LEBEL.

GENERALISSIMO.

COMMANDING.

Hippocrates finished reading and memorizing-these were the same to him-and was about to comment when he found Ole Doc was not there. The next instant the automatic locks clanged shut on the hatches, the alarm said quietly, "Steady all. Take-off," and the Morgue stood on her tail and went away from there, leaving Hippocrates in a very sorry mess of torn papers and photographs, still clutching the dispatches.

It was not a very cheerful voyage. In the first place Ole Doc stressed to three G's above the ship's gravitic cancela- tors and put the st.u.r.dy old vessel into an advance twice over what her force field fendors could be expected to tolerate in case of s.p.a.ce dust. All this made food hard to prepare, bent instruments and gauges in the operating room, pulled down a whole closet full of clothing by breaking the hold-up bar and generally spoiled s.p.a.ce travel for the little slave.

Not one word during the next two weeks did Ole Doc breathe to Hippocrates and that, when only two beings are aboard, is something of a strain on anybody's nerves.

However, the Universal Medical Society had long since made provisions against s.p.a.ce-neurasthenia by providing large libraries in natural and micro form to every one of its vessels and seeing that the books were regularly shift- ed. A new batch had come at Hub City and Hippocrates was able to indulge himself somewhat by reading large, thick tomes about machinery, his penchant.

He learned all about the new electronic drives for small machinery, went avidly through the latest ten place log

table-finding eighteen errors-studied a thousand page report on medical force fields, finished up two novels about pirates and reviewed the latest encyclopedia of medicine which was only fifteen volumes at a thousand words shorthand per page. Thus he survived the tedium of Coventry in which he found himself and was able to look upon the planet Gasperand of Fomalton with some slight interest when it came spiraling up, green and pearl and gold, to meet them.

Hippocrates got out his blasters, recalled the legal im- port of their visit and packed a law encyclopedia on wills in the medical kit and was waiting at the lock when Ole Doc landed.

Ole Doc came up, belted and caped, and reached out his hand for the kit. Hippocrates instinctively withdrew it.

"I will carry it," said Hippocrates, put out.

"Henceforward," said Ole Doc, "you won't have to carry anything." He pulled from his belt a big legal doc.u.ment, complete with U.M.S. seals, and thrust it at Hippocrates. "You are free."

Hippocrates looked dazedly at the paper and read "Manumitting Declaration" across its head. He backed up again.

"Take it!" said Ole Doc. "You are perfectly and com- pletely free. You know very well that the U.M.S. does not approve of slaves. Ten thousand dollars is pinned to this doc.u.ment. I think that-"

"You can't free me!" cried Hippocrates. "I won't have it!

You don't dare! The last dozen, dozen times you tried to do it-"

"This time I am serious," said Ole Doc. "Take this! It makes you a full citizen of the Confederated Galaxies, gives you the right to own property-"

"You can't do this to me!" said Hippocrates. His mind was not very long on imagination and it was being ran- sacked just now for a good, telling excuse. "I ... I have to be restored to my home planet. There is nothing here for me to eat-"

"Those alibis won't do," said Ole Doc. "Slavery is frowned upon. You were never bought to serve me in the first place and you know it. I purchased you for observa- tion of metabolism only. You've tricked me. I don't care how many times I have threatened to do it and failed.

This time I really mean it!"

He took the kit, threw the manumission on the table and stepped through the air lock.

Hippocrates looked disconsolately after his Soldier of light. A deep sigh came from his gypsum depths. His antennas wilted slowly. He turned despondently to wander toward his quarters, conscious of how empty were his footsteps in this hollow and deserted ship.

Ole Doc paused for an instant at the lock as a swimmer might do before he plunges into a cold pool. The port was thronged by more than a reception committee for him.

Several pa.s.senger tramps stood on their rusty tails engorg- ing long queues of refugee pa.s.sengers and even at this distance it was plain that those who wanted to leave this place were frightened. The lines pushed and hauled and now and then some hysterical individual went howling up to the front to beg for immediate embarkation. The place was well beyond panic.

Beside the Morgue stood a car and a military group which, with several civilians, made a compact crowd of welcome for the Soldier of Light. In the front was a generalissimo.

Lebel was a big fellow with a big moustache and a big black mane. He had a big staff that wore big medals and waiting for him was a big bullet-ray-germ-proof car.

"Friend!" said Lebel. "Come with me! We need you!

Panic engulfs us! There are twenty-five thousand dead.

Everyone is deserting the system! We are in terrible condi- tion! In a few days no one will remain in all Fomalton!"

Ole Doc was almost swept up and kissed before he recalled the customs in this part of the galaxy. He twisted expertly away to shake an offered hand. Generally he didn't shake hands but it was better than getting buried in a moustache. The crowd was surging toward him, cheer- ing and pleading. Lebel took Ole Doc by the hand and got him into the refuge of the car. It was a usual sort of reception. The U.M.S. was so very old; so very feared and respected and its members so seldom seen in the flesh that welcoming parties were sometimes the most dangerous portion of the work.

"We have a disease!" said Lebel. "You must cure it! Ah, what a disease. A terrible thing! People die."

If he expected a Soldier of Light to instantly vibrate with interest, he did not know his people. Ole Doc, ap- proaching his thousandth birthday, had probably killed more germs than there were planets in the Universe, and

he hoped to live to kill at least as many more. He leaned back, folded his cape across his knees and looked at the scenery.

"It came on suddenly. First we thought it was some- thing new. Then we thought we had seen it before. Then we didn't know. The doctors all gave it up and we almost deserted everything when somebody thought of the Sol- diers of Light. 'Lebel!' I said, 'it is my duty to contact the Soldiers of Light.' So I did. It is terrible."

Ole Doc restrained a yawn. "I was coming here any- way. Your Wilhelm Giotini left the revenue of this system to the U.M.S."

"So I heard. But I thought that would mean a lawyer coming."

"We don't have any lawyers," said Ole Doc, easing his bolstered blaster around into sight.

"But this terrible disease, it will change your plans, eh?

Who would want a planetary system full of diseases. What a horrible disease!"

"Kills people?"

"Kills them! They die in windrows! They scream and then they die. But I will take you and you will see it. I have a helmet here so that I can enter infected areas. I have one for you."

"I have my own helmet," said Ole Doc.

"No, no!" cried Lebel. "I could not risk it. I know this helmet here is germ proof. It was tested. These germs come through the smallest, the tiniest air leak!"

"Why did you risk that crowd back there?" said Ole Doc.

"That! Poof! My own people. My aides. My airport people. They would not infect me with any disease! Here, try this helmet for size."

Ole Doc blinked a little at the man's terrible conceit and was on the verge of remarking that he had yet to meet a respectful germ when the first casualties caught his eye.

A street ahead was barricaded. Bodies were piled in either gutter, bodies in various stages of decomposition, of both s.e.xes, of many races and castes. Velvet and burlap were brothers in that grisly display.

"Ought to bury them," said Ole Doc. "You'll have cholera or something if you don't watch it."

"Bury them! Who'd go near them! They are thrown out of the houses like that young girl there and n.o.body-"

"Wait a minute," said Ole Doc. "Stop the car!"

For the young girl was not dead. She was dressed in satin, probably in her wedding dress, for a church stood fifty feet further on, and her hair was a golden flood upon the pavement. She was pressing up with her hands, seeking to rise and falling back, each time screaming.

Ole Doc reached for the handle but Lebel blocked him.