The landing-grid crew shifted the ship to one side, and only then did
Calhoun stroll in a leisurely fashion toward the Med Ship by the
grid's metal-lace wall.

The big ship touched ground, and its exit port revolved and opened,
and the student pilot stood there grinning and heaving out handfuls of
grain. There was a swarming, yelling, deliriously triumphant crowd,
then, where only minutes before there'd been a mob waiting to rejoice
when Calhoun's living body exploded into flame.

They no longer hated Calhoun, but he had to fight his way to the Med
Ship, nevertheless. He was surrounded by ecstatically admiring
citizens of Dara. They shouted praise and rejoicing in his ears until
he was half-deafened, and they almost tore his clothing from them in
their desire to touch, to pat, to assure him of their gratitude and
affection, minutes since they'd thirsted for his blood.

Two hours after the first ship, a second landed. Dara went wild again.
Four hours later still, the third arrived. The fourth came down to
ground on the following day.

When Calhoun faced the executive and cabinet of Dara for the second
time his tone and manner were very dry.

"Now," he said curtly, "I would like a few more astrogators to train.
I think it likely that we can raid the Wealdian grain fleet one more
time, and in so doing get the beginning of a fleet for defense. I
insist, however, that it must not be used in combat. We might as well
be sensible about this situation! After all, four shiploads of grain
won't break the famine! They'll help a lot, but they're only the