horities will know all about it. Check with them."

The voice said truculently;

"_What was your last port?_"

Calhoun named it. This was not his home sector, but Sector Twelve had
gotten into a very bad situation. Some of its planets had gone unvisited
for as long as twenty years, and twelve between inspections was almost
common-place. Other sectors had been called on to help it catch up.
Calhoun was one of the loaned Med Ship men, and because of the emergency
he'd been given a list of half a dozen planets to be inspected one after
another, instead of reporting back to sector headquarters after each
visit. He'd had minor troubles before with landing-grid operators in
Sector Twelve.

So he was very patient. He named the planet last inspected, the one from
which he'd set out for Weald Three. The voice from the communicator said
sharply;

"_What port before that?_"

Calhoun named the one before the last.

"_Don't drive any closer,_" said the voice harshly, "_or you'll be
destroyed!_"

Calhoun said coldly;

"Now you listen to me, friend! I'm from the Interstellar Medical
Service! You get in touch with planetary health services immediately!
Remind them of the Interstellar Medical Inspection Agreement, signed on
Tralee two hundred and forty standard years ago. Remind them that if
they do not cooperate in medical inspection that I can put your planet
under quarantine and your space commerce will be cut off like that! No
ship will be cleared for Weald from any other planet in the galaxy until
there has been a health inspection! Things have pretty well gone to pot
so far as the Med Service in this sector is concerned, but we're trying
to straighten it out. You have twenty minutes to clear this and then,
I'm coming in. If I'm not landed, a quarantine goes on! Tell your health
authorities that!"

Silence. Calhoun clicked off and poured himself another cup of coffee.
Murgatroyd held out his cup for a refill. Calhoun gave it to him.

"I hate to put on an official hat, Murgatroyd," he said annoyedly, "but
there are some people who won't have any other way."

Murgatroyd said "_Chee!_" and sipped at his cup.

* * * * *

Calhoun checked the course of the Med Ship. It bored on through space.
There were tiny noises from the communicator. There were whisperings and
rustlings and the occasional strange and sometimes beautiful musical
notes whose origin is yet obscure, but which, since they a