"Son," said Ole Doc, peering down the long corridor at the first ranks of the slaves, "you better put that machine blaster away before somebody gets hurt I think those people have stopped being afraid."

The captain had not been aware of company. His two men were just as frightened as himself and the three jumped about to face Ole Doc. In the darkness the but- tons of the cloak were as luminescent as panther eyes.

"What language do they speak?" said Ole Doc.

"G.o.d knows!" said the captain, "but they understand lingua spatium. Who are you?"

"Just a medic that drifted in," said Ole Doc. "I hear they have a leader they call a cithw. Do you suppose you could get him to meet me half-way up that pa.s.sageway?"

"Are you crazy?"

"I have occasionally suspected it," said Ole Doc "Sing out."

A short parley at respectful distance ensued and the uneasy ma.s.s at the other end of the corridor stepped back, leaving a tall, ancient being to the fore.

Ole Doc gave a nod to the captain and dropped over the barrier. The cold wind stirred his cloak and the way was dark under the failing power supply of the city. He stopped half-way.

The ancient one came tremblingly forward, not afraid, only aged. Ole Doc had not known what strange form of being to expect and he was somewhat startled by the ordinariness of the creature. Two eyes, two arms, two legs. Why, except for his deep grey colour and the obvious fact that he was not of flesh, he might well have been any human patriarch.

He wore white bands about his wrists and forehead and a heavy ap.r.o.n on which was painted a scarlet compa.s.s and a star. Wisdom and dignity shone in his eyes. Was this a slave?

In lingua spatium Ole Doc saluted him.

"There is trouble," said Ole Doc. "I am your friend."

There are but four hundred and eighty-nine words in lingua spatium but they would serve here.

The old creature paused and saluted Ole Doc. "There are no friends to the Kufra on Mizar's Dorab,"

"I am not of Dorab-Mizar. I belong to no world. I salute you as a cithw for this I also may be called You are in trouble."

"In grievous trouble, wise one, My people are hungry, They are a free people, wise one. They have homes and sons and lands where light shines."

"What do your people eat, cithw?"

"Kufra, wise one, That is why we are called the Kufra people."

"And what is this kufra, cithw?"

The ancient one paused and thought and shook his head at last. "It is Kufra, wise one. There is none here."

"How often do you eat this, cithw?"

"Our festivals come each second year and it is then we feast upon the sacred food."

"What is meant by year, wise one?"

"A year, wise one. I cannot tell more. We are not of the galactic empire We know little of the human save what we have learned here They call our home Sirius Sixty-eight but we call it Paradise, wise one We long to return. These frozen snows and dead faces are not for us."

"I must know more, cithw Is there sickness amongst your people?"

"There is not, wise one. There has never been what you

call sickness and we saw it only here for the first time.

Wise one, if you are a man of magic among these peoples, free us from this living death. Free us and we shall

worship you as a G.o.d, building bright temples to your

name as a deliverer of our people. Free us, wise one, if

you have the power."

Ole Doc felt a choke of emotion, so earnest were these words, so real the agony in this being's soul.

"Return to your places here and I shall do everything I can to free you," said Ole Doc.

The old one nodded and turned back. Shortly, after a conversation with other leaders, the slaves left the cor- ridor. Ole Doc met the captain.

"They are going back to quarters," said Ole Doc. "I must do what I can for them and for you."

"Who are you anyway?" asked the captain.

"A Soldier of Light," said Ole Doc.

The captain and the men stood speechless and watched the golden cloak flow out of sight beyond a turn.

Hippocrates met Ole Doc, as ordered by communica- tor, outside the government house, carrying some fifteen hundred pounds of equipment under one arm. Hippoc- rates was lawful in everything but obeying Newton's law of gravity.

" 'When plague strikes an area it is usual to issue yellow tickets to all transport and then proceed on certain well defined lines-' " automatically he was quoting a manual, meanwhile looking about him at the chill, deserted squares of the sub-surface city.

Ole Doc saw with satisfaction that the little fellow was dressed in a cast-off insulator, which though much too large was fine protection against anything except blasters.

Shortly, on the broad steps of the castle, the instru- ments were laid out in orderly shining rows, a small table was set up, a number of meters were lined to one side and a recorder was in place by the table.

Hippocrates went off in a rush and came back carrying a stack of bodies which he dumped with a thud on the steps. He kicked the wandering arms and legs into line and sniffed distastefully at the mound, some of which had been there too long.

Ole Doc went methodically to work. He took up a

lancet and jutted it at the corpse of a young girl which was promptly banged down on the table. Ole Doc, ham- pered by his gloves, went quickly to work while Hippoc- rates handed him glittering blades and probes.

In an upper window of the government house the big face of one George Jasper Arlington came into view. His eyes popped as he stared at the scene on the steps and then, ill, he slammed down the blind.

At first a small, timid knot of people had come forward but it had not taken the officious wave of Hippocrates to send them scurrying.

The abattoir then fascinated nothing but the profession- al curiosity of Ole Doc.

"Would have died from Grave's disease anyway," said Ole Doc looking at the table and then at the full buckets.

"But that couldn't be the plague. Next!"