This World Is Taboo

d unfamiliar. Which, of course, was because the Milky Way and the local Cepheid marker-stars

good. A breakout at no more than sixty light-hours from one's destination wasn't ba

id Calhoun. "Comb your whiskers.

l, shrill voic

g out of the small cubbyhole which

will get unpopular. According to the records, there's been no Med Ship inspection here f

d said: "

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 mynah

ded sun. It could hardly be an accurate

mething, Murga

the Med Ship flicked back into that questionable state of being in which velocities of hundreds of times that of light are possible. The sensation of going

ble in space. It was close, now. It

Three is our port, Murgatroyd. The pla

details, and checked it against the local star-pilot. He calculated a moment. The distance was too sho

mmunicator button and

factly. "Purpose of landing is planetary health inspection. Our mass is fifty tons, standard. We sho

r an answer. Murgatroyd came out for a cup of coffee for himself. Murgatroyd adored coffee

out of the

ty, repeat your

t to the co

health inspection on Weald. Check with your public health authorities. This is the first Med Ship visit in twelve

said tru

s your l

situation. Some of its planets had gone unvisited for as long as twenty years, and twelve bet

half a dozen planets to be inspected one after another, instead of reporting back to sector headqua

spected, the one from which he'd set out for Weald

rt befor

d the one be

said the voice harshly,

immediately! Remind them of the Interstellar Medical Inspection Agreement, signed on Tralee two hundred and forty standard years ago. Remind them

ll gone to pot so far as the Med Service in this sector is concerned, but it's being straightened up. I'm helping straighten it! I giv

lf another cup of coffee. Murgatroyd held out

are some people who demand it. The rule is, never get official if you can h

"Chee!" and si

perings and rustlings and the occasional strange and sometimes beautiful musical notes whose origin is yet obscure, but which, sinc

a different voice c

clipus! Med S

d and the voice

lueskin problem always with us. We have to be

way," sai

ce help! We lose a lot of sleep over the blueskin! Could you tell us the name of the last Med Ship to land here, and its inspect

d Murgatroyd, "but he's m

eald Three. He gave the informati

asked, "is

y. Twelve years earlier-instead of three-a Med Ship had landed on Weald. There had been official conferences with health officials. There was a report on the birth r

a Sector dictionary, where words o

ts of Dara. The condition is said to be caused by a chronic, nonfatal form of Dara plague and has been said to be noninfectious, though this is not certain. The etio

imited leisure during travel between solar systems. Calhoun hadn't tried. But now he went

d, with a landing-grid and, at the time the main notice was written out, a flourishing interstellar commerce. But there was a memo,

all. Abso

icator sai

s Twenty! Come in

e control board an

t now?" he

d. A bland face l

aid the third voice from Weald. "Just on

said Calhou

e?" insiste

ly!" sai

again. "Of-oh!" said Calhoun, annoyed. He cal

restedly at the screen. The bland face chan

ns do not have tormals! You are Med Service! By

ueskin, eh? And you're my passport, because only Med Ships have members of your tribe aboard! What the hell's the ma

drive, which is absolute and deadly tedium. Then two or three days aground, checking official documents and statistics, and asking questions to

wo could not stand the close contact without quarreling with each other. But Med Ships do carry tormals, like Murgatroyd, and a tormal

at work to correct the results of incompetence in directing Med Service in this sector. But it is always dishearteni

from other people who'd survived a plague. Weald plainly maintained a one-planet quarantine against them. But a quarantine is normally an

fumed to

land and water surface. The ship decelerated, voices notifying observation from the surface, and the little ship came to a

lar flowing-apart of the surface features as the ship sank still lower. There was the circular landing-grid, rearing skyward for nearly a mil

be an interview with the planet's chief executive, by whatever title he was called. There would be a banquet. Murgatroyd would be petted by every

ell or, failing that, how to make them well when they got sick. And in two days, or three, Calhoun would be escorted back to the landing

ns. Blueskins and the idea of blueskins obsessed everyone. Calhoun listened without asking questions until he had the pict

verybody was afraid of blueskins. It was a patterned, an inculcated, a stage-directed fixed idea. And it found expression in shocked refere

ne selection as practised halfway across the galaxy. He invited that man to the Med Ship, where he supplied the information not hitherto avail

net hate the inhabitants of Dara? It's light-years away. Nobody claims

ian docto

and our political parties can make an election issue out of competing for the privilege of defendin

ntagion here, eh? Doesn't anybody"-his tone was sardonic-"doe

ctor reluctantly. "It's ment

s the argument to make pigment-patches involve moral

generations ago! That they hate everybody who isn't a blueskin. That they are constantly scheming to introduce their plague here so

That sort of thing usually costs lives

nk about it." He paused. "Twenty years ago there was a famine on Dara. There we

ame here. They went in orbit around Weald. They asked to trade for shiploads of food. They offered any price in heavy metals-gold, platin

," said

space off the planet. We told them we'd blast their world from pole to pole if they ever dared take

gave th

tor ashamedly. "Th

was the

ron of armed ships in their skies for years-to keep them fro

s tone was

he government had to buy the excess grain to keep the price up. Retired patrol ships, built to watch over Dara, were available for storag

d D

shrugged. H

e's a two-planet solar system, Orede. There's a usable planet there. It was proposed to build an outpost of Weald th

ooting wild cattle, found an outcropping of heavy-metal ore. So now there's a mine there. And that's all. A

aid Calhou

toward the Med

ut if I talked to anyone else as I've done to y

away," said Calhoun

oyd, you should be grateful that you're a tormal and not a ma

o the planet's chief executive and hear innumerable speeches about the splendor of Weald. Calhoun had his own, strictly Med Service opini

eam broadcasts which supplied hypnotic, sleep-inducing rhythms to anybody who chose to listen to them. The pr

n badly managed in Sector Twelve. So at the banquet Calhoun made a brief and diplomatic addr

dly of the high culture, splendid health, and remarkable prosperity of the planet since his political party took office. This, he said, de

that race of deprived and malevolent deviants from the norm of humanity. But Weald, he said with emotion, held aloft the torch of all that humanity he

as if some day it should be practical politics to urge t

's good politics to urge it, but it would be foolish to carry it ou

und his tee

passed it to Calhoun. It was from the Ministry of Health. The spaceport reported that a ship had just broken out from overdri

t respond to signals. It drifted like a derelict upon no course at all. It seemed ominous, and since it came fr

o Orede. That's who's done this. It wouldn't surprise me if they'd seeded

protested Calhoun. "A ship simply came out of

go to the spaceport. There we'll get the news as it co

e arm. Calhoun said s

rmally, without listening to their official speeches. Murgatroyd was brought, his small paunch distended with cakes and coffee a

right of way. It reached the spaceport, where enormous metal girders formed a monster frame of metal lace against a star-fille

It did not answer calls. It did not move in space. It floated eerily in

e air all over the planet Weald. There was nobody awake of all the world's population who did not believe that there was a new danger in the sky. Nobody dou

signed to inspect the circling grain ships from time to time, was already aloft. The landing-grid had

But he listened to the talk about him. As the investigating small ship drew nearer to the deathly-still

not be the work of blueskins. Blueskins were scape-goats for all the

o ship dark. No lights anywhere on or in it. There were no induction-surges from even pulsing, idling engines. Delicately, the

ommanded the chief executive.

rom far, far away. Calhoun listened, frowning darkly. This pompous heroi

mptiness between the two again separated ships. He had opened the airlock from outside

e upon the volunteer. The ship was a bulk-cargo ore-carrier, designed to run between Orede and Weald with c

ce where a man could find room to push himself. There were hundreds of them. It was insanity. And it had

ore. But there were hundreds of men in hiding as well as in plain view in the cargo ship from Orede. There were many, many times more than h

scarcity killed them before t

ship's log which referred to its takeoff. There was no memoran

and terrified. "It was the blueskins! We'll have to teach them a lesson!" Then he turned to Calhoun. "The volunteer wh

raged