the problem had almost been solved once before, when the virus-creature had reached Fuzzy on the ship; if they had only waited a little longer they would have seen Fuzzy recover from his illness a different creature entirely than before.
Already the new creature was dividing again, with half going on to the next of the Bruckians. To a submicroscopic virus, the body of the host would not have to be large; soon there would be a sufficient number of hosts to serve the virus-creatures’ needs forever. As he started back up the ladder to the ship, Dal knew that the problem on 31 Brucker VII had found a happy and permanent solution.
*
Back in the control room Dal related what had happened from beginning to end. There was only one detail that he concealed. He could not bring himself to tell Tiger and Jack of the true nature of his relationship with Fuzzy, of the odd power over the emotions of others that Fuzzy’s presence gave him. He could tell by their faces that they realized that he was leaving something out; they had watched him go down to face a blood-thirsty mob, and had seen that mob become docile as lambs as though by magic. Clearly they could not understand what had happened, yet they did not ask him.
“So it was Fuzzy’s idea to volunteer as a new host for the creatures,” Jack said.
Dal nodded. “I knew that he could reproduce, of course,” he said. “Every Garvian has a Fuzzy, and whenever a new Garvian is born, the father’s Fuzzy always splits so that half can join the new-born child. It’s like the division of a cell; within hours the Fuzzy that stayed down there will have divided to provide enough protoplasm for every one of the surviving intelligent Bruckians.”
“And your diagnosis was the right one,” Jack said.
“We’ll see,” Dal said. “Tomorrow we’ll know better.”
But clearly the problem had been solved. The next day there was an excited conference between the spokesman and the doctors on the Lancet. The Bruckians had elected to maintain the same host body as before. They had gotten used to it; with the small pink creatures serving as a shelter to protect them against the deadly antibodies, they could live in peace and security. But they were eager, before the Lancet disembarked, to sign a full medical service contract with the doctors from Hospital Earth. A contract was signed, subject only to final acceptance and ratification by the Hospital Earth officials.
Now that their radio was free again, the three doctors jubilantly prepared a full account of the problem of 31 Brucker and its solution, and dispatched the news of the new contract to the first relay station on its way back to Hospital Earth. Then, weary to the point of collapse, they retired for the first good sleep in days, eagerly awaiting an official response from Hospital Earth on the completed case and the contract.
“It ought to wipe out any black mark Dr. Tanner has against any of us,” Jack said happily. “And especially in Dal’s case.” He grinned at the Red Doctor. “This one has been yours, all the way. You pulled it out of the fire after I flubbed it completely, and you’re going to get the credit, if I have anything to say about it.”
“We should all get credit,” Dal said. “A new contract isn’t signed every day of the year. But the way we all fumbled our way into it, Hospital Earth shouldn’t pay much attention to it anyway.”
But Dal knew that he was only throwing up his habitual shield to guard against disappointment. Traditionally, a new contract meant a Star rating for each of the crew that brought it in. All through medical school Dal had read the reports of other patrol ships that had secured new contracts with uncontacted planets, and he had seen the fanfare and honor that were heaped on the doctors from those ships. And for the first time since he had entered medical school years before, Dal now allowed himself to hope that his goal was in sight.
He wanted to be a Star Surgeon more than anything else. It was the one thing that he had wanted and worked for since the cruel days when the plague had swept his homeland, destroying his mother and leaving his father an ailing cripple. And since his assignment aboard the Lancet, one thought had filled his mind: to turn in the scarlet collar and cuff in return for the cape and silver star of the full-fledged physician in the Red Service of Surgery.
Always before there had been the half-conscious dread that something would happen, that in the end, after all the work, the silver star would still remain just out of reach, that somehow he would never quite get it.
But now there could be no question. Even Black Doctor Tanner could not deny a new contract. The crew of the Lancet would be called back to Hospital Earth for a full report on the newly contacted race, and their days as probationary doctors in the General Practice patrol would be over.
After they had slept themselves out, the doctors prepared the ship for launching, and made their farewells to the Bruckian spokesman.
“When the contract is ratified,” Jack said, “a survey ship will come here. They will have all of the information that we have gathered, and they will spend many months gathering more. Tell them everything they want to know. Don’t conceal anything, because once they have completed their survey, any General Practice Patrol ship in the galaxy will be able to answer a call for help and have the information they need to serve you.”
They delayed launching hour by hour waiting for a response from Hospital Earth, but the radio was silent. They thought of a dozen reasons why the message might have been delayed, but the radio silence continued. Finally they strapped down and lifted the ship from the planet, still waiting for a response.
When it finally came, there was no message of congratulations, nor even any acknowledgment of the new contract. Instead, there was only a terse message:
PROCEED TO REFERENCE POINT 43621 SECTION XIX AND STAND BY FOR INSPECTION PARTY
Tiger took the message and read it in silence, then handed it to Dal.
“What do they say?” Jack said.
“Read it,” Dal said. “They don’t mention the contract, just an inspection party.”
“Inspection party! Is that the best they can do for us?”
“They don’t sound too enthusiastic,” Tiger said. “At least you’d think they could acknowledge receipt of our report.”
“It’s probably just part of the routine,” Dal said. “Maybe they want to confirm our reports from our own records before they commit themselves.”
But he knew that he was only whistling in the dark. The moment he saw the terse message, he knew something had gone wrong with the contract. There would be no notes of congratulation, no returning in triumph and honor to Hospital Earth.
Whatever the reason for the inspection party, Dal felt certain who the inspector was going to be.
It had been exciting to dream, but the scarlet cape and the silver star were still a long way out of reach.
The Showdown
It was hours later when their ship reached the contact point co-ordinates. There had been little talk during the transit; each of them knew already what the other was thinking, and there wasn’t much to be said. The message had said it for them.
Dal’s worst fears were realized when the inspection ship appeared, converting from Koenig drive within a few miles of the Lancet. He had seen the ship before—a sleek, handsomely outfitted patrol class ship
