d more terribly than by
any imaginable war or plague germs. A plague kills off those who are
susceptible to it, leaving immunes to build up a world again. But
immunes are the first to be killed when a mass neurosis sweeps a
population.

Weald was definitely a Med Service problem world. Dara was another.
And when hundreds of men jammed themselves into a cargo spaceship
which could not furnish them with air to breathe, and took off and
went into overdrive before the air could fail.... Orede called for no
less of worry.

"I think," said Calhoun dourly, "that I'll have some coffee."

_Coffee_ was one of the words that Murgatroyd recognized. Ordinarily
he stirred immediately on hearing it, and watched the coffeemaker with
bright, interested eyes. He'd even tried to imitate Calhoun's motions
with it, once, and had scorched his paws in the attempt. But this time
he did not move.

Calhoun turned his head. Murgatroyd sat on the floor, his long tail
coiled reflectively about a chair leg. He watched the door of the Med
Ship's sleeping cabin.

"Murgatroyd," said Calhoun. "I mentioned coffee!"

"_Chee!_" shrilled Murgatroyd.

But he continued to look at the door. The temperature was kept lower
in the other cabin, and the look of things was different than the
control compartment. The difference was part of the means by which a
man was able to be alone for weeks on end--alone save for his
_tormal_--without becoming ship-happy.

There were other carefully thought out items in the ship with the same
purpose. But none of them should cause Murgatroyd to stare fixedly and
fascinatedly at the sleeping cabin door. Not when coffee was in the
making!

Calhoun considered. He became angry at the immediate suspicion that
occurred to him. As a Med Service man, he was duty-bound to be
impartial. To be impartial might mean not to side absolutely with
Weald in its enmity to blueskins.

And the people of Weald had refused to help Dara in a time of famine,
and had blockaded that pariah world for years afterward. And they had
other reasons for hating the people they'd treated badly. It was
entirely reasonable for some fanatic on Weald to consider that Calhoun
must be killed lest he be of help to the blueskins Weald abhorred.

In fact, it was quite possible that somebody had stowed away on the
Med Ship to murder Calhoun, so that there would be no danger of any
report favorable to Dara ever being presented anywhere. If so, such a
stowaway