"Mutation, adaptation, and variation," Dr. Bucuros said, speaking for all of them.
"That is our problem. There are people alive on this planet, which means they have adapted successfully. There will have been local diseases and infections which they have survived and have resistance to, which we might find deadly. They may have no resistance at all to diseases we find commonplace. Gentlemen — and Dr. Bucuros — at this point I will make my set speech about the history of the EPC. We are so used to the initials that we tend to forget that they stand for Emergency Plague Control. This organization was founded in an emergency and exists to prevent another emergency. The plague years came roughly two hundred years after the widespread use of matter transmission. Some attempts to control the spread of disease had always been made, but they were not adequate. Because of the basic differences in planetary metabolism and philogeny almost no diseases were found that could affect mankind. But our own viruses and bacilli mutated in the very different environments they were exposed to and this proved to be the big danger. At first there were disease pockets that quickly grew to plagues. Entire populations were wiped out. The EPC was formed to combat this danger, with all planetary governments contributing equally to its support. After the control of the plagues, and the terrible losses incurred, the EPC was continued as being essential in preventing another outbreak. There are permanent members, like myself and Dr. Dacosta, and assigned specialists, like yourselves, who serve a tour of duty with us. We are involved in prevention, and will do anything to prevent a recurrence of the plague years. I stress the word anything because I mean anything. We are plague preventers first, physicians second. We protect the galaxy, not a single individual or planet. This retrograde planet poses — potentially — the biggest threat I have known during my entire career. We must see to it that it stays just a threat, nothing more than that.
"I will now outline my arrangements for the operation."
It was an hour before dawn when the light tank erupted from the transmatter screen. The treads tore at the hard soil and its transmission whined loudly in the silence. At apparently foolhardy speed it roared across the rutted ground in absolute darkness, heading toward the nearest high piece of ground.
The driver sat calmly at the controls, his face pressed to the optical headpiece. Infrared headlights washed the terrain ahead with invisible radiation — clearly visible to him through the lenses. When he topped the rise he spun the tank in a circle, examining the area all around him, before turning off the engines.
"All clear visibly. You can put up the detector now."
His companion nodded and actuated the controls. A heat shield unfolded on top of the tank — to cancel out the radiation from the tank below — and the scanning head began to rotate. The operator watched the display on the screen before him for a moment before switching on the radio.
"Positioned on highest point two hundred meters from screen. Detector now operating. Numerous small heat sources undoubtedly local animal life. Two larger sources, estimated distance ninety-five meters, now moving away from this position. Large animals or human beings. Since they remain close together and seem to be traveling in a direct line estimate they are human. No other sources within range. End transmission."
A second tank had emerged from the screen and was stationed in front of it. It relayed the message to the waiting convoy, then moved aside as they emerged.
They made an impressive sight. Fourteen vehicles in all — scout tanks, armored troop carriers, supply trucks, trailers. Their large headlights cut burning arcs across the landscape, and as each one emerged the roar of motors and transmissions grew louder. The command car pulled up next to the scout tank and Dr. Toledano stood on a specially elevated step to survey the landscape. There was a growing band of light on one horizon, what they would now call the east.
"Anything more on the detector?" he asked Jan, who sat below operating the radio liaison.
"Negative. The first two blips have moved off the screen."
"Then we'll hold here until it gets light. Keep the detector going and keep everyone alert. When we can drive without lights we'll move out in the direction those blips took."
It was a short wait. Dawn came with surprising suddenness — they must be near the equator — and the first rays of reddish sunlight threw long shadows across the landscape.
"Move out," Toledano ordered. "Single column, guide on me. Scouts out on both flanks and point. I want some prisoners. Use gas, I don't want any casual ties."
Jan Dacosta relayed the message evenly, though he felt certain internal misgivings. He was a doctor, a physician, and the role he was playing now felt more than a little strange. The operation seemed more military than medical so far. He shrugged aside his doubts. Toledano knew what he was doing. The best thing that he could do was watch and learn.
The convoy moved out. Within a few minutes the scout tank on point reported habitation ahead and halted until the others caught up. Jan joined Toledano in the open turret when they stopped on the ridge above the valley, next to the scout tank.
"It's like something out of a history book," Jan said.
"Very rare. The cultural anthropologists and technological historians will have a field day here once we open the planet up."
Morning mist still lay in the valley below, drifting up from the river that snaked by in a slow curve. Plowed fields surrounded a village, a small town really, that huddled on the riverbank. Roofs could be seen, jammed closely together, with the thin ribbons of smoke rising up from the morning fires. The houses were pressed close together because the entire settlement was surrounded by a high stone wall, complete with towers, arrow slits, a sealed gate — and all encompassed by a water-filled moat. Not a soul was in sight and if it had not been for the streamers of smoke it could have been a city of the dead.
"Locked up and sealed," Jan said. "They must have heard us coming."
"It would have taken a deaf man not to."
The radio beeped and Jan answered it. "One of the flankers, Doctor. They have a prisoner.
"Fine. Get him here."
The tank rumbled up brief minutes later and the prisoner was handed down, strapped to an evacuation stretcher. The circle of waiting doctors looked on with unconcealed interest as the stretcher was placed on the ground before them.
The man appeared to be in his middle fifties, gray-bearded and lank-haired. He lay with his mouth open, snoring deeply, rendered instantly unconscious by the sleepgas capsules. The few teeth visible were blackened stumps. His clothing consisted of a heavy, sleeveless leather poncho, worn over roughspun woolen breeks and shirt. The thick leather, knee-high boots had wooden soles fastened to them. Neither clothing nor boots were very clean and there was ingrained dirt in the creases of his limp hands.
"Obtain your specimens before we waken him," Toledano ordered, and the technicians carried over the equipment.
The doctors were efficient and quick. Blood samples were taken, at least a half litre, as well as skin scrapings, hair and nail cuttings, sputum samples, and, after a great deal of working at the thick clothing, a spinal tap. More specimens for biopsy would be obtained later, but this would be a good beginning. Dr. Bucuros exclaimed happily as she routed out and captured some body lice.
"Excellent," Toledano said as the scientists hurried off to their laboratories. "Now wake him up and get the language technician to work. We can't do a thing until we can communicate with these people."