iness.
It did not answer calls. It did not move in space. It floated eerily in
no orbit around anything, going nowhere; doing nothing. And panic was
the consequence.

It seemed to Calhoun that the official handling of the matter accounted
for the terror that he could feel building up. The so-far-unexplained
bit of news was on the 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 doubted that it came from blueskins. The
treatment of the news was precisely calculated to keep alive the hatred
of Weald for the inhabitants of the world Dara.

Calhoun put Murgatroyd into the Med Ship and went back to the spaceport
office. A small space-boat, designed to inspect the circling grain-ships
from time, was already aloft. The landing-grid had thrust it swiftly out
most of the way. Now it droned and drove on sturdily toward the
enigmatic ship.

Calhoun took no part in the agitated conferences among the officials and
news reporters at the space-port. But he listened to the talk about him.
As the investigating small ship drew nearer and nearer to the
deathly-still cargo vessel, the guesses about the meaning of its
breakout and following silence grew more and more wild. But, singularly,
there was not one suggestion that the mystery might not be the work of
blueskins. Blueskins were scapegoats for all the fears and all the
uneasiness a perhaps over-civilized world developed.

Presently the investigating space-boat reached the mystery ship and
circled it, beaming queries. No answer. It reported the cargo-ship dark.
No lights shone anywhere on or in it. There were no induction-surges
from even pulsing, idling engines. Delicately, the messenger-craft
maneuvered until it touched the silent vessel. It reported that
microphones detected no motion whatever inside.

"Let a volunteer go aboard," commanded the chief executive. "Have him
report what he finds."

A pause. Then the solemn announcement of an intrepid volunteer's name,
from far, far away. Calhoun listened, frowning darkly. This pompous
heroism wouldn't be noticed in the Med Service. It would be routine
behavior.

Suspenseful, second-by-second reports. The volunteer had rocketed
himself across the emptiness between the two again-separated ships. He
had opened the airlock from outside. He'd gone in. He'd closed the outer
airlock door. He'd opened the inner. He reported.

The rel