ke the attempt.

* * * * *

He called first on a GC wave-length and form. It was unlikely that
blueskins would use general-communication bands to keep in touch with
each other, but it had to be tried. He broadcast, as broadly tuned as
possible, and went up and down the GC spectrum, repeating his warning
painstakingly and listening without hope for a reply. He did find one
spot on the dial where there was re-radiation of his message, as if from
a tuned receiver. But he could not get a fix on it, and nobody might be
listening. He exhausted the normal communication pattern. Then he
broadcast on old-fashioned amplitude modulation which a modern
communicator would not pick up at all, and which therefore might be used
by men in hiding.

He worked for a long time. Then he shrugged and gave it up. He'd
repeated to absolute tedium the facts that any Darians--blueskins--on
Orede ought to know. There'd been no answer. And it was all too likely
that if he'd been received, that those who heard him took his message
for a trick to discover if there were any hearers.

He clicked off at last and stood up, shaking his head. Suddenly the Med
Ship seemed empty. Then he saw Murgatroyd staring at the exit-port. The
inner door of that small airlock was closed. The tell-tale said the
outer was not locked. Someone had gone out, quietly. The girl. Of
course. Calhoun said angrily;

"How long ago, Murgatroyd?"

"_Chee!_" said Murgatroyd indignantly.

It wasn't an answer, but it showed that Murgatroyd was vexed that he'd
been left behind. He and the girl were close friends, now. If she'd left
Murgatroyd in the ship when he wanted to go with her, she wasn't coming
back.

Calhoun swore. Then he made certain. She was not in the ship. He flipped
the outside-speaker switch and said curtly into the microphone;

"Coffee! Murgatroyd and I are having coffee. Will you come back,
please?"

He repeated the call, and repeated it again. Multiplied as his voice was
by the speakers, she should hear him within a mile. She did not appear.
He went to a small and inconspicuous closet and armed himself. A Med
Ship man was not ever expected to fight, but there were blast-rifles
available for extreme emergency.

When he'd slung a power-pack over his shoulder and reached the airlock,
there was still no sign of his late stowaway. He stood in the airlock
door for long minutes, staring angrily about. Almost certainly she
wouldn't