"Well, what now?" he demanded.

His screen lighted. A bland face looked out at him.

"We have--ah--verified your statements," said the third voice from
Weald. "Just one more item. Are you alone in your ship?"

"Of course," said Calhoun, frowning.

"Quite alone?" insisted the voice.

"Obviously!" said Calhoun.

"No other living creature?" insisted the voice again. "Of--oh!" said
Calhoun, annoyed. He called over his shoulder. "Murgatroyd! Come
here!"

Murgatroyd hopped to his lap and gazed interestedly at the screen. The
bland face changed remarkably. The voice changed even more.

"Very good!" it said. "Very, very good! Blueskins do not have
_tormals_! You are Med Service! By all means come in! Your coordinates
will be...."

Calhoun wrote them down. He clicked off the communicator again and
growled to Murgatroyd, "So I might have been a blueskin, eh? And
you're my passport, because only Med Ships have members of your tribe
aboard! What the hell's the matter, Murgatroyd? They act like they
think somebody's trying to get down on their planet with a load of