a sealed pressure suit. On the intercom viewscreens they saw the small
suited figure cross from his ship into the _Lancet_'s lock, and watched
as the sprays of formalin washed down the outside of the suit.

Moments later the creature stepped out of the decontamination chamber.
He was small and humanoid, with tiny fragile bones and pale, hairless
skin. He stood no more than four feet high. More than anything else, he
looked like a very intelligent monkey with a diminutive space suit
fitting his fragile body. When he spoke the words came through the
translator in English; but Dal recognized the flowing syllables of the
universal language of the Galactic Confederation.

"How do you know the common tongue?" he said. "There is no record of
your people in our Confederation, yet you use our own universal
language."

The Bruckian nodded. "We know the language well. My people dread outside
contact--it is a racial characteristic--but we hear the Confederation
broadcasts and have learned to understand the common tongue." The
space-suited stranger looked at the doctors one by one. "We also know of
the good works of the ships from Hospital Earth, and now we appeal to
you."

"Why?" Jack said. "You gave us no information, nothing to go on."

"There was no time," the creature said. "Death is stalking our land, and
the people are falling at their plows. Thousands of us are dying, tens
of thousands. Even I am infected and soon will be dead. Unless you can
find a way to help us quickly, it will be too late, and my people will
be wiped from the face of the planet."