RX
BY ALAN E. NOURSE
The tenth son of a tenth son was very
sick, but it was written that he would
never die. Of course, it was up to the
Earth doctor to see that he didn't!
[Transcriber's Note: This etext was produced from
Worlds of If Science Fiction, October 1957.
Extensive research did not uncover any evidence that
the U.S. copyright on this publication was renewed.]
They didn't realize they were in trouble until it was too late to stop it. The call from Morua II came in quite innocently, relayed to the ship from HQ in Standard GPP Contract code for crash priority, which meant Top Grade Planetary Emergency, and don't argue about it, fellows, just get there, fast. Red Doctor Sam Jenkins took one look at the flashing blinker and slammed the controls into automatic; gyros hummed, bearings were computed and checked, and the General Practice Patrol ship Lancet spun in its tracks, so to speak, and began homing on the call-source like a hound on a fox. The fact that Morua II was a Class VI planet didn't quite register with anybody, just then.
Ten minutes later the Red Doctor reached for the results of the Initial Information Survey on Morua II, and let out a howl of alarm. A single card sat in the slot with a wide black stripe across it.
Jenkins snapped on the intercom. "Wally," he yelped. "Better get up here fast."
"Trouble?" said the squawk-box, sleepily.