Calhoun could hardly believe his ears. This was an emergency situation! The curing of a sick cow was considered more convincing than a Med Ship man's regular credentials! Such a scale of values hinted at more than a mere isolation syndrome. There were thousands of inhabited worlds, now, with splendid cities and technologies which most men accepted with the same bland confidence with which they looked for sunrise. The human race was civilized. Suspicion of a Med Ship was unheard of. But here was a world—
"Why ... certainly," said Calhoun blankly. "I suppose I may go outside to ... ah ... visit the patient?"
"We'll drive her up to your ship," said the high, tense voice. "And you stay close to it!" Then it said darkly. "Men from Two City sneaked past our sentries to dump it on us. They want to wipe out our herd! What kind of weapons have you got?"
"This is a Med Ship!" protested Calhoun. "I've nothing more than I might need in an emergency!"
"We'll want them anyhow," said the voice. "You said you need to find out where you are. We'll tell you, if you've got enough weapons to make it worth while."
Calhoun drew a deep breath.
"We can argue that later," he said. "I'm just a trifle puzzled. But first things first. Drive your cow."
He held his head in his hands. He remembered to throw off the spacephone and said:
"Murgatroyd, say something sensible! I never ran into anybody quite as close to coming apart at the seams as that! Not lately! Say something rational!"
Murgatroyd said, "Chee?" in an inquiring tone.