This World Is Taboo

Murray Leinster
This World Is Taboo, by Murray
Leinster

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Title: This World Is Taboo
Author: Murray Leinster
Release Date: April 14, 2006 [EBook #18172]
Language: English
Character set encoding: ISO-8859-1
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THIS WORLD IS TABOO

by MURRAY LEINSTER

ACE BOOKS, INC. 23 West 47th Street, New York 36, N. Y.
* * * * *

THIS WORLD IS TABOO
1
The little Med Ship came out of overdrive and the stars were strange
and the Milky Way seemed unfamiliar. Which, of course, was because
the Milky Way and the local Cepheid marker-stars were seen from an
unaccustomed angle and a not-yet-commonplace pattern of varying
magnitudes.
But Calhoun grunted in satisfaction. There was a banded sun off to port,
which was good. A breakout at no more than sixty light-hours from
one's destination wasn't bad, in a strange sector of the galaxy and after
three light-years of journeying blind.
"Arise and shine, Murgatroyd," said Calhoun. "Comb your whiskers.
Get set to astonish the natives!"
A sleepy, small, shrill voice said: "Chee!"
Murgatroyd the tormal came crawling out of the small cubbyhole
which was his own. He blinked at Calhoun.
"We're due to land shortly," Calhoun observed. "You will impress the
local inhabitants. I will get unpopular. According to the records, there's
been no Med Ship inspection here for twelve standard years. And that
was practically no inspection, to judge by the report."
Murgatroyd said: "Chee-chee!"

He began to make his toilet, first licking his right-hand whiskers and
then his left. Then he stood up and shook himself and looked
interestedly at Calhoun. Tormals are companionable small animals.
They are charmed when somebody speaks to them. They find great,
deep satisfaction in imitating the actions of humans, as parrots and
mynahs and parakeets imitate human speech. But tormals have certain
valuable, genetically transmitted talents which make them much more
valuable than mere companions or pets.
Calhoun got a light-reading for the banded sun. It could hardly be an
accurate measure of distance, but it was a guide.
"Hold on to something, Murgatroyd!" he said.
Murgatroyd watched. He saw Calhoun make certain gestures which
presaged discomfort. He popped back into his cubbyhole. Calhoun
threw the overdrive switch and the Med Ship flicked back into that
questionable state of being in which velocities of hundreds of times that
of light are possible. The sensation of going into overdrive was
unpleasant. A moment later, the sensation of coming out was no less so.
Calhoun had experienced it often enough, and still didn't like it.
The sun Weald burned huge and terrible in space. It was close, now. Its
disk covered half a degree of arc.
"Very neat," observed Calhoun. "Weald Three is our port, Murgatroyd.
The plane of the ecliptic would be ... Hm...."
He swung the outside electron telescope, picked up a nearby bright
object, enlarged its image to show details, and checked it against the
local star-pilot. He calculated a moment. The distance was too short for
even the briefest of overdrive hops, but it would take time to get there
on solar-system drive.
He thumbed down the communicator button and spoke into a
microphone.
"Med Ship Aesclipus Twenty reporting arrival and asking coordinates

for landing," he said matter-of-factly. "Purpose of landing is planetary
health inspection. Our mass is fifty tons, standard. We should arrive at
a landing position in something under four hours. Repeat. Med Ship
Aesclipus Twenty...."
He finished the regular second transmission and made coffee for
himself while he waited for an answer. Murgatroyd came out for a cup
of coffee for himself. Murgatroyd adored coffee. In minutes he held a
tiny cup in a furry small paw and sipped gingerly at the hot liquid.
A voice came out of the communicator:
"Aesclipus Twenty, repeat your identification."
Calhoun went to the control board.
"Aesclipus Twenty," he said patiently, "is a Med Ship, sent by the
Interstellar Medical Service to make a planetary health inspection on
Weald. Check with your public health authorities. This is the first Med
Ship visit in twelve standard years, I believe--which is inexcusable. But
your health authorities will know all about it. Check with them."
The voice said truculently:
"What was your last port?"
Calhoun named it. This
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