[Transcriber's Note: This etext was produced from
Galaxy Magazine October 1963.
Extensive research did not uncover any evidence that
the U.S. copyright on this publication was renewed.]
His work was healing the sick--but
this planet was already dead!
I
Calhoun regarded the communicator with something like exasperation as
his taped voice repeated a standard approach-call for the twentieth
time. But no answer came, which had become irritating a long time ago.
This was a new Med Service sector for Calhoun. He'd been assigned to
another man's tour of duty because the other man had been taken down
with romance. He'd gotten married, which ruled him out for Med Ship
duty. So now Calhoun listened to his own voice endlessly repeating a
call that should have been answered immediately.
Murgatroyd the _tormal_ watched with beady, interested eyes. The planet
Maya lay off to port of the Med Ship _Esclipus Twenty_. Its almost
circular disk showed full size on a vision screen beside the ship's
control board. The image was absolutely clear and vividly colored.
There was an ice cap in view. There were continents. There were seas.
The cloud system of a considerable cyclonic disturbance could be noted
off at one side, and the continents looked reasonably as they should,
and the seas were of that muddy, indescribable tint which indicates
deep water.
Calhoun's own voice, taped an hour earlier, sounded in a speaker as it
went again to the communicator and then to the extremely visible world
a hundred thousand miles away.
"_Calling ground_," said Calhoun's recorded voice. "_Med Ship_ Esclipus
Twenty _calling ground to report arrival and ask coordinates for
landing. Our mass is fifty standard tons. Repeat, five-oh tons. Purpose
of landing, planetary health inspection._"
* * * * *
The recorded voice stopped. There was silence except for the taped
random noises which kept the inside of the ship from feeling like the
inside of a tomb.