange sector of the Galaxy and after three light-years of journeying blind.
[Ill.u.s.tration]
”Arise and s.h.i.+ne, Murgatroyd,” said Calhoun. ”Comb your whiskers. Get set to astonish the natives!”
A sleepy, small, shrill voice said;
”_Chee!_”
Murgatroyd the _tormal_ came crawling out of his small cubbyhole. He blinked at Calhoun.
”We're due to land shortly,” Calhoun observed. ”You'll impress the local inhabitants. I'll be unpopular. According to the records, there's been no Med s.h.i.+p inspection here for twelve standard years. And that was practically no inspection, to judge by the report.”
Murgatroyd said;
”_Chee-chee!_”
He began to make his toilet, first licking his right-hand whiskers and then his left. Then he stood up and shook himself and looked interestedly at Calhoun. _Tormals_ are companionable small animals. They are charmed when somebody speaks to them. They find great, deep satisfaction in imitating the actions of humans, as parrots and mynahs and parrokets imitate human speech. But _tormals_ have certain useful, genetically transmitted talents which make them much more valuable than mere companions or pets.
Calhoun got a light-reading for the banded sun. It could hardly be an accurate measure of distance, but it was a guide. He said;
”Hold on to something, Murgatroyd!”
Calhoun threw the overdrive switch and the Med s.h.i.+p flicked back into that questionable state of being in which velocities of some hundreds of times that of light are possible. The sensation of going into overdrive was unpleasant. A moment later, the sensation of coming out was no less so. Calhoun had experienced it often enough, and still didn't like it.
The sun Weald burned huge and terrible in s.p.a.ce. It was close, now. Its disk covered half a degree of arc.
”Very neat,” observed Calhoun. ”Weald Three is our port, Murgatroyd. The plane of the ecliptic would be--Hm....”
He swung the outside electron telescope, picked up a nearby bright object, enlarged its image to show details, and checked it against the local star-pilot. He calculated a moment. The distance was too short for even the briefest of overdrive hops, but it would take time to get there on solar-system drive.
He thumbed down the communicator-b.u.t.ton and spoke into a microphone.
”Med s.h.i.+p Aesclipus Twenty reporting arrival and asking coordinates for landing. Purpose of landing, planetary health inspection. Our ma.s.s is fifty tons standard. We should arrive at a landing position in something under four hours. Repeat. Med s.h.i.+p Aesclipus Twenty ...”
He finished the regular second transmission and made coffee for himself while he waited for an answer. Murgatroyd wanted a cup of coffee too.
Murgatroyd adored coffee. He held a tiny cup in a furry small paw and sipped gingerly at the hot liquid.
A voice came out of the communicator;