Calhoun couldn’t combat his feelings, but his clinical attitude enabled him to act despite them.  The three from Weald reached the base of the Med Ship.  One of their enemies had lost his rifle and need not be counted.  Another had fled from flames and might be ignored for some moments, anyhow.  But a blast-bolt struck the ship’s metal hull only feet from Calhoun, and he whipped around to the other side and let loose a staccato rat-tat-tat of fire which emptied the rifle of all its charges.

Then he opened the airlock door, hating the fact that he shook and trembled.  He urged the girl and Murgatroyd in.  He slammed the outer airlock door just as another blast-bolt hit.

“They—­they don’t realize,” said Maril desperately.  “If they only knew....”

“Talk to them, if you like,” said Calhoun.  His teeth chattered and he raged, because the symptom was of terror he denied.

He pushed a button on the control board.  He pointed to a microphone.  He got at an oxygen bottle and inhaled deeply.  Oxygen, obviously, should be an antidote for panic, since the symptoms of terror act to increase the oxygenation of the bloodstream and muscles, and to make superhuman exertion possible if necessary.

Breathing ninety-five percent oxygen produced the effect the terror-inspiring gas strove for, so his heart slowed nearly to normal and his body relaxed.  He held out his hand and it did not tremble.  He’d been affronted to see it shake uncontrollably when he pushed the microphone button for Maril.

He turned to her.  She hadn’t spoken into the mike.

“They may not be from Dara!” she said shakily.  “I just thought!  They could be somebody else, maybe criminals who planned to raid the mine for a shipload of its ore.”

“Nonsense,” said Calhoun.  “I saw one of them clearly enough to be sure.  But they’re skeptical characters.  I’m afraid there may be more on the way here from wherever they keep themselves.  Anyhow, now we know some of them are in hearing!  I’ll take advantage of that and we’ll go on.”

He took the microphone.  An instant later his voice boomed in the stillness outside the ship, cutting through the thin shrill whirring of invisible small creatures.

“This is the Med Ship Aesclipus Twenty,” said Calhoun’s voice, amplified to a shout.  “I left Weald four days ago, one day after the cargo ship from here arrived with everybody on board dead.  On Weald they don’t know how it happened, but they suspect blueskins.  Sooner or later they’ll search here.

“Get away!  Cover up your tracks!  Hide all signs that you’ve ever been here!  Get the hell away, fast!  One more warning!  There’s talk of fusion-bombing Dara.  They’re scared!  If they find your traces, they’ll be still more scared!  So cover up your tracks and get away from here!”

The many-times-multiplied voice rolled and echoed among the hills.  But it was very clear.  Where it could be heard it could be understood, and it could be heard for miles.