cted some medicine to ease the pain, and started oxygen to
help the labored breathing, but the old man's color did not improve. He
was too weak to talk; he just lay helplessly gasping for air as they
lifted him up onto a bed. Then Jack took an electrocardiograph tracing
and shook his head.

"We'd better get word back to Hospital Earth, and fast," he said
quietly. "He just waited a little too long for that cardiac transplant,
that's all. This is a bad one. Tell them we need a surgeon out here just
as fast as they can move, or the Black Service is going to have a dead
physician on its hands."

There was a sound across the room, and the Black Doctor motioned feebly
to Tiger. "The cardiogram," he gasped. "Let me see it."

"There's nothing for you to see," Tiger said. "You mustn't do anything
to excite yourself."

"Let me see it." Dr. Tanner took the thin strip of paper and ran it
quickly through his fingers. Then he dropped it on the bed and lay his
head back hopelessly. "Too late," he said, so softly they could hardly
hear him. "Too late for help now."

Tiger checked his blood pressure and listened to his heart. "It will
only take a few hours to get help," he said. "You rest and sleep now.
There's plenty of time."

He joined Dal and Jack in the corridor. "I'm afraid he's right, this
time," he said. "The damage is severe, and he hasn't the strength to
hold out very long. He might last long enough for a surgeon and
operating team to get here, but I doubt it. We'd better get the word
off."

A few moments later he put the earphones aside. "It'll take six hours
for the nearest help to get here," he said. "Maybe five and a half if
they really crowd it. But when they get a look at that cardiogram on the
screen they'll just throw up their hands. He's got to have a transplant,
nothing less, and even if we can keep him alive until a surgical team
gets here the odds are a thousand to one against his surviving the
surgery."

"Well, he's been asking for it," Jack said. "They've been trying to get
him into the hospital for a cardiac transplant for years. Everybody's
known that one of those towering rages would get him sooner or later."

"Maybe he'll hold on better than we think," Dal said. "Let's watch and
wait."

But the Black Doctor was not doing well. Moment by moment he grew
weaker, laboring harder for air as his blood pressure crept slowly down.
Half an hour later the pain returned; Tiger took another tracing while
Da