Chapter V

There were others in Taun to be cured. When Yon the Fisher awoke later in the day, he was still a little weak, but his pains were gone, and he declared that he was much better. As soon as word got around, the other seven men who had been stricken begged him to come.

Hale came, but he explained that--naturally--the medicine cost money. Crystals would do.

Had Yon the Fisher paid?

Yon the Fisher had paid a very great price, indeed, Hale assured them. But, of course, Yon was a very wealthy man. Those who had less would be charged less. It would balance out.

Hale charged just a fraction less than the traffic would bear.

When Yon the Fisher heard of this, he was even more grateful to the "Islander." He knew perfectly well he hadn't given Hale a single Crystal.

By the end of the second day, Hale's supply of drugs was running dangerously low, although his collection of diamonds was becoming pleasingly large. He decided to take the whole planet in hand.

The grateful Yon was very happy to lend Hale a boat and crew to get him back to the Island whence he was presumed to have come.

"I'll have to get more medicine," Hale explained. "I'll come back, never fear."

"But will your people let one of my boats land? How will they know you're aboard?" Yon propped himself up on his pallet. "Several boats which have tried to land--peacefully, of course--have been blown out of the water."

"Don't worry, Yon, old friend. All that is over, now that we have come to terms."

Yon lay back again, a smile beneath his beard. "Good. Take the boat, then."

Hale strode out. Caryl held the door open for him. She kept her head bowed and didn't look at him, but there was the faintest trace of a smile on her lips. Hale ignored her.

* * * * *

The trip across the channel, even with a good breeze, took nearly half a day because of the adverse currents. Hale spent the time thinking.

The IHC ship evidently still had plenty of power, even after twelve years, if they could blow a fishing smack out of the water. It took power to use a space gun in an atmosphere.

But why did they want to keep the people of Cardigan's Green away? Surely they weren't afraid of a raid--or were they? There must be some way to contact them, or Yon the Fisher could not have made the offer that Hale had so cavalierly accepted.

Two of the crew developed the sniffles on the trip, and Hale, with great magnanimity, dosed them for free.

At last, the Island loomed out of the sea. It was a continuation of the mainland mountains, and looked it.

The Peniyan Range, half a million or so years ago, was a solid chain, connecting the offshore island with the mainland. Indeed, what is now the Island was once merely the tip of the old Peniyan Peninsula. But, between earthquake and sea action, a lower section vanished beneath the sea, leaving the jagged cliffs of the Island.

There is only one decent landing place, a beach near the flat plateau of the Island's top. All the rest of the perimeter is composed of sheer cliffs that drop straight into the surf. The lower cliffs at the southern end of the Island have since been blasted away to make a harbor, but at that time only the small beach afforded an approach.

The sailors of the fishing smack dropped anchor a good hundred yards offshore. Above them, on the flat of the plateau, loomed the huge, weatherstained bulk of the _IHCS Caduceus_.

"This is the prescribed distance," said Yon's First Officer, who was now in charge of the little vessel. "I wouldn't want to go in any farther, even with you aboard."

"I wouldn't want you to," Hale assured him honestly.

"You will row in by yourself?" asked the First Officer.

"Naturally," said Hale, although the thought hadn't crossed his mind. He climbed into a little rowboat, was lowered over the side, and propelled himself toward the blue sand of the beach.

Suddenly, a voice boomed out from a loudspeaker in the big hospital ship. "Don't beach that boat! Who is it?"

Hale let the boat drift a few yards from the shore and stood up in it. They must have a directional pickup on him, or they wouldn't be asking questions; he was too far away from the ship for a shout to carry clearly.

"Lieutenant Doctor Leland Hale, Interstellar Health Commission!" he called out. "What ship are you?"

Although they had challenged him in the dialect of Cardigan's Green, Hale answered in Standard Terran.

There was a choking sound from the loudspeaker. Then, for a full half minute there was only silence. Finally: "_My God--we're saved!_" Another short silence ensued before the voice said, "Lieutenant Hale, this is the IHC Ship _Caduceus_."

Hale put surprise into his voice. "The _Caduceus_? Good heavens! Why, you were wiped off the slate ten years ago!"

"We--we know." The voice was choked with emotion. "Just a minute, Lieutenant Hale; Captain Doctor Latimer Wills wants to talk to you." Another silence.

"Lieutenant Hale," said a different voice from the speaker, "this is Captain Wills."

"A pleasure, sir. I've heard a great deal about you. I--I hardly know what to say. Imagine--meeting a man who has practically become a legend in the IHC."

Leland Hale had never heard of Wills before; he didn't know if the man had ever done anything in his life. But it's a good bet that a man doesn't become the commander of an IHC hospital ship without doing _something_ noteworthy--or at least something that he, himself, thinks is noteworthy.

"Lieutenant," said the captain doctor, in a tone that was strangely husky, "we have been marooned on this planet for twelve years, fighting for our very existence. It is you, not I, who are a hero."

* * * * *

Leland Hale had said nothing about heroism, but he let it pass. "May I come into the ship, sir? I have something important to talk to you about."

"Well--ah--" This time, the silence was strained. "Ah--Lieutenant Hale--ah--do you know anything about the Plague?"

"The Plague? I don't understand, sir."

"That's what the natives call it. They're deathly afraid of it, although they have no need to be. It killed off great numbers of them at first, but the survivors are descendants of those who were immune. The present population is not susceptible to it; they are carriers. It's a virus of some sort; we haven't been able to do much research on it with our limited facilities here, but we've established that in the body of an immune it just lives in semi-symbiosis, like _Herpes simplex_."

"I see, sir." Hale had no idea what _Herpes simplex_ was, but he got the general idea.

"It strikes within twenty-four hours after exposure, and kills eighty-five to ninety per cent of a normal population." Pause. "Ah--Lieutenant, how long have you been here?"

"Just forty-eight hours, sir. But there's nothing to worry about. I'm immune." He knew he must be. If he hadn't caught it yet, he never would.

"Immune? Good heavens, man! How do you know?"

"Lagerglocke's serum, sir. Developed seven years ago. Confers universal immunity to any foreign protein substance." Hale hoped it sounded convincing.

There was a stunned silence. "But--but what about the allergy reaction?"

Hale took a breath. "I'm not sure exactly how it works, sir; I'm not an immunologist. I believe that the suppressor is one of the Gimel-type antitoxins."

"Oh." The captain doctor's voice sounded sad and tired and old. "I'm afraid medical technology has passed me by in the last twelve years, Lieutenant. I imagine all of us will have a great deal to learn."

"Yes, sir." Hale sat down again in the boat. Standing up in a rocking skiff is tiring, even if one has excellent balance. "May I ask, sir, why you haven't been sending out distress signals?"

Wills explained in detail what had happened twelve years before. "So you see," he finished, "we've been holding them off all this time. Yon the Fisher has been trying to get us to repair the _Morris_, but we've refused steadily. In the first place, if we exposed ourselves, we'd be dead before we reached another planet. In the second place, we wouldn't dare give these people interstellar ships; if the Plague ever began to spread through the galaxy, it would mean the end of civilization as we know it. Every planet would be like Cardigan's Green. Mankind would have to start all over again from the lowest barbarian stage."

"You mean your sub-radio is wrecked, sir? Completely inoperative?"

"Completely," said the captain doctor. "Oh, it's not wrecked, but we lack a diamond tuning crystal."

_Well, well, well_, said Hale to himself. _Well, well, well, well, well._

"Of course," said Captain Wills, with more heartiness in his voice, "now that you're here, we can call Health Central and--and get off this--this--" His voice choked.

Hale took a deep breath. This was it. "I'm afraid it's not as simple as that, sir. You see, I landed my ship here not knowing that the--ah--natives were hostile. I landed near their village. They pretended to be friendly, so I went out to meet them. They overpowered me and went into my ship. They smashed my sub-radio and took away parts of my drive unit." He paused for effect. "I'm afraid, sir, that their ship will be ready to go shortly, and we have no way to contact Health Central."

The sudden tumbling of a gigantic house of cards was marked by an awful roar of silence.

Hale waited. He had plenty of time.

* * * * *

When it finally came, the voice of Captain Doctor Latimer Wills was distorted with frustration, anger, fear, and despair. "Then that's the end. It--it isn't your fault, of course, Lieutenant Hale. You couldn't have known." It was obvious that his first emotional reaction had been violently against "Lieutenant" Hale, and he had suppressed it with effort.

"Nevertheless, sir, I feel that it's my responsibility," Hale said nobly. "And I think I see a way out."

"What? What? A way out? How?" Wills didn't dare let himself hope again.

"Well, sir, the Plague seems to have broken out again on the mainland. There are more than fifty down with it in the village now, and it seems to be spreading."

"What? Ridiculous!" The captain doctor was almost sputtering. "Lieutenant, I assure you that they're immune! The population of Cardigan's Green _can't_ have an epidemic of the Plague! Oh, I'll admit that an individual might be conceived now and then without the immunity gene intact, but the foetus would never come to term! An epidemic is impossible!"

"Nevertheless, sir," said Hale complacently, "we have a major epidemic on our hands." He knew he was treading on thin ice at that point, so he turned and called loudly to the boat in the local dialect. "Tell Captain Doctor Wills why we are here!" Then, to Wills: "Will your directional pickup reach that man, sir?"

"I think so. Yes."

The first officer of the fishing smack was shouting: "The Plague is here, good sir! Please help us! Give us the medicine!"

Hale snarled under his breath. He wasn't ready to say anything about the medicine yet. Oh, well--water over the dam, spilt milk and all that.

"I'm afraid I don't understand, Lieutenant Hale," said the captain doctor. "How will this help us get off Cardigan's Green? And what's all this about medicine? We don't have any medicine that will cure the Plague."

"Let me ask you a question, sir. What size frequency crystal do you need for your sub-radio?"

There was a murmured consultation from the speaker. Evidently, the ship's commander was conferring with his communications officer.

"We need a point oh nine seven five," Wills said at last. "Why? What's that got to do with--"

"Just as I thought, sir!" Hale interrupted. "The crystal in my radio happens to be a point oh nine seven five!" It wasn't, but he had several of them in his pack. "Now, my ship is guarded by several armed natives, and they won't let me in again. They think I have a weapon hidden inside. However, my crystal is intact; it was the modulator section they smashed.

"Now; we can do one of two things. We can wait until the Plague has thoroughly decimated the population and they give up guarding my ship, or we can cure them of the Plague and earn their gratitude."

Wills thought that one over. "I'm afraid it will have to be the former, Hale; we have nothing on board to cure that disease. As a physician, I hate to do it, but we'll simply have to let those people die."

"I think not, sir. How much acetylsalicylic acid do you have aboard?"

"Aspirin? Oh, a hundred thousand five-grain tablets, I should imagine, but--"

"How about vitamin C--ascorbic acid?"

"In the pure form? Why, our food synthesizer could be adjusted for almost unlimited amounts of that, but--"

"And you could adjust for thiamine, too?" Hale persisted.

"Of course, but--"

"Excellent, sir. Then we can whip this thing!"

"Now, see here, Hale! Don't tell me you're going to cure the Plague with aspirin and vitamins!" Wills was almost angry.

"Of course not, sir! That's merely to relieve the patient and build up resistance. I happen to have on hand a fairly good supply of Doppeltreden's vaccine."

"Doppeltreden's vaccine?"

"I'm sorry, sir; I keep forgetting you've been away for so long. That's the vaccine that gave Lagerglocke the basis for developing his universal immunity serum. The vaccine works on the E-37 linkage, which is found in every virus; it temporarily suspends the life processes of the virus--any virus--and during that period, the natural body functions take over."

"I see. It seems to me I read something about that back in--But that's neither here nor there, Lieutenant. I'll see that you get what you need." There were more mutterings from the speaker. Wills was giving the orders. "We're giving you a good supply of the other vitamins, too, Lieutenant. Might as well do the job right."

"Very good, sir," said Hale gratefully.

"And--ah--Hale--would you like to come on in? I'd like to talk to you about the newer advances in the field."

"I don't think it would be wise, sir," Hale said promptly. "Although I'm immune to the Plague, I still might be a carrier. I have two very sick men on board the ship; I really ought to be out there taking care of them."

"You're right, of course. Very well, Lieutenant Hale; carry on. We'll do our part."

"Thank you, sir. Just put the stuff on the beach; the fishing crew and I will pick it up." And with that, he began pulling at the oars, rowing back out to the boat. He had no desire to talk any longer with Captain Doctor Wills; the next slip might be his last.