"Chee?" asked Murgatroyd solicitously. "Chee-chee-chee?"
"Is it blueskins?" shakily demanded the voice from the guard-boat. "Ground! Ground! Is it blueskins?"
A heavy, authoritative voice came in with much greater volume.
"That's no human voice," it said harshly. "Approach its ship and send back an image. Don't fire first unless it heads for ground."
The guard-ship swerved and headed for the Med Ship. It was still a very long way off.
"Chee-chee," said Murgatroyd encouragingly.
Calhoun changed the Med Ship's course. The guard-ship changed course too. Calhoun let it draw nearer,—but only a little. He led it away from the fleet of grain-ships.
He swung his electron telescope on them. He saw a space-suited figure outside one,—safely roped, however. It was easy to guess that someone had meant to return to the Med Ship for orders or to make a report, and found the Med Ship gone. He'd go back inside and turn on a communicator.
"Chee!" said Murgatroyd.
The heavy voice boomed;