Arnquist had warned him the day he received his notice of admission to
the medical school. "I can promise you nothing," the old man had said,
"except a slender chance. There are those who will fight to the very end
to prevent you from succeeding, and when it's all over, you may not win.
But if you are willing to take that risk, at least you have a chance."

Dal had accepted the risk with his eyes wide open. He had done the best
he could do, and now he had lost. True, he had not received the final,
irrevocable word that he had been expelled from the medical service of
Hospital Earth, but he was certain now that it was waiting for him when
he arrived at Hospital Seattle the following morning.

The loading ramp was beginning to fill up, and Dal saw half a dozen of
his classmates from the medical school burst through the door from the
station below, shifting their day packs from their shoulders and
chattering among themselves. Several of them saw him, standing by
himself against the guard rail. One or two nodded coolly and turned
away; the others just ignored him. Nobody greeted him, nor even smiled.
Dal turned away and stared down once again at the busy activity on the
field below.

"Why so gloomy, friend?" a voice behind him said. "You look as though
the ship left without you."

Dal looked up at the tall, dark-haired young man, towering at his side,
and smiled ruefully. "Hello, Tiger! As a matter of fact, it _did_ leave.
I'm waiting for the next one."

"Where to?" Frank Martin frowned down at Dal. Known as "Tiger" to
everyone but the professors, the young man's nickname fit him well. He