There was only one chance. Calhoun threw the spacephone switch. Instantly a voice came from the Speaker.
"... ing Med Ship Esclipus Twenty! Phaedra fleet calling Med Ship Esclipus Twenty!"
"Med ship answering," said Calhoun. "What is it?"
The voice went on: "Calling Med Ship Twenty! Calling Med Ship Esclipus Twenty! Calling—" It went on interminably. It was a very long way off, if it took so long for Calhoun's answer to be heard. But the call-formula broke off. "Med ship! Our doctors want to know the trouble on Canis! Can we help? We've hospital ships equipped and ready!"
"The question," said Calhoun steadily, "is whether I can make a formula-and-structure identification, and whether you can synthesize what I identify. How's your lab? How are you supplied with biological crudes?"
He waited. By the interval between his answer and a reply to it, the ship he'd communicated with was some five million miles or more away. But it was still not as far as the next outward planet where the Phaedrian fleet was based.
While he waited for his answer, Calhoun heard murmurings. They would come from the control building at the side of the grid. The loutish, suspicious gang there was listening. Calhoun had threatened to wreck the grid if they tried anything on the Med ship—but he could do nothing unless they tried to use a force-field. They listened in, muttering among themselves.
A long time later the voice from space came back. The fleet of the older generation of Phaedra was grounded, save for observation ships like the one speaking. The fleet had full biological equipment for any emergency. It could synthesize any desired compound up to—The degree of complexity and the classification was satisfactory.
"Day before yesterday," said Calhoun, "when you had me aground on Canis IV, your leader Walker said your children on this planet were destroying your grandchildren. He didn't say how. But the process is well under way—only the whole population will probably go with them. Most of the population, anyhow. I'm going to need those hospital ships and your best biological chemists—I hope! Get them started this way—fast! I'll try to make a deal for at least the hospital ships to be allowed to land. Over."
He did not flick off the spacephone. He listened. And a bitter, envenomed voice came from nearby: