oulders and stubborn
jaw only served to emphasize his bigness. Like the other recent
graduates on the platform, he was wearing the colored cuff and collar of
the probationary physician, in the bright green of the Green Service of
Medicine. He reached out a huge hand and gently rubbed the pink
fuzz-ball sitting on Dal's arm. "What's the trouble, Dal? Even Fuzzy
looks worried. Where's your cuff and collar?"

"I didn't get any cuff and collar," Dal said.

"Didn't you get an assignment?" Tiger stared at him. "Or are you just
taking a leave first?"

Dal shook his head. "A permanent leave, I guess," he said bitterly.
"There's not going to be any assignment for me. Let's face it, Tiger.
I'm washed out."

"Oh, now look here--"

"I mean it. I've been booted, and that's all there is to it."

"But you've been in the top ten in the class right through!" Tiger
protested. "You know you passed your finals. What is this, anyway?"

Dal reached into his jacket and handed Tiger a blue paper envelope. "I
should have expected it from the first. They sent me this instead of my
cuff and collar."

Tiger opened the envelope. "From Doctor Tanner," he grunted. "The Black
Plague himself. But what is it?"

"Read it," Dal said.

"'You are hereby directed to appear before the medical training council
in the council chambers in Hospital Seattle at 10:00 A.M., Friday, June
24, 2375, in order that your application for assignment to a General
Practice Patrol ship may be reviewed. Insignia will not be worn. Signed,
Hugo Tanner, Physician, Black Service of Pathology.'" Tiger blinked at
the notice and handed it back to Dal. "I don't get it," he said finally.
"You applied, you're as qualified as any of us--"

"Except in one way," Dal said, "and that's the way that counts. They
don't want me, Tiger. They have never wanted me. They only let me go
through school because Black Doctor Arnquist made an issue of it, and
they didn't quite dare to veto him. But they never intended to let me
finish, not for a minute."

For a moment the two were silent, staring down at the busy landing
procedures below. A warning light was flickering across the field,
signaling the landing of an incoming shuttle ship, and the supply cars
broke from their positions in center of the field and fled like beetles
for the security of the garages. A loudspeaker blared, announcing the
incoming craft. Dal Timgar turned, lifting Fuzzy gently from his arm
into a side jacket pocket