It was the latter who spoke first.  “This is a plague ship—­”

Rip shook his head.  “It is not, sir.  And you’re the one who is going to help us prove that.”

The man leaned back against the wall, his face expressionless.  “You take a rather tough way of trying to get help.”

“It was the only way left us.  I’ll be frank,” Rip continued, “we’re Patrol Posted.”

The Medic’s shrewd eyes went from one drawn young face to the next.  “You don’t look like desperate criminals,” was his comment.  “This your full crew?”

“All the rest are your concern.  That is—­if you will take the job—­” Rip’s shoulders slumped a little.

“You haven’t left me much choice, have you?  If there is illness on board, I’m under the Oath—­whether you are Patrol Posted or not.  What’s the trouble?”

They got him down to Tau’s laboratory and told him their story.  From a slight incredulity his expression changed to an alert interest and he demanded to see, first the patients and then the pests now immured in a deep freeze.  Sometime in the middle of this, Dane, overcome by fatigue which was partly relief from tension, sought his cabin and the bunk from which he wearily disposed Sinbad, only to have the purring cat crawl back once more when he had lain down.

And when he awoke, renewed in body and spirit, it was in a new Queen, a ship in which hope and confidence now ruled.

“Hovan’s already got it!” Rip told him exultantly.  “It’s that poison from the little devils’ claws right enough!  A narcotic—­produces some of the affects of deep sleep.  In fact—­it may have a medical use.  He’s excited about it—­”

“All right,” Dane waved aside information which under other circumstances, promising as it did a chance for future trade, would have engrossed him, to ask a question which at the moment seemed far more to the point.  “Can he get our men back on their feet?”

A little of Rip’s exuberance faded.  “Not right away.  He’s given them all shots.  But he thinks they’ll have to sleep it off.”

“And we have no idea how long that is going to take,” Ali contributed.

Time—­for the first time in days Dane was struck by that—­time!  Because of his training a fact he had forgotten in the past weeks of worry now came to mind—­their contract with the storm priests.  Even if they were able to clear themselves of the plague charge, even if the rest of the crew were speedily restored to health, he was sure that they could not hope to return to Sargol with the promised cargo, the pay for which was already on board the Queen.  They would have broken their pledge and there could be no hope of holding to their trading rights on that world—­if they were not blacklisted for breaking contract into the bargain.  I-S would be able to move in and clean up and probably they could never prove that the Company was behind their misfortunes—­though the men of the Queen would always be convinced that that fact was the truth.