ANDRE NORTON

(Writing As "Andrew North")

PLAGUE SHIP

Copyright, 1956 by Andrew North

All Rights Reserved

Chapter I

PERFUMED PLANET

Dane Thorson, Cargo-master-apprentice of the Solar Queen, Galactic FreeTrader spacer, Terra registry, stood in the middle of the ship's crampedbather while Rip Shannon, assistant Astrogator and his senior in theService of Trade by some four years, applied gobs of highly scented pasteto the skin between Dane's rather prominent shoulder blades. The smallcabin was thickly redolent with spicy odors and Rip sniffedappreciatively. 

"You're sure going to be about the best smelling Terran who ever set booton Sargol's soil, " his soft slur of speech ended in a rich chuckle. 

Dane snorted and tried to estimate progress over one shoulder. 

"The things we have to do for Trade!" his comment carried a hint ofpresent embarrassment. "Get it well in--this stuff's supposed to hold forhours. It'd better. According to Van those Salariki can talk your earsright off your head and say nothing worth hearing. And we have to sit andlisten until we get a straight answer out of them. Phew!" He shook hishead. In such close quarters the scent, pleasing as it was, was alsooverpowering. "We would have to pick a world such as this--"

Rip's dark fingers halted their circular motion. "Dane, " he warned, "don't you go talking against this venture. We got it soft and we'regoing to be credit-happy--if it works out--"

But, perversely, Dane held to a gloomier view of the immediate future. "_If_, " he repeated. "There's a galaxy of 'ifs' in this Sargolproposition. All very well for you to rest easy on your fins--you don'thave to run about smelling like a spice works before you can get the timeof day from one of the natives!"

Rip put down the jar of cream. "Different worlds, different customs, " heiterated the old tag of the Service. "Be glad this one is so easy toconform to. There are some I can think of--There, " he ended his massagewith a stinging slap. "You're all evenly greased. Good thing you don'thave Van's bulk to cover. It takes him a good hour to get his creamon--even with Frank helping to spread. Your clothes ought to be steamedup and ready, too, by now--"

He opened a tight wall cabinet, originally intended to sterilize clothingwhich might be contaminated by contact with organisms inimical toTerrans. A cloud of steam fragrant with the same spicy scent poured out. 

Dane gingerly tugged loose his Trade uniform, its brown silky fabric dampon his skin as he dressed. Luckily Sargol was warm. When he stepped outon its ruby tinted soil this morning no lingering taint of his off-worldorigin must remain to disgust the sensitive nostrils of the Salariki. Hesupposed he would get used to this process. After all this was the firsttime he had undergone the ritual. But he couldn't lose the secretconviction that it was all very silly. Only what Rip had pointed out wasthe truth--one adjusted to the customs of aliens or one didn't trade andthere were other things he might have had to do on other worlds whichwould have been far more upsetting to that core of private fastidiousnesswhich few would have suspected existed in his tall, lanky frame. 

"Whew--out in the open with you--!" Ali Kamil apprentice Engineer, screwed his too regular features into an expression of extreme distasteand waved Dane by him in the corridor. 

For the sake of his shipmates' olfactory nerves, Dane hurried on to theport which gave on the ramp now tying the Queen to Sargol's crust. Butthere he lingered, waiting for Van Rycke, the Cargo-master of the spacerand his immediate superior. It was early morning and now that he was outof the confinement of the ship the fresh morning winds cut about him, rippling through the blue-green grass forest beyond, to take much of hismomentary irritation with them. 

There were no mountains in this section of Sargol--the highest elevationsbeing rounded hills tightly clothed with the same ten-foot grass whichcovered the plains. From the Queen's observation ports, one could watchthe constant ripple of the grass so that the planet appeared to belargely clothed in a shimmering, flowing carpet. To the west were theseas--stretches of shallow water so cut up by strings of islands thatthey more resembled a series of salty lakes. And it was what was to befound in those seas which had lured the Solar Queen to Sargol. 

Though, by rights, the discovery was that of another Trader--TraxtCam--who had bid for trading rights to Sargol, hoping to make acomfortable fortune--or at least expenses with a slight profit--in theperfume trade, exporting from the scented planet some of its mostfragrant products. But once on Sargol he had discovered the Korosstones--gems of a new type--a handful of which offered across the boardin one of the inner planet trading marts had nearly caused a riot amongbidding gem merchants. And Cam had been well on the way to becoming oneof the princes of Trade when he had been drawn into the vicious net ofthe Limbian pirates and finished off. 

Because they, too, had stumbled into the trap which was Limbo, and hadhad a very definite part in breaking up that devilish installation, thecrew of the Solar Queen had claimed as their reward the trading rights ofTraxt Cam in default of legal heirs. And so here they were on Sargol withthe notes left by Cam as their guide, and as much lore concerning theSalariki as was known crammed into their minds. 

Dane sat down on the end of the ramp, his feet on Sargolian soil, thin, red soil with glittering bits of gold flake in it. He did not doubt thathe was under observation from hidden eyes, but he tried to show no signthat he guessed it. The adult Salariki maintained at all times anattitude of aloof and complete indifference toward the Traders, but thejuvenile population were as curious as their elders were contemptuous. Perhaps there was a method of approach in that. Dane considered the idea. 

Van Rycke and Captain Jellico had handled the first negotiations--and theprocess had taken most of a day--the result totaling exactly nothing. Intheir contacts with the off world men the feline ancestered Salariki wereceremonious, wary, and completely detached. But Cam had gotten to themsomehow--or he would not have returned from his first trip with thatpouch of Koros stones. Only, among his records, salvaged on Limbo, he hadleft absolutely no clue as to how he had beaten down native salesresistance. It was baffling. But patience had to be the middle name ofevery Trader and Dane had complete faith in Van. Sooner or later theCargo-master would find a key to unlock the Salariki. 

As if the thought of Dane's chief had summoned him, Van Rycke, hisscented tunic sealed to his bull's neck in unaccustomed trimness, hiscap on his blond head, strode down the ramp, broadcasting waves offragrance as he moved. He sniffed vigorously as he approached hisassistant and then nodded in approval. 

"So you're all greased and ready--"

"Is the Captain coming too, sir?"

Van Rycke shook his head. "This is our headache. Patience, my boy, patience--" He led the way through a thin screen of the grass on theother side of the scorched landing field to a well-packed earth road. 

Again Dane felt eyes, knew that they were being watched. But no Salarikstepped out of concealment. At least they had nothing to fear in the wayof attack. Traders were immune, taboo, and the trading stations were setup under the white diamond shield of peace, a peace guaranteed on bloodoath by every clan chieftain in the district. Even in the midst ofinterclan feuding deadly enemies met in amity under that shield and wouldnot turn claw knife against each other within a two mile radius of itsprotection. 

The grass forests rustled betrayingly, but the Terrans displayed nointerest in those who spied upon them. An insect with wings of brilliantgreen gauze detached itself from the stalk of a grass tree and flutteredahead of the Traders as if it were an official herald. From the red soilcrushed by their boots arose a pungent odor which fought with the scentthey carried with them. Dane swallowed three or four times and hoped thathis superior officer had not noticed that sign of discomfort. Though VanRycke, in spite of his general air of sleepy benevolence and carelessgoodwill, noticed everything, no matter how trivial, which might have abearing on the delicate negotiations of Galactic Trade. He had notclimbed to his present status of expert Cargo-master by overlookinganything at all. Now he gave an order:

"Take an equalizer--"

Dane reached for his belt pouch, flushing, fiercely determined insidehimself, that no matter how smells warred about him that day, he was notgoing to let it bother him. He swallowed the tiny pellet Medic Tau hadprepared for just such trials and tried to occupy his mind with the workto come. If there would be any work--or would another long day be wastedin futile speeches of mutual esteem which gave formal lip service toTrade and its manifest benefits?

"Houuuu--" The cry which was half wail, half arrogant warning, soundedalong the road behind them. 

Van Rycke's stride did not vary. He did not turn his head, show any signhe had heard that heralding fanfare for a clan chieftain. And hecontinued to keep to the exact center of the road, Dane the regulationone pace to the rear and left as befitted his lower rank. 

"Houuu--" that blast from the throat of a Salarik especially chosen forhis lung power was accompanied now by the hollow drum of many feet. TheTerrans neither looked around nor withdrew from the center, nor did theirpace quicken. 

That, too, was in order, Dane knew. To the rank conscious Salarikiclansmen you did not yield precedence unless you wanted at once toacknowledge your inferiority--and if you did that by some slip ofadmission or omission, there was no use in trying to treat face to facewith their chieftains again. 

"Houuu--!" The blast behind was a scream as the retinue it announcedswept around the bend in the road to catch sight of the two Tradersoblivious of it. Dane longed to be able to turn his head, just enough tosee which one of the local lordlings they blocked. 

"Houu--" there was a questioning note in the cry now and the heavythud-thud of feet was slacking. The clan party had seen them, werehesitant about the wisdom of trying to shove them aside. 

Van Rycke marched steadily onward and Dane matched his pace. They mightnot possess a leather-lunged herald to clear their road, but they gaveevery indication of having the right to occupy as much of it as theywished. And that unruffled poise had its affect upon those behind. Thepound of feet slowed to a walk, a walk which would keep a carefuldistance behind the two Terrans. It had worked--the Salariki--or theseSalariki--were accepting them at their own valuation--a good omen for theday's business. Dane's spirits rose, but he schooled his features into amask as wooden as his superior's. After all this was a very minor victoryand they had ten or twelve hours of polite, and hidden, maneuveringbefore them. 

The Solar Queen had set down as closely as possible to the trading centermarked on Traxt Cam's private map and the Terrans now had another fiveminutes march, in the middle of the road, ahead of the chieftain who mustbe inwardly boiling at their presence, before they came out in theclearing containing the roofless, circular erection which served theSalariki of the district as a market place and a common meeting groundfor truce talks and the mending of private clan alliances. Erect on apole in the middle, towering well above the nodding fronds of the grasstrees, was the pole bearing the trade shield which promised not onlypeace to those under it, but a three day sanctuary to any feuder orduelist who managed to win to it and lay hands upon its weatheredstandard. 

They were not the first to arrive, which was also a good thing. Gatheredin small groups about the walls of the council place were the personalattendants, liege warriors, and younger relatives of at least four orfive clan chieftains. But, Dane noted at once, there was not a singlecurtained litter or riding orgel to be seen. None of the feminine part ofthe Salariki species had arrived. Nor would they until the final tradetreaty was concluded and established by their fathers, husbands, or sons. 

With the assurance of one who was master in his own clan, Van Rycke, displaying no interest at all in the shifting mass of lower rankSalariki, marched straight on to the door of the enclosure. Two or threeof the younger warriors got to their feet, their brilliant cloaksflicking out like spreading wings. But when Van Rycke did not even liftan eyelid in their direction, they made no move to block his path. 

As fighting men, Dane thought, trying to study the specimens before himwith a totally impersonal stare, the Salariki were an impressive lot. Their average height was close to six feet, their distant feline ancestryapparent only in small vestiges. A Salarik's nails on both hands and feetwere retractile, his skin was gray, his thick hair, close to the textureof plushy fur, extended down his backbone and along the outside of hiswell muscled arms and legs, and was tawny-yellow, blue-gray or white. ToTerran eyes the broad faces, now all turned in their direction, lackedreadable expression. The eyes were large and set slightly aslant in theskull, being startlingly orange-red or a brilliant turquoise green-blue. They wore loin cloths of brightly dyed fabrics with wide sashes formingcorselets about their slender middles, from which gleamed the gem-sethilts of their claw knives, the possession of which proved theiradulthood. Cloaks as flamboyant as their other garments hung in bat wingfolds from their shoulders and each and every one moved in an invisiblecloud of perfume. 

Brilliant as the assemblage of liege men without had been, the gatheringof clan leaders and their upper officers within the council place was ariot of color--and odor. The chieftains were installed on the woodenstools, each with a small table before him on which rested a gobletbearing his own clan sign, a folded strip of patterned cloth--his "tradeshield"--and a gemmed box containing the scented paste he would use forrefreshment during the ordeal of conference. 

A breeze fluttered sash ends and tugged at cloaks, otherwise the assemblywas motionless and awesomely quiet. Still making no overtures Van Ryckecrossed to a stool and table which stood a little apart and seatedhimself. Dane went into the action required of him. Before his superiorhe set out a plastic pocket flask, its color as alive in the sunlight asthe crudely cut gems which the Salariki sported, a fine silkhandkerchief, and, last of all, a bottle of Terran smelling saltsprovided by Medic Tau as a necessary restorative after some hourscombination of Salariki oratory and Salariki perfumes. Having thus donethe duty of liege man, Dane was at liberty to seat himself, cross-leggedon the ground behind his chief, as the other sons, heirs, and advisorshad gathered behind their lords. 

The chieftain whose arrival they had in a manner delayed came in afterthem and Dane saw that it was Fashdor--another piece of luck--since thatclan was a small one and the chieftain had little influence. Had they soslowed Halfer or Paft it might be a different matter altogether. 

Fashdor was established at his seat, his belongings spread out, and Dane, counting unobtrusively, was certain that the council was now complete. Seven clans Traxt Cam had recorded divided the sea coast territory andthere were seven chieftains here--indicative of the importance of thismeeting since some of these clans beyond the radius of the shield peace, must be fighting a vicious blood feud at that very moment. Yes, sevenwere here. Yet there still remained a single stool, directly across thecircle from Van Rycke. An empty stool--who was the late comer?

That question was answered almost as it flashed into Dane's mind. But noSalariki lordling came through the door. Dane's self-control kept him inhis place, even after he caught the meaning of the insignia emblazonedacross the newcomer's tunic. Trader--and not only a Trader but a Companyman! But why--and how? The Companies only went after big game--this was aplanet thrown open to Free Traders, the independents of the star lanes. By law and right no Company man had any place here. Unless--behind a faceDane strove to keep as impassive as Van's his thoughts raced. Traxt Camas a Free Trader had bid for the right to exploit Sargol when its soleexportable product was deemed to be perfume--a small, unimportant tradeas far as the Companies were concerned. And then the Koros stones hadbeen found and the importance of Sargol must have boomed as far as thebig boys could see. They probably knew of Traxt Cam's death as soon asthe Patrol report on Limbo had been sent to Headquarters. The Companiesall maintained their private information and espionage services. And, with Traxt Cam dead without an heir, they had seen their chance and movedin. Only, Dane's teeth set firmly, they didn't have the ghost of a chancenow. Legally there was only one Trader on Sargol and that was the SolarQueen, Captain Jellico had his records signed by the Patrol to provethat. And all this Inter-Solar man would do now was to bow out and trypoaching elsewhere. 

But the I-S man appeared to be in no haste to follow that only possiblecourse. He was seating himself with arrogant dignity on that unoccupiedstool, and a younger man in I-S uniform was putting before him the sametype of equipment Dane had produced for Van Rycke. The Cargo-master ofthe Solar Queen showed no surprise, if the Eysies' appearance had beensuch to him. 

One of the younger warriors in Paft's train got to his feet and broughthis hands together with a clap which echoed across the silent gatheringwith the force of an archaic solid projectal shot. A Salarik, wearing therich dress of the upper ranks, but also the collar forced upon a captivetaken in combat, came into the enclosure carrying a jug in both hands. Preceded by Paft's son he made the rounds of the assembly pouring apurple liquid from his jug into the goblet before each chieftain, agoblet which Paft's heirs tasted ceremoniously before it was presented tothe visiting clan leader. When they paused before Van Rycke the Salariknobleman touched the side of the plasta flask in token. It was recognizedthat off world men must be cautious over the sampling of local productsand that when they joined in the Taking of the First Cup of Peace, theydid so symbolically. 

Paft raised his cup, his gesture copied by everyone around the circle. Inthe harsh tongue of his race he repeated a formula so archaic that few ofthe Salariki could now translate the sing-song words. They drank and themeeting was formally opened. 

But it was an elderly Salarik seated to the right of Halfer, a man whowore no claw knife and whose dusky yellow cloak and sash made a subduednote amid the splendor of his fellows, who spoke first, using theclick-clack of the Trade Lingo his nation had learned from Cam. 

"Under the white, " he pointed to the shield aloft, "we assemble to hearmany things. But now come two tongues to speak where once there was butone father of a clan. Tell us, outlanders, which of you must we now harkto in truth?" He looked from Van Rycke to the I-S representative. 

The Cargo-master from the Queen did not reply. He stared across thecircle at the Company man. Dane waited eagerly. What _was_ the I-S goingto say to that?

But the fellow did have an answer, ready and waiting. "It is true, fathers of clans, that here are two voices, where by right and customthere should only be one. But this is a matter which can be decidedbetween us. Give us leave to withdraw from your sight and speak privatelytogether. Then he who returns to you will be the true voice and thereshall be no more division--"

It was Paft who broke in before Halfer's spokesman could reply. 

"It would have been better to have spoken together before you came to us. Go then until the shadow of the shield is not, then return hither andspeak truly. We do not wait upon the pleasure of outlanders--"

A murmur approved that tart comment. "Until the shadow of the shield isnot. " They had until noon. Van Rycke arose and Dane gathered up hischief's possessions. With the same superiority to his surroundings he hadshown upon entering, the Cargo-master left the enclosure, the Eysiesfollowing. But they were away from the clearing, out upon the road backto the Queen before the two from the Company caught up with them. 

"Captain Grange will see you right away--" the Eysie Cargo-master wasbeginning when Van Rycke met him with a quelling stare. 

"If you poachers have anything to say--you say it at the Queen and toCaptain Jellico, " he stated flatly and started on. 

Above his tight tunic collar the other's face flushed, his teeth flashedas he caught his lower lip between them as if to forcibly restrain ananswer he longed to make. For a second he hesitated and then he vanisheddown a side path with his assistant. Van Rycke had gone a quarter of thedistance back to the ship before he spoke. 

"I thought it was too easy, " he muttered. "Now we're in for it--mayberight up the rockets! By the Spiked Tail of Exol, this is certainly _not_our lucky day!" He quickened pace until they were close to trotting. 

Chapter II

RIVALS

"That's far enough, Eysie!"

Although Traders by law and tradition carried no more potent personalweapons--except in times of great crisis--than hand sleep rods, theresultant shot from the latter was just as unpleasant for temporaryperiods as a more forceful beam--and the threat of it was enough to haltthe three men who had come to the foot of the Queen's ramp and who couldsee the rod held rather negligently by Ali. Ali's eyes were anything butnegligent, however, and Free Traders had reputations to be respected bytheir rivals of the Companies. The very nature of their roving livestaught them savage lessons--which they either learned or died. 

Dane, glancing down over the Engineer-apprentice's shoulder, saw that VanRycke's assumption of confidence had indeed paid off. They had left thetrade enclosure of the Salariki barely three-quarters of an hour ago. Butbelow now stood the bebadged Captain of the I-S ship and hisCargo-master. 

"I want to speak to your Captain--" snarled the Eysie officer. 

Ali registered faint amusement, an expression which tended to rouse theworst in the spectator, as Dane knew of old when that same mockingappraisal had been turned on him as the rawest of the Queen's crew. 

"But does _he_ wish to speak to you?" countered Kamil. "Just stay whereyou are, Eysie, until we are sure about that fact. "

That was his cue to act as messenger. Dane retreated into the ship andswung up the ladder to the command section. As he passed CaptainJellico's private cabin he heard the muffled squall of the commander'sunpleasant pet--Queex, the Hoobat--a nightmare combination of crab, parrot and toad, wearing a blue feather coating and inclined to screamand spit at all comers. Since Queex would not be howling in that fashionif its master was present, Dane kept on to the control cabin where heblundered in upon an executive level conference of Captain, Cargo-masterand Astrogator. 

"Well?" Jellico's blaster scarred left cheek twitched as he snapped thatimpatient inquiry at the messenger. 

"Eysie Captain below, sir. With his Cargo-master. They want to see you--"

Jellico's mouth was a straight line, his eyes very hard. By instinctDane's hand went to the grip of the sleep rod slung at his belt. When theOld Man put on his fighting face--look out! Here we go again, he toldhimself, speculating as to just what type of action lay before them now. 

"Oh, they do, do they!" Jellico began and then throttled down the temperhe could put under iron control when and if it were necessary. "Verywell, tell them to stay where they are. Van, we'll go down--"

For a moment the Cargo-master hesitated, his heavy-lidded eyes lookedsleepy, he seemed almost disinterested in the suggestion. And when henodded it was with the air of someone about to perform some boring duty. 

"Right, sir. " He wriggled his heavy body from behind the small table, resealed his tunic, and settled his cap with as much precision as if hewere about to represent the Queen before the assembled nobility ofSargol. 

Dane hurried down the ladders, coming to a halt beside Ali. It was theturn of the man at the foot of the ramp to bark an impatient demand:

"Well?" (Was that the theme word of every Captain's vocabulary?)

"You wait, " Dane replied with no inclination to give the Eysie officerany courtesy address. Close to a Terran year aboard the Solar Queen hadinoculated him with pride in his own section of Service. A Free Traderwas answerable to his own officers and to no one else on earth--or amongthe stars--no matter how much discipline and official etiquette theCompanies used to enhance their power. 

He half expected the I-S officers to leave after an answer such as that. For a Company Captain to be forced to wait upon the convenience of a FreeTrader must be galling in the extreme. And the fact that this one wasdoing just that was an indication that the Queen's crew did, perhaps, have the edge of advantage in any coming bargain. In the meantime theEysie contingent fumed below while Ali lounged whistling against the exitport, playing with his sleep rod and Dane studied the grass forest. Hisboot nudged a packet just inside the port casing and he glancedinquiringly from it to Ali. 

"Cat ransom, " the other answered his unspoken question. 

So that was it--the fee for Sinbad's return. "What is it today?"

"Sugar--about a tablespoon full, " the Engineer-assistant returned, "andtwo colored steelos. So far they haven't run up the price on us. I thinkthey're sharing out the spoil evenly, a new cub brings him back everynight. "

As did all Terran ships, the Solar Queen carried a cat as an importantmember of the regular crew. And the portly Sinbad, before their landingon Sargol, had never presented any problem. He had done his duty ofridding the ship of unusual and usual pests and cargo despoilers withdispatch, neatness and energy. And when in port on alien worlds had nevershown any inclination to go a-roving. 

But the scents of Sargol had apparently intoxicated him, shearing awayhis solid dignity and middle-aged dependability. Now Sinbad flashed outof the Queen at the opening of her port in the early morning and wasbrought back, protesting with both voice and claws, at the end of the dayby that member of the juvenile population whose turn it was to collectthe standing reward for his forceful delivery. Within three days it hadbecome an accepted business transaction which satisfied everyone butSinbad. 

The scrape of metal boot soles on ladder rungs warned of the arrival oftheir officers. Ali and Dane withdrew down the corridor, leaving theentrance open for Jellico and Van Rycke. Then they drifted back towitness the meeting with the Eysies. 

There were no prolonged greetings between the two parties, no offer ofhospitality as might have been expected between Terrans on an alienplanet a quarter of the Galaxy away from the earth which had given them acommon heritage. 

Jellico, with Van Rycke at his shoulder, halted before he stepped fromthe ramp so that the three Inter-Solar men, Captain, Cargo-master andescort, whether they wished or no, were put in the disadvantageousposition of having to look up to a Captain whom they, as members of oneof the powerful Companies, affected to despise. The lean, well muscled, trim figure of the Queen's commander gave the impression of hard bittenforce held in check by will control, just as his face under its thicklayer of space burn was that of an adventurer accustomed to make splitsecond decisions--an estimate underlined by that seam of blaster burnacross one flat cheek. 

Van Rycke, with a slight change of dress, could have been a Company manin the higher ranks--or so the casual observer would have placed him, until an observer marked the eyes behind those sleepy drooping lids, orcaught a certain note in the calm, unhurried drawl of his voice. To lookat the two senior officers of the Free Trading spacer were the antithesisof each other--in action they were each half of a powerful, steamrollerwhole--as a good many men in the Service--scattered over a half dozen orso planets--had discovered to their cost in the past. 

Now Jellico brought the heels of his space boots together with anextravagant click and his hand flourished at the fore of his helmet in agesture which was better suited to the Patrol hero of a slightlyout-of-date Video serial. 

"Jellico, Solar Queen, Free Trader, " he identified himself brusquely, andadded, "this is Van Rycke, our Cargo-master. "

Not all the flush had faded from the face of the I-S Captain. 

"Grange of the Dart, " he did not even sketch a salute. "Inter-Solar. Kallee, Cargo-master--" And he did not name the hovering third member ofhis party. 

Jellico stood waiting and after a long moment of silence Grange wasforced to state his business. 

"We have until noon--"

Jellico, his fingers hooked in his belt, simply waited. And under hislevel gaze the Eysie Captain began to find the going hard. 

"They have given us until noon, " he started once more, "to gettogether--"

Jellico's voice came, coldly remote. "There is no reason for any 'gettingtogether, ' Grange. By rights I can have you up before the Trade Board forpoaching. The Solar Queen has sole trading rights here. If you up-shipwithin a reasonable amount of time, I'll be inclined to let it pass. After all I've no desire to run all the way to the nearest Patrol post toreport you--"

"You can't expect to buck Inter-Solar. We'll make you an offer--" Thatwas Kallee's contribution, made probably because his commanding officercouldn't find words explosive enough. 

Jellico, whose forté was more direct action, took an excursion intoheavy-handed sarcasm. "You Eysies have certainly been given excellentbriefing. I would advise a little closer study of the Code--and not thesections in small symbols at the end of the tape, either! _We're_ notbucking anyone. You'll find our registration for Sargol down on tapes atthe Center. And I suggest that the sooner you withdraw the better--beforewe cite you for illegal planeting. "

Grange had gained control of his emotions. "We're pretty far from Centerhere, " he remarked. It was a statement of fact, but it carried over-toneswhich they were able to assess correctly. The Solar Queen was a FreeTrader, alone on an alien world. But the I-S ship might be cruising incompany, ready to summon aid, men and supplies. Dane drew a deep breath, the Eysies _must_ be sure of themselves, not only that, but they mustwant what Sargol had to offer to the point of being willing to stepoutside the law to get it. 

The I-S Captain took a step forward. "I think we understand each othernow, " he said, his confidence restored. 

Van Rycke answered him, his deep voice cutting across the sighing of thewind in the grass forest. 

"Your proposition?"

Perhaps this return to their implied threat bolstered their belief in theinfallibility of the Company, their conviction that no independent daredstand up against the might and power of Inter-Solar. Kallee replied:

"We'll take up your contract, at a profit to you, and you up-ship beforethe Salariki are confused over whom they are to deal with--"

"And the amount of profit?" Van Rycke bored in. 

"Oh, " Kallee shrugged, "say ten percent of Cam's last shipment--"

Jellico laughed. "Generous, aren't you, Eysie? Ten percent of a cargowhich can't be assessed--the gang on Limbo kept no records of what theyplundered. "

"We don't know what he was carrying when he crashed on Limbo, " counteredKallee swiftly. "We'll base our offer on what he carried to Axal. "

Now Van Rycke chucked. "I wonder who figured that one out?" he inquiredof the scented winds. "He must save the Company a fair amount of creditsone way or another. Interesting offer--"

By the bland satisfaction to be read on the three faces below the I-S menwere assured of their victory. The Solar Queen would be paid off with apittance, under the vague threat of Company retaliation she wouldup-ship from Sargol, and they would be left in possession of the richKoros trade--to be commended and rewarded by their superiors. Had they, Dane speculated, ever had any dealings with Free Traders before--at leastwith the brand of independent adventurers such as manned the Solar Queen?

Van Rycke burrowed in his belt pouch and then held out his hand. On thebroad palm lay a flat disc of metal. "Very interesting--" he repeated. "Ishall treasure this recording--"

The sight of that disc wiped all satisfaction from the Eysie faces. Grange's purplish flush spread up from his tight tunic collar, Kalleeblinked, and the unknown third's hand dropped to his sleep rod. An actionwhich was not overlooked by either Dane or Ali. 

"A smooth set down to you, " Jellico gave the conventional leave taking ofthe Service. 

"You'd better--" the Eysie Captain began hotly, and then seeing the discVan Rycke held--that sensitive bit of metal and plastic which wasrecording this interview for future reference, he shut his mouth tight. 

"Yes?" the Queen's Cargo-master prompted politely. But Kallee had takenhis Captain's arm and was urging Grange away from the spacer. 

"You have until noon to lift, " was Jellico's parting shot as the three inCompany livery started toward the road. 

"I don't think that they will, " he added to Van Rycke. 

The Cargo-master nodded. "You wouldn't in their place, " he pointed outreasonably. "On the other hand they've had a bit of a blast they weren'texpecting. It's been a long time since Grange heard anyone say 'no. '"

"A shock which is going to wear off, " Jellico's habitual distrust of thefuture gathered force. 

"This, " Van Rycke tucked the disc back into his pouch, "sent them offvector a parsec or two. Grange is not one of the strong arm blasterboys. Suppose Tang Ya does a little listening in--and maybe we can riganother surprise if Grange does try to ask advice of someone off world. In the meantime I don't think they are going to meddle with the Salariki. They don't want to have to answer awkward questions if _we_ turn up aPatrol ship to ask them. So--" he stretched and beckoned to Dane, "weshall go to work once more. "

Again two paces behind Van Rycke Dane tramped to the trade circle of theSalariki clansmen. They might have walked out only five or six minutes ofship time before, and the natives betrayed no particular interest intheir return. But, Dane noted, there was only one empty stool, oneceremonial table in evidence. The Salariki had expected only one TerranTrader to join them. 

What followed was a dreary round of ceremony, an exchange of platitudesand empty good wishes and greetings. No one mentioned Koros stones--oreven perfume bark--that he was willing to offer the off-world traders. None lifted so much as a corner of his trade cloth, under which, if hewere ready to deal seriously, his hidden hand would meet that of thebuyer, so that by finger pressure alone they could agree or disagree onprice. But such boring sessions were part of Trade and Dane, keeping afraction of attention on the speeches and "drinkings-together, " watchedthose around him with an eye which tried to assess and classify what hesaw. 

The keynote of the Salariki character was a wary independence. The onlyform of government they would tolerate was a family-clan organization. Feuds and deadly duels between individuals and clans were the acceptedway of life and every male who reached adulthood went armed and ready forcombat until he became a "Speaker for the past"--too old to bear arms inthe field. Due to the nature of their battling lives, relatively few ofthe Salariki ever reached that retirement. Short-lived alliances betweenfamilies sometimes occurred, usually when they were to face a commonenemy greater than either. But a quarrel between chieftains, a fanciedinsult would rip that open in an instant. Only under the Trade Shieldcould seven clans sit this way without their warriors being at oneanother's furred throats. 

An hour before sunset Paft turned his goblet upside down on his table, amove followed speedily by every chieftain in the circle. The conferencewas at an end for that day. And as far as Dane could see it hadaccomplished exactly nothing--except to bring the Eysies into the open. What _had_ Traxt Cam discovered which had given him the trading contractwith these suspicious aliens? Unless the men from the Queen learned it, they could go on talking until the contract ran out and get no fartherthan they had today. 

From his training Dane knew that ofttimes contact with an alien race didrequire long and patient handling. But between study and experiencing thesituation himself there was a gulf, and he thought somewhat ruefully thathe had much to learn before he could meet such a situation with VanRycke's unfailing patience and aplomb. The Cargo-master seemed in nowisetired by his wasted day and Dane knew that Van would probably sit up halfthe night, going over for the hundredth time Traxt Cam's sketchyrecordings in another painstaking attempt to discover why and how theother Free Trader had succeeded where the Queen's men were up against astone wall. 

The harvesting of Koros stones was, as Dane and all those who had beenbriefed from Cam's records knew, a perilous job. Though the rule of theSalariki was undisputed on the land masses of Sargol, it was anothermatter in the watery world of the shallow seas. There the Gorp were incommand of the territory and one had to be constantly alert for attackfrom the sly, reptilian intelligence, so alien to the thinking processesof both Salariki and Terran that there was, or seemed to be, no point ofpossible contact. One went gathering Koros gems after balancing lifeagainst gain. And perhaps the Salariki did not see any profit in thatoperation. Yet Traxt Cam had brought back his bag of gems--somehow he hadmanaged to secure them in trade. 

Van Rycke climbed the ramp, hurrying on into the Queen as if he would notget back to his records soon enough. But Dane paused and looked back atthe grass jungle a little wistfully. To his mind these early morninghours were the best time on Sargol. The light was golden, the night windshad not yet arisen. He disliked exchanging the freedom of the open forthe confinement of the spacer. 

And, as he hesitated there, two of the juvenile population of Sargol cameout of the forest. Between them they carried one of their hunting nets, anet which now enclosed a quiet but baneful eyed captive--Sinbad beingdelivered for nightly ransom. Dane was reaching for the pay to give thecaptors when, to his real astonishment, one of them advanced and pointedwith an extended forefinger claw to the open port. 

"Go in, " he formed the Trade Lingo words with care. And Dane's surprisemust have been plain to read for the cub followed his speech with avigorous nod and set one foot on the ramp to underline his desire. 

For one of the Salariki, who had continually manifested their belief thatTerrans and their ship were an offence to the nostrils of all rightliving "men, " to wish to enter the spacer was an astonishing about-face. But any advantage no matter how small, which might bring about a closerunderstanding, must be seized at once. 

Dane accepted the growling Sinbad and beckoned, knowing better than totouch the boy. "Come--"

Only one of the junior clansmen obeyed that invitation. The otherwatched, big-eyed, and then scuttled back to the forest when his fellowcalled out some suggestion. _He_ was not going to be trapped. 

Dane led the way up the ramp, paying no visible attention to the youngSalarik, nor did he urge the other on when he lingered for a long momentor two at the port. In his mind the Cargo-master apprentice wasfeverishly running over the list of general trade goods. What _did_ theycarry which would make a suitable and intriguing gift for a small alienwith such a promising bump of curiosity? If he had only time to get VanRycke!

The Salarik was inside the corridor now, his nostrils spread, assayingeach and every odor in this strange place. Suddenly his head jerked as iftugged by one of his own net ropes. His interest had been riveted by somescent his sensitive senses had detected. His eyes met Dane's in appeal. Swiftly the Terran nodded and then followed with a lengthened stride asthe Salarik sped down into the lower reaches of the Queen, obviously inquest of something of great importance. 

Chapter III

CONTACT AT LAST

"What in"--Frank Mura, steward, storekeeper, and cook of the Queen, retreated into the nearest cabin doorway as the young Salarik flasheddown the ladder into his section. 

Dane, with the now resigned Sinbad in the crook of his arm, had tailedhis guest and arrived just in time to see the native come to an abrupthalt before one of the most important doors in the spacer--the portal ofthe hydro garden which renewed the ship's oxygen and supplied them withfresh fruit and vegetables to vary their diet of concentrates. 

The Salarik laid one hand on the smooth surface of the sealed compartmentand looked back over his shoulder at Dane with an inquiry to which wasadded something of a plea. Guided by his instinct--that this wasimportant to them all--Dane spoke to Mura:

"Can you let him in there, Frank?"

It was not sensible, it might even be dangerous. But every member of thecrew knew the necessity for making some sort of contact with the natives. Mura did not even nod, but squeezed by the Salarik and pressed the lock. There was a sign of air, and the crisp smell of growing things, lackingthe languorous perfumes of the world outside, puffed into the faces. 

The cub remained where he was, his head up, his wide nostrils visiblydrinking in that smell. Then he moved with the silent, uncanny speedwhich was the heritage of his race, darting down the narrow aisle towarda mass of greenery at the far end. 

Sinbad kicked and growled. This was his private hunting ground--thepreserve he kept free of invaders. Dane put the cat down. The Salarik hadfound what he was seeking. He stood on tiptoe to sniff at a plant, hisyellow eyes half closed, his whole stance spelling ecstasy. Dane lookedto the steward for enlightenment. 

"What's he so interested in, Frank?"

"Catnip. "

"Catnip?" Dane repeated. The word meant nothing to him, but Mura had ahabit of picking up strange plants and cultivating them for study. "Whatis it?"

"One of the Terran mints--an herb, " Mura gave a short explanation as hemoved down the aisle toward the alien. He broke off a leaf and crushed itbetween his fingers. 

Dane, his sense of smell largely deadened by the pungency with which hehad been surrounded by most of that day, could distinguish no new odor. But the young Salarik swung around to face the steward his eyes wide, hisnose questing. And Sinbad gave a whining yowl and made a spring to pushhis head against the steward's now aromatic hand. 

So--now they had it--an opening wedge. Dane came up to the three. 

"All right to take a leaf or two?" he asked Mura. 

"Why not? I grow it for Sinbad. To a cat it is like heemel smoke or atankard of lackibod. "

And by Sinbad's actions Dane guessed that the plant did hold for the catthe same attraction those stimulants produced in human beings. Hecarefully broke off a small stem supporting three leaves and presented itto the Salarik, who stared at him and then, snatching the twig, racedfrom the hydro garden as if pursued by feuding clansmen. 

Dane heard the pad of his feet on the ladder--apparently the cub wasmaking sure of escape with his precious find. But the Cargo-masterapprentice was frowning. As far as he could see there were only five ofthe plants. 

"That's all the catnip you have?"

Mura tucked Sinbad under his arm and shooed Dane before him out of thehydro. "There was no need to grow more. A small portion of the herb goesa long way with this one, " he put the cat down in the corridor. "Theleaves may be preserved by drying. I believe that there is a small box ofthem in the galley. "

A strictly limited supply. Suppose this was the key which would unlockthe Koros trade? And yet it was to be summed up in five plants and a fewdried leaves! However, Van Rycke must know of this as soon as possible. 

But to Dane's growing discomfiture the Cargo-master showed no elation ashis junior poured out the particulars of his discovery. Instead therewere definite signs of displeasure to be read by those who knew Van Ryckewell. He heard Dane out and then got to his feet. Tolling the younger manwith him by a crooked finger, he went out of his combined office-livingquarters to the domain of Medic Craig Tau. 

"Problem for you, Craig. " Van Rycke seated his bulk on the wall jump seatTau pulled down for him. Dane was left standing just within the door, very sure now that instead of being commended for his discovery of a fewminutes before, he was about to suffer some reprimand. And the reason forit still eluded him. 

"What do you know about that plant Mura grows in the hydro--the onecalled 'catnip'?"

Tau did not appear surprised at that demand--the Medic of a Free Tradingspacer was never surprised at anything. He had his surfeit of shocksduring his first years of service and after that accepted any occurrence, no matter how weird, as matter-of-fact. In addition Tau's hobby was"magic, " the hidden knowledge possessed and used by witch doctors andmedicine men on alien worlds. He had a library of recordings, odd scrapsof information, of certified results of certain very peculiarexperiments. Now and then he wrote a report which was sent into CentralService, read with raised eyebrows by perhaps half a dozen incredulousdesk warmers, and filed away to be safely forgotten. But even that hadceased to frustrate him. 

"It's an herb of the mint family from Terra, " he replied. "Mura grows itfor Sinbad--has quite a marked influence on cats. Frank's been trying tokeep him anchored to the ship by allowing him to roll in fresh leaves. Hedoes it--then continues to sneak out whenever he can--"

That explained something for Dane--why the Salariki cub wished to enterthe Queen tonight. Some of the scent of the plant had clung to Sinbad'sfur, had been detected, and the Salarik had wanted to trace it to itssource. 

"Is it a drug?" Van Rycke prodded. 

"In the way that all herbs are drugs. Human beings have dosed themselvesin the past with a tea made of the dried leaves. It has no greatmedicinal properties. To felines it is a stimulation--and they get thesame satisfaction from rolling in and eating the leaves as we do fromdrinking--"

"The Salariki are, in a manner of speaking, felines--" Van Rycke mused. 

Tau straightened. "The Salariki have discovered catnip, I take it?"

Van Rycke nodded at Dane and for the second time the Cargo-masterapprentice made his report. When he was done Van Rycke asked a directquestion of the medical officer:

"What effect would catnip have on a Salarik?"

It was only then that Dane grasped the enormity of what he had done. Theyhad no way of gauging the influence of an off-world plant on alienmetabolism. What if he had introduced to the natives of Sargol adangerous drug--started that cub on some path of addiction. He was coldinside. Why, he might even have poisoned the child!

Tau picked up his cap, and after a second's hesitation, his emergencymedical kit. He had only one question for Dane. 

"Any idea of who the cub is--what clan he belongs to?"

And Dane, chill with real fear, was forced to answer in the negative. What _had_ he done!

"Can you find him?" Van Rycke, ignoring Dane, spoke to Tau. 

The Medic shrugged. "I can try. I was out scouting this morning--met oneof the storm priests who handles their medical work. But I wasn'twelcomed. However, under the circumstances, we have to try something--"

In the corridor Van Rycke had an order for Dane. "I suggest that you keepto quarters, Thorson, until we know how matters stand. "

Dane saluted. That note in his superior's voice was like a whiplash--much worse to take than the abuse of a lesser man. He swallowed ashe shut himself into his own cramped cubby. This might be the end oftheir venture. And they would be lucky if their charter was notwithdrawn. Let I-S get an inkling of his rash action and the Companywould have them up before the Board to be stripped of all their rightsin the Service. Just because of his own stupidity--his pride in beingable to break through where Van Rycke and the Captain had faced a stonewall. And, worse than the future which could face the Queen, was thethought that he might have introduced some dangerous drug into Sargolwith his gift of those few leaves. When would he learn? He threw himselfface down on his bunk and despondently pictured the string of calamitieswhich could and maybe would stem from his thoughtless and hasty action. 

Within the Queen night and day were mechanical--the lighting in thecabins did not vary much. Dane did not know how long he lay there forcinghis mind to consider his stupid action, making himself face that in theService there were no short cuts which endangered others--not unlessthose taking the risks were Terrans. 

"Dane--!" Rip Shannon's voice cut through his self-imposed nightmare. Buthe refused to answer. "Dane--Van wants you on the double!"

Why? To bring him up before Jellico probably. Dane schooled hisexpression, got up, pulling his tunic straight, still unable to meetRip's eyes. Shannon was just one of those he had let down so badly. Butthe other did not notice his mood. "Wait 'til you see them--! Half Sargolmust be here yelling for trade!"

That comment was so far from what he had been expecting that Dane wasstartled out of his own gloomy thoughts. Rip's brown face was one widesmile, his black eyes danced--it was plain he was honestly elated. 

"Get a move on, fire rockets, " he urged, "or Van will blast you forfair!"

Dane did move, up the ladder to the next level and out on the port ramp. What he saw below brought him up short. Evening had come to Sargol butthe scene immediately below was not in darkness. Blazing torchesadvanced in lines from the grass forest and the portable flood light ofthe spacer added to the general glare, turning night into noonday. 

Van Rycke and Jellico sat on stools facing at least five of the sevenmajor chieftains with whom they had conferred to no purpose earlier. Andbehind these leaders milled a throng of lesser Salariki. Yes, there wasat least one carrying chair--and also an orgel from the back of which aveiled noblewoman was being assisted to dismount by two retainers. Thewomen of the clans were coming--which could mean only that trade was atlast in progress. But trade for what?

Dane strode down the ramp. He saw Paft, his hand carefully covered by histrade cloth, advance to Van Rycke, whose own fingers were decently veiledby a handkerchief. Under the folds of fabric their hands touched. Thebargaining was in the first stages. And it was important enough for theclan leaders to conduct themselves. Where, according to Cam's records, ithad been usual to delegate that power to a favored liege man. 

Catching the light from the ship's beam and from the softer flares of theSalariki torches was a small pile of stones resting on a stool to oneside. Dane drew a deep breath. He had heard the Koros stones described, had seen the tri-dee print of one found among Cam's recordings but thereality was beyond his expectations. He knew the technical analysis ofthe gems--that they were, as the amber of Terra, the fossilized resinexuded by ancient plants (maybe the ancestors of the grass trees) longburied in the saline deposits of the shallow seas where chemical changeshad taken place to produce the wonder jewels. In color they shaded from arosy apricot to a rich mauve, but in their depths other colors, silver, fiery gold, spun sparks which seemed to move as the gem was turned. And--which was what first endeared them to the Salariki--when wornagainst the skin and warmed by body heat they gave off a perfume whichenchanted not only the Sargolian natives but all in the Galaxy wealthyenough to own one. 

On another stool placed at Van Rycke's right hand, as that bearing theKoros stones was at Paft's, was a transparent plastic box containing somewrinkled brownish leaves. Dane moved as unobtrusively as he could to hisproper place at such a trading session, behind Van Rycke. More Salarikiwere tramping out of the forest, torch bearing retainers and cloakedwarriors. A little to one side was a third party Dane had not seenbefore. 

They were clustered about a staff which had been driven into the ground, a staff topped with a white streamer marking a temporary trading ground. These were Salariki right enough but they did not wear the colorful garbof those about them, instead they were all clad alike in muffling, sleeved robes of a drab green--the storm priests--their robes denotingthe color of the Sargolian sky just before the onslaught of their worsttempests. Cam had not left many clues concerning the religion of theSalariki, but the storm priests had, in narrowly defined limits, power, and their recognition of the Terran Traders would add to good feeling. 

In the knot of storm priests a Terran stood--Medic Tau--and he wastalking earnestly with the leader of the religious party. Dane would havegiven much to have been free to cross and ask Tau a question or two. Wasall this assembly the result of the discovery in the hydro? But even ashe asked himself that, the trade cloths were shaken from the hands of thebargainers and Van Rycke gave an order over his shoulder. 

"Measure out two spoonsful of the dried leaves into a box--" he pointedto a tiny plastic container. 

With painstaking care Dane followed directions. At the same time aservant of the Salarik chief swept the handful of gems from the otherstool and dropped them in a heap before Van Rycke, who transferred themto a strong box resting between his feet. Paft arose--but he had hardlyquitted the trading seat before one of the lesser clan leaders had takenhis place, the bargaining cloth ready looped loosely about his wrist. 

It was at that point that the proceedings were interrupted. A new partycame into the open, their utilitarian Trade tunics made a drab blot asthey threaded their way in a compact group through the throng ofSalariki. I-S men! So they had not lifted from Sargol. 

They showed no signs of uneasiness--it was as if _their_ rights werebeing infringed by the Free Traders. And Kallee, their Cargo-master, swaggered straight to the bargaining point. The chatter of Salarikivoices was stilled, the Sargolians withdrew a little, letting one partyof Terrans face the other, sensing drama to come. Neither Van Rycke norJellico spoke, it was left to Kallee to state his case. 

"You've crooked your orbit this time, bright boys, " his jeer was a paeanof triumph. "Code Three--Article six--or can't you absorb rules tapeswith your thick heads?"

Code Three--Article six, Dane searched his memory for that law of theService. The words flashed into his mind as the auto-learner had plantedthem during his first year of training back in the Pool. 

"To no alien race shall any Trader introduce any drug, food, or drinkfrom off world, until such a substance has been certified as nonharmfulto the aliens. "

There it was! I-S had them and it was all his fault. But if he had beenso wrong, why in the world did Van Rycke sit there trading, condoning theerror and making it into a crime for which they could be summoned beforethe Board and struck off the rolls of the Service?

Van Rycke smiled gently. "Code Four--Article two, " he quoted with thegenial air of one playing gift-giver at a Forkidan feasting. 

Code Four, Article two: Any organic substance offered for trade must beexamined by a committee of trained medical experts, an equalrepresentation of Terrans and aliens. 

Kallee's sneering smile did not vanish. "Well, " he challenged, "where'syour board of experts?"

"Tau!" Van Rycke called to the Medic with the storm priests. "Will youask your colleague to be so kind as to allow the Cargo-master Kallee tobe presented?"

The tall, dark young Terran Medic spoke to the priest beside him andtogether they came across the clearing. Van Rycke and Jellico both aroseand inclined their heads in honor to the priests, as did the chief withwhom they had been about to deal. 

"Reader of clouds and master of many winds, " Tau's voice flowed with themany voweled titles of the Sargolian, "may I bring before your faceCargo-master Kallee, a servant of Inter-Solar in the realm of Trade?"

The storm priest's shaven skull and body gleamed steel gray in the light. His eyes, of that startling blue-green, regarded the I-S party withcynical detachment. 

"You wish of me?" Plainly he was one who believed in getting down toessentials at once. 

Kallee could not be overawed. "These Free Traders have introduced amongyour people a powerful drug which will bring much evil, " he spoke slowlyin simple words as if he were addressing a cub. 

"You have evidence of such evil?" countered the storm priest. "In whatmanner is this new plant evil?"

For a moment Kallee was disconcerted. But he rallied quickly. "It hasnot been tested--you do not know how it will affect your people--"

The storm priest shook his head impatiently. "We are not lacking inintelligence, Trader. This plant _has_ been tested, both by your masterof life secrets and ours. There is no harm in it--rather it is a goodthing, to be highly prized--so highly that we shall give thanks that itwas brought unto us. This speech-together is finished. " He pulled theloose folds of his robe closer about him and walked away. 

"Now, " Van Rycke addressed the I-S party, "I must ask you to withdraw. Under the rules of Trade your presence here can be actively resented--"

But Kallee had lost little of his assurance. "You haven't heard the lastof this. A tape of the whole proceedings goes to the Board--"

"As you wish. But in the meantime--" Van Rycke gestured to the waitingSalariki who were beginning to mutter impatiently. Kallee glanced around, heard those mutters, and made the only move possible, away from theQueen. He was not quite so cocky, but neither had he surrendered. 

Dane caught at Tau's sleeve and asked the question which had been burningin him since he had come upon the scene. 

"What happened--about the catnip?"

There was lightening of the serious expression on Tau's face. 

"Fortunately for you that child took the leaves to the storm priest. Theytested and approved it. And I can't see that it has any ill effects. Butyou were just lucky, Thorson--it might have gone another way. "

Dane sighed. "I know that, sir, " he confessed. "I'm not trying to rocketout--"

Tau gave a half-smile. "We all off-fire our tubes at times, " heconceded. "Only next time--"

He did not need to complete that warning as Dane caught him up:

"There isn't going to be a next time like this, sir--ever!"

Chapter IV

GORP HUNT

But the interruption had disturbed the tenor of trading. The small chiefwho had so eagerly taken Paft's place had only two Koros stones to offerand even to Dane's inexperienced eyes they were inferior in size andcolor to those the other clan leader had tendered. The Terrans were awarethat Koros mining was a dangerous business but they had not known thatthe stock of available stones was so very small. Within ten minutes thelast of the serious bargaining was concluded and the clansmen weredrifting away from the burned over space about the Queen's standing fins. 

Dane folded up the bargain cloth, glad for a task. He sensed that he wasfar from being back in Van Rycke's good graces. The fact that hissuperior did not discuss any of the aspects of the deals with him was abad sign. 

Captain Jellico stretched. Although his was not, or never, what might betermed a good-humored face, he was at peace with his world. "That wouldseem to be all. What's the haul, Van?"

"Ten first class stones, about fifty second grade, and twenty or so ofthird. The chiefs will go to the fisheries tomorrow. _Then_ we'll be into see the really good stuff. "

"And how's the herbs holding out?" That interested Dane too. Surely thefew plants in the hydro and the dried leaves could not be stretched toofar. 

"As well as we could expect. " Van Rycke frowned. "But Craig thinks he'son the trail of something to help--"

The storm priests had uprooted the staff marking the trading station andwere wrapping the white streamer about it. Their leader had already goneand now Tau came up to the group by the ramp. 

"Van says you have an idea, " the Captain hailed him. 

"We haven't tried it yet. And we can't unless the priests give it a clearlane--"

"That goes without saying--" Jellico agreed. 

The Captain had not addressed that remark to him personally, but Dane wassure it had been directed at him. Well, they needn't worry--never againwas he going to make that mistake, they could be very sure of that. 

He was part of the conference which followed in the mess cabin onlybecause he was a member of the crew. How far the reason for his disgracehad spread he had no way of telling, but he made no overtures, even toRip. 

Tau had the floor with Mura as an efficient lieutenant. He discussed theproperties of catnip and gave information on the limited supply the Queencarried. Then he launched into a new suggestion. 

"Felines of Terra, in fact a great many other of our native mammals, havea similar affinity for this. "

Mura produced a small flask and Tau opened it, passing it to CaptainJellico and so from hand to hand about the room. Each crewman sniffed atthe strong aroma. It was a heavier scent than that given off by thecrushed catnip--Dane was not sure he liked it. But a moment later Sinbadstreaked in from the corridor and committed the unpardonable sin ofleaping to the table top just before Mura who had taken the flask fromDane. He miaowed plaintively and clawed at the steward's cuff. Murastoppered the flask and put the cat down on the floor. 

"What is it?" Jellico wanted to know. 

"Anisette, a liquor made from the oil of anise--from seeds of the aniseplant. It is a stimulant, but we use it mainly as a condiment. If it isharmless for the Salariki it ought to be a bigger bargaining point thanany perfumes or spices, I-S can import. And remember, with theirunlimited capital, they can flood the market with products we can'ttouch, selling at a loss if need be to cut us out. Because their ship isnot going to lift from Sargol just because she has no legal right here. "

"There's this point, " Van Rycke added to the lecture. "The Eysies aretrading or want to trade perfumes. But they stock only manufacturedproducts, exotic stuff, but synthetic. " He took from his belt pouch twotiny boxes. 

Before he caught the rich scent of the paste inside them Dane had alreadyidentified each as luxury items from Casper--chemical products which soldwell and at high prices in the civilized ports of the Galaxy. TheCargo-master turned the boxes over, exposing the symbol on theirundersides--the mark of I-S. 

"These were offered to me in trade by a Salarik. I took them, just tohave proof that the Eysies are operating here. But--note--they wereoffered to me in trade, along with two top Koros for what? One spoonfulof dried catnip leaves. Does that suggest anything?"

Mura answered first. "The Salariki prefer natural products to synthetic. "

"I think so. "

"D'you suppose that was Cam's secret?" speculated Astrogator SteenWilcox. 

"If it was, " Jellico cut in, "he certainly kept it! If we had only knownthis earlier--"

They were all thinking of that, of their storage space carefully packedwith useless trade goods. Where, if they had known, the same space couldhave carried herbs with five or twenty-five times as much buying power. 

"Maybe now that their sales' resistance is broken, we _can_ switch tosome of the other stuff, " Tang Ya, torn away from his belovedcommunicators for the conference, said wistfully. "They like color--howabout breaking out some rolls of Harlinian moth silk?"

Van Rycke sighed wearily. "Oh, we'll try. We'll bring out everything andanything. But we could have done so much better--" he brooded over thetricks of fate which had landed them on a planet wild for trade with noproper trade goods in either of their holds. 

There was a nervous little sound of a throat being apologeticallycleared. Jasper Weeks, the small wiper from the engine room detail, thethird generation Venusian colonist whom the more vocal members of theQueen's complement were apt to forget upon occasion, seeing all eyes uponhim, spoke though his voice was hardly above a hoarse whisper. 

"Cedar--lacquel bark--forsh weed--"

"Cinnamon, " Mura added to the list. "Imported in small quantities--"

"Naturally! Only the problem now is--how much cedar, lacquel bark, forshweed, cinnamon do we have on board?" demanded Van Rycke. 

His sarcasm did not register with Weeks for the little man pushed by Daneand left the cabin to their surprise. In the quiet which followed theycould hear the clatter of his boots on ladder rungs as he descended tothe quarters of the engine room staff. Tang turned to his neighbor, Johan Stotz, the Queen's Engineer. 

"What's he going for?"

Stotz shrugged. Weeks was a self-effacing man--so much so that even inthe cramped quarters of the spacer very little about him as an individualimpressed his mates--a fact which was slowly dawning on them all now. Then they heard the scramble of feet hurrying back and Weeks burst inwith energy which carried him across to the table behind which theCaptain and Van Rycke now sat. 

In the wiper's hands was a plasta-steel box--the treasure chest of aspaceman. Its tough exterior was guaranteed to protect the contentsagainst everything but outright disintegration. Weeks put it down on thetable and snapped up the lid. 

A new aroma, or aromas, was added to the scents now at war in the cabin. Weeks pulled out a handful of fluffy white stuff which frothed up abouthis fingers like soap lather. Then with more care he lifted up a traydivided into many small compartments, each with a separate sealing lid ofits own. The men of the Queen moved in, their curiosity aroused, untilthey were jostling one another. 

Being tall Dane had an advantage, though Van Rycke's bulk and the wideshoulders of the Captain were between him and the object they were sointent upon. In each division of the tray, easily seen through thetransparent lids, was a carved figure. The weird denizens of the Venusianpolar swamps were there, along with lifelike effigies of Terran animals, a Martian sand-mouse in all its monstrous ferocity, and the native animaland reptile life of half a hundred different worlds. Weeks put down asecond tray beside the first, again displaying a menagerie of strangelife forms. But when he clicked open one of the compartments and handedthe figurine it contained to the Captain, Dane understood the reason fornow bringing forward the carvings. 

The majority of them were fashioned from a dull blue-gray wood and Daneknew that if he picked one up he would discover that it weighed close tonothing in his hand. That was lacquel bark--the aromatic product of aVenusian vine. And each little animal or reptile lay encased in a softdab of frothy white--frosh weed--the perfumed seed casing of the Martiancanal plants. One or two figures on the second tray were of a red-brownwood and these Van Rycke sniffed at appreciatively. 

"Cedar--Terran cedar, " he murmured. 

Weeks nodded eagerly, his eyes alight. "I am waiting now forsandalwood--it is also good for carving--"

Jellico stared at the array in puzzled wonder. "You have made these?"

Being an amateur xenobiologist of no small standing himself, the shapesof the carvings more than the material from which they fashioned held hisattention. 

All those on board the Queen had their own hobbies. The monotony ofvoyaging through hyper-space had long ago impressed upon men the need foroccupying both hands and mind during the sterile days while they wereforced into close companionship with few duties to keep them alert. Jellico's cabin was papered with tri-dee pictures of the rare animals andalien creatures he had studied in their native haunts or of which he keptcareful and painstaking records. Tau had his magic, Mura not only hisplants but the delicate miniature landscapes he fashioned, to beimprisoned forever in the hearts of protecting plasta balls. But Weekshad never shown his work before and now he had an artist's supremepleasure of completely confounding his shipmates. 

The Cargo-master returned to the business on hand first. "You're willingto transfer these to 'cargo'?" he asked briskly. "How many do you have?"

Weeks, now lifting a third and then a fourth tray from the box, repliedwithout looking up. 

"Two hundred. Yes, I'll transfer, sir. "

The Captain was turning about in his fingers the beautifully shapedfigure of an Astran duocorn. "Pity to trade these here, " he mused aloud. "Will Paft or Halfer appreciate more than just their scent?"

Weeks smiled shyly. "I've filled this case, sir. I was going to offerthem to Mr. Van Rycke on a venture. I can always make another set. Andright now--well, maybe they'll be worth more to the Queen, seeing as howthey're made out of aromatic woods, then they'd be elsewhere. Leastwisethe Eysies aren't going to have anything like them to show!" he ended ina burst of honest pride. 

"Indeed they aren't!" Van Rycke gave honor where it was due. 

So they made plans and then separated to sleep out the rest of the night. Dane knew that his lapse was not forgotten nor forgiven, but now he washonestly too tired to care and slept as well as if his conscience wereclear. 

But morning brought only a trickle of lower class clansmen for tradingand none of them had much but news to offer. The storm priests, asneutral arbitrators, had divided up the Koros grounds. And the clansmen, under the personal supervision of their chieftains were busy hunting thestones. The Terrans gathered from scraps of information that gem seekingon such a large scale had never been attempted before. 

Before night there came other news, and much more chilling. Paft, one ofthe two major chieftains of this section of Sargol--while supervising theefforts of his liege men on a newly discovered and richly strewn lengthof shoal water--had been attacked and killed by gorp. The unusualactivity of the Salariki in the shallows had in turn drawn to the spotbattalions of the intelligent, malignant reptiles who had struck instrength, slaying and escaping before the Salariki could form an adequatedefense, having killed the land dwellers' sentries silently andeffectively before advancing on the laboring main bodies of gem hunters. 

A loss of a certain number of miners or fishers had been preseen as theprice one paid for Koros in quantity. But the death of a chieftain wasanother thing altogether, having repercussions which carried far beyondthe fact of his death. When the news reached the Salariki about the Queenthey melted away into the grass forest and for the first time the Terransfelt free of spying eyes. 

"What happens now?" Ali inquired. "Do they declare all deals off?"

"That might just be the unfortunate answer, " agreed Van Rycke. 

"Could be, " Rip commented to Dane, "that they'd think we were in some wayresponsible--"

But Dane's conscience, sensitive over the whole matter of Salariki trade, had already reached that conclusion. 

The Terran party, unsure of what were the best tactics, wisely decided todo nothing at all for the time being. But, when the Salariki seemed tohave completely vanished on the morning of the second day, the men wererestless. Had Paft's death resulted in some interclan quarrel over theheirship and the other clans withdrawn to let the various contendents forthat honor fight it out? Or--what was more probable and dangerous--hadthe aliens come to the point of view that the Queen was in the mainresponsible for the catastrophe and were engaged in preparing too warm awelcome for any Traders who dared to visit them?

With the latter idea in mind they did not stray far from the ship. Andthe limit to their traveling was the edge of the forest from which theycould be covered and so they did not learn much. 

It was well into the morning before they were dramatically appraisedthat, far from being considered in any way an enemy, they were about tobe accepted in a tie as close as clan to clan during one of the temporarybut binding truces. 

The messenger came in state, a young Salarik warrior, his splendid cloakrent and hanging in tattered pieces from his shoulders as a sign of hisofficial grief. He carried in one hand a burned out torch, and in theother an unsheathed claw knife, its blade reflecting the sunlight with awicked glitter. Behind him trotted three couples of retainers, theircloaks also ragged fringes, their knives drawn. 

Standing up on the ramp to receive what could only be a formal deputationwere Captain, Astrogator, Cargo-master and Engineer, the senior officersof the spacer. 

In the rolling periods of the Trade Lingo the torch bearer identifiedhimself as Groft, son and heir of the late lamented Paft. Until hischieftain father was avenged in blood he could not assume the high seatof his clan nor the leadership of the family. And now, following custom, he was inviting the friends and sometimes allies of the dead Paft to agorp hunt. Such a gorp hunt, Dane gathered from amidst the flowers ofceremonial Salariki speech, as had never been planned before on the faceof Sargol. Salariki without number in the past had died beneath theripping talons of the water reptiles, but it was seldom that a chieftainhad so fallen and his clan were firm in their determination to take afull blood price from the killers. 

"--and so, sky lords, " Groft brought his oration to a close, "we come toask that you send your young men to this hunting so that they may knowthe joy of plunging knives into the scaled death and see the horned onesdie bathed in their own vile blood!"

Dane needed no hint from the Queen's officers that this invitation was asharp departure from custom. By joining with the natives in such a foraythe Terrans were being admitted to kinship of a sort, cementing relationsby a tie which the I-S, or any other interloper from off-world, wouldfind hard to break. It was a piece of such excellent good fortune as theywould not have dreamed of three days earlier. 

Van Rycke replied, his voice properly sonorous, sounding out the roundedperiods of the rolling tongue which they had all been taught during thevoyage, using Cam's recording. Yes, the Terrans would join with pleasurein so good and great a cause. They would lend the force of their arms tothe defeat of all gorp they had the good fortune to meet. Groft need onlyname the hour for them to join him--

It was not needful, the young Salariki chieftain-to-be hastened to tellthe Cargo-master, that the senior sky lords concern themselves in thismatter. In fact it would be against custom, for it was meet that such ahunt be left to warriors of few years, that they might earn glory and beable to stand before the fires at the Naming as men. Therefore--the thumbclaw of Groft was extended to its greatest length as he used it to singleout the Terrans he had been eyeing--let this one, and that, and that, andthe fourth be ready to join with the Salariki party an hour after nooningon this very day and they would indeed teach the slimy, treacherouslurkers in the depths a well needed lesson. 

The Salarik's choice with one exception had unerringly fallen upon theyoungest members of the crew, Ali, Rip, and Dane in that order. But hisfourth addition had been Jasper Weeks. Perhaps because of his nativepallor of skin and slightness of body the oiler had seemed, to the alien, to be younger than his years. At any rate Groft had made it very plainthat he chose these men and Dane knew that the Queen's officers wouldraise no objection which might upset the delicate balance of favorablerelations. 

Van Rycke did ask for one concession which was reluctantly granted. Hereceived permission for the spacer's men to carry their sleep rods. Though the Salariki, apparently for some reason of binding and hoarycustom, were totally opposed to hunting their age-old enemy with anythingother than their duelists' weapons of net and claw knife. 

"Go along with them, " Captain Jellico gave his final orders to the four, "as long as it doesn't mean your own necks--understand? On the other handdead heroes have never helped to lift a ship. And these gorp are toughfrom all accounts. You'll just have to use your own judgment aboutspringing your rods on them--" He looked distinctly unhappy at thatthought. 

Ali was grinning and little Weeks tightened his weapon belt with a touchof swagger he had never shown before. Rip was his usual soft voiced self, dependable as a rock and a good base for the rest of them--taking commandwithout question as they marched off to join Groft's company. 

Chapter V

THE PERILOUS SEAS

The gorp hunters straggled through the grass forest in family groups, andthe Terrans saw that the enterprise had forced another uneasy truce uponthe district, for there were representatives from more than just Paft'sown clan. All the Salariki were young and the parties babbled together inexcitement. It was plain that this hunt, staged upon a large scale, wasnot only a means of revenge upon a hated enemy but, also, a sportingevent of outstanding prestige. 

Now the grass trees began to show ragged gaps, open spaces between theirclumps, until the forest was only scattered groups and the party theTerrans had joined walked along a trail cloaked in knee-high, yellow-redfern growth. Most of the Salariki carried unlit torches, some having fouror five bundled together, as if gorp hunting must be done afternightfall. And it _was_ fairly late in the afternoon before they topped arise of ground and looked out upon one of Sargol's seas. 

The water was a dull-metallic gray, broken by great swaths of purple asif an artist had slapped a brush of color across it in a hit or missfashion. Sand of the red grit, lightened by the golden flecks whichglittered in the sun, stretched to the edge of the wavelets breaking withonly languor on the curve of earth. The bulk of islands arose in serriedranks farther out--crowned with grass trees all rippling under the seawind. 

They came out upon the beach where one of the purple patches touched theshore and Dane noted that it left a scummy deposit there. The Terranswent on to the water's edge. Where it was clear of the purple stuff theycould get a murky glimpse of the bottom, but the scum hid long stretchesof shoreline and outer wave, and Dane wondered if the gorp used it as aprotective covering. 

For the moment the Salariki made no move toward the sea which was to betheir hunting ground. Instead the youngest members of the party, some ofwhom were adolescents not yet entitled to wear the claw knife of manhood, spread out along the shore and set industriously to gathering driftwood, which they brought back to heap on the sand. Dane, watching that harvest, caught sight of a smoothly polished length. He called Weeks' attentionto the water rounded cylinder. 

The oiler's eyes lighted and he stooped to pick it up. Where the othersticks were from grass trees this was something else. And among thebleached pile it had the vividness of flame. For it was a stridentscarlet. Weeks turned it over in his hands, running his fingers lovinglyacross its perfect grain. Even in this crude state it had beauty. Hestopped the Salarik who had just brought in another armload of wood. 

"This is what?" he spoke the Trade Lingo haltingly. 

The native gazed somewhat indifferently at the branch. "Tansil, " heanswered. "It grows on the islands--" He made a vague gesture to includea good section of the western sea before he hurried away. 

Weeks now went along the tide line on his own quest, Dane trailing him. At the end of a quarter hour when a hail summoned them back to the siteof the now lighted fire, they had some ten pieces of the tansil woodbetween them. The finds ranged from a three foot section some fourinches in diameter, to some slender twigs no larger than a writingsteelo--but all with high polish, the warm flame coloring. Weeks lashedthem together before he joined the group where Groft was outlining thetechnique of gorp hunting for the benefit of the Terrans. 

Some two hundred feet away a reef, often awash and stained with thepurple scum, angled out into the sea in a long curve which formed anatural breakwater. This was the point of attack. But first the purplefilm must be removed so that land and sea dwellers could meet on commonterms. 

The fire blazed up, eating hungrily into the driftwood. And from it ranthe young Salariki with lighted brands, which at the water's edge theywhirled about their heads and then hurled out onto the purple patches. Fire arose from the water and ran with frantic speed across the crests ofthe low waves, while the Salariki coughed and buried their noses in theirperfume boxes, for the wind drove shoreward an overpowering stench. 

Where the cleansing fire had run on the water there was now only thenatural metallic gray of the liquid, the cover was gone. Older Salarikiwarriors were choosing torches from those they had brought, doing it withcare. Groft approached the Terrans carrying four. 

"These you use now--"

What for? Dane wondered. The sky was still sunlit. He held the torchwatching to see how the Salariki made use of them. 

Groft led the advance--running lightly out along the reef with agile andgraceful leaps to cross the breaks where the sea hurled in over the rock. And after him followed the other natives, each with a lighted torch inhand--the torch they hunkered down to plant firmly in some crevice of therock before taking a stand beside that beacon. 

The Terrans, less surefooted in the space boots, picked their way alongthe same path, wet with spray, wrinkling their noses against thelingering puffs of the stench from the water. 

Following the example of the Salariki they faced seaward--but Dane didnot know what to watch for. Cam had left only the vaguest generaldescriptions of gorp and beyond the fact that they were reptilian, intelligent and dangerous, the Terrans had not been briefed. 

Once the warriors had taken up their stand along the reef, the youngerSalariki went into action once more. Lighting more torches at the fire, they ran out along the line of their elders and flung their torches asfar as they could hurl them into the sea outside the reef. 

The gray steel of the water was now yellow with the reflection of thesinking sun. But that ocher and gold became more brilliant yet as thetorches of the Salariki set blazing up far floating patches of scum. Daneshielded his eyes against the glare and tried to watch the water, withsome idea that this move must be provocation and what they hunted wouldso be driven into view. 

He held his sleep rod ready, just as the Salarik on his right had clawknife in one hand and in the other, open and waiting, the net intended toentangle and hold fast a victim, binding him for the kill. 

But it was at the far tip of the barrier--the post of greatest honorwhich Groft had jealously claimed as his, that the gorp struck first. Ata wild shout of defiance Dane half turned to see the Salarik noble casthis net at sea level and then stab viciously with a well practiced blow. When he raised his arm for a second thrust, greenish ichor ran from theblade down his wrist. 

"Dane!"

Thorson's head jerked around. He saw the vee of ripples headed straightfor the rocks where he balanced. 

But he'd have to wait for a better target than a moving wedge of water. Instinctively he half crouched in the stance of an embattled spaceman, wishing now that he did have a blaster. 

Neither of the Salariki stationed on either side of him made any move andhe guessed that was hunt etiquette. Each man was supposed to face andkill the monster that challenged him--without assistance. And upon hisskill during the next few minutes might rest the reputation of allTerrans as far as the natives were concerned. 

There was a shadow outline beneath the surface of the metallic water now, but he could not see well because of the distortion of the murky waves. He must wait until he was sure. 

Then the thing gave a spurt and, only inches beyond the toes of hisboots, a nightmare creature sprang halfway out of the water, pincherclaws as long as his own arms snapping at him. Without being conscious ofhis act, he pressed the stud of the sleep rod, aiming in the generaldirection of that horror from the sea. 

But to his utter amazement the creature did not fall supinely back intowatery world from which it had emerged. Instead those claws snappedagain, this time scrapping across the top of Dane's foot, leaving afurrow in material the keenest of knives could not have scored. 

"Give it to him!" That was Rip shouting encouragement from his own placefarther along the reef. 

Dane pressed the firing stud again and again. The claws waved as themonstrosity slavered from a gaping frog's mouth, a mouth which was fangedwith a shark's vicious teeth. It was almost wholly out of the water, creeping on a crab's many legs, with a clawed upper limb reaching forhim, when suddenly it stopped, its huge head turning from side to side inthe sheltering carapace of scaled natural armor. It settled back as ifcrouching for a final spring--a spring which would push Dane into theocean. 

But that attack never came. Instead the gorp drew in upon itself until itresembled an unwieldy ball of indestructible armor and there it remained. 

The Salariki on either side of Dane let out cries of triumph and edgedcloser. One of them twirled his net suggestively, seeing that the Terranlacked what was to him an essential piece of hunting equipment. Danenodded vigorously in agreement and the tough strands swung out in askillful cast which engulfed the motionless creature on the reef. But itwas so protected by its scales that there was no opening for the clawknife. They had made a capture but they could not make a kill. 

However, the Salariki were highly delighted. And several abandoned theirposts to help the boys drag the monster ashore where it was pinned downto the beach by stakes driven through the edges of the net. 

But the hunting party was given little time to gloat over this stroke offortune. The gorp killed by Groft and the one stunned by Dane were onlythe van of an army and within moments the hunters on the reef wereconfronted by trouble armed with slashing claws and diabolic fightingability. 

The battle was anything but one-sided. Dane whirled, as the air was rentby a shriek of agony, just in time to see one of the Salariki, alreadytorn by the claws of a gorp, being drawn under the water. It was too lateto save the hunter, though Dane, balanced on the very edge of the reef, aimed a beam into the bloody waves. If the gorp was affected by thisattack he could not tell, for both attacker and victim could no longer beseen. 

But Ali had better luck in rescuing the Salarik who shared his particularsection of reef, and the native, gashed and spurting blood from a woundin his thigh, was hauled to safety. While the gorp, coiling too slowlyunder the Terran ray, was literally hewn to pieces by the revengefulknives of the hunter's kin. 

The fight broke into a series of individual duels carried on now by thelight of the torches as the evening closed in. The last of the purplepatches had burned away to nothing. Dane crouched by his standard torch, his eyes fastened on the sea, watching for an ominous vee of ripplesbetraying another gorp on its way to launch against the rock barrier. 

There was such wild confusion along that line of water sprayed rocksthat he had no idea of how the engagement was going. But so far thegorp showed no signs of having had enough. 

Dane was shaken out of his absorption by another scream. One, he wassure, which had not come from any Salariki throat. He got to hisfeet. Rip was stationed four men beyond him. Yes, the tallAstrogator-apprentice was there, outlined against torch flare. Ali?No--there was the assistant Engineer. Weeks? But Weeks was picking hisway back along the reef toward the shore, haste expressed in every lineof his figure. The scream sounded for a second time, freezing theTerrans. 

"Come back--!" That was Weeks gesturing violently at the shore andsomething floundering in the protecting circle of the reef. The youngerSalariki who had been feeding the fire were now clustered at the water'sedge. 

Ali ran and with a leap covered the last few feet, landing reckless kneedeep in the waves. Dane saw light strike on his rod as he swung it in awide arc to center on the struggle churning the water into foam. A thirdscream died to a moan and then the Salariki dashed into the sea, theirnets spread, drawing back with them through the surf a dark and now quietmass. 

The fact that at least one gorp had managed to get on the inner side ofthe reef made an impression on the rest of the native hunters. After anuncertain minute or two Groft gave the signal to withdraw--which they didwith grisly trophies. Dane counted seven gorp bodies--which did notinclude the prisoner ashore. And more might have slid into the sea todie. On the other hand two Salariki were dead--one had been drawn intothe sea before Dane's eyes--and at least one was badly wounded. But whohad been pulled down in the shallows--some one sent out from the Queenwith a message?

Dane raced back along the reef, not waiting to pull up his torch, andbefore he reached the shore Rip was overtaking him. But the man who laygroaning on the sand was not from the Queen. The torn and bloodstainedtunic covering his lacerated shoulders had the I-S badge. Ali was alreadyat work on his wounds, giving temporary first aid from his belt kit. Toall their questions he was stubbornly silent--either he couldn't orwouldn't answer. 

In the end they helped the Salariki rig three stretchers. On one thelargest, the captive gorp, still curled in a round carapace protectedball, was bound with the net. The second supported the wounded Salarikclansman and onto the third the Terrans lifted the I-S man. 

"We'll deliver him to his own ship, " Rip decided. "He must have tailed ushere as a spy--" He asked a passing Salarik as to where they could findthe Company spacer. 

"They might just think we are responsible, " Ali pointed out. "But I seeyour point. If we do pack him back to the Queen and he doesn't make it, they might say that we fired his rockets for him. All right, boys, let'sup-ship--he doesn't look too good to me. "

With a torch-bearing Salarik boy as a guide, they hurried along a pathtaking in turns the burden of the stretcher. Luckily the I-S ship waseven closer to the sea than the Queen and as they crossed the slaggedground, congealed by the break fire, they were trotting. 

Though the Company ship was probably one of the smallest Inter-Solarcarried on her rosters, it was a third again as large as the Queen--withpart of that third undoubtedly dedicated to extra cargo space. Beside hertheir own spacer would seem not only smaller, but battered and worn. Butno Free Trader would have willingly assumed the badges of a Company man, not even for the command of such a ship fresh from the cradles of abuilder. 

When a man went up from the training Pool for his first assignment, hewas sent to the ship where his temperament, training and abilities bestfitted. And those who were designated as Free Traders would never fitinto the pattern of Company men. Of late years the breech between thosewho lived under the strict parental control of one of the five greatgalaxy wide organizations and those still too much of an individual tolive any life but that of a half-explorer-half-pioneer which was the FreeTrader's, had widened alarmingly. Antagonism flared, rivalry was strong. But as yet the great Companies themselves were at polite cold war withone another for the big plums of the scattered systems. The Free Traderstook the crumbs and there was not much disputing--save in cases such ashad arisen on Sargol, when suddenly crumbs assumed the guise of very richcake, rich and large enough to attract a giant. 

The party from the Queen was given a peremptory challenge as they reachedthe other ship's ramp. Rip demanded to see the officer of the watch andthen told the story of the wounded man as far as they knew it. The Eysiewas hurried aboard--nor did his shipmates give a word of thanks. 

"That's that. " Rip shrugged. "Let's go before they slam the hatch so hardthey'll rock their ship off her fins!"

"Polite, aren't they?" asked Weeks mildly. 

"What do you expect of Eysies?" Ali wanted to know. "To them Free Tradersare just rim planet trash. Let's report back where we are appreciated. "

They took a short cut which brought them back to the Queen and they filedup her ramp to make their report to the Captain. 

But they were not yet satisfied with Groft and his gorp slayers. NoSalarik appeared for trade in the morning--surprising the Terrans. Instead a second delegation, this time of older men and a storm priest, visited the spacer with an invitation to attend Paft's funeral feast, arite which would be followed by the formal elevation of Groft to hisfather's position, now that he had revenged that parent. And from remarksdropped by members of the delegation it was plain that the bearing of theTerrans who had joined the hunting party was esteemed to have been inhighest accord with Salariki tradition. 

They drew lots to decide which two must remain with the ship and the restperfumed themselves so as to give no offense which might upset their nowcordial relations. Again it was mid-afternoon when the Salariki escortsent to do them honor waited at the edge of the wood and Mura and Tangsaw them off. With a herald booming before them, they traveled the beatenearth road in the opposite direction from the trading center, off throughthe forest until they came to a wide section of several miles which hadbeen rigorously cleared of any vegetation which might give cover to alurking enemy. In the center of this was a twelve-foot-high stockade ofthe bright red, burnished wood which had attracted Weeks on the shore. Each paling was the trunk of a tree and it had been sharpened at the topto a wicked point. On the field side was a wide ditch, crossed at thegate by a bridge, the planking of which might be removed at will. And asDane passed over he looked down into the moat that was dry. The Salarikidid not depend upon water for a defense--but on something else which hisexperience of the previous night had taught him to respect. There was nomistaking that shade of purple. The highly inflammable scum the huntershad burnt from the top of the waves had been brought inland and lay agreasy blanket some eight feet below. It would only be necessary to tossa torch on that and the defenders of the stockade would create a wall offire to baffle any attackers. The Salariki knew how to make the most oftheir world's natural resources. 

Chapter VI

DUELIST'S CHALLENGE

Inside the red stockade there was a crowded community. The Salarikidemanded privacy of a kind, and even the unmarried warriors did not sharebarracks, but each had a small cubicle of his own. So that the mud brickand timber erections of one of their clan cities resembled nothing somuch as the comb cells of a busy beehive. Although Paft's was considereda large clan, it numbered only about two hundred fighting men and theirnumerous wives, children and captive servants. Not all of them normallylived at this center, but for the funeral feasting they hadassembled--which meant a lot of doubling up and tenting out undermakeshift cover between the regular buildings of the town. So that theTerrans were glad to be guided through this crowded maze to the GreatHall which was its heart. 

As the trading center had been, the hall was a circular enclosure open tothe sky above but divided in wheel-spoke fashion with posts of the redwood, each supporting a metal basket filled with imflammable material. Here were no lowly stools or trading tables. One vast circular board, broken only by a gap at the foot, ran completely around the wall. At theend opposite the entrance was the high chair of the chieftain, set on atwo step dais. Though the feast had not yet officially begun, the Terranssaw that the majority of the places were already occupied. 

They were led around the perimeter of the enclosure to places not farfrom the high seat. Van Rycke settled down with a grunt of satisfaction. It was plain that the Free Traders were numbered among the nobility. Theycould be sure of good trade in the days to come. 

Delegations from neighboring clans arrived in close companies of ten ortwelve and were granted seats, as had been the Terrans, in groups. Danenoted that there was no intermingling of clan with clan. And, as theywere to understand later that night, there was a very good reason forthat precaution. 

"Hope all our adaption shots work, " Ali murmured, eyeing with no pleasureat all the succession of platters now being borne through the inneropening of the table. 

While the Traders had learned long ago that the wisest part of valor wasnot to sample alien strong drinks, ceremony often required that theybreak bread (or its other world equivalent) on strange planets. And soscience served expediency and now a Trader bound for any Galactic banquetwas immunized, as far as was medically possible, against the evilconsequences of consuming food not originally intended for Terranstomachs. One of the results being that Traders acquired a far flungreputation of possessing bird-like appetites--since it was always betterto nibble and live, than to gorge and die. 

Groft had not yet taken his place in the vacant chieftain's chair. Forthe present he stood in the center of the table circle, directing thecaptive slaves who circulated with the food. Until the magic moment whenthe clan themselves would proclaim their overlord, he remained merely theeldest son of the house, relatively without power. 

As the endless rows of platters made their way about the table the basketlights on the tops of the pillars were ignited, dispelling the dusk ofevening. And there was an attendant stationed by each to throw onhandsful of aromatic bark which burned with puffs of lavender smoke, adding to the many warring scents. The Terrans had recourse at intervalsto their own pungent smelling bottles, merely to clear their heads of thedrugging fumes. 

Luckily, Dane thought as the feast proceeded, that smoke from thebraziers went straight up. Had they been in a roofed space they mighthave been overcome. As it was--were they entirely conscious of all thatwas going on around them?

His reason for that speculation was the dance now being performed in thecenter of the hall--their fight with the gorp being enacted in a seriesof bounds and stabbings. He was sure that he could no longer trust hiseyes when the claw knife of the victorious dancer-hunter apparentlypassed completely through the chest of another wearing a grotesquemonster mask. 

As a fitting climax to their horrific display, three of the men who hadbeen with them on the reef entered, dragging behind them--still enmeshedin the hunting net--the gorp which Dane had stunned. It was uncurled nowand very much alive, but the pincer claws which might have cut its wayto safety were encased in balls of hard substance. 

Freed from the net, suspended by its sealed claws, the gorp swung backand forth from a standard set up before the high seat. Its murderous jawssnapped futilely, and from it came an enraged snake's vicious hissing. Though totally in the power of its enemies it gave an impression ofterrifying strength and menace. 

The sight of their ancient foe aroused the Salariki, inflaming warriorswho leaned across the table to hurl tongue-twisting invective at thecaptive monster. Dane gathered that seldom had a living gorp beendelivered helpless into their hands and they proposed to make the most ofthis wonderful opportunity. And the Terran suddenly wished themonstrosity had fallen back into the sea. He had no soft thoughts for thegorp after what he had seen at the reef and the tales he had heard, butneither did he like what he saw now expressed in gestures, heard in thetones of voices about them. 

A storm priest put an end to the outcries. His dun cloak making a spot ofdarkness amid all the flashing color, he came straight to the place wherethe gorp swung. As he took his stand before the wriggling creature thedin gradually faded, the warriors settled back into their seats, a poolof quiet spread through the enclosure. 

Groft came up to take his position beside the priest. With both hands hecarried a two handled cup. It was not the ornamented goblet which stoodbefore each diner, but a manifestly older artifact, fashioned of somedull black substance and having the appearance of being even older thanthe hall or town. 

One of the warriors who had helped to bring in the gorp now made a quickand accurate cast with a looped rope, snaring the monster's head andpulling back almost at a right angle. With deliberation the storm priestproduced a knife--the first straight bladed weapon Dane had seen onSargol. He made a single thrust in the soft underpart of the gorp'sthroat, catching in the cup he took from Groft some of the ichor whichspurted from the wound. 

The gorp thrashed madly, spattering table and surrounding Salariki withits life fluid, but the attention of the crowd was riveted elsewhere. Into the old cup the priest poured another substance from a flask broughtby an underling. He shook the cup back and forth, as if to mix itscontents thoroughly and then handed it to Groft. 

Holding it before him the young chieftain leaped to the table top and soto stand before the high seat. There was a hush throughout the enclosure. Now even the gorp had ceased its wild struggles and hung limp in itsbonds. 

Groft raised the cup above his head and gave a loud shout in the archaiclanguage of his clan. He was answered by a chant from the warriors whowould in battle follow his banner, chant punctuated with the clinkingslap of knife blades brought down forcibly on the board. 

Three times he recited some formula and was answered by the others. Then, in another period of sudden quiet, he raised the cup to his lips anddrank off its contents in a single draught, turning the goblet upsidedown when he had done to prove that not a drop remained within. A shouttore through the great hall. The Salariki were all on their feet, wavingtheir knives over their heads in honor to their new ruler. And Groft forthe first time seated himself in the high seat. The clan was no longerwithout a chieftain. Groft held his father's place. 

"Show over?" Dane heard Stotz murmur and Van Rycke's disappointing reply:

"Not yet. They'll probably make a night of it. Here comes another roundof drinks--"

"And trouble with them, "--that was Captain Jellico being prophetic. 

"By the Coalsack's Ripcord!" That exclamation had been jolted out of Ripand Dane turned to see what had so jarred the usually sereneAstrogator-apprentice. He was just in time to witness an important pieceof Sargolian social practice. 

A young warrior, surely only within a year or so of receiving his knife, was facing an older Salarik, both on their feet. The head and shoulderfur of the older fighter was dripping wet and an empty goblet rolledacross the table to bump to the floor. A hush had fallen on the immediateneighbors of the pair, and there was an air of expectancy about thecompany. 

"Threw his drink all over the other fellow, " Rip's soft whisperexplained. "That means a duel--"

"Here and now?" Dane had heard of the personal combat proclivities of theSalariki. 

"Should be to the death for an insult such as that, " Ali remarked, asusual surveying the scene from his chosen role as bystander. As a childhe had survived the unspeakable massacres of the Crater War, nothing hadbeen able to crack his surface armor since. 

"The young fool!" that was Steen Wilcox sizing up the situation from theangle of a naturally cautious nature and some fifteen years of experienceon a great many different worlds. "He'll be mustered out for good beforehe knows what happened to him!"

The younger Salarik had barked a question at his elder and had beenpromptly answered by that dripping warrior. Now their neighbors came tolife with an efficiency which suggested that they had been waiting forsuch a move, it had happened so many times that every man knew just theright procedure from that point on. 

In order for a Sargolian feast to be a success, the Terrans gathered fromoverheard remarks, at least one duel must be staged sometime during thefestivities. And those not actively engaged did a lot of brisk betting inthe background. 

"Look there--at that fellow in the violet cloak, " Rip directed Dane. "Seewhat he just laid down?"

The nobleman in the violet cloak was not one of Groft's liege men, but amember of the delegation from another clan. And what he had laid down onthe table--indicating as he did so his choice as winner in the comingcombat, the elder warrior--was a small piece of white material on whichreposed a slightly withered but familiar leaf. The neighbor he wageredwith, eyed the stake narrowly, bending over to sniff at it, before hepiled up two gem set armlets, a personal scent box and a thumb ring tobalance. 

At this practical indication of just how much the Terran herb wasesteemed Dane regretted anew their earlier ignorance. He glanced alongthe board and saw that Van Rycke had noted that stake and was callingtheir Captain's attention to it. 

But such side issues were forgotten as the duelists vaulted into thecircle rimmed by the table, a space now vacated for their action. Theywere stripped to their loin cloths, their cloaks thrown aside. Eachcarried his net in his right hand, his claw knife ready in his left. Asyet the Traders had not seen Salarik against Salarik in action and inspite of themselves they edged forward in their seats, as intent as thenatives upon what was to come. The finer points of the combat were loston them, and they did not understand the drilled casts of the net, whichhad become as formalized through the centuries as the ancient and nowalmost forgotten sword play of their own world. The young Salarik hadgreater agility and speed, but the veteran who faced him had theexperience. 

To Terran eyes the duel had some of the weaving, sweeping movements ofthe earlier ritual dance. The swift evasions of the nets were gracefuland so timed that many times the meshes grazed the skin of the fighterwho fled entrapment. 

Dane believed that the elder man was tiring, and the youngster must haveshared that opinion. There was a leap to the right, a sudden flurry ofdart and retreat, and then a net curled high and fell, enfolding flailingarms and kicking legs. When the clutch rope was jerked tight, thecaptured youth was thrown off balance. He rolled frenziedly, but therewas no escaping the imprisoning strands. 

A shout applauded the victor. He stood now above his captive who laysupine, his throat or breast ready for either stroke of the knife hiscaptor wished to deliver. But it appeared that the winner was not mindedto end the encounter with blood. Instead he reached out a long, befurredarm, took up a filled goblet from the table and with seriousdeliberation, poured its contents onto the upturned face of the loser. 

For a moment there was a dead silence around the feast board and then asecond roar, to which the honestly relieved Terrans added spurts oflaughter. The sputtering youth was shaken free of the net and went downon his knees, tendering his opponent his knife, which the other thrustalong with his own into his sash belt. Dane gathered from overheardremarks that the younger man was, for a period of time, to be determinedby clan council, now the servant-slave of his overthrower and that sincethey were closely united by blood ties, this solution was consideredeminently suitable--though had the elder killed his opponent, no onewould have thought the worse of him for that deed. 

It was the Queen's men who were to provide the next center of attraction. Groft climbed down from his high seat and came to face across the boardthose who had accompanied him on the hunt. This time there was noescaping the sipping of the potent drink which the new chieftain sloppedfrom his own goblet into each of theirs. 

The fiery mouthful almost gagged Dane, but he swallowed manfully andhoped for the best as it burned like acid down his throat into hismiddle, there to mix uncomfortably with the viands he had eaten. Weeks'thin face looked very white, and Dane noticed with malicious enjoyment, that Ali had an unobtrusive grip on the table which made his knucklesstand out in polished knobs--proving that there _were_ things which couldupset the imperturbable Kamil. 

Fortunately they were _not_ required to empty that flowing bowl in onegulp as Groft had done. The ceremonial mouthful was deemed enough andDane sat down thankfully--but with uneasy fears for the future. 

Groft had started back to his high seat when there was an interruptionwhich had not been foreseen. A messenger threaded his way among theserving men and spoke to the chieftain, who glanced at the Terrans andthen nodded. 

Dane, his queasiness growing every second, was not attending until heheard a bitten off word from Rip's direction and looked up to see a partyof I-S men coming into the open space before the high seat. The men fromthe Queen stiffened--there was something in the attitude of the newcomerswhich hinted at trouble. 

"What do you wish, sky lords?" That was Groft using the Trade Lingo, hiseyes half closed as he lolled in his chair of state, almost as if he wereabout to witness some entertainment provided for his pleasure. 

"We wish to offer you the good fortune desires of our hearts--" That wasKallee, the flowery words rolling with the proper accent from his tongue. "And that you shall not forget us--we also offer gifts--"

At a gesture from their Cargo-master, the I-S men set down a small chest. Groft, his chin resting on a clenched fist, lost none of his lazy air. 

"They are received, " he retorted with the formal acceptance. "And no onecan have too much good fortune. The Howlers of the Black Winds knowthat. " But he tendered no invitation to join the feast. 

Kallee did not appear to be disconcerted. His next move was one whichtook his rivals by surprise, in spite of their suspicions. 

"Under the laws of the Fellowship, O, Groft, " he clung to the formalspeech, "I claim redress--"

Ali's hand moved. Through his growing distress Dane saw Van Rycke's jawtighten, the fighting mask snap back on Captain Jellico's face. Whatevercame now was real trouble. 

Groft's eyes flickered over the party from the Queen. Though he had justpledged cup friendship with four of them, he had the malicious humor ofhis race. He would make no move to head off what might be coming. 

"By the right of the knife and the net, " he intoned, "you have the powerto claim personal satisfaction. Where is your enemy?"

Kallee turned to face the Free Traders. "I hereby challenge a champion tobe set out from these off-worlders to meet by the blood and by the watermy champion--"

The Salariki were getting excited. This was superb entertainment, anengagement such as they had never hoped to see--alien against alien. Therising murmur of their voices was like the growl of a hunting beast. 

Groft smiled and the pleasure that expression displayed was neitherTerran--nor human. But then the clan leader was not either, Dane remindedhimself. 

"Four of these warriors are clan-bound, " he said. "But the others mayproduce a champion--"

Dane looked along the line of his comrades--Ali, Rip, Weeks and himselfhad just been ruled out. That left Jellico, Van Rycke, Karl Kosti, thegiant jetman whose strength they had to rely upon before, Stotz theEngineer, Medic Tau and Steen Wilcox. If it were strength alone he wouldhave chosen Kosti, but the big man was not too quick a thinker--

Jellico got to his feet, the embodiment of a star lane fighting man. Inthe flickering light the scar on his cheek seemed to ripple. "Who's yourchampion?" he asked Kallee. 

The Eysie Cargo-master was grinning. He was confident he had pushed theminto a position from which they could not extricate themselves. 

"You accept challenge?" he countered. 

Jellico merely repeated his question and Kallee beckoned forward one ofhis men. 

The Eysie who stepped up was no match for Kosti. He was a slender, almostwand-slim young man, whose pleased smirk said that he, too, was about toput something over on the notorious Free Traders. Jellico studied him fora couple of long seconds during which the hum of Salariki voices was thethreatening buzz of a disturbed wasps' nest. There was no way out ofthis--to refuse conflict was to lose all they had won with the clansmen. And they did not doubt that Kallee had, in some way, triggered the scalesagainst them. 

Jellico made the best of it. "We accept challenge, " his voice was level. "We, being guesting in Groft's holding, will fight after the manner ofthe Salariki who are proven warriors--" He paused as roars of pleasedacknowledgment arose around the board. 

"Therefore let us follow the custom of warriors and take up the net andthe knife--"

Was there a shade of dismay on Kallee's face?

"And the time?" Groft leaned forward to ask--but his satisfaction at sucha fine ending for his feast was apparent. This would be talked over byevery Sargolian for many storm seasons to come!

Jellico glanced up at the sky. "Say an hour after dawn, chieftain. Withyour leave, we shall confer concerning a champion. "

"My council room is yours, " Groft signed for a liege man to guide them. 

Chapter VII

BARRING ACCIDENT

The morning winds rustled through the grass forest and, closer to hand, it pulled at the cloaks of the Salariki. Clan nobles sat on stools, lesser folk squatted on the trampled stubble of the cleared groundoutside the stockade. In their many colored splendor the drab tunics ofthe Terrans were a blot of darkness at either end of the makeshift arenawhich had been marked out for them. 

At the conclusion of their conference the Queen's men had been forcedinto a course Jellico had urged from the first. He, and he alone, wouldrepresent the Free Traders in the coming duel. And now he stood there inthe early morning, stripped down to shorts and boots, wearing nothing onwhich a net could catch and so trap him. The Free Traders were certainthat the I-S men having any advantage would press it to the ultimatelimit and the death of Captain Jellico would make a great impression onthe Salariki. 

Jellico was taller than the Eysie who faced him, but almost as lean. Hardmuscles moved under his skin, pale where space tan had not burned in theyears of his star voyaging. And his every movement was with the liquidgrace of a man who, in his time, had been a master of the force blade. Now he gripped in his left hand the claw knife given him by Groft himselfand in the other he looped the throwing rope of the net. 

At the other end of the field, the Eysie man was industriously moving hisbootsoles back and forth across the ground, intent upon coating them withas much of the gritty sand as would adhere. And he displayed the supremeconfidence in himself which he had shown at the moment of challenge inthe Great Hall. 

None of the Free Trading party made the mistake of trying to give Jellicoadvice. The Captain had not risen to his command without learning hisduties. And the duties of a Free Trader covered a wide range of knowledgeand practice. One had to be equally expert with a blaster and a slingshotwhen the occasion demanded. Though Jellico had not fought a Salariki duelwith net and knife before, he had a deep memory of other weapons, othertactics which could be drawn upon and adapted to his present need. 

There was none of the casual atmosphere which had surrounded the affairbetween the Salariki clansmen in the hall. Here was ceremony. The stormpriests invoked their own particular grim Providence, and there was anoath taken over the weapons of battle. When the actual engagement beganthe betting among the spectators had reached, Dane decided, epicproportions. Large sections of Sargolian personal property were due tochange hands as a result of this encounter. 

As the chief priest gave the order to engage both Terrans advanced fromtheir respective ends of the fighting space with the half crouching, light footed tread of spacemen. Jellico had pulled his net into as closea resemblance to rope as its bulk would allow. The very type of weapon, so far removed from any the Traders knew, made it a disadvantage ratherthan an asset. 

But it was when the Eysie moved out to meet the Captain that Rip'sfingers closed about Dane's upper arm in an almost paralyzing grip. 

"He knows--"

Dane had not needed that bad news to be made vocal. Having seen theexploits of the Salariki duelists earlier, he had already caught thesignificance of that glide, of the way the I-S champion carried his net. The Eysie had not had any last minute instruction in the use of Sargolianweapons--he had practiced and, by his stance, knew enough to make him aformidable menace. The clamor about the Queen's party rose as thebattle-wise eyes of the clansmen noted that and the odds against Jellicoreached fantastic heights while the hearts of his crew sank. 

Only Van Rycke was not disturbed. Now and then he raised his smellingbottle to his nose with an elegant gesture which matched those of thebefurred nobility around him, as if not a thought of care ruffled hismind. 

The Eysie feinted in a opening which was a rather ragged copy of theyoung Salarik's more fluid moves some hours before. But, when the netsettled, Jellico was simply not there, his quick drop to one knee hadsent the mesh flailing in an arc over his bowed shoulders with a good sixinches to spare. And a cry of approval came not only from his comrades, but from those natives who had been gamblers enough to venture theirwagers on his performance. 

Dane watched the field and the fighters through a watery film. Thediscomfort he had experienced since downing that mouthful of the cup offriendship had tightened into a fist of pain clutching his middle in atorturing grip. But he knew he must stick it out until Jellico's ordealwas over. Someone stumbled against him and he glanced up to see Ali'sface, a horrible gray-green under the tan, close to his own. For a momentthe Engineer-apprentice caught at his arm for support and then with avisible effort straightened up. So he wasn't the only one--He looked forRip and Weeks and saw that they, too, were ill. 

But for a moment all that mattered was the stretch of trampled earth andthe two men facing each other. The Eysie made another cast and this time, although Jellico was not caught, the slap of the mesh raised a red welton his forearm. So far the Captain had been content to play the defensiverole of retreat, studying his enemy, planning ahead. 

The Eysie plainly thought the game his, that he had only to wait for afavorable moment and cinch the victory. Dane began to think it had goneon for weary hours. And he was dimly aware that the Salariki were alsorestless. One or two shouted angrily at Jellico in their own tongue. 

The end came suddenly. Jellico lost his footing, stumbled, and went down. But before his men could move, the Eysie champion bounded forward, hisnet whirling out. Only he never reached the Captain. In the very act offalling Jellico had pulled his legs under him so that he was not supinebut crouched, and his net swept but at ground level, clipping the I-S manabout the shins, entangling his feet so that he crashed heavily to thesod and lay still. 

"The whip--that Lalox whip trick!" Wilcox's voice rose triumphantly abovethe babble of the crowd. Using his net as if it had been a thong, Jellicohad brought down the Eysie with a move the other had not foreseen. 

Breathing hard, sweat running down his shoulders and making tracksthrough the powdery red dust which streaked him, Jellico got to his feetand walked over to the I-S champion who had not moved or made a soundsince his fall. The Captain went down on one knee to examine him. 

"Kill! Kill!" That was the Salariki, all their instinctive savageryaroused. 

But Jellico spoke to Groft. "By our customs we do not kill the conquered. Let his friends bear him hence. " He took the claw knife the Eysie stillclutched in his hand and thrust it into his own belt. Then he faced theI-S party and Kallee. 

"Take your man and get out!" The rein he had kept on his temper thesepast days was growing very thin. "You've made your last play here. "

Kallee's thick lips drew back in something close to a Salarik snarl. Butneither he nor his men made any reply. They bundled up their unconsciousfighter and disappeared. 

Of their own return to the sanctuary of the Queen Dane had only thedimmest of memories afterwards. He had made the privacy of the forestroad before he yielded to the demands of his outraged interior. And afterthat he had stumbled along with Van Rycke's hand under his arm, knowingfrom other miserable sounds that he was not alone in his torment. 

It was some time later, months he thought when he first roused, that hefound himself lying in his bunk, feeling very weak and empty as if alarge section of his middle had been removed, but also at peace with hisworld. As he levered himself up the cabin had a nasty tendency to moveslowly to the right as if he were a pivot on which it swung, and he hadall the sensations of being in free fall though the Queen was stillfirmly planeted. But that was only a minor discomfort compared to thedisturbance he remembered. 

Fed the semi-liquid diet prescribed by Tau and served up by Mura to himand his fellow sufferers, he speedily got back his strength. But it hadbeen a close call, he did not need Tau's explanation to underline that. Weeks had suffered the least of the four, he the most--though none ofthem had had an easy time. And they had been out of circulation threedays. 

"The Eysie blasted last night, " Rip informed him as they lounged in thesun on the ramp, sharing the blessed lazy hours of invalidism. 

But somehow that news gave Dane no lift of spirit. "I didn't think they'dgive up--"

Rip shrugged. "They may be off to make a dust-off before the Board. Only, thanks to Van and the Old Man, we're covered all along the line. There'snothing they can use against us to break our contract. And now we're inso solid they can't cut us out with the Salariki. Groft asked the Captainto teach him that trick with the net. I didn't know the Old Man knewLalox whip fighting--it's about one of the nastiest ways to get cut topieces in this universe--"

"How's trade going?"

Rip's sunniness clouded. "Supplies have given out. Weeks had anidea--but it won't bring in Koros. That red wood he's so mad about, he'spersuaded Van to stow some in the cargo holds since we have enough Korosstones to cover the voyage. Luckily the clansmen will take ordinary tradegoods in exchange for that and Weeks thinks it will sell on Terra. It'stough enough to turn a steel knife blade and yet it is light and easy tohandle when it's cured. Queer stuff and the color's interesting. Thatstockade of it planted around Groft's town has been up close to a hundredyears and not a sign of rot in a log of it!"

"Where is Van?"

"The storm priests sent for him. Some kind of a gabble-fest on thestar-star level, I gather. Otherwise we're almost ready to blast. And weknow what kind of cargo to bring next time. "

They certainly did, Dane agreed. But he was not to idle away his morning. An hour later a caravan came out of the forest, a line of complaining, burdened orgels, their tiny heads hanging low as they moaned their woes, the hard life which sent them on their sluggish way with piles of redlogs lashed to their broad toads' backs. Weeks was in charge of theprocession and Dane went to work with the cargo plan Van had left, seeingthat the brilliant scarlet lengths were hoist into the lower cargo hatchand stacked according to the science of stowage. He discovered that Riphad been right, the wood for all its incredible hardness was light ofweight. Weak as he still was he could lift and stow a full sized log withno great difficulty. And he thought Weeks was correct in thinking that itwould sell on their home world. The color was novel, the durability anasset--it would not make fortunes as the Koros stones might, but everybit of profit helped and this cargo might cover their fielding fees onTerra. 

Sinbad was in the cargo space when the first of the logs came in. Withhis usual curiosity the striped tom cat prowled along the wood, sniffingindustriously. Suddenly he stopped short, spat and backed away, his spinefur a roughened crest. Having backed as far as the inner door he turnedand slunk out. Puzzled, Dane gave the wood a swift inspection. There wereno cracks or crevices in the smooth surfaces, but as he stopped over thelogs he became conscious of a sharp odor. So this was one scent of theperfumed planet Sinbad did not like. Dane laughed. Maybe they had betterhave Weeks make a gate of the stuff and slip it across the ramp, keepingSinbad on ship board. Odd--it wasn't an unpleasant odor--at least to himit wasn't--just sharp and pungent. He sniffed again and was vaguelysurprised to discover that it was less noticeable now. Perhaps the woodwhen taken out of the sunlight lost its scent. 

They packed the lower hold solid in accordance with the rules of stowageand locked the hatch before Van Rycke returned from his meeting with thestorm priests. When the Cargo-master came back he was followed by twoservants bearing between them a chest. 

But there was something in Van Rycke's attitude, apparent to those whoknew him best, that proclaimed he was not too well pleased with hismorning's work. Sparing the feelings of the accompanying storm priestsabout the offensiveness of the spacer Captain Jellico and Steen Wilcoxwent out to receive them in the open. Dane watched from the hatch, awarethat in his present pariah-hood it would not be wise to venture closer. 

The Terran Traders were protesting some course of action that theSalariki were firmly insistent upon. In the end the natives won and Kostiwas summoned to carry on board the chest which the servants had brought. Having seen it carried safely inside the spacer, the aliens departed, but Van Rycke was frowning and Jellico's fingers were beating a tattoo onhis belt as they came up the ramp. 

"I don't like it, " Jellico stated as he entered. 

"It was none of my doing, " Van Rycke snapped. "I'll take risks if I haveto--but there's something about this one--" he broke off, two deep linesshowing between his thick brows. "Well, you can't teach a sasseral tospit, " he ended philosophically. "We'll have to do the best we can. "

But Jellico did not look at all happy as he climbed to the controlsection. And before the hour was out the reason for the Captain'suneasiness was common property throughout the ship. 

Having sampled the delights of off-world herbs, the Salariki weredetermined to not be cut off from their source of supply. Six Terranmonths from the present Sargolian date would come the great yearly feastof the Fifty Storms, and the priests were agreed that this year theirinfluence and power would be doubled if they could offer the devoutcertain privileges in the form of Terran plants. Consequently they hadproduced and forced upon the reluctant Van Rycke the Koros collection oftheir order, with instructions that it be sold on Terra and the pricereturned to them in the precious seeds and plants. In vain theCargo-master and Captain had pointed out that Galactic trade was a chancything at the best, that accident might prevent return of the Queen toSargol. But the priests had remained adamant and saw in all sucharguments only a devious attempt to raise prices. They quoted in theirturn the information they had levered out of the Company men--thatTraders had their code and that once pay had been given in advance thecontract _must_ be fulfilled. They, and they alone, wanted the full cargoof the Queen on her next voyage, and they were taking the one way theywere sure of achieving that result. 

So a fortune in Koros stones which as yet did not rightfully belong tothe Traders was now in the Queen's strong-room and her crew were pledgedby the strongest possible tie known in their Service to set down onSargol once more before the allotted time had passed. The Free Tradersdid not like it, there was even a vaguely superstitious feeling that sucha bargain would inevitably draw ill luck to them. But they were left withno choice if they wanted to retain their influence with the Salariki. 

"Cutting orbit pretty fine, aren't we?" Ali asked Rip across the messtable. "I saw your two star man sweating it out before he came down toshoot the breeze with us rocket monkeys--"

Rip nodded. "Steen's double checked every computation and some he's donefour times. " He ran his hands over his close cropped head with a wearygesture. As a semi-invalid he had been herded down with his fellows toswallow the builder Mura had concocted and Tau insisted that they take, but he had been doing a half a night's work on the plotter under hischief's exacting eye before he came. "The latest news is that, barringaccident, we can make it with about three weeks' grace, give or take aday or two--"

"Barring accident--" the words rang in the air. Here on the frontiers ofthe star lanes there were so many accidents, so many delays which couldput a ship behind schedule. Only on the main star trails did the hugeliners or Company ships attempt to keep on regularly timed trips. A FreeTrader did not really dare to have an inelastic contract. 

"What does Stotz say?" Dane asked Ali. 

"He says he can deliver. We don't have the headache about setting acourse--you point the nose and we only give her the boost to send heralong. "

Rip sighed. "Yes--point her nose. " He inspected his nails. "Goodbye, " headded gravely. "These won't be here by the time we planet here again. I'll have my fingers gnawed off to the first knuckle. Well, we lift atsix hours. Pleasant strap down. " He drank the last of the stuff in hismug, made a face at the flavor, and got to his feet, due back at his postin control. 

Dane, free of duty until the ship earthed, drifted back to his own cabin, sure of part of a night's undisturbed rest before they blasted off. Sinbad was curled on his bunk. For some reason the cat had not beenprowling the ship before take-off as he usually did. First he had sat onVan's desk and now he was here, almost as if he wanted human company. Dane picked him up and Sinbad rumbled a purr, arching his head so that itrubbed against the young man's chin in an extremely uncharacteristic showof affection. Smoothing the fur along the cat's jaw line Dane carried himback to the Cargo-master's cabin. 

With some hesitation he knocked at the panel and did not step in until hehad Van Rycke's muffled invitation. The Cargo-master was stretched on thebunk, two of the take off straps already fastened across his bulk as ifhe intended to sleep through the blast-off. 

"Sinbad, sir. Shall I stow him?"

Van Rycke grunted an assent and Dane dropped the cat in the small hammockwhich was his particular station, fastening the safety cords. For onceSinbad made no protest but rolled into a ball and was promptly fastasleep. For a moment or two Dane thought about this unnatural behaviorand wondered if he should call it to the Cargo-master's attention. Perhaps on Sargol Sinbad had had _his_ equivalent of a friendship cupand needed a check-up by Tau. 

"Stowage correct?" the question, coming from Van Rycke, was also unusual. The seal would not have been put across the hold lock had its contentsnot been checked and rechecked. 

"Yes, sir, " Dane replied woodenly, knowing he was still in the outerdarkness. "There was just the wood--we stowed it according to chart. "

Van Rycke grunted once more. "Feeling top-layer again?"

"Yes, sir. Any orders, sir?"

"No. Blast-off's at six. "

"Yes, sir. " Dane left the cabin, closing the panel carefully behind him. Would he--or could he--he thought drearily, get back in Van Rycke'sprofit column again? Sargol had been unlucky as far as he was concerned. First he had made that stupid mistake and then he got sick and now--Andnow--what _was_ the matter? Was it just the general attack of nerves overtheir voyage and the commitments which forced their haste, or was itsomething else? He could not rid himself of a vague sense that the Queenwas about to take off into real trouble. And he did not like thesensation at all!

Chapter VIII

HEADACHES

They lifted from Sargol on schedule and went into Hyper also on schedule. From that point on there was nothing to do but wait out the usual dulltime of flight between systems and hope that Steen Wilcox had plotted acourse which would cut that flight time to a minimum. But this voyagethere was little relaxation once they were in Hyper. No matter when Danedropped into the mess cabin, which was the common meeting place of thespacer, he was apt to find others there before him, usually with a mug ofone of Mura's special brews close at hand, speculating about theirlanding date. 

Dane, himself, once he had thrown off the lingering effects of hisSargolian illness, applied time to his studies. When he had first joinedthe Queen as a recruit straight out of the training Pool, he had speedilylearned that all the ten years of intensive study then behind him hadonly been an introduction to the amount he still had to absorb before hecould take his place as an equal with such a trader as Van Rycke--if hehad the stuff which would raise him in time to that exalted level. Whilehe had still had his superior's favor he had dared to treat him as aninstructor, going to him with perplexing problems of stowage or barter. But now he had no desire to intrude upon the Cargo-master, and doggedlywrestled with the microtapes of old records on his own, painfullyworking out the why and wherefor for any departure from the regularprocedure. He had no inkling of his own future status--whether the returnto Terra would find him permanently earthed. And he would ask noquestions. 

They had been four days of ship's time in Hyper when Dane walked into themess cabin, tired after his work with old records, to discover no Murabusy in the galley beyond, no brew steaming on the heat coil. Rip sat atthe table, his long legs stuck out, his usually happy face very sober. 

"What's wrong?" Dane reached for a mug, then seeing no pot of drink, putit back in place. 

"Frank's sick--"

"What!" Dane turned. Illness such as they had run into on Sargol had alogical base. But illness on board ship was something else. 

"Tau has him isolated. He has a bad headache and he blacked out when hetried to sit up. Tau's running tests. "

Dane sat down. "Could be something he ate--"

Rip shook his head. "He wasn't at the feast--remember? And he didn't eatanything from outside, he swore that to Tau. In fact he didn't go dirtmuch while we were down--"

That was only too true as Dane could now recall. And the fact that thesteward had not been at the feast, had not sampled native food products, wiped out the simplest and most comforting reasons for his presentcollapse. 

"What's this about Frank?" Ali stood in the doorway. "He said yesterdaythat he had a headache. But now Tau has him shut off--"

"But he wasn't at that feast. " Ali stopped short as the implications ofthat struck him. "How's Tang feeling?"

"Fine--why?" The Com-tech had come up behind Kamil and was answering forhimself. "Why this interest in the state of my health?"

"Frank's down with something--in isolation, " Rip replied bluntly. "Did hedo anything out of the ordinary when we were off ship?"

For a long moment the other stared at Shannon and then he shook his head. "No. And he wasn't dirt-side to any extent either. So Tau's runningtests--" He lapsed into silence. None of them wished to put theirthoughts into words. 

Dane picked up the microtape he had brought with him and went on down thecorridor to return it. The panel of the cargo office was ajar and to hisrelief he found Van Rycke out. He shoved the tape back in its case andpulled out the next one. Sinbad was there, not in his own privatehammock, but sprawled out on the Cargo-master's bunk. He watched Danelazily, mouthing a silent mew of welcome. For some reason since they hadblasted from Sargol the cat had been lazy--as if his adventures afieldthere had sapped much of his vitality. 

"Why aren't you out working?" Dane asked as he leaned over to scratchunder a furry chin raised for the benefit of such a caress. "You inspectthe hold lately, boy?"

Sinbad merely blinked and after the manner of his species lookedinfinitely bored. As Dane turned to go the Cargo-master came in. Heshowed no surprise at Dane's presence. Instead he reached out andfingered the label of the tape Dane had just chosen. After a glance atthe identifying symbol he took it out of his assistant's hand, plopped itback in its case, and stood for a moment eyeing the selection of pastvoyage records. With a tongue-click of satisfaction he pulled out anotherand tossed it across the desk to Dane. 

"See what you can make out of this tangle, " he ordered. But Dane'sshoulders went back as if some weight had been lifted from them. The oldeasiness was still lacking, but he was no longer exiled to the outerdarkness of Van Rycke's displeasure. 

Holding the microtape as if it were a first grade Koros stone Dane wentback to his own cabin, snapped the tape into his reader, adjusted the earbuttons and lay back on his bunk to listen. 

He was deep in the intricacy of a deal so complicated that he was lostafter the first two moves, when he opened his eyes to see Ali at the doorpanel. The Engineer-apprentice made an emphatic beckoning wave and Daneslipped off the ear buttons. 

"What is it?" His question lacked a cordial note. 

"I've got to have help. " Ali was terse. "Kosti's blacked out!"

"What!" Dane sat up and dropped his feet to the deck in almost onemovement. 

"I can't shift him alone, " Ali stated the obvious. The giant jetman wasalmost double his size. "We must get him to his quarters. And I won't askStotz--"

For a perfectly good reason Dane knew. An assistant--two of theapprentices--could go sick, but their officers' continued good healthmeant the most to the Queen. If some infection were aboard it would bebetter for Ali and himself to be exposed, than to have Johan Stotz withall his encyclopedic knowledge of the ship's engines contract anydisease. 

They found the jetman half sitting, half lying in the short foot or so ofcorridor which led to his own cubby. He had been making for his quarterswhen the seizure had taken him. And by the time the two reached his side, he was beginning to come around, moaning, his hands going to his head. 

Together they got him on his feet and guided him to his bunk where hecollapsed again, dead weight they had to push into place. Dane looked atAli--

"Tau?"

"Haven't had time to call him yet. " Ali was jerking at the thigh strapswhich fastened Kosti's space boots. 

"I'll go. " Glad for the task Dane sped up the ladder to the next sectionand threaded the narrow side hall to the Medic's cabin where he knockedon the panel. 

There was a pause before Craig Tau looked out, deep lines of wearinessbracketing his mouth, etched between his eyes. 

"Kosti, sir, " Dane gave his bad news quickly. "He's collapsed. We got himto his cabin--"

Tau showed no sign of surprise. His hand shot out for his kit. 

"You touched him?" At the other's nod he added an order. "Stay in yourquarters until I have a chance to look you over--understand?"

Dane had no chance to answer, the Medic was already on his way. He wentto his own cabin, understanding the reason for his imprisonment, butinwardly rebelling against it. Rather than sit idle he snapped on thereader--but, although facts and figures were dunned into his ears--hereally heard very little. He couldn't apply himself--not with a newspecter leering at him from the bulkhead. 

The dangers of the space lanes were not to be numbered, death walkedamong the stars a familiar companion of all spacemen. And to the FreeTrader it was the extra and invisible crewman on every ship that raised. But there were deaths and deaths--And Dane could not forget the gruesomelegends Van Rycke collected avidly as his hobby--had recorded in hisprivate library of the folk lore of space. 

Stories such as that of the ghostly "New Hope" carrying refugees from thefirst Martian Rebellion--the ship which had lifted for the stars but hadnever arrived, which wandered for a timeless eternity, a derelict in freefall, its port closed but the warning "dead" lights on at its nose--aship which through five centuries had been sighted only by a spacer insimilar distress. Such stories were numerous. There were other tales of"plague" ships wandering free with their dead crews, or discovered andshot into some sun by a patrol cruiser so that they might not carry theirinfection farther. Plague--the nebulous "worst" the Traders had to face. Dane screwed his eyes shut, tried to concentrate upon the droning voicein his ears, but he could not control his thoughts nor--his fears. 

At a touch on his arm he started so wildly that he jerked the cord loosefrom the reader and sat up, somewhat shamefaced, to greet Tau. At theMedic's orders he stripped for one of the most complete examinations hehad ever undergone outside a quarantine port. It included an almostmicroscopic inspection of the skin on his neck and shoulders, but whenTau had done he gave a sigh of relief. 

"Well, you haven't got it--at least you don't show any signs yet, " heamended his first statement almost before the words were out of hismouth. 

"What were you looking for?"

Tau took time out to explain. "Here, " his fingers touched the smallhollow at the base of Dane's throat and then swung him around andindicated two places on the back of his neck and under his shoulderblades. "Kosti and Mura both have red eruptions here. It's as if theyhave been given an injection of some narcotic. " Tau sat down on the jumpseat while Dane dressed. "Kosti was dirt-side--he might have picked upsomething--"

"But Mura--"

"That's it!" Tau brought his fist down on the edge of the bunk. "Frankhardly left the ship--yet he showed the first signs. On the other handyou are all right so far and you were off ship. And Ali's clean and hewas with you on the hunt. We'll just have to wait and see. " He got upwearily. "If your head begins to ache, " he told Dane, "you get back herein a hurry and stay put--understand?"

As Dane learned all the other members of the crew were given the sametype of inspection. But none of them showed the characteristic markswhich meant trouble. They were on course for Terra--but--and that butmust have loomed large in all their minds--once there would they beallowed to land? Could they even hope for a hearing? Plague ship--Taumust find the answer before they came into normal space about their ownsolar system or they were in for such trouble as made a broken contractseem the simplest of mishaps. 

Kosti and Mura were in isolation. There were volunteers for nursing andTau, unable to be in two places at once, finally picked Weeks to lookafter his crewmate in the engineering section. 

There was doubling up of duties. Tau could no longer share with Mura thecare of the hydro garden so Van Rycke took over. While Dane found himselfin charge of the galley and, while he did not have Mura's deft hand atdisguising the monotonous concentrates to the point they resembled freshfood, after a day or two he began to experiment cautiously and produced astew which brought some short words of appreciation from Captain Jellico. 

They all breathed a sigh of relief when, after three days, no more signsof the mysterious illness showed on new members of the crew. It becameroutine to parade before Tau stripped to the waist each morning for theinspection of the danger points, and the Medic's vigilance did notrelax. 

In the meantime neither Mura nor Kosti appeared to suffer. Once theinitial stages of headaches and blackouts were passed, the patientslapsed into a semi-conscious state as if they were under sedation of sometype. They would eat, if the food was placed in their mouths, but theydid not seem to know what was going on about them, nor did they answerwhen spoken to. 

Tau, between visits to them, worked feverishly in his tiny lab, analyzingblood samples, reading the records of obscure diseases, trying to findthe reason for their attacks. But as yet his discoveries were exactlynothing. He had come out of his quarters and sat in limp exhaustion atthe mess table while Dane placed before him a mug of stimulating caf-hag. 

"I don't get it!" The Medic addressed the table top rather than theamateur cook. "It's a poison of some kind. Kosti went dirt-side--Muradidn't. Yet Mura came down with it first. And we didn't ship any foodfrom Sargol. Neither did he eat any while we were there. Unless he didand we didn't know about it. If I could just bring him to long enough toanswer a couple of questions!" Sighing he dropped his weary head on hisfolded arms and within seconds was asleep. 

Dane put the mug back on the heating unit and sat down at the other endof the table. He did not have the heart to shake Tau intowakefulness--let the poor devil get a slice of bunk time, he certainlyneeded it after the fatigues of the past four days. 

Van Rycke passed along the corridor on his way to the hydro, Sinbad athis heels. But in a moment the cat was back, leaping up on Dane's knee. He did not curl up, but rubbed against the young man's arm, finallyreaching up with a paw to touch Dane's chin, uttering one of thesoundless, mews which were his bid for attention. 

"What's the matter, boy?" Dane fondled the cat's ears. "You haven't gota headache--have you?" In that second a wild surmise came into his mind. Sinbad had been planet-side on Sargol as much as he could, and on shipboard he was equally at home in all their cabins--could he be the carrierof the disease?

A good idea--only if it were true, then logically the second victimshould have been Van, or Dane--whereas Sinbad lingered most of the timein their cabins--not Kosti. The cat, as far as he knew, had never shownany particular fondness for the jetman and certainly did not sleep inKarl's quarters. No--that point did not fit. But he would mention it toTau--no use overlooking anything--no matter how wild. 

It was the sequence of victims which puzzled them all. As far as Tau hadbeen able to discover Mura and Kosti had nothing much in common exceptthat they were crewmates on the same spacer. They did not bunk in thesame section, their fields of labor were totally different, they had nospecial food or drink tastes in common, they were not even of the samerace. Frank Mura was one of the few descendants of a mysterious (or nowmysterious) people who had had their home on a series of islands in oneof Terra's seas, islands which almost a hundred years before had beenswallowed up in a series of world-rending quakes--Japan was the ancientname of that nation. While Karl Kosti had come from the once thicklypopulated land masses half the planet away which had borne thegeographical name of "Europe. " No, all the way along the two victims hadonly very general meeting points--they both shipped on the Solar Queenand they were both of Terran birth. 

Tau stirred and sat up, blinking bemusedly at Dane, then pushed back hiswiry black hair and assumed a measure of alertness. Dane dropped the nowpurring cat in the Medic's lap and in a few sentences outlined hissuspicion. Tau's hands closed about Sinbad. 

"There's a chance in that--" He looked a little less beat and he drankthirstily from the mug Dane gave him for the second time. Then he hurriedout with Sinbad under one arm--bound for his lab. 

Dane slicked up the galley, trying to put things away as neatly as Murakept them. He didn't have much faith in the Sinbad lead, but in this caseeverything must be checked out. 

When the Medic did not appear during the rest of the ship's day Dane wasnot greatly concerned. But he was alerted to trouble when Ali came inwith an inquiry and a complaint. 

"Seen anything of Craig?"

"He's in the lab, " Dane answered. 

"He didn't answer my knock, " Ali protested. "And Weeks says he hasn'tbeen in to see Karl all day--"

That did catch Dane's attention. Had his half hunch been right? Was Tauon the trail of a discovery which had kept him chained to the lab? But itwasn't like the Medic not to look in on his patients. 

"You're sure he isn't in the lab?"

"I told you that he didn't answer my knock. I didn't open the panel--"But now Ali was already in the corridor heading back the way he had come, with Dane on his heels, an unwelcome explanation for that silence in boththeir minds. And their fears were reinforced by what they heard as theyapproached the panel--a low moan wrung out of unbearable pain. Danethrust the sliding door open. 

Tau had slipped from his stool to the floor. His hands were at his headwhich rolled from side to side as if he were trying to quiet some agony. Dane stripped down the Medic's under tunic. There was no need to make acareful examination, in the hollow of Craig Tau's throat was thetell-tale red blotch. 

"Sinbad!" Dane glanced about the cabin. "Did Sinbad get out past you?" hedemanded of the puzzled Ali. 

"No--I haven't seen him all day--"

Yet the cat was nowhere in the tiny cabin and it had no concealed hidingplace. To make doubly sure Dane secured the panel before they carried Tauto his bunk. The Medic had blacked out again, passed into the lethargicsecond stage of the malady. At least he was out of the pain whichappeared to be the worst symptom of the disease. 

"It must be Sinbad!" Dane said as he made his report directly to CaptainJellico. "And yet--"

"Yes, he's been staying in Van's cabin, " the Captain mused. "And you'vehandled him, he slept on your bunk. Yet you and Van are all right. Idon't understand that. Anyway--to be on the safe side--we'd better findand isolate him before--"

He didn't have to underline any words for the grim-faced men wholistened. With Tau--their one hope of fighting the disease gone--they hada black future facing them. 

They did not have to search for Sinbad. Dane coming down to his ownsection found the cat crouched before the panel of Van Rycke's cabin, hiseyes glued to the thin crack of the door. Dane scooped him up and tookhim to the small cargo space intended for the safeguarding of choiceitems of commerce. To his vast surprise Sinbad began fighting wildly ashe opened the hatch, kicking and then slashing with ready claws. The catseemed to go mad and Dane had all he could do to shut him in. When hesnapped the panel he heard Sinbad launch himself against the barrier asif to batter his way out. Dane, blood welling in several deep scratches, went in search of first aid. But some suspicion led him to pause as hepassed Van Rycke's door. And when his knock brought no answer he pushedthe panel open. 

Van Rycke lay on his bunk, his eyes half closed in a way which had becomeonly too familiar to the crew of the Solar Queen. And Dane knew that whenhe looked for it he would find the mark of the strange plague on theCargo-master's body. 

Chapter IX

PLAGUE!

Jellico and Steen Wilcox pored over the few notes Tau had made before hewas stricken. But apparently the Medic had found nothing to indicate thatSinbad was the carrier of any disease. Meanwhile the Captain gave ordersfor the cat to be confined. A difficult task--since Sinbad crouched closeto the door of the storage cabin and was ready to dart out when food wastaken in for him. Once he got a good way down the corridor before Danewas able to corner and return him to keeping. 

Dane, Ali and Weeks took on the full care of the four sick men, leavingthe few regular duties of the ship to the senior officers, while Rip wasinstalled in charge of the hydro garden. 

Mura, the first to be taken ill, showed no change. He was semi-conscious, he swallowed food if it were put in his mouth, he responded to nothingaround him. And Kosti, Tau, and Van Rycke followed the same pattern. They still held morning inspection of those on their feet for signs of anew outbreak, but when no one else went down during the next two days, they regained a faint spark of hope. 

Hope which was snapped out when Ali brought the news that Stotz could notbe roused and must have taken ill during a sleep period. One more inertpatient was added to the list--and nothing learned about how he wasinfected. Except that they could eliminate Sinbad, since the cat had beenin custody during the time Stotz had apparently contracted the disease. 

Weeks, Ali and Dane, though they were in constant contact with the sickmen, and though Dane had repeatedly handled Sinbad, continued to beimmune. A fact, Dane thought more than once, which must havesignificance--if someone with Tau's medical knowledge had been able tostudy it. By all rights they should be the most susceptible--but theopposite seemed true. And Wilcox duly noted that fact among the data theyhad recorded. 

It became a matter of watching each other, waiting for another collapse. And they were not surprised when Tang Ya reeled into the mess, his facelivid and drawn with pain. Rip and Dane got him to his cabin before heblacked out. But all they could learn from him during the interval beforehe lost consciousness was that his head was bursting and he couldn'tstand it. Over his limp body they stared at one another bleakly. 

"Six down, " Ali observed, "and six to go. How do you feel?"

"Tired, that's all. What I don't understand is that once they go intothis stupor they just stay. They don't get any worse, they have no risein temperature--it's as if they are in a modified form of cold sleep!"

"How is Tang?" Rip asked from the corridor. 

"Usual pattern, " Ali answered, "He's sleeping. Got a pain, Fella?"

Rip shook his head. "Right as a Com-unit. I don't get it. Why does itstrike Tang who didn't even hit dirt much--and yet you keep on--?"

Dane grimaced. "If we had an answer to that, maybe we'd know what causedthe whole thing--"

Ali's eyes narrowed. He was staring straight at the unconscious Com-techas if he did not see that supine body at all. "I wonder if we've beensalted--" he said slowly. 

"We've been _what?_" Dane demanded. 

"Look here, we three--with Weeks--drank that brew of the Salariki, didn'twe? And we--"

"Were as sick as Venusian gobblers afterwards, " agreed Rip. 

Light dawned. "Do you mean--" began Dane. 

"So that's it!" flashed Rip. 

"It might just be, " Ali said. "Do you remember how the settlers onCamblyne brought their Terran cattle through the first year? They fedthem salt mixed with fansel grass. The result was that the herds didn'ttake the fansel grass fever when they turned them out to pasture in thedry season. All right, maybe we had our 'salt' in that drink. Thefansel-salt makes the cattle filthy sick when it's forced down theirthroats, but after they recover they're immune to the fever. And nobodyon Camblyne buys unsalted cattle now. "

"It sounds logical, " admitted Rip. "But how are we going to prove it?"

Ali's face was black once more. "Probably by elimination, " he saidmorosely. "If we keep our feet and all the rest go down--that's ourproof. "

"But we ought to be able to do something--" protested Shannon. 

"Just how?" Ali's slender brows arched. "Do you have a gallon of thatSalariki brew on board you can serve out? We don't know what was in it. Nor are we sure that this whole idea has any value. "

All of them had had first aid and basic preventive medicine as part oftheir training, but the more advanced laboratory experimentation wasbeyond their knowledge and skill. Had Tau still been on his feet perhapshe could have traced that lead and brought order out of the chaos whichwas closing in upon the Solar Queen. But, though they reported theirsuggestion to the Captain, Jellico was powerless to do anything about it. If the four who had shared that upsetting friendship cup were immune tothe doom which now overhung the ship, there was no possible way for themto discover why or how. 

Ship's time came to have little meaning. And they were not surprised whenSteen Wilcox slipped from his seat before the computer--to be stowed awaywith what had become a familiar procedure. Only Jellico withstood thecontagion apart from the younger four, taking his turn at caring for thehelpless men. There was no change in their condition. They neither rousednor grew worse as the hours and then the days sped by. But each of thoseunits of time in passing brought them nearer to greater danger. Sooner orlater they must make the transition out of Hyper into system space, andthe jump out of warp was something not even a veteran took lightly. Rip'sround face thinned while they watched. Jellico was still functioning. Butif the Captain collapsed the whole responsibility for the snap-out wouldfall directly on Shannon. An infinitesimal error would condemn them toalmost hopeless wandering--perhaps for ever. 

Dane and Ali relieved Rip of all duty but that which kept him chained inWilcox's chair before the computers. He went over and over the data ofthe course the Astrogator had set. And Captain Jellico, his eyes sunk indark pits, checked and rechecked. 

When the fatal moment came Ali manned the engine room with Weeks at hiselbow to tend the controls the acting-Engineer could not reach. And Dane, having seen the sick all safely stowed in crash webbing, came up to thecontrol cabin, riding out the transfer in Tang Ya's place. 

Rip's voice hoarsened into a croak, calling out the data. Dane, though hehad had basic theory, was completely lost before Shannon had finished thefirst set of co-ordinates. But Jellico replied, hands playing across thepilot's board. 

"Stand-by for snap-out--" the croak went down to the engines where Alinow held Stotz's post. 

"Engines ready!" The voice came back, thinned by its journey from theQueen's interior. 

"Ought-five-nine--" That was Jellico. 

Dane found himself suddenly unable to watch. He shut his eyes and bracedhimself against the vertigo of snap-out. It came and he whirledsickeningly through unstable space. Then he was sitting in the lacedCom-tech's seat looking at Rip. 

Runnels of sweat streaked Shannon's brown face. There was a damp patchdarkening his tunic between his shoulder blades, a patch which it wouldtake both of Dane's hands to cover. 

For a moment he did not raise his head to look at the vision plate whichwould tell him whether or not they had made it. But when he did familiarconstellations made the patterns they knew. They were out--and theycouldn't be too far off the course Wilcox had plotted. There was stillthe system run to make--but snap-out was behind them. Rip gave a deepsigh and buried his head in his hands. 

With a throb of fear Dane unhooked his safety belt and hurried over tohim. When he clutched at Shannon's shoulder the Astrogator-apprentice'shead rolled limply. Was Rip down with the illness too? But the othermuttered and opened his eyes. 

"Does your head ache?" Dane shook him. 

"Head? No--" Rip's words came drowsily. "Jus' sleepy--so sleepy--"

He did not seem to be in pain. But Dane's hands were shaking as hehoisted the other out of his seat and half carried-half led him to hiscabin, praying as he went that it was only fatigue and not the disease. The ship was on auto now until Jellico as pilot set a course--

Dane got Rip down on the bunk and stripped off his tunic. The fine-drawnface of the sleeper looked wan against the foam rest, and he snuggledinto the softness like a child as he turned over and curled up. But hisskin was clear--it was real sleep and not the plague which had claimedhim. 

Impulse sent Dane back to the control cabin. He was not an experiencedpilot officer, but there might be some assistance he could offer theCaptain now that Rip was washed out, perhaps for hours. 

Jellico hunched before the smaller computer, feeding pilot tape into itsslot. His face was a skull under a thin coating of skin, the bonesmarking it sharply at jaw, nose and eye socket. 

"Shannon down?" His voice was a mere whisper of its powerful self, he didnot turn his head. 

"He's just worn out, sir, " Dane hastened to give reassurance. "The marksaren't on him. "

"When he comes around tell him the co-ords are in, " Jellico murmured. "See he checks course in ten hours--"

"But, sir--" Dane's protest failed as he watched the Captain struggle tohis feet, pulling himself up with shaking hands. As Thorson reachedforward to steady the other, one of those hands tore at tunic collar, ripping loose the sealing--

There was no need for explanation--the red splotch signaled fromJellico's sweating throat. He kept his feet, holding out against thewaves of pain by sheer will power. Then Dane had a grip on him, got himaway from the computer, hoping he could keep him going until they reachedJellico's cabin. 

Somehow they made that journey, being greeted with raucous screams fromthe Hoobat. Furiously Dane slapped the cage, setting it to swinging andso silencing the creature which stared at him with round, malignant eyesas he got the Captain to bed. 

Only four of them on their feet now, Dane thought bleakly as he left thecabin. If Rip came out of it in time they could land--Dane's breathcaught as he made himself face up to the fact that Shannon might be ill, that it might be up to him to bring the Queen in for a landing. And inwhere? The Terra quarantine was Luna City on the Moon. But let themsignal for a set-down there--let them describe what had happened and theymight face death as a plague ship. 

Wearily he climbed down to the mess cabin to discover Weeks and Ali therebefore him. They did not look up as he entered. 

"Old Man's got it, " he reported. 

"Rip?" was Ali's crossing question. 

"Asleep. He passed out--"

"What!" Weeks swung around. 

"Worn out, " Dane amended. "Captain fed in a pilot tape before he gaveup. "

"So--now we are three, " was Ali's comment. "Where do we set down--LunaCity?"

"If they let us, " Dane hinted at the worst. 

"But they've got to let us!" Weeks exclaimed. "We can't just wanderaround out here--"

"It's been done, " Ali reminded them brutally and that silenced Weeks. 

"Did the Old Man set Luna?" After a long pause Ali inquired. 

"I didn't check, " Dane confessed. "He was giving out and I had to get himto his bunk. "

"It might be well to know. " The Engineer-apprentice got up, his movementslacking much of the elastic spring which was normally his. When heclimbed to control both the others followed him. 

Ali's slender fingers played across a set of keys and in the small screenmounting on the computer a set of figures appeared. Dane took up themaster course book, read the connotation and blinked. 

"Not Luna?" Ali asked. 

"No. But I don't understand. This must be for somewhere in the asteroidbelt. "

Ali's lips stretched into a pale caricature of a smile. "Good for the OldMan, he still had his wits about him, even after the bug bit him!"

"But why are we going to the asteroids?" Weeks asked reasonably enough. "There're Medics at Luna City--they can help us--"

"They can handle known diseases, " Ali pointed out. "But what of theCode?"

Weeks dropped into the Com-tech's place as if some of the stiffening hadvanished from his thin but sturdy legs. "They wouldn't do that--" heprotested, but his eyes said that he knew that they might--they wellmight. 

"Oh, no? Face the facts, man, " Ali sounded almost savage. "We come from afrontier planet, we're a plague ship--"

He did not have to underline that. They all knew too well the danger inwhich they now stood. 

"Nobody's died yet, " Weeks tried to find an opening in the net beingdrawn about them. 

"And nobody's recovered, " Ali crushed that thread of hope. "We don't knowwhat it is, how it is contracted--anything about it. Let us make a reportsaying that and you know what will happen--don't you?"

They weren't sure of the details, but they could guess. 

"So I say, " Ali continued, "the Old Man was right when he set us on anevasion course. If we can stay out until we really know what is thematter we'll have some chance of talking over the high brass at Luna whenwe do planet--"

In the end they decided not to interfere with the course the Captain hadset. It would take them into the fringes of solar civilization, but givethem a fighting chance at solving their problem before they had to reportto the authorities. In the meantime they tended their charges, let Ripsleep, and watched each other with desperate but hidden intentness, readyfor another to be stricken. However, they remained, although almoststupid with fatigue at times, reasonably healthy. Time was proving thattheir guess had been correct--they had been somehow inoculated againstthe germ or virus which had struck the ship. 

Rip slept for twenty-four hours, ship time, and then came into the messcabin ravenously hungry, to catch up on both food and news. And herefused to join with the prevailing pessimistic view of the future. Instead he was sure that their own immunity having been proven, they hada talking point to use with the medical officials at Luna and he waseager to alter course directly for the quarantine station. Only thecombined arguments of the other three made him, unwillingly, agree to ashort delay. 

And how grateful they should be for Captain Jellico's foresight theylearned within the next day. Ali was at the com-unit, trying to pick upSolarian news reports. When the red alert flashed on throughout the shipit brought the others hurrying to the control cabin. The code squeakswere magnified as Ali switched on the receiver full strength, to betranslated as he pressed a second button. 

"Repeat, repeat, repeat. Free Trader, Solar Queen, Terra Registry65-724910-Jk, suspected plague ship--took off from infected planet. Warnoff--warn off--report such ship to Luna Station. Solar Queen frominfected planet--to be warned off and reported. " The same message wasrepeated three times before going off ether. 

The four in the control cabin looked at each other blankly. 

"But, " Dane broke the silence, "how did they know? We haven't reportedin--"

"The Eysies!" Ali had the answer ready. "That I-S ship must be having thesame sort of trouble and reported to her Company. They would include usin their report and believe that we were infected too--or it would beeasy to convince the authorities that we were. "

"I wonder, " Rip's eyes were narrowed slits as he leaned back against thewall. "Look at the facts. The Survey ship which charted Sargol--they weredirt-side there about three-four months. Yet they gave it a clean bill ofhealth and put it up for trading rights auction. Then Cam bought thoserights--he made at least two trips in and out before he was blasted onLimbo. No infection bothered him or Survey--"

"But you've got to admit it hit us, " Weeks protested. 

"Yes, and the Eysie ship was able to foresee it--report us before wesnapped out of Hyper. Sounds almost as if they expected us to carryplague, doesn't it?" Shannon wanted to know. 

"Planted?" Ali frowned at the banks of controls. "But how--no Eysie cameon board--no Salarik either, except for the cub who showed us what theythought of catnip. "

Rip shrugged. "How would I know how they did--" he was beginning whenDane cut in:

"If they didn't know about our immunity the Queen might stay in Hyper andnever come out--there wouldn't be anyone to set the snap-out. "

"Right enough. But on the chance that somebody did keep on his feet andbring her home, they were ready with a cover. If no one raises a howlSargol will be written off the charts as infected, I-S sits on her tailfins a year or so and then she promotes an investigation before theBoard. The Survey records are trotted out--no infection recorded. So theysend in a Patrol Probe. Everything is all right--so it wasn't the planetafter all--it was that dirty old Free Trader. And she's out of the way. I-S gets the Koros trade all square and legal and we're no longer aroundto worry about! Neat as a Salariki net-cast--and right around ourcollective throats, my friends!"

"So what do we do now?" Weeks wanted to know. 

"We keep on the Old Man's course, get lost in the asteroids until we cando some heavy thinking and see a way out. But if I-S gave us this prizepackage, some trace of its origin is still aboard. And if we can findthat--why, then we have something to start from. "

"Mura went down first--and then Karl. Nothing in common, " the old problemfaced Dane for the hundredth time. 

"No. But, " Ali arose from his place at the com-unit. "I'd suggest a realsearch of first Frank's and then Karl's quarters. A regular turn outdown to the bare walls of their cabins. Are you with me?"

"Fly boy, we're ahead of you!" Rip contributed, already at the doorpanel. "Down to the bare walls it is. "

Chapter X

E-STAT LANDING

Since Mura was in the isolation of ship sick bay the stripping of hiscabin was a relatively simple job. But, though Rip and Dane went over itliterally by inches, they found nothing unusual--in fact nothing fromSargol except a small twig of the red wood which lay on the steward'sworktable where he had been fashioning something to incorporate in one ofhis miniature fairy landscapes, to be imprisoned for all time in aplasta-bubble. Dane turned this around in his fingers. Because it was theonly link with the perfumed planet he couldn't help but feel that it hadsome importance. 

But Kosti had not shown any interest in the wood. And he, himself, andWeeks had handled it freely _before_ they had tasted Graft's friendshipcup and had no ill effects--so it couldn't be the wood. Dane put the twigback on the work table and snapped the protecting cover over the delicatetools--never realizing until days later how very close he had been inthat moment to the solution of their problem. 

After two hours of shifting every one of the steward's belongings, ofcrawling on hands and knees about the deck and climbing to inspectperfectly bare walls, they had found exactly nothing. Rip sat down on theend of the denuded bunk. 

"There's the hydro--Frank spent a lot of time in there--and thestoreroom, " he told the places off on his fingers. "The galley and themess cabin. "

Those had been the extent of Mura's world. They could search thestoreroom, the galley and the mess cabin--but to interfere with the hydrowould endanger their air supply. It was for that very reason that theynow looked at each other in startled surmise. 

"The perfect place to plant something!" Dane spoke first. 

Rip's teeth caught his underlip. The hydro--something planted there couldnot be routed out unless they made a landing on a port field and had thewhole section stripped. 

"Devilish--" Rip's mobile lips drew tight. "But how could they do it?"

Dane didn't see how it could have been done either. No one but theQueen's own crew had been on board the ship during their entire stay onSargol, except for the young Salarik. Could that cub have broughtsomething? But he and Mura had been with the youngster every minute thathe had been in the hydro. To the best of Dane's memory the cub hadtouched nothing and had been there only for a few moments. That had beenbefore the feast also--

Rip got to his feet. "We can't strip the hydro in space, " he pointed outthe obvious quietly. 

Dane had the answer. "Then we've got to earth!"

"You heard that warn-off. If we try it--"

"What about an Emergency station?"

Rip stood very still, his big hands locked about the buckle of his armsbelt. Then, without another word, he went out of the cabin and at apounding pace up the ladder, bound for the Captain's cabin and therecords Jellico kept there. It was such a slim chance--but it was betterthan none at all. 

Dane shouldered into the small space in his wake to find Rip making aselection from the astrogation tapes. There were E-Stats among theasteroids--points prospectors or small traders in sudden difficultiesmight contact for supplies or repairs. The big Companies maintained theirown--the Patrol had several for independents. 

"No Patrol one--"

Rip managed a smile. "I haven't gone space whirly yet, " was his comment. He was feeding a tape into the reader on the Captain's desk. In the cageover his head the blue Hoobat squatted watching him intently--for thefirst time since Dane could remember showing no sign of resentment byweird screams or wild spitting. 

"Patrol E-Stat A-54--" the reader squeaked. Rip hit a key and the wireclicked to the next entry. "Combine E-Stat--" Another punch and click. "Patrol E-Stat A-55--" punch-click. "Inter-Solar--" this time Rip's handdid not hit the key and the squeak continued--"Co-ordinates--" Ripreached for a steelo and jotted down the list of figures. 

"Got to compare this with our present course--"

"But that's an I-S Stat, " began Dane and then he laughed as the justiceof such a move struck him. They did not dare set the Queen down at anyPatrol Station. But a Company one which would be manned by only two orthree men and not expecting any but their own people--and I-S owed themhelp now!

"There may be trouble, " he said, not that he would have any regrets ifthere was. If the Eysies were responsible for the present plight of theQueen he would welcome trouble, the kind which would plant his fists onsome sneering Eysie face. 

"We'll see about that when we come to it, " Rip went on to the controlcabin with his figures. Carefully he punched the combination on theplotter and watched it be compared with the course Jellico had set beforehis collapse. 

"Good enough, " he commented as the result flashed on. "We can make itwithout using too much fuel--"

"Make what?" That was Ali up from the search of Kosti's quarters. "Nothing, " he gave his report of what he had found there and thenreturned to the earlier question. "Make what?"

Swiftly Dane outlined their suspicions--that the seat of the trouble layin the hydro and that they should clean out that section, drawing uponemergency materials at the I-S E-Stat. 

"Sounds all right. But you know what they do to pirates?" inquired theEngineer-apprentice. 

Space law came into Dane's field, he needed no prompting. "Any ship inemergency, " he recited automatically, "may claim supplies from thenearest E-Stat--paying for them when the voyage is completed. "

"That means any Patrol E-Stat. The Companies' are private property. "

"But, " Dane pointed out triumphantly, "the law doesn't say so--there isnothing about any difference between Company and Patrol E-Stat in thelaw--"

"He's right, " Rip agreed. "That law was framed when only the Patrol hadsuch stations. Companies put them in later to save tax--remember? Legallywe're all right. "

"Unless the agents on duty raise a howl, " Ali amended. "Oh, don't give methat look, Rip. I'm not sounding any warn-off on this, but I just wantyou to be prepared to find a cruiser riding our fins and giving us thehot flash as bandits. If you want to spoil the Eysies, I'm all for it. Got a stat of theirs pinpointed?"

Rip pointed to the figures on the computer. "There she is. We can setdown in about five hours' ship time. How long will it take to strip thehydro and re-install?"

"How can I tell?" Ali sounded irritable. "I can give you oxgy forquarters for about two hours. Depends upon how fast we can move. Notelling until we make a start. "

He started for the corridor and then added over his shoulder: "You'llhave to answer a com challenge--thought about that?"

"Why?" Rip asked. "It might be com repairs bringing us in. They won't beexpecting trouble and we will--we'll have the advantage. "

But Ali was not to be shaken out of his usual dim view of the future. "All right--so we land, blaster in hand, and take the place. And they getoff one little squeak to the Patrol. Well, a short life but aninteresting one. And we'll make all the Video channels for sure when wego out with rockets blasting. Nothing like having a little excitement tobreak the dull routine of a voyage. "

"We aren't going to, are we--" Dane protested, "land armed, I mean?"

Ali stared at him and Rip, to Dane's surprise, did not immediatelyrepudiate that thought. 

"Sleep rods certainly, " the Astrogator-apprentice said after a pause. "We'll have to be prepared for the moment when they find out who we are. And you can't re-set a hydro in a few minutes, not when we have to keepoxgy on for the others. If we were able to turn that off and work insuits it'd be a quicker job--we could dump before we set down and thenpile it in at once. But this way it's going to be piece work. And it alldepends on the agents at the Stat whether we have trouble or not. "

"We had better break out the suits now, " Ali added to Rip's estimate ofthe situation. "If we set down and pile out wearing suits at once it willbuild up our tale of being poor wrecked spacemen--"

Sleep rods or not, Dane thought to himself, the whole plan was one bornof desperation. It would depend upon who manned the E-Stat and how fastthe Free Traders could move once the Queen touched her fins to earth. 

"Knock out their coms, " that was Ali continuing to plan. "Do that firstand then we don't have to worry about someone calling in the Patrol. "

Rip stretched. For the first time in hours he seemed to have returned tohis usual placid self. "Good thing somebody in this spacer watches Videoserials--Ali, you can brief us on all the latest tricks of space pirates. Nothing is so wildly improbable that you can't make use of it sometimeduring a checkered career. "

He glanced over the board before he brought his hand down on a single keyset a distance apart from the other controls. "Put some local color intoit, " was his comment. 

Dane understood. Rip had turned on the distress signal at the Queen'snose. When she set down on the Stat field she would be flaming a bannerof trouble. Next to the wan dead lights, set only when a ship had no hopeof ever reaching port at all, that signal was one every spacer dreadedhaving to flash. But it was _not_ the dead lights--not yet for the Queen. 

Working together they brought out the space suits and readied them at thehatch. Then Weeks and Dane took up the task of tending their unconsciouscharges while Rip and Ali prepared for landing. 

There was no change in the sleepers. And in Jellico's cabin even Queexappeared to be influenced by the plight of its master, for instead ofgreeting Dane with its normal aspect of rage, the Hoobat stayed quiescenton the floor of its cage, its top claws hooked about two of the wires, its protruding eyes staring out into the room with what seemed closed toa malignant intelligence. It did not even spit as Dane passed under itsabode to pour thin soup into his patient. 

As for Sinbad, the cat had retreated to Dane's cabin and steadily refusedto leave the quarters he had chosen, resisting with tooth and claw theone time Dane had tried to take him back to Van Rycke's office and hisown hammock there. Afterwards the Cargo-apprentice did not try to evicthim--there was comfort in seeing that plump gray body curled on the bunkhe had little chance to use. 

His nursing duties performed for the moment, Dane ventured into thehydro. He was practiced in tending this vital heart of the ship's airsupply. But outfitting a hydro was something else again. In his cadetyears he had aided in such a program at least twice as a matter oflearning the basic training of the Service. But then they had hadunlimited supplies to draw on and the action had taken place under nomore pressure than that exerted by the instructors. Now it was going tobe a far more tricky job--

He went slowly down the aisle between the banks of green things. Plantsfrom all over the Galaxy, grown for their contribution to the airrenewal--as well as side products such as fresh fruit and vegetables, were banked there. The sweet odor of their verdant life was strong. Buthow could any of the four now on duty tell what was rightfully there andwhat might have been brought in? And could they be sure anything _had_been introduced?

Dane stood there, his eyes searching those lines of greens--such amixture of greens from the familiar shade of Terra's fields to greenstinged with shades first bestowed by other suns on other worlds--lookingfor one which was alien enough to be noticeable. Only Mura, who knewthis garden as he knew his own cabin, could have differentiated betweenthem. They would just dump everything and trust to luck--

He was suddenly aware of a slight movement in the banks--a shivering ofstem, quiver of leaf. The mere act of his passing had set some sensitiveplant to register his presence. A lacy, fern-like thing was contractingits fronds into balls. He should not stay--disturbing the peace of thehydro. But it made little difference now--within a matter of hours allthis luxuriance would be thrust out to die and they would have to dependupon canned oxgy and algae tanks. Too bad--the hydro represented muchtime and labor on Mura's part and Tau had medical plants growing there hehad been observing for a long time. 

As Dane closed the door behind him, seeing the line of balled fern whichhad marked his passage, he heard a faint rustling, a sound as if a windhad swept across the green room within. The imagination which was aTrader's asset (when it was kept within bounds) suggested that the plantsinside guessed--With a frown for his own sentimentality, Dane strode downthe corridor and climbed to check with Rip in control. 

The Astrogator-apprentice had his own problems. To bring the Queen downon the circumscribed field of an E-Stat--without a guide beam to ridein--since if they contacted the Stat they must reveal their _own_ com wasworking and they would have to answer questions--was the sort of testeven a seasoned pilot would tense over. Yet Rip was sitting now in theCaptain's place, his broad hands spread out on the edge of the controlboard waiting. And below in the engine room Ali was in Stotz's placeready to fire and cut rockets at order. Of course they were both severalyears ahead of him in Service, Dane knew. But he wondered at their quickassumption of responsibility and whether he himself could ever reachthat point of self-confidence--his memory turning to the bad mistake behad made on Sargol. 

There was the sharp note of a warning gong, the flash of red light on thecontrol board. They were off automatic, from here on in it was all Kip'swork. Dane strapped down at the silent com-unit and was startled a momentlater when it spat words at him, translated from space code. 

"Identify--identify--I-S E-Stat calling spacer--identify--"

So compelling was that demand that Dane's fingers went to the answer keybefore he remembered and snatched them back, to fold his hands in hislap. 

"Identify--" the expressionless voice of the translator droned over theirheads. 

Rip's hands were on the control board, playing the buttons there with theprecision of a musician creating some symphonic masterpiece. And theQueen was alive, now quivering through her stout plates, coming into alanding. 

Dane watched the visa plate. The E-Stat asteroid was of a reasonablesize, but in their eyes it was a bleak, torn mote of stuff swimmingthrough vast emptiness. 

"Identify--" the drone heightened in pitch. 

Rip's lips were compressed, he made quick calculations. And Dane sawthat, though Jellico was the master, Rip was fully fit to follow in theCaptain's boot prints. 

There was a sudden silence in the cabin--the demand had stopped. Theagents below must now have realized that the ship with the distresssignals blazing on her nose was not going to reply. Dane found he couldnot watch the visa plate now, Rip's hands about their task filled hiswhole range of sight. 

He knew that Shannon was using every bit of his skill and knowledge tojockey them into the position where they could ride their tail rocketsdown to the scorched rock of the E-Stat field. Perhaps it wasn't assmooth a landing as Jellico could have made. But they did it. Rip's handswere quiet, again that patch of darkness showed on the back of his tunic. He made no move from his seat. 

"Secure--" Ali's voice floated up to them. 

Dane unbuckled his safety webbing and got up, looking to Shannon fororders. This was Rip's plan they were to carry through. Then somethingmoved him to give honor where it was due. He touched that bowed shoulderbefore him. 

"Fin landing, brother! Four points and down!"

Rip glanced up, a grin made him look his old self. "Ought to have arecording of that for the Board when I go up for my pass-through. "

Dane matched his smile. "Too bad we didn't have someone out there with atri-dee machine. "

"More likely it'd be evidence at our trial for piracy--" their words musthave reached Ali on the ship's inter-com, for his deflating reply cameback, to remind them of why they had made that particular landing. "Do wemove now?"

"Check first, " Rip said into the mike. 

Dane looked at the visa-plate. Against a background of jagged rock teethwas the bubble of the E-Stat housing--more than three-quarters of itbeing in the hollowed out sections below the surface of the miniatureworld which supported it, as Dane knew. But a beam of light shown fromthe dome to center on the grounded Queen. They had not caught the Statagents napping. 

They made the rounds of the spacer, checking on each of thesemi-conscious men. Ali had ready the artificial oxgy tanks--they mustmove fast once they began the actual task of clearing and restocking thehydro. 

"Hope you have a good story ready, " he commented as the other threejoined him by the hatch to don the suits which would enable them to crossthe airless, heatless surface of the asteroid. 

"We have a poisoned hydro, " Dane said. 

"One look at the plants we dump will give you the lie. They won't acceptour story without investigation. "

Dane was aroused. Did Ali think he was a stupid as all that? "If you'dtake a look in there now you'd believe me, " he snapped. 

"What did you do?" Ali sounded genuinely interested. 

"Chucked a heated can of lacoil over a good section. It's wilting downfast in big patches. "

Rip snorted. "Good old lacoil. You drink it, you wash in it, and now youkill off the Hydro with it. Maybe we can give the company an extratestimonial for the official jabber and collect when we hit Terra. Allright--Weeks, " he spoke to the little man, "you listen in on thecom--it's tuned to our helmet units. We'll climb into these pipe suitsand see how many tears we can wring out of the Eysies with our sad, sadtale. "

They got into the awkward, bulky suits and squeezed into the hatch whileWeeks slammed the lock door at their backs and operated the outeropening. Then they were looking out across the ground, still showingsigns of the heat of their landing, and lighted by the dome beam. 

"Nobody hurrying out with an aid and comfort kit, " Rip's voice sounded inDane's earphones. "A little slack aren't they?"

Slack--or was it that the Eysies had recognized the Queen and waspreparing the sort of welcome the remnant of her crew could notwithstand? Dane, wanting very much in his heart to be elsewhere, climbeddown the ladder in Rip's wake, both of them spotlighted by the immovablebeam from the Stat dome. 

Chapter XI

DESPERATE MEASURES

Measured in distance and time that rough walk in the ponderous suitsacross the broken terrain of the asteroid was a short one, measured bythe beating of his own heart, Dane thought it much too long. There was nosign of life by the air lock of the bubble--no move on the part of themen stationed there to come to their assistance. 

"D'you suppose we're invisible?" Ali's disembodied voice clicked in thehelmet earphones. 

"Maybe we'll wish we were, " Dane could not forego that return. 

Rip was almost to the air lock door now. His massively suited arm wasoutstretched toward the control bar when the com-unit in all threehelmets caught the same demand:

"Identify!" The crisp order had enough snap to warn them that an answerwas the best policy. 

"Shannon--A-A of the Polestar, " Rip gave the required information. "Weclaim E rights--"

But would they get them? Dane wondered. There was a click loud in hisears. The metal door was yielding to Rip's hand. At least those on theinside had taken off the lock. Dane quickened pace to join his leader. 

Together the three from the Queen crowded through the lock door, saw thatswing shut and seal behind them, as they stood waiting for the momentthey could discard the suits and enter the dome. The odds against themcould not be too high, this was a small Stat. It would not house morethan four agents at the most. And they were familiar enough with thebasic architecture of such stations to know just what move to make. Aliwas to go to the com room where he could take over if they did meet withtrouble. Dane and Rip would have to handle any dissenters in the mainsection. But they still hoped that luck might ride their fins and theycould put over a story which would keep them out of active conflict withthe Eysies. 

The gauge on the wall registered safety and they unfastened theprotective clasps of the suits. Standing the cumbersome things againstthe wall as the inner door to the lock rolled back, they walked intoEysie territory. 

As Free Traders they had the advantage of being uniformly tunicked--withno Company badge to betray their ship or status. So that could well _be_the "Polestar" standing needle slim behind them--and not the notorious"Solar Queen. " But each, as he passed through the inner lock, gave ahitch to his belt which brought the butt of his sleep rod closer to hand. Innocuous as that weapon was, in close quarters its effects, if onlytemporary, was to some purpose. And since they were prepared for trouble, they might have a slight edge over the Eysies in attack. 

A Company man, his tunic shabby and open in a negligent fashion at histhick throat, stood waiting for them. His unhelmeted head was grizzled, his coarse, tanned face with heavy jowls bristly enough to suggest he hadnot bothered to use smooth-cream for some days. An under officer of somespacer, retired to finish out the few years before pension in thisnominal duty--fast letting down the standards of personal regime he hadhad to maintain on ship board. But he wasn't all fat and soft living, the glance with which he measured them was shrewdly appraising. 

"What's your trouble?" he demanded without greeting. "You didn't I-dentcoming in. "

"Coms are out, " Rip replied as shortly. "We need E-Hydro--"

"First time I ever heard it that the coms were wired in with the grass, "the Eysies's hands were on his hips--in close proximity to somethingwhich made Dane's eyes narrow. The fellow was wearing a flare-blaster!That might be regulation equipment for an E-Stat agent on a lonelyasteroid--but he didn't quite believe it. And probably the other wasquick on the draw too. 

"The coms are something else, " Rip answered readily. "Our tech is workingon them. But the hydro's bad all though. We'll have to dump and restock. Give you a voucher on Terra for the stuff. "

The Eysie agent continued to block the doorway into the station. "This isprivate--I-S property. You should hit the Patrol post--they cater to youF-Ts. "

"We hit the nearest E-Stat when we discovered that we were contaminated, "Rip spoke with an assumption of patience. "That's the law, and you knowit. You have to supply us and take a voucher--"

"How do I know that your voucher is worth the film it's recorded on?"asked the agent reasonably. 

"All right, " Rip shrugged. "If we have to do it the hard way, we'll cargodump to cover your bill. "

"Not on this field. " The other shook his head. "I'll flash in yourvoucher first. "

He had them, Dane thought bitterly. Their luck had run out. Because whathe was going to do was a move they dared not protest. It was one anycanny agent would make in the present situation. And if they were whatthey said they were, they must readily agree to let him flash theirvoucher of payment to I-S headquarters, to be checked and okayed beforethey took the hydro stock. 

But Rip merely registered a mild resignation. "You the Com-tech? Where'syour unit? I'll indit at once if you want it that way. "

Whether their readiness to co-operate allayed some of the agent'ssuspicion or not, he relaxed some, giving them one more stare all aroundbefore he turned on his heel. "This way. "

They followed him down the narrow hall, Rip on his heels, the othersbehind. 

"Lonely post, " Rip commented. "I'd think you boys'd get space-whirly outhere. "

The other snorted. "We're not star lovers. And the pay's worth a threemonth stretch. They take us down for Terra leave before we start talkingto the Whisperers. "

"How many of you here at a time?" Rip edged the question in casually. 

But the other might have been expecting it by the way he avoided giving adirect answer. "Enough to run the place--and not enough to help you cleanout your wagon, " he was short about it. "Any dumping you do is strictlyon your own. You've enough hands on a spacer that size to manage--"

Rip laughed. "Far be it from me to ask an Eysie to do any real work, " washis counter. "We know all about you Company men--"

But the agent did not take fire at that jib. Instead he pushed back apanel and they were looking into com-unit room where another man in thetunic of the I-S lounged on what was by law twenty-four hour duty, divided into three watches. 

"These F-Ts want to flash a voucher request through, " their guideinformed the tech. The other, interested, gave them a searchingonce-over before he pushed a small scriber toward Rip. 

"It's all yours--clear ether, " he reported. 

Ali stood with his back to the wall and Dane still lingered in theportal. Both of them fixed their attention on Rip's left hand. If he gavethe agreed upon signal! Their fingers were linked loosely in their beltsonly an inch or so from their sleep rods. 

With his right hand Rip scooped up the scribbler while the Com-tech halfturned to make adjustments to the controls, picking up a speaker to callthe I-S headquarters. 

Rip's left index finger snapped across his thumb to form a circle. Ali'srod did not even leave his belt, it tilted up and the invisible deadeningstream from it centered upon the seated tech. At the same instant Daneshot at the agent who had guided them there. The latter had time for asurprised grunt and his hand was at his blaster as he sagged to his kneesand then relaxed on the floor. The Tech slumped across the call board asif sleep had overtaken him at his post. 

Rip crossed the room and snapped off the switch which opened the wire forbroadcasting. While Ali, with Dane's help, quietly and effectivelyimmobilized the Eysies with their own belts. 

"There should be at least three men here, " Rip waited by the door. "Wehave to get them all under control before we start work. "

However, the interior of the bubble, extending as it did on levelsbeneath the outer crust of the asteroid, was not an easy place to search. An enemy, warned of the invasion, could easily keep ahead of the partyfrom the Queen, spying on them at his leisure or preparing traps forthem. In the end, afraid of wasting time, they contented themselves withlocking the doors of the corridor leading to the lower levels, makingready to raid the storeroom they had discovered during their search. 

Emergency hydro supplies consisted mainly of algae which could be storedin tanks and hastily put to use--as the plants now in the Queen took muchlonger to grow even under forcing methods. Dane volunteered to remaininside the E-Stat and assemble the necessary containers at the air lockwhile the other two, having had more experience, went back to the spacerto strip the hydro and prepare to switch contents. 

But, when Rip and Ali left, the younger Cargo-apprentice began to findthe bubble a haunted place. He took the sealed containers out of theirstorage racks, stood them on a small hand truck, and pushed them to thefoot of the stairs, up which he then climbed carrying two of thecylinders at a time. 

The swish of the air current through the narrow corridors made a constantmurmur of sound, but he found himself listening for something else, for afootfall other than his own, for the betraying rasp of clothing against awall--for even a whisper of voice. And time and time again he pausedsuddenly to listen--sure that the faintest hint of such a sound hadreached his ears. He had a dozen containers lined up when the welcomesignal reached him by the com-unit of his field helmet. To transfer thecylinders to the lock, get out, and then open the outer door, did nottake long. But as he waited he still listened for a sound which did notcome--the notice, that someone besides himself was free to move about theStat. 

Not knowing just how many of the supply tins were needed, he worked ontransferring all there were in the storage racks to the upper corridorand the lock. But he still had half a dozen left to pass through when Ripsent a message that he was coming in. 

Out of his pressure suit, the Astrogator-apprentice stepped lightly intothe corridor, looked at the array of containers and shook his head. 

"We don't need all those. No, leave them--" he added as Dane, with asigh, started to pick up two for a return trip. "There's something moreimportant just now--" He turned into the side hall which led to the comroom. 

Both the I-S men had awakened. The Com-tech appeared to accept his bondsphilosophically. He was quiet and flat on his back, staring pensively atthe ceiling. But the other agent had made a worm's progress half acrossthe room and Rip had to halt in haste to prevent stepping on him. 

Shannon stooped and, hooking his fingers in the other's tunic, heaved himback while the helpless man favored them with some of the ripestspeech--and NOT Trade Lingo--Dane had ever heard. Rip waited until theman began to run down and then he broke in with his pleasant soft drawl. 

"Oh, sure, we're all that. But time runs on, Eysie, and I'd like a coupleof answers which may mean something to you. First--when do you expectyour relief?"

That set the agent off again. And his remarks--edited--were that nosomething, something F-T was going to get any something, somethinginformation out of him!

But it was his companion in misfortune--the Com-tech--who guessed thereason behind Rip's question. 

"Cut jets!" he advised the other. "They're just being soft-hearted. Itake it, " he spoke over the other agent's sputtering to Rip, "that you'reworried about leaving us fin down--That's it, isn't it?"

Rip nodded. "In spite of what you think about us, " he replied, "We're notPatrol Posted outlaws--"

"No, you're just from a plague ship, " the Com-tech remarked calmly. Andhis words struck his comrade dumb. "Solar Queen?"

"You got the warn-off then?"

"Who didn't? You really have plague on board?" The thought did not appearto alarm the Com-tech unduly. But his fellow suddenly heaved his boundbody some distance away from the Free Traders and his face displayedmixed emotions--most of them fearful. 

"We have something--probably supplied, " Rip straightened. "Might passalong to your bosses that we know that. Now suppose you tell me aboutyour relief. When is it due?"

"Not until after we take off on the long orbit if you leave us like this. On the other hand, " the other added coolly, "I don't see how you can dootherwise. We've still got those--" with his chin he pointed to thecom-unit. 

"After a few alterations, " Rip amended. The bulk of the com was in atightly sealed case which they would need a flamer to open. But he couldand did wreak havoc with the exposed portions. The tech watching thisdestruction spouted at least two expressions his companion had not used. But when Rip finished he was his unruffled self again. 

"Now, " Rip drew his sleep rod. "A little rest and when you wake it willall be a bad dream. " He carefully beamed each man into slumber and helpedDane strip off their bonds. But before he left the room he placed on therecorder the voucher for the supplies they had taken. The Queen was notstealing--under the law she still had some shadow of rights. 

Suited they crossed the rough rock to the ship. And there about the fins, already frozen into brittle spikes was a tangle of plants--the richresult of years of collecting. 

"Did you find anything?" Dane asked as they rounded that mess on theirway to the ladder. 

Rip's voice came back through the helmet com. "Nothing we know how tointerpret. I wish Frank or Craig had had a chance to check. We tooktri-dees of everything before we dumped. Maybe they can learn somethingfrom these when--"

His voice trailed off leaving that "when" to ring in both their minds. Itwas such an important "when. " When _would_ either the steward or theMedic recover enough to view those tri-dee shots? Or was that "when"really an ominous "if?"

Back in the Queen, sealed once more for blast-off, they took theirstations. Dane speculated as to the course Rip had set--were they justgoing to wander about the system hoping to escape notice until they hadsomehow solved their problem? Or did Shannon have some definite port inmind? He did not have time to ask before they lifted. But once they werespace borne again he voiced his question. 

Rip's face was serious. "Frankly--" he began and then hesitated for along moment before he added, "I don't know. If we can only get theCaptain or Craig on their feet again--"

"One thing, " Ali materialized to join them, "Sinbad's back in the hydro. And this morning you couldn't get him inside the door. It's not a verygood piece of evidence--"

No, it wasn't but they clung to it as backing for their actions of thepast few hours. The cat that had shown such a marked distaste for thecompany of the stricken, and then for the hydro, was now content to visitthe latter as if some evil he has sensed there had been cleansed with thedumping of the garden. They had not yet solved their mystery but anotherclue had come into their hands. 

But now the care of the sick occupied hours and Rip insisted that a watchbe maintained by the com--listening in for news which might concern theQueen. They had done a good job at silencing the E-Stat, for they hadbeen almost six hours in space before the news of their raid was beamedto the nearest Patrol post. 

Ali laughed. "Told you we'd be pirates, " he said when he listened to thataccount of their descent upon the I-S station. "Though I didn't see allthat blaster work they're now raving about. You'd think we fought a majorbattle there!"

Weeks growled. "The Eysies are trying to make it look good. Make us intooutlaws--"

But Rip did not share in the general amusement at the wild extravagationof the report from the ether. "I notice they didn't say anything aboutthe voucher we left. "

Ali's cynical smile curled. "Did you expect them to? The Eysies thinkthey have us by the tail fins now--why should they give us any benefit ofthe doubt? We junked all our boosters behind us on this take-off, anddon't forget that, my friends. "

Weeks looked confused. "But I thought you said we could do this legal, "he appealed to Rip. "If we're Patrol Posted as outlaws--"

"They can't do any more to us than they can for running in a plagueship, " Ali pointed out. "Either will get us blasted if we happen into thewrong vector now. So--what do we do?"

"We find out what the plague really is, " Dane said and meant every wordof it. 

"How?" Ali inquired. "Through some of Craig's magic?"

Dane was forced to answer with the truth. "I don't know yet--but it's ouronly chance. "

Rip rubbed his eyes wearily. "Don't think I'm disagreeing--but justwhere do we start? We've already combed Frank's quarters and Kosti's--wecleaned out the hydro--"

"Those tri-dee shots of the hydro--have you checked them yet?" Danecountered. 

Without a word Ali arose and left the cabin. He came back with amicrofilm roll. Fitting it into the large projector he focused it on thewall and snapped the button. 

They were looking at the hydro--down the length of space so accuratelyrecorded that it seemed they might walk straight into it. The greenery ofthe plants was so vivid and alive Dane felt that he could reach out andpluck a leaf. Inch by inch he examined those ranks, looking for somethingwhich was not in order, had no right to be there. 

The long shot of the hydro as it had been merged into a series ofsectional groupings. In silence they studied it intently, using all theirfield lore in an attempt to spot what each one was certain must be theresomewhere. But they were all handicapped by their lack of intimateknowledge of the garden. 

"Wait!" Weeks' voice scaled up. "Left hand corner--there!" His pointinghand broke and shadowed the portion he was calling to their attention. Ali jumped to the projector and made a quick adjustment. 

Plants four and five times life size glowed green on the wall. What Weekshad caught they all saw now--ragged leaves, stripped stems. 

"Chewed!" Dane supplied the answer. 

It was only one species of plant which had been so mangled. Othervarieties in the same bank showed no signs of disturbance. But all ofthat one type had at least one stripped branch and two were virtualskeletons. 

"A pest!" said Rip. 

"But Sinbad, " Dane began a protest before the memory of the cat'speculiar actions of the past weeks stopped him. Sinbad had slipped up, the hunter who had kept the Queen free of the outré alien life which cameaboard from time to time with cargo, had not attacked that which hadravaged the hydro plants. Or if he had done so, he had not, after hisusual custom, presented the bodies of the slain to any crew member. 

"It looks as if we have something at last, " Ali observed and someoneechoed that with a sigh of heartdeep relief. 

Chapter XII

STRANGE BEHAVIOR OF A HOOBAT

"All right, so we think we know a little more, " Ali added a moment later. "Just what are we going to do? We can't stay in space forever--there'rethe small items of fuel and supplies and--"

Rip had come to a decision. "We're not going to remain space borne, " hestated with the confidence of one who now saw an open road before him. 

"Luna--" Weeks was plainly doubtful. 

"No. Not after that warn-off. Terra!"

For a second or two the other three stared at Rip agape. The audacity anddanger of what he suggested was a little stunning. Since men had takenregularly to space no ship had made a direct landing on their homeplanet--all had passed through the quarantine on Luna. It was not onlyrisky--it was so unheard of that for some minutes they did not understandhim. 

"We try to set down at Terraport, " Dane found his tongue first, "and theyflame us out--"

Rip was smiling. "The trouble with you, " he addressed them all, "is thatyou think of earth only in terms of Terraport--"

"Well, there _is_ the Patrol field at Stella, " Weeks agreed doubtfully. "But we'd be right in the middle of trouble there--"

"Did we have a regular port on Sargol--on Limbo--on fifty others I canname out of our log?" Rip wanted to know. 

Ali voiced a new objection. "So--we have the luck of Jones and we setdown somewhere out of sight. Then what do we do?"

"We seal ship until we find the pest--then we bring in a Medic and get tothe bottom of the whole thing, " Rip's confidence was contagious. Danealmost believed that it _could_ be done that way. 

"Did you ever think, " Ali cut in, "what would happen if we were wrong--ifthe Queen really is a plague carrier?"

"I said--we seal the ship--tight, " countered Shannon. "And when we earthit'll be where we won't have visitors to infect--"

"And that is where?" Ali, who knew the deserts of Mars better than he didthe greener planet from which his stock had sprung, pursued the question. 

"Right in the middle of the Big Burn!"

Dane, Terra born and bred, realized first what Rip was planning and whatit meant. Sealed off was right--the Queen would be amply protected frominvestigation. Whether her crew would survive was another matter--whethershe could even make a landing there was also to be considered. 

The Big Burn was the horrible scar left by the last of the Atomic Wars--asection of radiation poisoned land comprising hundreds of squaremiles--land which generations had never dared to penetrate. Originallythe survivors of that war had shunned the whole continent which itdisfigured. It had been close to two centuries before men had gone intothe still wholesome land laying to the far west and the south. Andthrough the years, the avoidance of the Big Burn had become part of theirracial instinct as they shrank from it. It was a symbol of something noTerran wanted to remember. 

But Ali now had only one question to ask. "Can we do it?"

"We'll never know until we try, " was Rip's reply. 

"The Patrol'll be watching--" that was Weeks. With his Venusianbackground he had less respect for the dangers of the Big Burn than hedid for the forces of Law and order which ranged the star lanes. 

"They'll be watching the route lanes, " Rip pointed out. "They won'texpect a ship to come in on that vector, steering away from the ports. Why should they? As far as I know it's never been tried since Terraportwas laid out. It'll be tricky--" And he himself would have to bear mostof the responsibility for it. "But I believe that it can be done. And wecan't just roam around out here. With I-S out for our blood and a Patrolwarn-off it won't do us any good to head for Luna--"

None of his listeners could argue with that. And, Dane's spirits began torise, after all they knew so little about the Big Burn--it might affordthem just the temporary sanctuary they needed. In the end they agreed totry it, mainly because none of them could see any alternative, except thetoo dangerous one of trying to contact the authorities and beingsummarily treated as a plague ship before they could defend themselves. 

And their decision was ably endorsed not long afterwards by a sardonicwarning on the com--a warning which Ali who had been tending the machinepassed along to them. 

"Greetings, pirates--"

"What do you mean?" Dane was heating broth to feed to Captain Jellico. 

"The word has gone out--our raid on the E-Stat is now a matter of historyand Patrol record--we've been Posted!"

Dane felt a cold finger drawn along his backbone. Now they were fair gamefor the whole system. Any Patrol ship that wanted could shoot them downwith no questions asked. Of course that had always been a possibilityfrom the first after their raid on the E-Stat. But to realize that it wasnow true was a different matter altogether. This was one occasion whenrealization was worse than anticipation. He tried to keep his voice levelas he answered:

"Let us hope we can pull off Rip's plan--"

"We'd better. What about the Big Burn anyway, Thorson? Is it as tough asthe stories say?"

"We don't know what it's like. It's never been explored--or at leastthose who tried to explore its interior never reported in afterwards. Asfar as I know it's left strictly alone. "

"Is it still all 'hot'?"

"Parts of it must be. But all--we don't know. "

With the bottle of soup in his hand Dane climbed to Jellico's cabin. Andhe was so occupied with the problem at hand that at first he did not seewhat was happening in the small room. He had braced the Captain up into ahalf-sitting position and was patiently ladling the liquid into hismouth a spoonful at a time when a thin squeak drew his attention to thetop of Jellico's desk. 

From the half open lid of a microtape compartment something long and darkprojected, beating the air feebly. Dane, easing the Captain back on thebunk, was going to investigate when the Hoobat broke its unnatural quietof the past few days with an ear-splitting screech of fury. Dane struckat the bottom of its cage--the move its master always used to silenceit--But this time the results were spectacular. 

The cage bounced up and down on the spring which secured it to theceiling of the cabin and the blue feathered horror slammed against thewires. Either its clawing had weakened them, or some fault had developed, for they parted and the Hoobat came through them to land with a sullenplop on the desk. Its screams stopped as suddenly as they had begun andit scuttled on its spider-toad legs to the microtape compartment, actingwith purposeful dispatch and paying no attention to Dane. 

Its claws shot out and with ease it extracted from the compartment acreature as weird as itself--one which came fighting and of which Danecould not get a very clear idea. Struggling they battled across thesurface of the desk and flopped to the floor. There the hunted brokeloose from the hunter and fled with fantastic speed into the corridor. And before Dane could move the Hoobat was after it. 

He gained the passage just in time to see Queex disappear down theladder, clinging with the aid of its pincher claws, apparently grimlydetermined to catch up with the thing it pursued. And Dane went afterthem. 

There was no sign of the creature who fled on the next level. But Danemade no move to recapture the blue hunter who squatted at the foot of theladder staring unblinkingly into space. Dane waited, afraid to disturbthe Hoobat. He had not had a good look at the thing which had run fromQueex--but he knew it was something which had no business aboard theQueen. And it might be the disturbing factor they were searching for. Ifthe Hoobat would only lead him to it--

The Hoobat moved, rearing up on the tips of its six legs, its necklesshead slowly revolving on its puffy shoulders. Along the ridge of itsbackbone its blue feathers were rising into a crest much as Sinbad's furrose when the cat was afraid or angry. Then, without any sign of haste, it crawled over and began descending the ladder once more, heading towardthe lower section which housed the Hydro. 

Dane remained where he was until it had almost reached the deck of thenext level and then he followed, one step at a time. He was sure that theHoobat's peculiar construction of body prevented it from lookingup--unless it turned upon its back--but he did not want to do anythingwhich would alarm it or deter Queex from what he was sure was amethodical chase. 

Queex stopped again at the foot of the second descent and sat in its toadstance, apparently brooding, a round blue blot. Dane clung to the ladderand prayed that no one would happen along to frighten it. Then, just ashe was beginning to wonder if it had lost contact with its prey, oncemore it arose and with the same speed it had displayed in the Captain'scabin it shot along the corridor to the hydro. 

To Dane's knowledge the door of the garden was not only shut but sealed. And how either the stranger or Queex could get through it he did not see. 

"What the--?" Ali clattered down the ladder to halt abruptly as Dane wavedat him. 

"Queex, " the Cargo-apprentice kept his voice to a half whisper, "it gotloose and chased something out of the Old Man's cabin down here. "

"Queex--!" Ali began and then shut his mouth, moving noiselessly up tojoin Dane. 

The short corridor ended at the hydro entrance. And Dane had been right, there they found the Hoobat, crouched at the closed panel, its clawsclicking against the metal as it picked away useless at the portal whichwould not admit it. 

"Whatever it's after must be in there, " Dane said softly. 

And the hydro, stripped of its luxuriance of plant life, occupied now bythe tanks of green scum, would not afford too many hiding places. Theyhad only to let Queex in and keep watch. 

As they came up the Hoobat flattened to the floor and shrilled its warcry, spitting at their boots and then flashing claws against the stoutmetal enforced hide. However, though it was prepared to fight them, itshowed no signs of wishing to retreat, and for that Dane was thankful. Hequickly pressed the release and tugged open the panel. 

At the first crack of its opening Queex turned with one of those burstsof astounding speed and clawed for admittance, its protest against themen forgotten. And it squeezed through a space Dane would have thoughttoo narrow to accommodate its bloated body. Both men slipped around thedoor behind it and closed the panel tight. 

The air was not as fresh as it had been when the plants were there. Andthe vats which had taken the places of the banked greenery were certainlynothing to look at. Queex humped itself into a clod of blue, immovable, halfway down the aisle. 

Dane tried to subdue his breathing, to listen. The Hoobat's actionscertainly argued that the alien thing had taken refuge here, though howit had gotten through--? But if it were in the hydro it was well hidden. 

He had just begun to wonder how long they must wait when Queex again wentinto action. Its clawed front legs upraised, it brought the pinchersdeliberately together and sawed one across the other, producing a raspingsound which was almost a vibration in the air. Back and forth, back andforth, moved the claws. Watching them produced almost a hypnotic effect, and the reason for such a maneuver was totally beyond the human watchers. 

But Queex knew what it was doing all right, Ali's fingers closed onDane's arm in a pincher grip as painful as if he had been equipped withthe horny armament of the Hoobat. 

Something, a flitting shadow, had rounded one vat and was that muchcloser to the industrious fiddler on the floor. By some weird magic ofits own the Hoobat was calling its prey to it. 

Scrape, scrape--the unmusical performance continued with monotonousregularity. Again the shadow flashed--one vat closer. The Hoobat nowpresented the appearance of one charmed by its own art--sunk in alethargy of weird music making. 

At last the enchanted came into full view, though lingering at the roundside of a container, very apparently longing to flee again, but undersome compulsion to approach its enchanter. Dane blinked, not quite surethat his eyes were not playing tricks on him. He had seen the almosttransparent globe "bogies" of Limbo, had been fascinated by the weird andugly pictures in Captain Jellico's collection of tri-dee prints. But thiscreature was as impossible in its way as the horrific blue thing draggingit out of concealment. 

It walked erect on two threads of legs, with four knobby joints easilydetected. A bulging abdomen sheathed in the horny substance of a beetle'sshell ended in a sharp point. Two pairs of small legs, folded close tothe much smaller upper portion of its body, were equipped with thornshack terminations. The head, which constantly turned back and forth onthe armor plated shoulders, was long and narrow and split for half itslength by a mouth above which were deep pits which must harbor eyes, though actual organs were not visible to the watching men. It was apalish gray in color--which surprised Dane a little. His memory of thefew seconds he had seen it on the Captain's desk had suggested that itwas much darker. And erect as it was, it stood about eighteen incheshigh. 

With head turning rapidly, it still hesitated by the side of the vat, sonearly the color of the metal that unless it moved it was difficult todistinguish. As far as Dane could see the Hoobat was paying it noattention. Queex might be lost in a happy dream, the result of its ownfiddling. Nor did the rhythm of that scraping vary. 

The nightmare thing made the last foot in a rush of speed which reducedit to a blur, coming to a halt before the Hoobat. Its front legs whippedout to strike at its enemy. But Queex was no longer dreaming. This wasthe moment the Hoobat had been awaiting. One of the sawing claws openedand closed, separating the head of the lurker from its body. And beforeeither of the men could interfere Queex had dismembered the prey withdispatch. 

"Look there!" Dane pointed. 

The Hoobat held close the body of the stranger and where the ashy corpsecame into contact with Queex's blue feathered skin it was slowly changinghue--as if some of the color of its hunter had rubbed off it. 

"Chameleon!" Ali went down on one knee the better to view the grislyfeast now in progress. "Watch out!" he added sharply as Dane came to joinhim. 

One of the thin upper limbs lay where Queex had discarded it. And fromthe needle tip was oozing some colorless drops of fluid. Poison?

Dane looked around for something which he could use to pick up the stilljerking appendage. But before he could find anything Queex hadappropriated it. And in the end they had to allow the Hoobat its victimin its entirety. But once Queex had consumed its prey it lapsed into itsusual hunched immobility. Dane went for the cage and working gingerly heand Ali got the creature back in captivity. But all the evidence now leftwere some smears on the floor of the hydro, smears which Ali blotted upfor future research in the lab. 

An hour later the four who now comprised the crew of the Queen gatheredin the mess for a conference. Queex was in its cage on the table beforethem, asleep after all its untoward activity. 

"There must be more than just one, " Weeks said. "But how are we going tohunt them down? With Sinbad?"

Dane shook his head. Once the Hoobat had been caged and the moreprominent evidence of the battle scraped from the floor, he had broughtthe cat into the hydro and forced him to sniff at the site of theengagement. The result was that Sinbad had gone raving mad and Dane'shands were now covered with claw tears which ran viciously deep. It wasplain that the ship's cat was having none of the intruders, alive ordead. He had fled to Dane's cabin where he had taken refuge on the bunkand snarled wild eyed when anyone looked in from the corridor. 

"Queex has to do it, " Rip said. "But will it hunt unless it is hungry?"

He surveyed the now comatose creature skeptically. They had never seenthe Captain's pet eat anything except some pellets which Jellico kept inhis desk, and they were aware that the intervals between such feedingswere quite lengthy. If they had to wait the usual time for Queex to feelhunger pangs once more, they might have to wait a long time. 

"We should catch one alive, " Ali remarked thoughtfully. "If we could getQueex to fiddle it out to where we could net it--"

Weeks nodded eagerly. "A small net like those the Salariki use. Drop itover the thing--"

While Queex still drowsed in its cage, Weeks went to work with fine cord. Holding the color changing abilities of the enemy in mind they could nottell how many of the creatures might be roaming the ship. It could onlybe proved where they weren't by where Sinbad would consent to stay. Sothey made plans which included both the cat and the Hoobat. 

Sinbad, much against his will, was buckled into an improvised harness bywhich he could be controlled without the handler losing too much valuableskin. 

And then the hunt started at the top of the ship, proceeding downwardsection by section. Sinbad raised no protest in the control cabin, nor inthe private cabins of the officers' thereabouts. If they could interprethis reactions the center section was free of the invaders. So with Danein control of the cat and Ali carrying the caged Hoobat, they descendedonce more to the level which housed the hydro galley, steward's quartersand ship's sick bay. 

Sinbad proceeded on his own four feet into the galley and the mess. Hewas not uneasy in the sick bay, nor in Mura's cabin, and this time heeven paced the hydro without being dragged--much to their surprise asthey had thought that the headquarters of the stowaways. 

"Could there only have been one?" Weeks wanted to know as he stood byready with the net in his hands. 

"Either that--or else we're wrong about the hydro being their mainhideout. If they're afraid of Queex now they may have withdrawn to theplace they feel the safest, " Rip said. 

It was when they were on the ladder leading to the cargo level thatSinbad balked. He planted himself firmly and yowled against furtherprogress until Dane, with the harness, pulled him along. 

"Look at Queex!"

They followed Weeks' order. The Hoobat was no longer lethargic. It wasraising itself, leaning forward to clasp the bars of its cage, and now ituttered one of its screams of rage. And as Ali went on down the ladder itrattled the bars in a determined effort for freedom. Sinbad, spitting andyowling refused to walk. Rip nodded to Ali. 

"Let it out. "

Tipped out of its cage the Hoobat scuttled forward, straight for thepanel which opened on the large cargo space and there waited, as if forthem to open the portal and admit the hunter to its hunting territory. 

Chapter XIII

OFF THE MAP

Across the lock of the panel was the seal set in place by Van Ryckebefore the spacer had lifted from Sargol. Under Dane's inspection itshowed no crack. To all evidence the hatch had not been opened since theyleft the perfumed planet. And yet the hunting Hoobat was sure that theinvading pests were within. 

It took only a second for Dane to commit an act which, if he could notdefend it later, would blacklist him out of space. He twisted off theofficial seal which should remain there while the freighter was spaceborne. 

With Ali's help he shouldered aside the heavy sliding panel and theylooked into the cargo space, now filled with the red wood from Sargol. The redwood! When he saw it Dane was struck with their stupidity. Asidefrom the Koros stones in the stone box, only the wood had come from theSalariki world. What if the pests had not been planted by I-S agents, butwere natives of Sargol being brought in with the wood?

The men remained at the hatch to allow the Hoobat freedom in its hunt. And Sinbad crouched behind them, snarling and giving voice to a rumblinggrowl which was his negative opinion of the proceedings. 

They were conscious of an odor--the sharp, unidentifiable scent Dane hadnoticed during the loading of the wood. It was not unpleasant--merelydifferent. And it--or something--had an electrifying effect upon Queex. The blue hunter climbed with the aid of its claws to the top of thenearest pile of wood and there settled down. For a space it wasapparently contemplating the area about it. 

Then it raised its claws and began the scraping fiddle which once beforehad drawn its prey out of hiding. Oddly enough that dry rasp of sound hada quieting effect upon Sinbad and Dane felt the drag of the harnesslessen as the cat moved, not toward escape, but to the scene of action, humping himself at last in the open panel, his round eyes fixed upon theHoobat with a fascinated stare. 

Scrape-scrape--the monotonous noise bit into the ears of the men, gnawedat their nerves. 

"Ahhh--" Ali kept his voice to a whisper, but his hand jerked to drawtheir attention to the right at deck level. Dane saw that flicker along alog. The stowaway pest was now the same brilliant color as the wood, indistinguishable until it moved, which probably explained how it hadcome on board. 

But that was only the first arrival. A second flash of movement and athird followed. Then the hunted remained stationary, able to resist for aperiod the insidious summoning of Queex. The Hoobat maintained anattitude of indifference, of being so wrapped in its music that nothingelse existed. Rip whispered to Weeks:

"There's one to the left--on the very end of that log. Can you net it?"

The small oiler slipped the coiled mesh through his calloused hands. Heedged around Ali, keeping his eyes on the protuding protruding bump ofred upon red which was his quarry. 

"--two--three--four--five--" Ali was counting under his breath but Danecould not see that many. He was sure of only four, and those because hehad seen them move. 

The things were ringing in the pile of wood where the Hoobat fiddled, andtwo had ascended the first logs toward their doom. Weeks went down on oneknee, ready to cast his net, when Dane had his first inspiration. He drewhis sleep rod, easing it out of its holster, set the lever on "spray" andbeamed it at three of those humps. 

Rip seeing what he was doing, dropped a hand on Weeks' shoulder, holdingthe oiler in check. A hump moved, slid down the rounded side of the loginto the narrow aisle of deck between two piles of wood. It lay quiet, abright scarlet blot against the gray. 

Then Weeks did move, throwing his net over it and jerking the draw stringtight, at the same time pulling the captive toward him over the deck. But, even as it came, the scarlet of the thing's body was fast fading toan ashy pink and at last taking on a gray as dull as the metal on whichit lay--the complete camouflage. Had they not had it enmeshed they mighthave lost it altogether, so well did it now blend with the surface. 

The other two in the path of the ray had not lost their grip upon thelogs, and the men could not advance to scoop them up. Not while therewere others not affected, free to flee back into hiding. Weeks bound thenet about the captive and looked to Rip for orders. 

"Deep freeze, " the acting-commander of the Queen said succinctly. "Let mesee it get out of that!"

Surely the cold of the deep freeze, united to the sleep ray, would keepthe creature under control until they had a chance to study it. But, asWeeks passed Sinbad on his errand, the cat was so frantic to avoid him, that he reared up on his hind legs, almost turning a somersault, snarlingand spitting until Weeks was up the ladder to the next level. It wasvery evident that the ship's cat was having none of this pest. 

They might have been invisible and their actions non-existent as far asQueex was concerned. For the Hoobat continued its siren concert. Thelured became more reckless, mounting the logs to Queex's post in suddendarts. Dane wondered how the Hoobat proposed handling four of thecreatures at once. For, although the other two which had been in the pathof the ray had not moved, he now counted four climbing. 

"Stand by to ray--" that was Rip. 

But it would have been interesting to see how Queex was prepared tohandle the four. And, though Rip had given the order to stand by, he hadnot ordered the ray to be used. Was he, too, interested in that?

The first red projection was within a foot of the Hoobat now and itsfellows had frozen as if to allow it the honor of battle with thefeathered enemy. To all appearances Queex did not see it, but when itsprang with a whir of speed which would baffle a human, the Hoobat wasready and its claws, halting their rasp, met around the wasp-thin waistof the pest, speedily cutting it in two. Only this time the Hoobat madeno move to unjoint and consume the victim. Instead it squatted in uttersilence, as motionless as a tri-dee print. 

The heavy lower half of the creature rolled down the pile of logs to thedeck and there paled to the gray of its background. None of its kindappeared to be interested in its fate. The two which had been in the pathof the ray, continued to be humps on the wood, the others faced theHoobat. 

But Rip was ready to waste no more time. "Ray them!" he snapped. 

All three of their sleep rods sprayed the pile, catching in passing theHoobat. Queex's pop eyes closed, but it showed no other sign of fallingunder the spell of the beam. 

Certain that all the creatures in sight were now relatively harmless, thethree approached the logs. But it was necessary to get into touchingdistance before they could even make out the outlines of the nightmarethings, so well did their protective coloring conceal them. Wearinggloves Ali detached the little monsters from their holds on the wood andput them for temporary safekeeping--during a transfer to the deepfreeze--into the Hoobat's cage. Queex, they decided to leave where it wasfor a space, to awaken and trap any survivor which had been too wary toemerge at the first siren song. As far as they could tell the Hoobat wastheir only possible protection against the pest and to leave it in thecenter of infection was the wisest course. 

Having dumped the now metal colored catch into the freeze, they held aconference. 

"No plague--" Weeks breathed a sigh of relief. 

"No proof of that yet, " Ali caught him up short. "We have to prove itpast any reasonable doubt. "

"And how are we going to do--?" Dane began when he saw what the other hadbrought in from Tau's stores. A lancet and the upper half of the creatureQueex had killed in the cargo hold. 

The needle pointed front feet of the thing were curled up in its deaththroes and it was now a dirty white shade as if the ability to changecolor had been lost before it matched the cotton on which it lay. Withthe lancet Ali forced a claw away from the body. It was oozing the wateryliquid which they had seen on the one in the hydro. 

"I have an idea, " he said slowly, his eyes on the mangled creature ratherthan on his shipmates, "that we might have escaped being attacked becausethey sheered off from us. But if we were clawed we might take it too. Remember those marks on the throats and backs of the rest? That might bethe entry point of this poison--if poison it is--"

Dane could see the end of that line of reasoning. Rip and Ali--theycouldn't be spared. The knowledge they had would bring the Queen toearth. But a Cargo-master was excess baggage when there was no reason fortrade. It was his place to try out the truth of Ali's surmise. 

But while he thought another acted. Weeks leaned over and twitched thelancet out of Ali's fingers. Then, before any of them could move, hethrust its contaminated point into the back of his hand. 

"Don't!"

Both Dane's cry and Rip's hand came too late. It had been done. And Weekssat there, looking alone and frightened, studying the drop of blood whichmarked the dig of the surgeon's keen knife. But when he spoke his voicesounded perfectly natural. 

"Headache first, isn't it?"

Only Ali was outwardly unaffected by what the little man had just done. "Just be sure you have a real one, " he warned with what Dane privatelyconsidered real callousness. 

Weeks nodded. "Don't let my imagination work, " he answered shrewdly. "Iknow. It has to be real. How long do you suppose?"

"We don't know, " Rip sounded tired, beaten. "Meanwhile, " he got to hisfeet, "we'd better set a course home--"

"Home, " Weeks repeated. To him Terra was not his own home--he had beenborn in the polar swamps of Venus. But to All Solarians--no matter whichplanet had nurtured them--Terra was home. 

"You, " Rip's big hand fell gently on the little oiler's shoulder, "stayhere with Thorson--"

"No, " Weeks shook his head. "Unless I black out, I'm riding station inthe engine room. Maybe the bug won't work on me anyway. "

And because he had done what he had done they could not deny him theright to ride his station as long as he could during the grueling hoursto come. 

Dane visited the cargo hold once more. To be greeted by an irate screamwhich assured him that Queex was again awake and on guard. Although theHoobat was ready enough to give tongue, it still squatted in its chosenposition on top of the log stack and he did not try to dislodge it. Perhaps with Queex planted in the enemies' territory they would havenothing to fear from any pests not now confined in the deep freeze. 

Rip set his course for Terra--for that plague spot on their native worldwhere they might hide out the Queen until they could prove theirpoint--that the spacer was not a disease ridden ship to be feared. Hekept to the control cabin, shifting only between the Astrogator's and thepilot's station. Upon him alone rested the responsibility of bringing inthe ship along a vector which crossed no well traveled space lane wherethe Patrol might challenge them. Dane rode out the orbiting in theCom-tech's seat, listening in for the first warning of danger--that theyhad been detected. 

The mechanical repetition of their list of crimes was now stale news andlargely off-ether. And from all traces he could pick up, they were lostas far as the authorities were concerned. On the other hand, the Patrolmight indeed be as far knowing as its propaganda stated and the Queen wasrunning headlong into a trap. Only they had no choice in the matter. 

It was the ship's inter-com bringing Ali's voice from the engine roomwhich broke the concentration in the control cabin. 

"Weeks' down!"

Rip barked into the mike. "How bad?"

"He hasn't blacked out yet. The pains in his head are pretty bad and hishand is swelling--"

"He's given us our proof. Tell him to report off--"

But the disembodied voice which answered that was Weeks'. 

"I haven't got it as bad as the others. I'll ride this out. "

Rip shook his head. But short-handed as they were he could not argueWeeks away from his post if the man insisted upon staying. He had other, and for the time being, more important matters before him. 

How long they sweated out that descent upon their native world Dane couldnever afterwards have testified. He only knew that hours must havepassed, until he thought groggily that he could not remember a time hewas not glued in the seat which had been Tang's, the earphones pressingagainst his sweating skull, his fatigue-drugged mind being held withdifficulty to the duty at hand. 

Sometime during that haze they made their landing. He had a dim memory ofRip sprawled across the pilot's control board and then utter exhaustionclaimed him also and the darkness closed in. When he roused it was tolook about a cabin tilted to one side. Rip was still slumped in a musclecramping posture, breathing heavily. Dane bit out a forceful word born oftwinges of his own, and then snapped on the visa-plate. 

For a long moment he was sure that he was not yet awake. And then, as hisdazed mind supplied names for what he saw, he knew that Rip had failed. Far from being in the center--or at least well within the perimeter ofthe dread Big Burn--they must have landed in some civic park or nationalforest. For the massed green outside, the bright flowers, the bird hesighted as a brilliant flash of wind coasting color--those were not tobe found in the twisted horror left by man's last attempt to impress hiswill upon his resisting kind. 

Well, it had been a good try, but there was no use expecting luck to ridetheir fins all the way, and they had had more than their share in theE-Stat affair. How long would it be before the Law arrived to collectthem? Would they have time to state their case?

The faint hope that they might aroused him. He reached for the com keyand a second later tore the headphones from his appalled ears. Thecrackle of static he knew--and the numerous strange noises which broke inupon the lanes of communication in space--but this solid, paralyzing roarwas something totally new--new, and frightening. 

And because it was new and he could not account for it, he turned back toregard the scene on the viewer with a more critical eye. The foliagewhich grew in riotous profusion was green right enough, and Terra greeninto the bargain--there was no mistaking that. But--Dane caught at theedge of Com-unit for support. But--What was that liver-red blossom whichhad just reached out to engulf a small flying thing?

Feverishly he tried to remember the little natural history he knew. Surethat what he had just witnessed was unnatural--un-Terran--and to besuspect!

He started the spy lens on its slow revolution in the Queen's nose, toget a full picture of their immediate surroundings. It was tilted at anangle--apparently they had not made a fin-point landing this time--andsometimes it merely reflected slices of sky. But when it swept earthwardhe saw enough to make him believe that wherever the spacer had set downit was not on the Terra he knew. 

Subconsciously he had expected the Big Burn to be barren land--curdledrock with rivers of frozen quartz, substances boiled up through the crustof the planet by the action of the atomic explosives. That was the way ithad been on Limbo--on the other "burned-off" worlds they had discoveredwhere those who had preceded mankind into the Galaxy--the mysterious, long vanished "Forerunners"--had fought their grim and totallyannihilating wars. 

But it would seem that the Big Burn was altogether different--at leasthere it was. There was no rock sterile of life outside--in fact therewould appear to be too much life. What Dane could sight on his limitedfield of vision was a teeming jungle. And the thrill of that discoveryalmost made him forget their present circumstances. He was still staringbemused at the screen when Rip muttered, turned his head on his foldedarms and opened his sunken eyes:

"Did we make it?" he asked dully. 

Dane, not taking his eyes from that fascinating scene without, answered:"You brought us down. But I don't know where--"

"Unless our instruments were 'way off, we're near to the heart of theBurn. "

"Some heart!"

"What does it look like?" Rip sounded too tired to cross the cabin andsee for himself. "Barren as Limbo?"

"Hardly! Rip, did you ever see a tomato as big as a melon--At least itlooks like a tomato, " Dane halted the spy lens as it focused upon thisnew phenomena. 

"A what?" There was a note of concern in Shannon's voice. "What's thematter with you, Dane?"

"Come and see, " Dane willingly yielded his place to Rip but he did notstep out of range of the screen. Surely that did have the likeness to agood, old fashioned earth-side tomato--but it was melon size and it hungfrom a bush which was close to a ten foot tree!

Rip stumbled across to drop into the Com-tech's place. But his expressionof worry changed to one of simple astonishment as he saw that picture. 

"Where are we?"

"You name it, " Dane had had longer to adjust, the excitement of anexplorer sighting virgin territory worked in his veins, banishingfatigue. "It must be the Big Burn!"

"But, " Rip shook his head slowly as if with that gesture to deny theevidence before his eyes, "that country's all bare rock. I've seenpictures--"

"Of the outer rim, " Dane corrected, having already solved that problemfor himself. "This must be farther in than any survey ship ever came. Great Spirit of Outer Space, what has happened here?"

Rip had enough technical training to know how to get part of the answer. He leaned halfway across the com, and was able to flick down a lever withthe very tip of his longest finger. Instantly the cabin was filled with aclicking so loud as to make an almost continuous drone of sound. 

Dane knew that danger signal, he didn't need Rip's words to underline itfor him. 

"That's what's happened. This country is pile 'hot' out there!"

Chapter XIV

SPECIAL MISSION

That click, the dial beneath the counter, warned them that they were ascut off from the luxuriance outside as if they were viewing a scene onMars or Sargol from their present position. To go beyond the shieldingwalls of the spacer into that riotous green world would sentence them todeath as surely as if the Patrol was without, with a flamer trained ontheir hatch. There was no escape from that radiation--it would be in theair one breathed, strike though one's skin. And yet the wildernessflourished and beckoned. 

"Mutations--" Rip mused. "Space, Tau'd go wild if he could see it!"

And that mention of the Medic brought them back to the problem which hadearthed them. Dane leaned back against the slanting wall of the cabin. 

"We have to have a Medic--"

Rip nodded without looking away from the screen. 

"Can one of the flitters be shielded?" The Cargo-apprentice persisted. 

"That's a thought! Ali should know--" Rip reached for the inter-com mike. "Engines!"

"So you _are alive_?" Ali's voice had a bite in it. "About time you'recontacting. Where are we? Besides being lopsided from a recruit'sscrambled set-down, I mean. "

"In the Big Burn. Come top-side. Wait--how's Weeks?"

"He has a devil's own headache, but he hasn't blacked out yet. Looks likehis immunity holds in part. I've sent him bunkside for a while with acouple of pain pills. So we've made it--"

He must have left to join them for when Rip answered: "After a fashion, "into the mike there was no reply. 

And the clang of his boot plates on the ladder heralded his arrival attheir post. There was an interval for him to view the outer world andaccept the verdict of the counter and then Rip voiced Dane's question:

"Can we shield one of the flitters well enough to cross that? I can'ttake the Queen up and earth her again--"

"I know you can't!" the acting-engineer cut in. "Maybe you could get heroff world, but you'll come close to blasting out when you try for anotherlanding. Fuel doesn't go on forever--though some of you space jockeysseem to think it does. The flitter? Well, we've some spare rocketlinings. But it's going to be a job and a half to get those beaten outand reassembled. And, frankly, the space whirly one who flies her hadbetter be suited and praying loudly when he takes off. We can alwaystry--" He was frowning, already busied with the problem which was one forhis department. 

So with intervals of snatched sleep, hurried meals and the time whichmust be given to tending their unconscious charges, Rip and Dane becameonly hands to be directed by Ali's brain and garnered knowledge. Weeksslept off the worst of his pain and, though he complained of weakness, hetottered back on duty to help. 

The flitter--an air sled intended to hold three men and supplies forexploring trips on strange-worlds--was first stripped of allnon-essentials until what remained was not much more than the pilot'sseat and the motor. Then they labored to build up a shielding of thetough radiation dulling alloy which was used to line rocket tubes. Andthey could only praise the foresight of Stotz who carried such a fullsupply of spare parts and tools. It was a task over which they oftendespaired, and Ali improvised frantically, performing weird adjustmentsof engineering structure. He was still unsatisfied when they had done. 

"She'll fly, " he admitted. "And she's the best we can do. But it'lldepend a lot on how far she has to go over 'hot' country. Which way do wehead her?"

Rip had been busy with a map of Terra--a small thing he had discovered inone of the travel recordings carried for crew entertainment. 

"The Big Burn covers three quarters of this continent. There's no usegoing north--the devastated area extends into the arctic regions. I'd saywest--there's some fringe settlements on the sea coast and we need tocontact a frontier territory. Now do we have it straight--? I take theflitter, get a Medic and bring him back?"

Dane cut in at that point. "Correct course! You stay here. If the Queenhas to lift, you're the only one who can take her off world. And thesame's true for Ali. I can't ride out a blast-off in either the pilot'sor the engineer's seat. And Weeks is on the sick list. So I'm elected todo the Medic hunting--"

They were forced to agree to that. He was no hero, Dane thought, as hegave a last glance about his cabin early the next morning. The smallcubby, utilitarian and bare as it was, never looked more inviting orsecure. No, no hero, it was merely a matter of common sense. And althoughhis imagination--that deeply hidden imagination with which few of hisfellows credited him--shrank from the ordeal ahead, he had not theslightest intention of allowing that to deter him. 

The space suit, which had been bulky and clumsy enough on the E-Statasteroid under limited gravity, was almost twice as poorly adapted toprogression on earth. But he climbed into it with Rip's aid, while Alilashed a second suit under the seat--ready to encase the man Dane mustbring back with him. Before he closed the helmet, Rip had one last orderto give, along with an unexpected piece of equipment. And, when Dane sawthat, he knew just how desperate Shannon considered their situation tobe. For only on life or death terms would the Astrogator-apprentice haveused Jellico's private key, opened the forbidden arms cabinet, andwithdrawn that blaster. 

"If you need it--use this--" Rip's face was very sober. 

Ali arose from fastening the extra suit in place. "It's ready--"

He came back into the corridor and Dane clanked out in his place, settling himself behind the controls. When they saw him there, the innerhatch closed and he was alone in the bay. 

With tantalizing slowness the outer wall of the spacer slid back. Hishands blundering with the metallic claws of the gloves, Dane buckled twosafety belts about him. Then the skeleton flitter moved to the left--outinto the glare of the early day, a light too bright, even through theshielded viewplates of his helmet. 

For some dangerous moments the machine creaked out and down on the landingcranes, the warning counter on its control panel going into a mad whirlof color as it tried to record the radiation. There came a jar as ittouched the scorched earth at the foot of the Queen's fins. 

Dane pressed the release and watched the lines whip up and the hatchabove snap shut. Then he opened the controls. He used too much energy andshot into the air, tearing a wide gap through what was luckily a thinscreen of the matted foliage, before he gained complete mastery. 

Then he was able to level out and bore westward, the rising sun at hisback, the sea of deadly green beneath him, and somewhere far ahead thefaint promise of clean, radiation free land holding the help they needed. 

Mile after mile of the green jungle swept under the flitter, and theflash of the counter's light continued to record a land unfit formankind. Even with the equipment used on distant worlds to protect whatspacemen had come to recognize was a reasonably tough human frame, noground force could hope to explore that wilderness in person. And flyingabove it, as well insulated as he was, Dane knew that he could bedangerously exposed. If the contaminated territory extended more than athousand miles, his danger was no longer problematical--it was anestablished fact. 

He had only the vague directions from the scrap of map Rip had uncovered. To the west--he had no idea how far away--there stretched a length ofcoastline, far enough from the radiation blasted area to allow smallsettlements. For generations the population of Terra, decimated by theatomic wars, and then drained by first system and then Galacticexploration and colonization, had been decreasing. But within the pasthundred years it was again on the upswing. Men retiring from space werereturning to their native planet to live out their remaining years. Thedescendants of far-flung colonists, coming home on visits, found thesparsely populated mother world appealed to some basic instinct so thatthey remained. And now the settlements of mankind were on the march, spreading out from the well established sections which had not beenblighted by ancient wars. 

It was mid-afternoon when Dane noted that the green carpet beneath theflitter was displaying holes--that small breaks in the vegetation becamesizable stretches of rocky waste. He kept one eye on the counter andwhat, when he left the spacer, had been an almost steady beam of warninglight was now a well defined succession of blinks. The land below wascooling off--perhaps he had passed the worst of the journey. But in thatpassing how much had he and the flitter become contaminated? Ali haddevised a method of protection for the empty suit the Medic wouldwear--had that held? There were an alarming number of dark ifs in theimmediate future. 

The mutant growths were now only thin patches of stunted and yellowishgreen. Had man penetrated only this far into the Burn, the knowledge ofwhat lay beyond would be totally false. This effect of dreary waste mightwell discourage exploration. 

Now the blink of the counter was deliberate, with whole seconds of pausebetween the flashes. Cooling off--? It was getting cold fast! He wishedthat he had a com-unit. Because of the interference in the Burn he hadleft it behind--but with one he might be able now to locate somesettlement. All that remained was to find the seashore and, with it as aguide, flit south towards the center of modern civilization. 

He laid no plans of action--this whole exploit must depend uponimprovisation. And, as a Free Trader, spur-of-the-moment action was anecessary way of life. On the frontier Rim of the Galaxy, where theindependent spacers traced the star trails, fast thinking and the abilityto change plans on an instant were as important as skill in aiming ablaster. And it was very often proven that the tongue--and the brainbehind it--were more deadly than a flamer. 

The sun was in Dane's face now and he caught sight of patches ofuncontaminated earth with honest vegetation--in place of the "hot" junglenow miles behind. That night he camped out on the edge of rough pasturagewhere the counter no longer flashed its warning and he was able to shedthe suit and sleep under the stars with the fresh air of early summeragainst his cheek and the smell of honest growing things replacing thedry scent of the spacer and the languorous perfumes of Sargol. 

He lay on his back, flat against the earth of which he was truly a part, staring up into the dark, inverted bowl of the heavens. It was so hard toconnect those distant points of icy light making the well rememberedpatterns overhead with the suns whose rays had added to the brown stainon his skin. Sargol's sun--the one which gave such limited light to deadLimbo--the sun under which Naxos, his first Galactic port, grew its food. He could not pick them out--was not even sure that any could be sightedfrom Terra. Strange suns, red, orange, blue green, white--yet here alllooked alike--points of glitter. 

Tomorrow at dawn he must go on. He turned his head away from the sky andgrass, green Terran grass, was soft beneath his cheek. Yet unless he wassuccessful tomorrow or the next day--he might never have the right tofeel that grass again. Resolutely Dane willed that thought out of hismind, tried to fix upon something more lulling which would bring with itthe sleep he must have before he went on. And in the end he did sleep, deeply, dreamlessly, as if the touch of Terra's soil was in itself thesedative his tautly strung nerves needed. 

It was before sunrise that he awoke, stiff, and chilled. The dryness ofpre-dawn gave partial light and somewhere a bird was twittering. Therehad been birds--or things whose far off ancestors had been birds--in the"hot" forest. Did they also sing to greet the dawn?

Dane went over the flitter with his small counter and was relieved tofind that they had done a good job of shielding under Ali's supervision. Once the suit he had worn was stored, he could sit at the controlswithout danger and in comfort. And it was good to be free of that metalprison. 

This time he took to the air with ease, the salt taste of foodconcentrate on his tongue as he sucked a cube. And his confidence arosewith the flitter. This was the day, somehow he knew it. He was going tofind what he sought. 

It was less than two hours after sunrise that he did so. A village whichwas a cluster of perhaps fifty or so house units strung along into theland. He skimmed across it and brought the flitter down in a rock cliffwalled sand pocket with surf booming some yards away, where he would bereasonably sure of safe hiding. 

All right, he had found a village. Now what? A Medic--A strangerappearing on the lane which served the town, a stranger in a distinctiveuniform of Trade, would only incite conjecture and betrayal. He had toplan now--

Dane unsealed his tunic. He should, by rights, shed his space boots too. But perhaps he could use those to color his story. He thrust the blasterinto hiding at his waist. A rip or two in his undertunic, a shallow cutfrom his bush knife allowed to bleed messily. He could not see himself tojudge the general effect, but had to hope it was the right one. 

His chance to test his acting powers came sooner than he had anticipated. Luckily he had climbed out of the hidden cove before he was spotted bythe boy who came whistling along the path, a fishing pole over hisshoulder, a basket swinging from his hand. Dane assumed an expressionwhich he thought would suggest fatigue, pain, and bewilderment andlurched forward as if, in sighting the oncoming boy, he had also sightedhope. 

"Help--!" Perhaps it was excitement which gave his utterance thatconvincing croak. 

Rod and basket fell to the ground as the boy, after one astounded stare, ran forward. 

"What's the matter!" His eyes were on those space boots and he added a"sir" which had the ring of hero worship. 

"Escape boat--" Dane waved toward the sea's general direction. "Medic--must get to Medic--"

"Yes, sir, " the boy's basic Terran sounded good. "Can you walk if I helpyou?"

Dane managed a weak nod, but contrived that he did not lean too heavilyon his avidly helpful guide. 

"The Medic's my father, sir. We're right down this slope--third house. And father hasn't left--he's supposed to go on a northern inspection tourtoday--"

Dane felt a stab of distaste for the role being forced upon him. When hehad visualized the Medic he must abduct to serve the Queen in her need, he had not expected to have to kidnap a family man. Only the knowledgethat he did have the extra suit, and that he had made the outward tripwithout dangerous exposure, bolstered up his determination to see theplan through. 

When they came out at the end of the single long lane which tied thehouses of the village together, Dane was puzzled to see the place sodeserted. But, since it was not within his role of dazed sufferer to askquestions, he did not do so. It was his young guide who volunteered theinformation he wanted. 

"Most everyone is out with the fleet. There's a run of red-backs--"

Dane understood. Within recent times the "red-backs" of the north hadbecome a desirable luxury item for Terran tables. If a school of themwere to be found in the vicinity no wonder this village was now desertedas its fleet went out to garner in the elusive but highly succulent fish. 

"In here, sir--" Dane found himself being led to a house on the right. "Are you in Trade--?"

He suppressed a start, shedding his uniform tunic had not done much inthe way of disguise. It would be nice, he thought a little bitterly, ifhe could flash an I-S badge now to completely confuse the issue. But heanswered with the partial truth and did not enlarge. 

"Yes--"

The boy was flushed with excitement. "I'm trying for Trade ServiceMedic, " he confided. "Passed the Directive exam last month. But I stillhave to go up for Prelim psycho--"

Dane had a flash of memory. Not too many months before not the Prelimpsycho, but the big machine at the Assignment Center had decided his ownfuture arbitrarily, fitting him into the crew of the Solar Queen as theship where _his_ abilities, knowledge and potentialities could best workto the good of the Service. At the time he had resented, had even beenslightly ashamed of being relegated to a Free Trading spacer while ArturSands and other classmates from the Pool had walked off with Companyassignments. Now he knew that he would not trade the smallest and mostrusty bolt from the solar Queen for the newest scout ship in I-S orCombine registry. And this boy from the frontier village might be himselfas he was five years earlier. Though he had never known a real home orfamily, scrapping into the Pool from one of the children's Depots. 

"Good luck!" He meant that and the boy's flush deepened. 

"Thank you, sir. Around here--Father's treatment room has this otherdoor--"

Dane allowed himself to be helped into the treatment room and sat down ina chair while the boy hurried off to locate the Medic. The Trader's handwent to the butt of his concealed blaster. It was a job he had to do--onehe had volunteered for--and there was no backing out. But his mouth had awry twist as he drew out the blaster and made ready to point it at theinner door. Or--his mind leaped to another idea--could he get the Medicsafely out of the village? A story about another man badlyinjured--perhaps pinned in the wreckage of an escape boat--He could tryit. He thrust the blaster back inside his torn undertunic, hoping thebulge would pass unnoticed. 

"My son says--"

Dane looked up. The man who came through the inner door was in earlymiddle age, thin, wiry, with a hard, fined-down look about him. He couldalmost be Tau's elder brother. He crossed the room with a brisk strideand came to stand over Dane, his hand reaching to pull aside the bloodycloth covering the Trader's breast. But Dane fended off that examination. 

"My partner, " he said. "Back there--pinned in--" he jerked his handsouthward. "Needs help--"

The Medic frowned. "Most of the men are out with the fleet. Jorge, " hespoke to the boy who had followed him, "go and get Lex and Hartog. Here, "he tried to push Dane back into the chair as the Trader got up, "let melook at that cut--"

Dane shook his head. "No time now, sir. My partner's hurt bad. Can youcome?"

"Certainly. " The Medic reached for the emergency kit on the shelf behindhim. "You able to make it?"

"Yes, " Dane was exultant. It was going to work! He could toll the Medicaway from the village. Once out among the rocks on the shoreline he couldpull the blaster and herd the man to the flitter. His luck was going tohold after all!

Chapter XV

MEDIC HOVAN REPORTS

Fortunately the path out of the straggling town was a twisted one and ina very short space they were hidden from view. Dane paused as if the pacewas too much for an injured man. The Medic put out a steadying hand, onlyto drop it quickly when he saw the weapon which had appeared in Dane'sgrip. 

"What--?" His mouth snapped shut, his jaw tightened. 

"You will march ahead of me, " Dane's low voice was steady. "Beyond thatrock spur to the left you'll find a place where it is possible to climbdown to sea level. Do it!"

"I suppose I shouldn't ask why?"

"Not now. We haven't much time. Get moving!"

The Medic mastered his surprise and without further protest obeyedorders. It was only when they were standing by the flitter and he saw thesuits that his eyes widened and he said:

"The Big Burn!"

"Yes, and I'm desperate--"

"You must be--or mad--" The Medic stared at Dane for a long moment andthen shook his head. "What is it? A plague ship?"

Dane bit his lip. The other was too astute. But he did not ask why or howhe had been able to guess so shrewdly. Instead he gestured to the suitAli had lashed beneath the seat in the flitter. "Get into that and bequick about it!"

The Medic rubbed his hand across his jaw. "I think that you might just bedesperate enough to use that thing you're brandishing about somelodramatically if I don't, " he remarked in a calmly conversationaltone. 

"I won't kill. But a blaster burn--"

"Can be pretty painful. Yes, I know that, young man. And, " suddenly heshrugged, put down his kit and started donning the suit. "I wouldn't putit past you to knock me out and load me aboard if I did say no. Allright--"

Suited, he took his place on the seat as Dane directed, and then theTrader followed the additional precaution of lashing the Medic's metalencased arms to his body before he climbed into his own protectivecovering. Now they could only communicate by sight through the visionplates of their helmets. 

Dane triggered the controls and they arose out of the sand and rockhollow just as a party of two men and a boy came hurrying along the topof the cliff--Jorge and the rescuers arriving too late. The flitterspiraled up into the sunlight and Dane wondered how long it would bebefore this outrage was reported to the nearest Plant Police base. Butwould any Police cruiser have the hardihood to follow him into the BigBurn? He hoped that the radiation would hold them back. 

There was no navigation to be done. The flitter's "memory" should depositthem at the Queen. Dane wondered at what his silent companion was nowthinking. The Medic had accepted his kidnapping with such docility thatthe very ease of their departure began to bother Dane. Was the otherexpecting a trailer? Had exploration into the Big Burn from the seasidevillages been more extensive than reported officially?

He stepped up the power of the flitter to the top notch and saw with somerelief that the ground beneath them was now the rocky waste bordering thedevastated area. The metal encased figure that shared his seat had notmoved, but now the bubble head turned as if the Medic were intent uponthe ground flowing beneath them. 

The flicker of the counter began and Dane realized that nightfall wouldfind them still air borne. But so far he had not been aware of anypursuit. Again he wished he had the use of a com--only here the radiationwould blanket sound with that continuous roar. 

Patches of the radiation vegetation showed now and something in the linesof the Medic's tense figure suggested that these were new to him. Afternoon waned as the patches united, spread into the beginning of thejungle as the counter was once more an almost steady light. When eveningclosed in they were not caught in darkness--for below trees, loopingvines, brush, had a pale, evil glow of their own, proclaiming theirtoxicity with bluish halos. Sometimes pockets of these made a core oflight which pulsed, sending warning fingers at the flitter which spedacross it. 

The hour was close on midnight before Dane sighted the other light, thepink-red of which winked through the ghastly blue-white with a naturaland comforting promise, even though it had been meant for an entirelydifferent purpose. The Queen had earthed with her distress lights on andno one had remembered to snap them off. Now they acted as a beacon todraw the flitter to its berth. 

Dane brought the stripped flyer down on the fused ground as close to thespot from which he had taken off as he could remember. Now--if those onthe spacer would only move fast enough--!

But he need not have worried, his arrival had been anticipated. Above, the rounded side of the spacer bulged as the hatch opened. Lines swungdown to fasten their magnetic clamps on the flitter. Then once more theywere air borne, swinging up to be warped into the side of the ship. Asthe outer port of the flitter berth closed Dane reached over and pulledloose the lashing which immobilized his companion. The Medic stood up, alittle awkwardly as might any man who wore space armor the first time. 

The inner hatch now opened and Dane waved his captive into the smallsection which must serve them as a decontamination space. Free at last ofthe suits, they went through one more improvised hatch to the maincorridor of the Queen where Rip and Ali stood waiting, their weary faceslighting as they saw the Medic. 

It was the latter who spoke first. "This _is_ a plague ship--"

Rip shook his head. "It is _not_, sir. And you're the one who is going tohelp us prove that. "

The man leaned back against the wall, his face expressionless. "You takea rather tough way of trying to get help. "

"It was the only way left us. I'll be frank, " Rip continued, "we'rePatrol Posted. "

The Medic's shrewd eyes went from one drawn young face to the next. "Youdon't look like desperate criminals, " was his comment. "This your fullcrew?"

"All the rest are your concern. That is--if you will take the job--"Rip's shoulders slumped a little. 

"You haven't left me much choice, have you? If there is illness on board, I'm under the Oath--whether you are Patrol Posted or not. What's thetrouble?"

They got him down to Tau's laboratory and told him their story. From aslight incredulity his expression changed to an alert interest and hedemanded to see, first the patients and then the pests now immured in adeep freeze. Sometime in the middle of this, Dane, overcome by fatiguewhich was partly relief from tension, sought his cabin and the bunk fromwhich he wearily disposed Sinbad, only to have the purring cat crawl backonce more when he had lain down. 

And when he awoke, renewed in body and spirit, it was in a new Queen, aship in which hope and confidence now ruled. 

"Hovan's already got it!" Rip told him exultantly. "It's that poison fromthe little devils' claws right enough! A narcotic--produces some of theaffects of deep sleep. In fact--it may have a medical use. He's excitedabout it--"

"All right, " Dane waved aside information which under othercircumstances, promising as it did a chance for future trade, would haveengrossed him, to ask a question which at the moment seemed far more tothe point. "Can he get our men back on their feet?"

A little of Rip's exuberance faded. "Not right away. He's given them allshots. But he thinks they'll have to sleep it off. "

"And we have no idea how long that is going to take, " Ali contributed. 

Time--for the first time in days Dane was struck by that--time! Becauseof his training a fact he had forgotten in the past weeks of worry nowcame to mind--their contract with the storm priests. Even if they wereable to clear themselves of the plague charge, even if the rest of thecrew were speedily restored to health, he was sure that they could nothope to return to Sargol with the promised cargo, the pay for which wasalready on board the Queen. They would have broken their pledge and therecould be no hope of holding to their trading rights on that world--ifthey were not blacklisted for breaking contract into the bargain. I-Swould be able to move in and clean up and probably they could never provethat the Company was behind their misfortunes--though the men of theQueen would always be convinced that that fact was the truth. 

"We're going to break contract--" he said aloud and that shook the othertwo, knocked some of their assurance out of them. 

"How about that?" Rip asked Ali. 

The acting-engineer nodded. "We have fuel enough to lift from here andmaybe set down at Terraport--if we take it careful and cut vectors. Wecan't lift from there without refueling--and of course the Patrol aregoing to sit on their hands while we do that--with us Posted! No, put outof your heads any plan for getting back to Sargol within the time limit. Thorson's right--that way we're flamed out!"

Rip slumped in his seat. "So the Eysies can take over after all?"

"As I see it, " Dane cut in, "let's just take one thing at a time. We mayhave to argue a broken contract out before the Board. But first we haveto get off the Posted hook with the Patrol. Have you any idea about howwe are going to handle that?"

"Hovan's on our side. In fact if we let him have the bugs to play withhe'll back us all the way. He can swear us a clean bill of health beforethe Medic Control Center. "

"How much will that count after we've broken all their regs?" Ali wantedto know. "If we surrender now we're not going to have much chance, nomatter what Hovan does or does not swear to. Hovan's a frontier Medic--Iwon't say that he's not a member in good standing of theirassociation--but he doesn't have top star rating. And with the Eysies andthe Patrol on our necks, we'll need more than one medic's word--"

But Rip looked from the pessimistic Kamil to Dane. Now he asked aquestion which was more than half statement. 

"You've thought of something?"

"I've remembered something, " the Cargo-apprentice corrected. "Recall thetrick Van pulled on Limbo when the Patrol was trying to ease us out ofour rights there after they took over the outlaw hold?"

Ali was impatient. "He threatened to talk to the Video people andbroadcast--tell everyone about the ships wrecked by the Forerunnerinstallation and left lying about full of treasure. But what has that todo with us now--? We bargained away our rights on Limbo for the rest ofCam's monopoly on Sargol--not that it's done us much good--"

"The Video, " Dane fastened on the important point, "Van threatenedpublicity which would embarrass the Patrol and he was legally within hisrights. We're outside the law now--but publicity might help again. Howmany earth-side people know of the unwritten law about open war on plagueships? How many who aren't spacemen know that we could be legally pushedinto the sun and fried without any chance to prove we're innocent ofcarrying a new disease? If we could talk loud and clear to the people atlarge maybe we'd have a chance for a real hearing--"

"Right from the Terraport broadcast station, I suppose?" Ali taunted. 

"Why not?"

There was silence in the cabin as the other two chewed upon that and hebroke it again:

"We set down here when it had never been done before. "

With one brown forefinger Rip traced some pattern known only to himselfon the top of the table. Ali stared at the opposite wall as if it were abank of machinery he must master. 

"It just might be whirly enough to work--" Kamil commented softly. "Ormaybe we've been spaced too long and the Whisperers have been chatteringinto our ears. What about it, Rip, could you set us down close enough toCenter Block there?"

"We can try anything once. But we might crash the old girl bringing herin. There's that apron between the Companies' Launching cradles and theCenter--. It's clear there and we could give an E signal coming downwhich would make them stay rid of it. But I won't try it except as a lastresort. "

Dane noticed that after that discouraging statement Rip made straight forJellico's record tapes and routed out the one which dealt with Terraportand the landing instructions for that metropolis of the star ships. Toland unbidden there would certainly bring them publicity--and to get theVideo broadcast and tell their story would grant them not only worldwide, but system wide hearing. News from Terraport was broadcast on everychannel every hour of the day and night and not a single viewer couldmiss their appeal. 

But first there was Hovan to be consulted. Would he be willing to backthem with his professional knowledge and assurance? Or would theirhigh-handed method of recruiting his services operate against them now?They decided to let Rip ask such questions of the Medic. 

"So you're going to set us down in the center of the big jump-off?" washis first comment, as the acting-Captain of the Queen stated their case. "Then you want me to fire my rockets to certify you are harmless. Youdon't ask for very much, do you, son?"

Rip spread his hands. "I can understand how it looks to you, sir. Wegrabbed you and brought you here by force. We can't make you testify forus if you decide not to--"

"Can't you?" The Medic cocked an eyebrow at him. "What about this bullyboy of yours with his little blaster? He could herd me right up to thetelecast, couldn't he? There's a lot of persuasion in one of those nastylittle arms. On the other hand, I've a son who's set on taking out on oneof these tin pots to go star hunting. If I handed you over to the Patrolhe might make some remarks to me in private. You may be Posted, but youdon't look like very hardened criminals to me. It seems that you've beenhanded a bad situation and handled it as best you know. And I'm willingto ride along the rest of the way on your tail blast. Let me see how manypieces you land us in at Terraport and I'll give you my final answer. Ifluck holds we may have a couple more of your crew present by that time, also--"

They had had no indication that the Queen had been located, that anyposse hunting the kidnapped Medic had followed them into the Big Burn. Andthey could only hope that they would continue to remain unsighted as theyupped-ship once more and cruised into a regular traffic lane for earthingat the port. It would be a chancy thing and Ali and Rip spent hourschecking the mechanics of that flight, while Dane and the recoveringWeeks worked with Hovan in an effort to restore the sleeping crew. 

After three visits to the hold and the discovery that the Hoobat haduncovered no more of the pests, Dane caged the angry blue horror andreturned it to its usual stand in Jellico's cabin, certain that the shipwas clean for Sinbad now confidently prowled the corridors and went intoevery cabin of storage space Dane opened for him. 

And on the morning of the day they had planned for take-off, Hovan atlast had a definite response to his treatment. Craig Tau roused, stareddazedly around, and asked a vague question. The fact he immediatelyrelapsed once more into semi-coma did not discourage the other Medic. Progress had been made and he was now sure that he knew the propertreatment. 

They strapped down at zero hour and blasted out of the weird greenwilderness they had not dared to explore, lifting into the arch of thesky, depending upon Rip's knowledge to put them safely down again. 

Dane once more rode out the take-off at the com-unit, waiting for theblast of radiation born static to fade so that he could catch anybroadcast. 

"--turned back last night. The high level of radiation makes it almostcertain that the outlaws could not have headed into the dangerous centralportion. Search is now spreading north. Authorities are inclined tobelieve that this last outrage may be a clew to the vanished 'SolarQueen, ' a plague ship, warned off and Patrol Posted after her crewplundered an E-Stat belonging to the Inter-Solar Corporation. Anyonehaving any information concerning this ship--or any strangespacer--report at once to the nearest Terrapolice or Patrol station. Donot take chances--report any contact at once to the nearest Terrapoliceor Patrol station!"

"That's putting it strongly, " Dane commented as he relayed the message. "Good as giving orders for us to be flamed down at sight--"

"Well, if we set down in the right spot, " Rip replied, "they can't flameus out without blasting the larger part of Terraport field with us. And Idon't think they are going to do that in a hurry. "

Dane hoped Shannon was correct in that belief. It would be more chancythan landing at the E-Stat or in the Big Burn--to gauge it just right andput them down on the Terraport apron where they could not be flamed outwithout destroying too much, where their very position would give them abargaining point, was going to be a top star job. If Rip could only pullit off!

He could not evaluate the niceties of that flight, he did not understandall Rip was doing. But he did know enough to remain quietly in his place, ask no questions, and await results with a dry mouth and a wildly beatingheart. There came a moment when Rip glanced up at him, one hand poisedover the control board. The pilot's voice came tersely, thin and queer:

"Pray it out, Dane--here we go!"

Dane heard the shrill of a riding beam, so tearing he had to move hisearphones. They must be almost on top of the control tower to get it likethat! Rip was planning on a set down where the Queen would block thingsneatly. He brought his own fingers down on the E-E-Red button to give thelast and most powerful warning. That, to be used only when a ship landingwas out of control, should clear the ground below. They could only prayit would vacate the port they were still far from seeing. 

"Make it a fin-point, Rip, " he couldn't repress that one bit of advice. And was glad he had given it when he saw a ghost grin tug for a moment atRip's full lips. 

"Good enough for a check-ride?"

They were riding her flaming jets down as they would on a strange world. Below the port must be wild. Dane counted off the seconds. Two--three--four--five--just a few more and they would be too low tointercept--without endangering innocent coasters and groundhuggers. Whenthe last minute during which they were still vulnerable passed, he gave asigh of relief. That was one more point on their side. In the earphoneswas a crackle of frantic questions, a gabble of orders screaming at him. Let them rave, they'd know soon enough what it was all about. 

Chapter XVI

THE BATTLE OF THE VIDEO

Oddly enough, in spite of the tension which must have boiled within him, Rip brought them in with a perfect four fin-point landing--one which, under the circumstances, must win him the respect of master star-starpilots from the Rim. Though Dane doubted whether if they lost, that skillwould bring Shannon anything but a long term in the moon mines. Theactual jar of their landing contact was mostly absorbed by the webbing oftheir shock seats and they were on their feet, ready to move almost atonce. 

The next operation had been planned. Dane gave a glance at the screen. Ringed now about the Queen were the buildings of Terraport. Yes, anyattempt to attack the ship would endanger too much of the permanentstructure of the field itself. Rip had brought them down--not on therocket scarred outer landing space--but on the concrete apron between theAssignment Center and the control tower--a smooth strip usually sacred tothe parking of officials' ground scooters. He speculated as to whetherany of the latter had been converted to molten metal by the exhausts ofthe Queen's descent. 

Like the team they had come to be the four active members of the crewwent into action. Ali and Weeks were waiting by an inner hatch, MedicHovan with them. The Engineer-apprentice was bulky in a space suit, andtwo more of the unwieldy body coverings waited beside him for Rip andDane. With fingers which were inclined to act like thumbs they weresealed into what would provide some protection against any blaster orsleep ray. Then with Hovan, conspicuously wearing no such armor, theyclimbed into one of the ship's crawlers. 

Weeks activated the outer hatch and the crane lines plucked the smallvehicle out of the Queen, swinging it dizzily down to the blast scoredapron. 

"Make for the tower--" Rip's voice was thin in the helmet coms. 

Dane at the controls of the crawler pulled on as Ali cast off the lineswhich anchored them to the spacer. 

Through the bubble helmet he could see the frenzied activity in thearoused port. An ant hill into which some idle investigator had thrust astick and given it a turn or two was nothing compared with Terraportafter the unorthodox arrival of the Solar Queen. 

"Patrol mobile coming in on southeast vector, " Ali announced calmly. "Looks like she mounts a portable flamer on her nose--"

"So. " Dane changed direction, putting behind him a customs check point, aware as he ground by that stand, of a line of faces at its vision ports. Evasive action--and he'd have to get the top speed from the clumsycrawler. 

"Police 'copter over us--" that was Rip reporting. 

Well, they couldn't very well avoid _that_. But at the same time Danewas reasonably sure that its attack would not be an overt one--not withthe unarmed, unprotected Hovan prominently displayed in their midst. 

But there he was too sanguine. A muffled exclamation from Rip made himglance at the Medic beside him. Just in time to see Hovan slump limplyforward, about to tumble from the crawler when Shannon caught him frombehind. Dane was too familiar with the results of sleep rays to have anydoubts as to what had happened. 

The P-copter had sprayed them with its most harmless weapon. Only thesuits, insulated to the best of their makers' ability against most of thedangers of space, real and anticipated, had kept the three Traders frombeing overcome as well. Dane suspected that his own responses were atrifle sluggish, that while he had not succumbed to that attack, he hadbeen slowed. But with Rip holding the unconscious Medic in his seat, Thorson continued to head the crawler for the tower and its promise of asystem wide hearing for their appeal. 

"There's a P-mobile coming in ahead--"

Dane was irritated by that warning from Rip. He had already sighted thatblack and silver ground car himself. And he was only too keenly consciousof the nasty threat of the snub nosed weapon mounted on its hood, nowpointed straight at the oncoming, too deliberate Traders' crawler. Thenhe saw what he believed would be their only chance--to play once more thesame type of trick as Rip had used to earth them safely. 

"Get Hovan under cover, " he ordered. "I'm going to crash the tower door!"

Hasty movements answered that as the Medic's limp body was thrust underthe cover offered by the upper framework of the crawler. Luckily themachine had been built for heavy duty on rugged worlds where roadwayswere unknown. Dane was sure he could build up the power and speednecessary to take them into the lower floor of the tower--no matter ifits door was now barred against them. 

Whether his audacity daunted the P-mobile, or whether they held off froman all out attack because of Hovan, Dane could not guess. But he was gladfor a few minutes of grace as he raced the protesting engine of the heavymachine to its last and greatest effort. The treads of the crawler bit onthe steps leading up to the impressive entrance of the tower. There was asecond or two before traction caught and then the driver's heart snappedback into place as the machine tilted its nose up and headed straight forthe portal. 

They struck the closed doors with a shock which almost hurled them fromtheir seats. But that engraved bronze expanse had not been cast towithstand a head-on blow from a heavy duty off-world vehicle and theleaves tore apart letting them into the wide hall beyond. 

"Take Hovan and make for the riser!" For the second time it was Dane whogave the orders. "I have a blocking job to do here. " He expected everysecond to feel the bit of a police blaster somewhere along his shrinkingbody--could even a space suit protect him now?

At the far end of the corridor were the attendants and visitors, trappedin the building, who had fled in an attempt to find safety at thecrashing entrance of the crawler. These flung themselves flat at thesteady advance of the two space-suited Traders who supported theunconscious Medic between them, using the low-powered anti-grav units ontheir belts to take most of his weight so each had one hand free to holda sleep rod. And they did not hesitate to use those weapons--spraying therightful inhabitants of the tower until all lay unmoving. 

Having seen that Ali and Rip appeared to have the situation in hand, Daneturned to his own self-appointed job. He jammed the machine on reverse, maneuvering it with an ease learned by practice on the rough terrain ofLimbo, until the gate doors were pushed shut again. Then he swung themachine around so that its bulk would afford an effective bar to keep thedoor locked for some very precious moments to come. Short of using aflamer full power to cut their way in, no one was going to force anentrance now. 

He climbed out of the machine, to discover, when he turned, that the triofrom the Queen had disappeared--leaving all possible opposition asleep onthe floor. Dane clanked on to join them, carrying in plated fingers theirmost important weapon to awake public opinion--an improvised cage inwhich was housed one of the pests from the cargo hold--the proof of theirplague-free state which they intended Hovan to present, via the telecast, to the whole system. 

Dane reached the shaft of the riser--to find the platform gone. Wouldeither Rip or Ali have presence of mind enough to send it down to him onautomatic?

"Rip--return the riser, " he spoke urgently into the throat mike of hishelmet com. 

"Keep your rockets straight, " Ali's cool voice was in his earphones, "It's on its way down. Did _you_ remember to bring Exhibit A?"

Dane did not answer. For he was very much occupied with another problem. On the bronze doors he had been at such pains to seal shut there had comeinto being a round circle of dull red which was speedily changing into acoruscating incandescence. They _had_ brought a flamer to bear! It wouldbe a very short time now before the Police could come through. Thatriser--

Afraid of overbalancing in the bulky suit Dane did not lean forward tostare up into the shaft. But, as his uncertainty reached a fever pitch, the platform descended and he took two steps forward into temporarysafety, still clutching the cage. At the first try the thick fingers ofhis gloved hand slipped from the lever and he hit it again, harder thanhe intended, so that he found himself being wafted upward with a speedwhich did not agree with a stomach, even one long accustomed to spaceflight. And he almost lost his balance when it came to a stop many floorsabove. 

But he had not lost his wits. Before he stepped from the platform he setthe dial on a point which would lift the riser to the top of the shaftand hold it there. That might trap the Traders on the broadcasting floor, but it would also insure them time before the forces of the law couldreach them. 

Dane located the rest of his party in the circular core chamber of thebroadcasting section. He recognized a backdrop he had seen thousands oftimes behind the announcer who introduced the news-casts. In one cornerRip, his suit off, was working over the still relaxed form of the Medic. While Ali, a grim set to his mouth, was standing with a man who wore theinsignia of a Com-tech. 

"All set?" Rip looked up from his futile ministrations. 

Dane put down the cage and began the business of unhooking his ownprotective covering. "They were burning through the outer doors of theentrance hall when I took off. "

"You're not going to get away with this--" that was the Com-tech. 

Ali smiled wearily, a stretch of lips in which there was little or nomirth. "Listen, my friend. Since I started to ride rockets I've been toldI wasn't going to get away with this or that. Why not be more original?Use what is between those outsize ears of yours. We fought our way inhere--we landed at Terraport against orders--we're Patrol Posted. Do youthink that one man, one lone man, is going to keep us now from doing whatwe came to do? And don't look around for any reinforcements. We sprayedboth those rooms. You can run the emergency hook-up singlehanded andyou're going to. We're Free Traders--Ha, " the man had lost some of hisassurance as he stared from one drawn young face to another, "I see youbegin to realize what that means. Out on the Rim we play rough, and weplay for keeps. I know half a hundred ways to set you screaming in threeminutes and at least ten of them will not even leave a mark on your skin!Now do we get Service--or don't we?"

"You'll go to the Chamber for this--!" snarled the tech. 

"All right. But first we broadcast. Then maybe someday a ship that's runinto bad luck'll have a straighter deal than we've had. You get on yourpost. And we'll have the play back on--remember that. If you don't giveus a clear channel we'll know it. How about it, Rip--how's Hovan?"

Rip's face was a mask of worry. "He must have had a full dose. I can'tbring him around. "

Was this the end of their bold bid? Let each or all of them go before thescreen to plead their case, let them show the caged pest. But without theprofessional testimony of the Medic, the weight of an expert opinion ontheir side, they were licked. Well, sometimes luck did not ride a man'sfins all the way in. 

But some stubborn core within Dane refused to let him believe that theyhad lost. He went over to the Medic huddled in a chair. To allappearances Hovan was deeply asleep, sunk in the semi-coma the sleep rayproduced. And the frustrating thing was that the man himself could havesupplied the counter to his condition, given them the instructions how tobring him around. How many hours away was a natural awaking? Long beforethat their hold on the station would be broken--they would be in thecustody of either Police or Patrol. 

"He's sunk--" Dane voiced the belief which put an end to their hopes. ButAli did not seem concerned. 

Kamil was standing with their captive, an odd expression on his handsomeface as if he were striving to recall some dim memory. When he spoke itwas to the Com-tech. "You have an HD OS here?"

The other registered surprise. "I think so--"

Ali made an abrupt gesture. "Make sure, " he ordered, following the maninto another room. Dane looked to Rip for enlightenment. 

"What in the Great Nebula is an HD OS?"

"I'm no engineer. It may be some gadget to get us out of here--"

"Such as a pair of wings?" Dane was inclined to be sarcastic. The memoryof that incandescent circle on the door some twenty floors below stayedwith him. Tempers of Police and Patrol were not going to be improved byfighting their way around or over the obstacles the Traders had arrangedto delay them. If they caught up to the outlaws before the latter hadtheir chance for an impartial hearing, the result was not going to be ahappy one as far as the Queen's men were concerned. 

Ali appeared in the doorway. "Bring Hovan in here. " Together Rip and Danecarried the Medic into a smaller chamber where they found Ali and thetech busy lashing a small, lightweight tube chair to a machine which, totheir untutored eyes, had the semblance of a collection of bars. Obeyinginstructions they seated Hovan in that chair, fastening him in, while theMedic continued to slumber peacefully. Uncomprehendingly Rip and Danestepped back while, under Ali's watchful eye, the Com-tech madeadjustments and finally snapped some hidden switch. 

Dane discovered that he dared not watch too closely what followed. Inuredas he thought he was to the tricks of Hyperspace, to acceleration andanti-gravity, the oscillation of that swinging seat, the weird swaying ofthe half-recumbent figure, did things to his sight and to his sense ofbalance which seemed perilous in the extreme. But when the groan brokethrough the hum of Ali's mysterious machine, all of them knew that theEngineer-apprentice had found the answer to their problem, that Hovan waswaking. 

The Medic was bleary-eyed and inclined to stagger when they freed him. And for several minutes he seemed unable to grasp either his surroundingsor the train of events which had brought him there. 

Long since the Police must have broken into the entrance corridor below. Perhaps they had by now secured a riser which would bring them up. Alihad forced the Com-tech to throw the emergency control which was designedto seal off from the outer world the entire unit in which they now were. But whether that protective device would continue to hold now, none ofthe three were certain. Time was running out fast. 

Supporting the wobbling Hovan, they went back into the panel room andunder Ali's supervision the Com-tech took his place at the control board. Dane put the cage with the pest well to the fore on the table of theannouncer and waited for Rip to take his place there with the tremblingMedic. When Shannon did not move Dane glanced up in surprise--this was notime to hesitate. But he discovered that the attention of both hisshipmates was now centered on him. Rip pointed to the seat. 

"You're the talk merchant, aren't you?" the acting commander of the Queenasked crisply. "Now's the time to shout the Lingo--"

They couldn't mean--! But it was very evident that they did. Of course, a Cargo-master was supposed to be the spokesman of a ship. But that wasin matters of trade. And how could _he_ stand there and argue the casefor the Queen? He was the newest joined, the greenest member of her crew. Already his mouth was dry and his nerves tense. But Dane didn't know thatnone of that was revealed by his face or manner. The usual impassivenesswhich had masked his inner conflicts since his first days at the Poolserved him now. And the others never noted the hesitation with which heapproached the announcer's place. 

Dane had scarcely seated himself, one hand resting on the cage of thepest, before Ali brought down two fingers in the sharp sweep whichsignaled the Com-tech to duty. Far above them there was a whisper ofsound which signified the opening of the play-back. They would be able tocheck on whether the broadcast was going out or not. Although Dane couldsee nothing of the system wide audience which he currently faced, herealized that the room and those in it were now visible on every tuned-invideo set. Instead of the factual cast, the listeners were about to betreated to a melodrama which was as wild as their favorite romances. Itonly needed the break-in of the Patrol to complete the illusion ofaction-fiction--crime variety. 

A second finger moved in his direction and Dane leaned forward. He facedonly the folds of a wall wide curtain, but he must keep in mind that intruth there was a sea of faces before him, the faces of those whom he andHovan, working together, must convince if he were to save the Queen andher crew. 

He found his voice and it was steady and even, he might have beenoutlining some stowage problem for Van Rycke's approval. 

"People of Terra--"

Martian, Venusian, Asteroid colonist--inwardly they were still all Terranand on that point he would rest. He was a Terran appealing to his ownkind. 

"People of Terra, we come before you to ask justice--" from somewhere thewords came easily, flowing from his lips to center on a patch of lightahead. And that "justice" rang with a kind of reassurance. 

Chapter XVII

IN CUSTODY

"To those of you who do not travel the star trails our case may seempuzzling--" the words were coming easily. Dane gathered confidence as hespoke, intent on making those others out there know what it meant to beoutlawed. 

"We are Patrol Posted, outlawed as a plague ship, " he confessed frankly. "But this is our true story--"

Swiftly, with a flow of language he had not known he could command, Daneswung into the story of Sargol, of the pest they had carried away fromthat world. And at the proper moment he thrust a gloved hand into thecage and brought out the wriggling thing which struck vainly with itspoisoned talons, holding it above the dark table so that those unseenwatchers could witness the dramatic change of color which made it such amenace. Dane continued the story of the Queen's ill-fated voyage--oftheir forced descent upon the E-Stat. 

"Ask the truth of Inter-Solar, " he demanded of the audience beyond thosewalls. "We were no pirates. They will discover in their records thevouchers we left. " Then Dane described the weird hunt when, led by theHoobat, they had finally found and isolated the menace, and their landingin the heart of the Big Burn. He followed that with his own quest formedical aid, the kidnapping of Hovan. At that point he turned to theMedic. 

"This is Medic Hovan. He has consented to appear in our behalf and totestify to the truth--that the Solar Queen has not been stricken by someunknown plague, but infested with a living organism we now have undercontrol--" For a suspenseful second or two he wondered if Hovan was goingto make it. The man looked shaken and sick, as if the drastic awakingthey had subjected him to had left him too dazed to pull himselftogether. 

But out of some hidden reservoir of strength the Medic summoned theenergy he needed. And his testimony was all they had hoped it would be. Though now and then he strayed into technical terms. But, Dane thought, their use only enhanced the authority of his description of what he haddiscovered on board the spacer and what he had done to counteract thepower of the poison. When he had done Dane added a few last words. 

"We have broken the law, " he admitted forthrightly, "but we were fightingin self-defense. All we ask now is the privilege of an impartialinvestigation, a chance to defend ourselves--such as any of you take forgranted on Terra--before the courts of this planet--" But he was not tofinish without interruption. 

From the play-back over their heads another voice blared, breaking acrosshis last words:

"Surrender! This is the Patrol. Surrender or take the consequences!" Andthat faint sighing which signaled their open contact with the outer worldwas cut off. The Com-tech turned away from the control board, a sneeringhalf smile on his face. 

"They've reached the circuit and cut you off. You're done!"

Dane stared into the cage where the now almost invisible thing sat humpedtogether. He had done his best--they had all done their best. He feltnothing but a vast fatigue, an overwhelming weariness, not so much ofbody, but of nerve and spirit too. 

Rip broke the silence with a question aimed at the tech. "Can you signalbelow?"

"Going to give up?" The fellow brightened. "Yes, there's an inter-com Ican cut in. "

Rip stood up. He unbuckled the belt about his waist and laid it on thetable--disarming himself. Without words Ali and Dane followed hisexample. They had played their hand--to prolong the struggle would meannothing. The acting Captain of the Queen gave a last order:

"Tell them we are coming down unarmed--to surrender. " He paused in frontof Hovan. "You'd better stay here. If there's any trouble--no reason foryou to be caught in the middle. "

Hovan nodded as the three left the room. Dane, remembering the trick hehad pulled with the riser, made a comment:

"We may be marooned here--"

Ali shrugged. "Then we can just wait and let them collect us. " He yawned, his dark eyes set in smudges. "I don't care if they'll just let us sleepthe clock around afterwards. D'you really think, " he addressed Rip, "thatwe've done ourselves any good?"

Rip neither denied nor confirmed. "We took our only chance. Now it's upto them--" He pointed to the wall and the teeming world which lay beyondit. 

Ali grinned wryly. "I note you left the what-you-call-it with Hovan. "

"He wanted one to experiment with, " Dane replied. "I thought he'd earnedit. "

"And now here comes what we've earned--" Rip cut in as the hum of theriser came to their ears. 

"Should we take to cover?" Ali's mobile eyebrows underlined his demand. "The forces of law and order may erupt with blasters blazing. "

But Rip did not move. He faced the riser door squarely and, drawn bysomething in that stance of his, the other two stepped in on either sideso that they fronted the dubious future as a united group. Whatever camenow, the Queen's men would meet it together. 

In a way Ali was right. The four men who emerged all had their blastersor riot stun-rifles at ready, and the sights of those weapons weretrained at the middles of the Free Traders. As Dane's empty hands, palmout, went up on a line with his shoulders, he estimated the opposition. Two were in the silver and black of the Patrol, two wore the forest greenof the Terrapolice. But they all looked like men with whom it was betternot to play games. 

And it was clear they were prepared to take no chances with the outlaws. In spite of the passiveness of the Queen's men, their hands were lockedbehind them with force bars about their wrists. When a quick searchrevealed that the three were unarmed, they were herded onto the riser bytwo of their captors, while the other pair remained behind, presumably touncover any damage they had done to the Tower installations. 

The police did not speak except for a few terse words among themselvesand a barked order to march, delivered to the prisoners. Very shortlythey were in the entrance hall facing the wreckage of the crawler anddoors through which a ragged gap had been burned. Ali viewed the scenewith his usual detachment. 

"Nice job, " he commended Dane's enterprise. "They'll have a moving--"

"Get going!" A heavy hand between his shoulder blades urged him on. 

The Engineer-apprentice whirled, his eyes blazing. "Keep your hands toyourself! We aren't mine fodder yet. I think that the little matter of atrial comes first--"

"You're Posted, " the Patrolman was openly contemptuous. 

Dane was chilled. For the first time that aspect of their predicamentreally registered. Posted outlaws might, within reason, be shot on sightwithout further recourse to the law. If that label stuck on the crew ofthe Queen, they had practically no chance at all. And when he saw thatAli was no longer inclined to retort, he knew that fact had dawned uponKamil also. It would all depend upon how big an impression theirbroadcast had made. If public opinion veered to their side--then theycould defend themselves legally. Otherwise the moon mines might be thebest sentence they dare hope for. 

They were pushed out into the brilliant sunlight. There stood the Queen, her meteor scarred side reflecting the light of her native sun. Andringed around her at a safe distance was what seemed to be a smallmechanized army corps. The authorities were making very sure that no morerebels would burst from her interior. 

Dane thought that they would be loaded into a mobile or 'copter and takenaway. But instead they were marched down, through the ranks of portableflamers, scramblers, and other equipment, to an open space where anyoneon duty at the visa-screen within the control cabin of the spacer couldsee them. An officer of the Patrol, the sun making an eye-blinding flashof his lightning sword breast badge, stood behind a loud speaker. Whenhe perceived that the three prisoners were present, he picked up a handmike and spoke into it--his voice so being relayed over the field asclearly as it must be reaching Weeks inside the sealed freighter. 

"You have five minutes to open hatch. Your men have been taken. Fiveminutes to open hatch and surrender. "

Ali chuckled. "And how does he think he's going to enforce that?" heinquired of the air and incidentally of the guards now forming a squareabout the three. "He'll need more than a flamer to unlatch the old girlif she doesn't care for his offer. "

Privately Dane agreed with that. He hoped that Weeks would decide to holdout--at least until they had a better idea of what the future would be. No tool or weapon he saw in the assembly about them was forceful enoughto penetrate the shell of the Queen. And there were sufficient supplieson board to keep Weeks and his charges going for at least a week. SinceTau had shown signs of coming out of his coma, it might even be that thecrew of the ship would arouse to their own defense in that time. It alldepended upon Weeks' present decision. 

No hatch yawned in the ship's sleek sides. She might have been an inertderelict for all response to that demand. Dane's confidence began torise. Weeks had picked up the challenge, he would continue to bafflepolice and Patrol. 

Just how long that stalemate would have lasted they were not to know foranother player came on the board. Through the lines of besiegers Hovan, escorted by the Patrolmen, made his way up to the officer at the mikestation. There was something in his air which suggested that he was aboutto give battle. And the conversation at the mike was relayed across thefield, a fact of which they were not at once aware. 

"There are sick men in there--" Hovan's voice boomed out. "I demand theright to return to duty--"

"If and when they surrender they shall all be accorded necessary aid, "that was the officer. But he made no impression on the Medic from thefrontier. Dane, by chance, had chosen better support than he had guessed. 

"Pro Bono Publico--" Hovan invoked the battle cry of his own Service. "For the Public Good--"

"A plague ship--" the officer was beginning. Hovan waved that asideimpatiently. 

"Nonsense!" His voice scaled up across the field. "There is no plagueaboard. I am willing to certify that before the Council. And if yourefuse these men medical attention--which they need--I shall cite thecase all the way to my Board!"

Dane drew a deep breath. That _was_ taking off on their orbit! Not beingone of the Queen's crew, in fact having good reason to be angry over histreatment at their hands, Hovan's present attitude would or should carryweight. 

The Patrol officer who was not yet ready to concede all points had ananswer: "If you are able to get on board--go. "

Hovan snatched the mike from the astonished officer. "Weeks!" His voicewas imperative. "I'm coming aboard--alone!"

All eyes were on the ship and for a short period it would seem that Weeksdid not trust the Medic. Then, high in her needle nose, one of the escapeports, not intended for use except in dire emergency opened and allowed aplastic link ladder to fall link by link. 

Out of the corner of his eye Dane caught a flash of movement to his left. Manacled as he was he threw himself on the policeman who was aiming astun rifle into the port. His shoulder struck the fellow waist high andhis weight carried them both with a bruising crash to the concretepavement as Rip shouted and hands clutched roughly at the now helplessCargo-apprentice. 

He was pulled to his feet, tasting the flat sweetness of blood where aflailing blow from the surprised and frightened policeman had cut his lipagainst his teeth. He spat red and glowered at the ring of angry men. 

"Why don't you kick him?" Ali inquired, a vast and blistering contemptsawtoothing his voice. "He's got his hands cuffed so he's fair game--"

"What's going on here?" An officer broke through the ring. The policeman, on his feet once more, snatched up the rifle Dane's attack had knockedout of his hold. 

"Your boy here, " Ali was ready with an answer, "tried to find a targetinside the hatch. Is this the usual way you conduct a truce, sir?"

He was answered by a glare and the rifleman was abruptly ordered to therear. Dane, his head clearing, looked at the Queen. Hovan was climbingthe ladder--he was within arm's length of that half open hatch. The veryfact that the Medic had managed to make his point stick was, in a faintway, encouraging. But the three were not allowed to enjoy that smallvictory for long. They were marched from the field, loaded into a mobileand taken to the city several miles away. It was the Patrol who held themin custody--not the Terrapolice. Dane was not sure whether that was to bereckoned favorable or not. As a Free Trader he had a grudging respect forthe organization he had seen in action on Limbo. 

Sometime later they found themselves, freed of the force bars, alone in aroom which, bare walled as it was, did have a bench on which all threesank thankfully. Dane caught the warning gesture from Ali--they wereunder unseen observation and they must have a listening audiencetoo--located somewhere in the maze of offices. 

"They can't make up their minds, " the Engineer-apprentice settled hisshoulders against the wall. "Either we're desperate criminals, or we'reheroes. They're going to let time decide. "

"If we're heroes, " Dane asked a little querulously, "what are we doinglocked up here? I'd like a few earth-side comforts--beginning with a fullmeal--"

"No thumb printing, no psycho testing, " Rip mused. "Yes, they haven't putus through the system yet. "

"And we decidedly aren't the forgotten men. Wipe your face, child, " Alisaid to Dane, "you're still dribbling. "

The Cargo-apprentice smeared his hand across his chin and brought it awayred and sticky. Luckily his teeth remained intact. 

"We need Hovan to read them more law, " observed Kamil. "You should havemedical attention. "

Dane dabbed at his mouth. He didn't need all that solicitude, but heguessed that Ali was talking for the benefit of those who now kept themunder surveillance. 

"Speaking of Hovan--I wonder what became of that pest he was supposed tohave under control. He didn't bring the cage with him when he came out ofthe Tower, did he?" asked Rip. 

"If it gets loose in that building, " Dane decided to give the powers whoheld them in custody something to think about, "they'll have trouble. Practically invisible and poisonous. And maybe it can reproduce its kind, too. We don't know anything about it--"

Ali laughed. "Such fun and games! Imagine a hundred of the dear creaturesflitting in and out of the broadcasting section. And Captain Jellico hasthe only Hoobat on Terra! He can name his own terms for rounding up theplague. The whole place will be filled with sleepers before they'rethrough--"

Would that scrap of information send some Patrolmen hurtling off to theTower in search of the caged creature? The thought of such an expeditionwas, in a small way, comforting to the captives. 

An hour or so later they were fed, noiselessly and without visibleattendants, when three trays slid through a slit in the wall at floorlevel. Rip's nose wrinkled. 

"Now I get the vector! We're plague-ridden--keep aloof and watch to seeif we break out in purple spots!"

Ali was lifting thermo lids from the containers and now he suddenly aroseand bowed in the direction of the blank wall. "Many, many thanks, " heintoned. "Nothing but the best--a sub-commander's rations at least! Weshall deliver top star rating to this thoughtfulness when we arequestioned by the powers that shine. "

It _was_ good food. Dane ate cautiously because of his torn lip, but thewhole adventure took on a more rose-colored hue. The lapse of time beforethey were put through the usual procedure followed with criminals, thisexcellent dinner--it was all promising. The Patrol could not yet be surehow they were to be handled. 

"They've fed us, " Ali observed as he clanged the last dish back on atray. "Now you'd think they'd bed us. I could do with several days--andnights--of bunk time right about now. "

But that hint was not taken up and they continued to sit on the bench astime limped by. According to Dane's watch it must be night now, thoughthe steady light in the windowless room did not vary. What had Hovandiscovered in the Queen? Had he been able to rouse any of the crew? Andwas the spacer still inviolate, or had the Terrapolice and the Patrolmanaged to take her over?

He was so very tired, his eyes felt as if hot sand had been pouredbeneath the lids, his body ached. And at last he nodded into naps fromwhich he awoke with jerks of the neck. Rip was frankly asleep, hisshoulders and head resting against the wall, while Ali lounged withclosed eyes. Though the Cargo-apprentice was sure that Kamil was morealert than his comrades, as if he waited for something he thought wassoon to occur. 

Dane dreamed. Once more he trod the reef rising out of Sargol's shallowsea. But he held no weapon and beneath the surface of the water a gorplurked. When he reached the break in the water-washed rock just ahead, the spidery horror would strike and against its attack he wasdefenseless. Yet he must march on for he had no control over his ownactions!

"Wake up!" Ali's hand was on his shoulder, shaking him back and forthwith something close to gentleness. "Must you give an imitation of aspace-whirly moonbat?"

"The gorp--" Dane came back to the present and flushed. He dreadedadmitting to a nightmare--especially to Ali whose poise he had alwaysfound disconcerting. 

"No gorps here. Nothing but--"

Kamil's words were lost in the escape of metal against metal as a panelslide back in the wall. But no guard wearing the black and silver of thePatrol stepped through to summon them to trial. Van Rycke stood in theopening, half smiling at them with his customary sleepy benevolence. 

"Well, well, and here's our missing ones, " his purring voice was the mostbeautiful sound Dane thought he had ever heard. 

Chapter XVIII

BARGAIN CONCLUDED

"--and so we landed here, sir, " Rip concluded his report in thematter-of-fact tone he might have used in describing a perfectly ordinaryvoyage, say between Terraport and Luna City, a run of no incident anddull cargo carrying. 

The crew of the Solar Queen, save for Tau, were assembled in a roomsomewhere in the vastness of Patrol Headquarters. Since the room seemed acomfortable conference chamber, Dane thought that their status must nowbe on a higher level than that of Patrol Posted outlaws. But he was alsosure that if they attempted to walk out of the building that effort wouldnot be successful. 

Van Rycke sat stolidly in his chosen seat, fingers of both hands lacedacross his substantial middle. He had sat as impassively as the Captainwhile Rip had outlined their adventures since they had all been stricken. Though the other listeners had betrayed interest in the story, the seniorofficers made no comments. Now Jellico turned to his Cargo-master. 

"How about it, Van?"

"What's done is done--"

Dane's elation vanished as if ripped away by a Sargolian storm wind. TheCargo-master didn't approve. So there must have been another way toachieve their ends--one the younger members of the crew had been tooinexperienced or too dense to see--

"If we blasted off today we might just make cargo contract. "

Dane started. That was it! The point they had lost sight of during theirstruggles to get aid. There was no possible chance of upping the shiptoday--probably not for days to come--or ever, if the case went againstthem. So they had broken contract--and the Board would be down on themfor that. Dane shivered inside. He could try to fight back against thePatrol--there had always been a slight feeling of rivalry between theFree Traders and the space police. But you couldn't buck the Board--andkeep your license and so have a means of staying in space. A brokencontract could cut one off from the stars forever. Captain Jellico lookedvery bleak at that reminder. 

"The Eysies will be all ready to step in. I'd like to know why they wereso sure we had the plague on board--"

Van Rycke snorted. "I can supply you five answers to that--for one theymay have known the affinity of those creatures for the wood, and it wouldbe easy to predict as a result of our taking a load on board--or againthey may have deliberately planted the things on us through theSalariki--But we can't ever prove it. It remains that they are going toget for themselves the Sargolian contract unless--" He stopped short, staring straight ahead of him at the wall between Rip and Dane. And hisassistant knew that Van was exploring a fresh idea. Van's ideas werenever to be despised and Jellico did not now disturb the Cargo-masterwith questions. 

It was Rip who spoke next and directly to the Captain. "Do you know whatthey plan to do about us, sir?"

Captain Jellico grunted and there was a sardonic twist to his mouth ashe replied, "It's my opinion that they're now busy adding up the list ofcrimes you four have committed--maybe they had to turn the big HGcomputer loose on the problem. The tally isn't in yet. We gave them ourautomat flight record and that ought to give them more food for thought. "

Dane speculated as to what the experts _would_ make of the mechanicalrecord of the Queen's past few weeks--the section dealing with theirlanding in the Big Burn ought to be a little surprising. Van Rycke got tohis feet and marched to the door of the conference room. It was openedfrom without so quickly Dane was sure that they had been under constantsurveillance. 

"Trade business, " snapped the Cargo-master, "contract deal. Take me to asealed com booth!"

Contracts might not be as sacred to the protective Service as they wereto Trade, but Trade had its powers and since Van Rycke, an innocentbystander of the Queen's troubles, could not legally be charged with anycrime, he was escorted out of the room. But the door panel was sealedbehind him, shutting in the rest with the unspoken warning that they werenot free agents. Jellico leaned back in his chair and stretched. Longyears of close friendship had taught him that his Cargo-master was to betrusted with not only the actual trading and cargo tending, but couldalso think them out of some of the tangles which could not be solved byhis own direct action methods. Direct action had been applied to theirpresent problem--now the rest was up to Van, and he was willing todelegate all responsibility. 

But they were not left long to themselves. The door opened once more toadmit star rank Patrolmen. None of the Free Traders arose. As members ofanother Service they considered themselves equals. And it was theirprivate boast that the interests of Galactic civilization, asrepresented by the black and silver, often followed, not preceded thebrown tunics into new quarters of the universe. 

However, Rip, Ali, Dane, and Weeks answered as fully as they could theflood of questions which engulfed them. They explained in detail theirvisit to the E-Stat, the landing in the Big Burn, the kidnapping of Hovan. Dane's stubborn feeling of being in the right grew in opposition to thequestioning. Under the same set of circumstances how would thatCommander--that Wing Officer--that Senior Scout--now all seatedthere--have acted? And every time they inferred that his part in theaffair had been illegal he stiffened. 

Sure, there had to be law and order out on the Rim--and doubly sure ithad to cover and protect life on the softer planets of the inner systems. He wasn't denying that on Limbo, he, for one, had been very glad to seethe Patrol blast their way into the headquarters of the pirates holed upon that half-dead world. And he was never contemptuous of the men in thefield. But like all Free Traders he was influenced by a belief that toooften the laws as enforced by the Patrol favored the wealth and might ofthe Companies, that law could be twisted and the Patrol sent to pushthrough actions which, though legal, were inherently unfair to those whohad not the funds to fight it out in the far off Council courts. Just asnow he was certain that the Eysies were bringing all the influence theyhad to bear here against the Queen's men. And Inter-Solar had a lot ofinfluence. 

At the end of their ordeal their statements were read back to them fromthe recording tape and they thumb signed them. Were these statements orconfessions, Dane mused. Perhaps in their honest reports they had justsigned their way into the moon mines. Only there was no move to lead themout and book them. And when Weeks pressed his thumb at the bottom of thetape, Captain Jellico took a hand. He looked at his watch. 

"It is now ten hours, " he observed. "My men need rest, and we all wantfood. Are you through with us?"

The Commander was spokesman for the other group. "You are to remain inquarantine, Captain. Your ship has not yet been passed as port-free. Butyou will be assigned quarters--"

Once again they were marched through blank halls to the other section ofthe sprawling Patrol Headquarters. No windows looked upon the outerworld, but there were bunks and a small mess alcove. Ali, Dane, and Ripturned in, more interested in sleep than food. And the last thing theCargo-apprentice remembered was seeing Jellico talking earnestly withSteen Wilcox as they both sipped steaming mugs of real Terran coffee. 

But with twelve hours of sleep behind them the three were less contentedin confinement. No one had come near them and Van Rycke had not returned. Which fact the crew clung to as a ray of hope. Somewhere the Cargo-mastermust be fighting their battle. And all Van's vast store of Tradeknowledge, all his knack of cutting corners and driving a shrewd bargain, enlisted on their behalf, must win them some concessions. 

Medic Tau came in, bringing Hovan with him. Both looked tired buttriumphant. And their report was a shot in the arm for the now uneasyTraders. 

"We've rammed it down their throats, " Tau announced. "They're willing toadmit that it was those poison bugs and not a plague. Incidentally, " hegrinned at Jellico and then looked around expectantly, "where's Van? Thiscomes in his department. We're going to cash in on those the kids dumpedin the deep freeze. Terra-Lab is bidding on them. I said to see Van--hecan arrange the best deal for us. Where is he?"

"Gone to see about our contract, " Jellico reported. "What's the newsabout our status now?"

"Well, they've got to wipe out the plague ship listing. Also--we're bignews. There're about twenty video men rocketing around out in the officestrying to get in and have us do some spot broadcasts. Seems that thechildren here, " he jerked his thumb at the three apprentices, "startedsomething. An inter-solar invasion couldn't be bigger news! Humaninterest by the tankful. I've been on Video twice and they're trying tosign up Hovan almost steady--"

The Medic from the frontier nodded. "Wanted me to appear on a three weekschedule, " he chuckled. "I was asked to come in on 'Our Heroes of theStarlines' and two Quiz programs. As for you, you young criminal, " heswung to Dane, "you're going to be fair game for about three networks. Itseems you transmit well, " he uttered the last as if it were an accusationand Dane squirmed. "Anyway you did something with your crazy stunt. And, Captain, three men want to buy your Hoobat. I gather they are planning ashowing of how it captures those pests. So be prepared--"

Dane tried to visualize a scene in which he shared top billing with Queexand shuddered. All he wanted now was to get free of Terra for a nice, quiet, uncomplicated world where problems could be settled with a sleeprod or a blaster and the Video screen was unknown. 

Having heard of what awaited them without, the men of the Queen were morecontent to be incarcerated in the quarantine section. But as time wore onand the Cargo-master did not return, their anxieties awoke. They werefairly sure by now that any penalty the Patrol or the Terrapolice wouldimpose would not be too drastic. But a broken contract was another andmore serious affair--a matter which might ground them more effectivelythan any rule of the law enforcement bodies. And Jellico took to pacingthe room, while Tang and Wilcox who had started a game of fourdimensional chess made countless errors of move, and Stotz glared moodilyat the wall, apparently too sunk in his own gloomy thoughts to rise fromthe mess table in the alcove. 

Though time had ceased to have much meaning for them except as anirritating reminder of the now sure failure of their Sargolian venture, they marked the hours into a second full day of detention before VanRycke finally put in appearance. The Cargo-master was plainly tired, buthe showed no signs of discomposure. In fact as he came in he was hummingwhat he fondly imagined was a popular tune. 

Jellico asked no questions, he merely regarded his trusted officer with aquizzically raised eyebrow. But the others drew around. It was soapparent that Van Rycke was pleased with himself. Which could only meanthat in some fantastic way he had managed to bring their venture down ina full fin landing, that somehow he had argued the Queen out of dangerinto a position where he could control the situation. 

He halted just within the doorway and eyed Dane, Ali, and Rip with mockseverity. "You're baaaad boys, " he told them with a shake of the head anda drawl of the adjective. "You've been demoted ten files each on thelist. "

Which must put him on the bottom rung once more, Dane calculated swiftly. Or even below--though he didn't see how he could fall beneath the rank heheld at assignment. However, he found the news heartening instead ofdiscouraging. Compared to a bleak sentence at the moon mines suchdemotion was absolutely nothing and he knew that Van Rycke was breakingthe worst news first. 

"You also forfeit all pay for this voyage, " the Cargo-master wascontinuing. But Jellico broke in. 

"Board fine?"

At the Cargo-master's nod, Jellico added. "Ship pays that. "

"So I told them, " Van Rycke agreed. "The Queen's warned off Terra for tensolar years--"

They could take that, too. Other Free Traders got back to their homeports perhaps once in a quarter century. It was so much less than theyhad expected that the sentence was greeted with a concentrated sigh ofrelief. 

"No earth-side leave--"

All right--no leave. They were not, after their late experiences soentranced with Terraport that they wanted to linger in its environs anylonger than they had to. 

"We lose the Sargol contract--"

That did hurt. But they had resigned themselves to it since the hour whenthey had realized that they could not make it back to the perfumedplanet. 

"To Inter-Solar?" Wilcox asked the important question. 

Van Rycke was smiling broadly, as if the loss he had just announced wasin some way a gain. "No--to Combine!"

"Combine?" the Captain echoed and his puzzlement was duplicated aroundthe circle. How did Inter-Solar's principal rival come into it?

"We've made a deal with Combine, " Van Rycke informed them. "I wasn'tgoing to let I-S cash in on our loss. So I went to Vickers at Combine andtold him the situation. He understands that we were in solid with theSalariki and that the Eysies are not. And a chance to point a blaster atI-S's tail is just what he has been waiting for. The shipment will go outto the storm priests tomorrow on a light cruiser--it'll make it on time. "

Yes, a light cruiser, one of the fast ships maintained by the bigCompanies, could make the transition to Sargol with a slight margin tospare. Stotz nodded his approval at this practical solution. 

"I'm going with it--" That did jerk them all up short. For Van Rycke toleave the Queen--_that_ was as unthinkable as if Captain Jellico hadsuddenly announced that he was about to retire and become a kelp farmer. "Just for the one trip, " the Cargo-master hastened to assure them. "Ismooth their vector with the storm priests and hand over so the Eysieswill be frozen out--"

Captain Jellico interrupted at that point. "D'you mean that Combine is_buying_ us out--not just taking over? What kind of a deal--"

But Van Rycke, his smile a brilliant stretch across his plump face, wasnodding in agreement. "They're taking over our contract and our placewith the Salariki. "

"In return for what?" Steen Wilcox asked for them all. 

"For twenty-five thousand credits and a mail run between Xecho andTrewsworld--frontier planets. They're far enough from Terra to get aroundthe exile ruling. The Patrol will escort us out and see that we get downto work like good little space men. We'll have two years of a nice, quietrun on regular pay. Then, when all the powers that shine have forgottenabout us, we can cut in on the trade routes again. "

"And the pay?" "First or second class mail?" "When do we start?"

"Standard pay on the completion of each run--Board rates, " he madereplies in order. "First, second and third class mail--anything thatbears the government seal and out in those quarters it is apt to be_anything_! And you start as soon as you can get to Xecho and relieve theCombine scout which has been holding down the run. "

"While you go to Sargol--" commented Jellico. 

"While I make one voyage to Sargol. You can spare me, " he dropped one ofhis big hands on Dane's shoulder and gave the flesh beneath it a quicksqueeze. "Seeing as how our juniors helped pull us out of this lastmix-up we can trust them about an inch farther than we did before. Anyway--Cargo-master on a mail run is more or less a thumb-twiddling jobat the best. And you can trust Thorson on stowage--that's one thing he_does_ know. " Which dubious ending left Dane wondering as to whether hehad been complimented or warned. "I'll be on board again before you knowit--the Combine will ship me out to Trewsworld on your second trip acrossand I'll join ship there. For once we won't have to worry for awhile. Nothing can happen on a mail run. " He shook his head at the threeyoungest members of the crew. "You're in for a very dull time--and itwill serve you right. Give you a chance to learn your jobs so that whenyou come up for reassignment you can pick up some of those files you werejust demoted. Now, " he started briskly for the door, "I'll tranship tothe Combine cruiser. I take it that you _don't_ want to meet the Videopeople?"

At their hasty agreement to that, he laughed. "Well, the Patrol doesn'twant the Video spouting about 'high-handed official news suppression' soabout an hour or so from now you'll be let out the back way. They put theQueen in a cradle and a field scooter will take you to her. You'll findher serviced for a take-off to Luna City. You can refit there for deepspace. Frankly the sooner you get off-world the happier all ranks aregoing to be--both here and on the Board. It will be better for us to walksoftly for a while and let them forget that the Solar Queen and her crazycrew exists. Separately and together you've managed to break--or at leastbend--half the laws in the books and they'd like to have us out of theirminds. "

Captain Jellico stood up. "They aren't any more anxious to see us gothan we are to get out of here. You've pulled it off for us again, Van, and we're lucky to get out of it this easy--"

Van Rycke rolled his eyes ceilingward. "You'll never know how lucky! Beglad Combine hates the space I-S blasts through. We were able to use thatto our advantage. Get the big fellows at each others' throats and they'llstop annoying us--simple proposition but it works. Anyway we're set inblessed and peaceful obscurity now. Thank the Spirit of Free Spacethere's practically no trouble one can get into on a safe and sane mailroute!"

But Cargo-master Van Rycke, in spite of knowing the Solar Queen and thetemper of her crew, was exceedingly over-optimistic when he made thatemphatic statement.