"The coward?"
"That too at times if there's no other choice. Or to seem to act that way to those with no right to judge. At times to be brave is to be dead. A smart man recognizes the situation, waits his chance then, when it comes, takes his revenge."
"Like now." Craig straightened his shoulders, his pride restored. "Maybe he'll remember what he did after we're through."
The captain and the cyber now waited in the ship ahead. Dumarest wondered if even now he was assessing the situation, extrapolating the probabilities and arriving at a prediction of what could happen. He hoped not; the chances were small enough without a trained and calculating mind making them less.
He looked at what had been gathered in the hold; the piles of scrap, the supplies left by the mercenaries, old tools, sections of metal cut and fashioned into jagged scraps. Items small enough to be handled and heavy enough to contain a respectable mass.
From a speaker Ysanne said, "We're getting close, Earl. You'd better get ready."
"Is everything under control?"
"Of course." Her voice held amusement and something else; an emotion close to euphoria, the intoxication of the senses now sharpened to a fine pitch. One he recognized. "Don't worry about this end, just concentrate on your own. I'll give you the timing."
To Craig Dumarest said, "We'll suit up now and loosen the hatches. Make certain your line is secure."
They both checked and then there was nothing to do but wait. Dumarest could hear the sound of the engineer's breathing in his speakers, a soft susurration which could have been static or the rustle of a woman's clothing. Ysanne? She was with Maynard and he wondered how she had gained the man's cooperation. With lies, he guessed, a tale acceptable to a drugged mind. With smiles and promises and the warm allure of her body. Such a woman would stop at nothing to get her own way.
"We're in contact," she said from the radio. "They want to talk to Pendance."
"Tell them we left him back in Zabul."
"Why?"
"We want to make a special deal. Use your imagination but don't lie unless you have to."
Lies would warn without need and the cyber would be wary as it was. He must know where Pendance was but would also be aware of the greed which drove men into strange paths.
"I don't think they're buying it, Earl."
"Be open. We'll come to a halt and they can check. What can they lose?" He added, "Don't be too polite. You have what they want and let them know it. How much longer?"
"Minutes now. Stand by."
"Stand by the hatches, Jed." Dumarest took up his position, conscious of the prickling of his back, the tension which always warned of danger. Automatically he checked his line, the instruments within his helmet, the position of the assembled debris. The enemy lay outside. "Ysanne?"
"Seconds now before we drop the field." A pause, then, "On three, Earl. One! Two! Three! Now!"
The hatches swung open beneath the engineer's hands, space filling the frame of the structure, the bulk of the other ship almost dead center. Good aiming and even better navigation but there was no time to assess the skills of the pilot and the girl.
"Now!" snapped Dumarest. "Now!"
He threw his weight against a heap of scraps and thrust them into the void. More followed, sacks which broke to spill their contents, containers tipped to spread their loads, all the items collected, the rubbish and pieces and unessential furnishings of the hold and workroom. The mass spread into space, carrying with it the momentum of the ship-which was aimed at the vessel lying dead ahead.
Surprise was their only asset. Given time the ship would move, run from the hail, find safety in its Erhaft field, but Dumarest had given them no time. The ship they were expecting had arrived, killed its field to coast to the rendezvous. The mass of debris was masked by its bulk, the scanners of the other vessel unable to isolate the fragments.
"Up!" snapped Dumarest. "Up and away!"
The picture framed in the open hatch changed as he was obeyed. Stars replacing the ship, the widening hail heading toward it. A rain which hit the vessel, tearing into the hull, perforating it, ruining the scanners and creating internal chaos.
"We did it!" yelled Craig. "By God, we did it!" He laughed as he closed the hatches, slipping, saved from falling into space by the line at his waist. Dumarest crossed to it and hauled the man to safety before sealing the hatches. "Ysanne!"
"I know, Jed." Her voice was as light as the engineer's. "A crazy scheme but it worked. That ship won't move in a hurry. Where to now?"
"Anywhere." Dumarest cracked his suit as the external pressure reached normal. "Just get moving. We can change course later."
Change it again and yet again in a random pattern to throw off pursuit. He would decide that later but, for now, the euphoria was enough, and was shared by Ysanne, as he could see when she came to join him in the salon.
"Earl!" She stood close before him. "By, God-Earl!"
She was like a gambler lost in the intoxication of success, exaggerated by the tensions which had preceded it, now blazing from every atom of her being. This was a feeling he knew and had seen too often-the reward of all who deliberately risked their lives and so played with the highest stake of all.
He felt her nearness, the warm exudations of her body, and felt himself respond to her need. The light caught the heavy braids of her hair, creating a small aura of haze touched with color. The oil which gave it added sheen carried a heavy, pungent scent.
"You bitch! You dirty, lying bitch!"
Maynard had entered the salon and now stood to one side of the door. His face was tense, his eyes rimmed with red, angry, bloodshot. The collar of his tunic was open and Dumarest could see the thick veins pulsing in his neck beneath the mottled skin. He had arisen from a drugged acquiescence to vent a killing rage.
"Don't move!" he said. "Just don't either of you move!"
The gun he carried was the one Ysanne had used and Dumarest knew the fan would cover the entire area of the salon where they stood. A device used by slavers to control their victims, burning with savage intensity even if it did not kill.
Dumarest said, "What's the matter? Why the gun?"
"Stay out of this. Move over to one side. Move, damn you!" The jerk of the gun emphasized the command. "Get away from her!"
"Do it, Earl." Then, as he obeyed, she said, "I had to do it, Evan. It was for the best."
"Your best or mine?" His hand shook with renewed anger. "Using me. Lying. Promising-and for what? You know who that ship carried? You know what the Cyclan do to those who work against them? We had a fortune in our hand and you threw it away. I ought to burn your eyes out."
"You wouldn't like me if you did." Her eyes were direct, her tone loaded with hidden meaning. "You're upset and you've a right to be annoyed, but if you'll just let me explain. There wasn't time before. Now, if you'd just listen we can straighten all this out." She stepped toward him, one hand extended. "Give me the gun and let's forget this nonsense."
Dumarest watched, admiring her calm, yet aware of the tension Maynard was under. Jealousy compounded with fear, the two creating a suicidal rage. Death would offer him an escape from his problems and, killing her, would insure his possession. Soon now he would act-if she took a few steps closer he would explode or collapse. Kill or cry.
Only then would he have a chance.
As Ysanne moved closer, talking as if to a child, Dumarest studied the man, the gun he held. It was a fan-beam, which meant the energy would be dispersed. The induction button gave no delay but his finger still had to touch it. A tiny movement compared to that he would have to take but if the woman was out of the field of fire it would ease the problem.
He said, "Drop, girl! Drop!"
"What?" Maynard turned toward him. "What's that you say?"
Ysanne tried to take advantage of this distraction. Her long legs moved, her hand reaching out for the gun, missing as Maynard jerked it back, lifting his free hand to send it slashing across her face. The blow sent her staggering back, to trip, to fall sprawling on the floor.
"You bastard! You-no, Earl! Earl!"