Redline the Stars

20

Miceal Jellico watched the spaceport manipulator swing a huge, metal-banded crate to the Solar Queen's wide-open hatch. There, Rael deftly guided the clamps of the starship's smaller version of the all-purpose large-cargo handler into place and signaled to Van Rycke, who was at the controls of their machine, to lock them. A second wave to the outer world caused the holds on the port manipulator to be released.

Once more, the crate rose. It disappeared through the hatch, where it would be delivered to Dane in the bulk cargo hold for final stowing.

Jellico walked over to the Cargo-Master. "That the last of the big stun?"

"Aye," he said as he switched off the motor and swung down from the control seat. "Just those boxes now." He pointed to a tall stack of space-sealed containers of several different types and sizes. "We could handle those manually if need be, not that anyone's Whisperer bait enough to do it while better's available. We won't be getting the real small stuff until tomorrow morning."

"You and Thorson can manage without your assistant?"

"We had to manage before she came." He turned his head. "Cofort!" he shouted. "Come on down! Our Captain's pulling rank and commandeering your services."

Seconds later, the woman joined them. "What now?" she asked, smiling. As she spoke, she rubbed her hands against the legs of her trousers to dry them. Machine help or none, loading and sorting bulk cargo was still heavy work.

"As Van says, I want to borrow you for a few hours."

"Sure thing." She saw that he had rented a flier and glanced back at the ship. "It'll only take a few minutes to wash and change ... "

"No need. Just grab your cap and silicates to screen out Halio's rays."

"Will do," she responded.

The Medic returned to the waiting men an edifyingly short time later. "All set," she informed them.

"Excellent." Jellico pointed to the flier's front passenger seat. "Hop in."

"Good luck with your lizards," Van Rycke called after him.

His commander scowled but then raised his hand in farewell. "Just see that none of this valuable cargo's left out to face the rigors of the night air."

With that, he activated the controls, and the vehicle, a light-duty passenger four-seater, shot away from the Queen.

Mfceal laughed softly. "He's right about the lizards. I am stealing you to help me on a personal project."

"So I gathered," Rael responded. "That's tri-dee gear I see on the rear seat unless I'm very much mistaken. — What's the story about the lizards?" she asked curiously. "I thought Canuche didn't have anything worth mentioning in the way of wildlife, especially here in the north."

"Nothing much in terms of variety, size, or high development on the intelligence scale," he corrected. "What's here is both interesting and important, simply because they are here, if for no other reason.

"The lizards we're seeking are a prime example. They're small—three inches long excluding that much again of tail—winged, and a beautiful deep green in color. They're relatively common in their natural range but can't be kept in captivity—Canuchean conservation and anticruelty laws forbid any further attempts to do so—and no one's ever been able to study or make any sort of pictorial record of them in the wild. As soon as a person gets even within long-lens range, every lizard present drops into the foliage. If they can be discovered at all, they're hunched up in tight little balls that won't release again until the intruder is gone, depending on camouflage and the poison in their skins to protect them.

"A number of theories have been proposed to account for the acuity of their senses, particularly since they're equally adept at avoiding time-set, unmanned equipment, and I've got one of my own that I wouldn't go about propounding before too many people for fear I'd be thought straight Whisperer bait."

"I'm flattered. — What's your explanation?"

"Some sort of telepathy would account for it." He raised his hand when he saw her look of incredulity. "I'm not talking about the fancy stuff beloved of novelists and video writers. This would be more basic, the ability to sense interest in them, perhaps. In the wild, that'd mean only a couple of things—either a potential mate or a potential predator. An excited xenobiologist would come across as the latter, I should imagine."

"You may well be right," she agreed slowly. "Biologically, they wouldn't have any reason to develop the power to differentiate more finely, and humans haven't been on the scene long enough to have had much effect on that aspect of their lives."

"That's about the way I've reasoned it out."

"What's my part in this?"

"I want to try an experiment, to see if your presence or

your active efforts will calm them sufficiently for me to get some shots."

"But I have no power to draw them! I told you I didn't... "

"Not directly, maybe, but I've seen how Sinbad and Queex respond to you. Cats have been associated with humans a long time and are noted for the affection they sometimes bestow on those they favor. The same can't be said for hoobats. You've worked your own brand of magic on my six-legged comrade, and I'm hoping something similar might occur with Canuche of Halio's green lizards. At any rate, it'll do no harm to give it a try."

"No, I suppose not."

When the Medic remained silent for several seconds, he glanced at her. She was sitting quietly, her expression grave, her eyes lowered.

Miceal sighed. "This isn't meant to be a trial, Rael. If you really don't want to do it, you can just watch, or we can turn back altogether."

She looked up. "I know what a coup this would be for you if you could pull it off. I just don't want to disappoint you."

"No way. It's a chance worth taking, but if it doesn't work out, it doesn't."

The project was important to him, all right, but Jellico reined in his eagerness. Cofort's gift, assuming she had one in the first place, probably would not work if she was too upset. — Space, he did not want to upset her at all. "You never got a chance to eat," he said. "Reach back there and pull out the sandwiches Frank thoughtfully produced for us. I fear he innocently imagines we'll be stopping for a formal picnic someplace, but we'll be too busy if we succeed and back in good time for dinner if we don't. Either way, you won't have another crack at a meal for a while."

The woman was not slow to comply. She eagerly wolfed down the Steward's offering, both because she was hungry and because it was extremely good. "Treat Mr. Mura kindly," she advised. "He's an asset not to be underrated."

"I doubt any member of the Queen's crew would be guilty of that particular error, my friend."

The flier had not left the spaceport and city very far behind before the nature of the country flowing by beneath them changed abruptly and to Rael's mind much for the worse.

The yellowish ground was hard, compacted to the point that it could be classed as soft rock rather than soil, and dry save where streams and small rivers knifed their way through it. Vegetation was sparse and low even along the watercourses. It did not exist anywhere in sufficient quantity to significantly hold the particles worked loose from the miserly ground by the forces of weathering.

"Much of the interior's hardpan like this," Jellico informed her.

"It seems to go on forever," she replied with distaste.

"This patch runs about twenty miles wide and some three hundred long. Once we get across it, we'll see some more typical inner coastal land. That's not particularly pretty, either, but it's got some variety, at least."

The transition was sharp when they reached the end of the hardpan. The countryside now beneath them was wetter than the barren place they had left behind. Its soil was real, and a fairly continuous blanket of plants grew upon it, most of them ranging from ankle to knee high. The common color, varied by a number of lighter and darker exceptions, was a fine, deep green, and Miceal informed his companion that among these fronds, stems, and roots dwelled almost the total roster of the north's terrestrial wildlife, most of which was quite small and very low on

the intelligence scale.

The Captain eased their vehicle to the ground. "Let's see

if we can't rouse some photogenic green lizards. Doctor."

Taking his tri-dee equipment and a pair of distance lenses, he started moving slowly away from the machine, walking carefully, as if he was trying to become part of the natural world around them. Catching up her share of the equipment, Rael did her best to emulate him.

They traveled several hundred yards, then he raised his hand to signal a halt. "This should be far enough. There ought to be a few around. Whether we'll be able to get a glimpse of them's another matter."

Jellico trained his lenses on a patch of vegetation and began to quarter it visually. It betrayed no sign of the little creatures he was seeking, and he moved on to the next clump.

A quarter of an hour passed before he straightened in satisfaction. "There! I can make out a couple of them. —

See. They look like little balls of moss."

The woman spotted them as well. She could discern the lines where limbs and head were tucked in, but there was no sign that either creature was still alive.

They should be rather pretty little things, she thought, with that green color and equipped with wings. She would like to see them flying around, or even just relaxed enough to let her get a good look at them.

Green lizards must be harmless, peaceful, slow-flying beings if this was their typical response to interest from other life forms. It worked because their skins contained powerful poison glands; nothing biting into them once would repeat the experiment. Unfortunately, humans could not be repelled by that means, and she was glad Canuchean authorities were taking steps to protect the small animals.

Rael recalled herself to her purpose for being with this expedition. She did not rightly know how to begin, but she decided after some reflection to start by thinking kindly thoughts about the lizards. If Miceal was right and they could pick up interest in them, they might also be able to read that.

It was not a major order, at least. She was gently disposed toward them and sympathized with their situation.

It was probably wise to avoid most so-called intelligent beings, but she truly did wish they would make an exception in this case. She and Jellico meant them no hurt at all. They only wanted to watch a while and capture a few images for later study and enjoyment ...

For several minutes, it looked as if the experiment was a failure; then a tiny, sharply pointed snout disengaged itself from the living ball and gazed tentatively about. Seconds later, the entire body uncoiled, followed in a breath's space by the second lizard.

Each animal climbed the stem nearest it and worked its way outward along the bottom of the lowest frond. When they had traveled so far along the big leaves that they started to bend, the creatures deftly released their front legs, retaining their grip with the rear pair and tails. Two membrane-thin, pale green wings unfurled and began to beat slowly to support the lizards' upper bodies.

Several times, she saw their heads dart in to touch the bottom of a leaf. Were they feeding, she wondered, picking up insects or spores or maybe some extrudate from the plant? Her lenses were not quite good enough to tell her that, but the Captain's tri-dees could be developed at very high magnification and should be able to give them the answer, to that question and to a number of others besides.

For over an hour, the two green lizards clambered and fluttered from leaf to leaf. At last, both scrambled to the ground and scurried away from the stand of plants. Within moments, the thick growth had completely screened them from the off-worlders' sight.

The Medic gave a long, lingering sigh. "They were so wonderful," she said softly.

Jellico looked at her, as he had more than once during the past hour. She had been completely absorbed in watching the little creatures, more so even than he had been himself, and she had been happy in her absorption. Happy and unguarded. He realized this was the first time he had seen her shields go down for any significant length of time.

Her eyes were bright when they turned to him, but it was no longer possible to read with any certainty what lay behind them.

"How do you think we did?" she asked.

He slid his camera back into its case. "If a small part of these come out, we'll have exceeded our goal by a stellar margin. — Thank you, Rael Cofort."

"My pleasure," she replied, happy in herself and for him, "though I can't rightly say that I did much. I didn't feel anything in particular happening."

"I'd say it's likely that you helped," he said dryly, "considering that no one has ever before been able to study those little creatures in action since the day they were first discovered."

The woman frowned. "Miceal, how're you going to explain what we did? We don't really understand it ourselves."

"I'm not going to attempt an explanation," he responded rather stiffly. "I'll probably forget to mention the telepathy theory altogether."

"You can't do that!" she told him sharply. "You're too much a scientist."

"No," he agreed slowly. "I couldn't. I'm only going to touch on it in passing, though, toss it in as a possibility, and suggest we may have succeeded because we were full of hope, not anticipation or excitement that might come across as hunting instinct. I can't say more since we don't know what actually happened or if anything did happen at all. — I imagine you're not eager to wind up as part of an esper research project?"

"Space, no! I'd hitch a ride on Sanford Jones's glowing comet first." She shuddered. "Apart from the likelihood of running into trouble about the mystery surrounding my mother's antecedents, I know too much medically. There isn't any such thing as esper training and won't be for another few decades—or centuries if the funding dries up.

All they do now is take folks apart for weeks and sometimes years at a stretch, and they don't always remember to put them back together again."

"That's more or less the way I had it figured," he said.

"We can't publish what we tried. If the wrong people read about it and got interested, I wouldn't be able to protect you and neither would Teague. Esper research is a government project, and if they really wanted you for it, they'd get you."

"They won't hear anything from me," she promised fervently. Rael gave him a sidelong glance. "You're an awful worrier, aren't you?" she remarked. "You can find the gloomy side of anything."

Jellico laughed softly. "That's a prerequisite for my job.

A starship Captain lacking that trait doesn't usually last long enough to acquire it. Unfortunately, his ship and everyone else aboard normally go out along with him."

His fingers drummed on the controls. He glanced at her as determination firmed in him. "Rael, I'd like some answers. None of this will go beyond me, and I know I'm out of my lane, but ... "

She sighed. "I'd like to be able to do more with animals.

It seems that might actually be possible, and I'll work at it, but right now, I have to stand by what I said before. I don't know what happened here or if anything happened. I certainly can't supply an explanation."

"I'm not challenging that."

"What are you challenging?"

"Nothing. I just want to put a few questions to rest." The gray eyes gripped hers. "What happened to you in the Red Garnet?"

Her breath caught, and she started to frown, but she stopped herself. Ali and the others were this man's shipmates and subordinates. They would have described the whole incident in detail for him even if they had kept quiet about that part of it in front of the Patrol-Colonel. "I panicked."

"Aye. Why?"

2

Her eyes wavered. "I felt. . . something in there. What,

I don't know, though believe that I've tried to figure it out. Maybe it was the rats' collective hunger, maybe some afterglow of the victims' horror and pain. Maybe it was something filthier, the eagerness of the subbiotics who could run an operation like that. They probably saw every stranger who walked into their lair as potential prey." She shuddered. "It was all over the place, choking and draining me.

I— I had to get out of there!"

She regained command of herself. "I figured, too, as much as I could reason, that the others'd follow if I ran. Of course, a fight almost erupted instead . . ."

Her lips tightened into a hard line. "I've got no excuse.

I blew it badly, and you'd have been within your rights to boot me off the ship."

"None of my lads asked for that," he responded quietly.

Her eyes, which had been fixed on her clasped hands,

lifted. "Would . . . would you have done it?"

"No. I'd have upheld your contract. Your term of service is almost out, and you're not going back into space with us."

She just nodded. Jellico watched her for a moment. If he was ever going to hear the rest, it would have to be now, while she was thoroughly demoralized. "How can you function as a Medic?" he asked bluntly. Her answer to that could break her story, and it could give him some of the insight into her that he ever more strongly wanted to have.

"I don't have a problem with that," the woman responded without hesitation.

Her brows came together as she sought words to convey her meaning. "I'm definitely not what is usually thought of as an empath. I don't experience another's pain or emotions, but I do feel—uneasy when someone nearby is ill or injured. It is not a pleasant feeling. It's horrible, in point of fact, but it's not debilitating."

For a moment, anger drove back her pallor. "That's how I found the poor apprentice on the Mermaid. I knew something was wrong and hunted until I discovered him.

If I hadn't, he'd probably have died where he lay. Slate certainly wouldn't have bothered looking for him even if he were missed in time. The bastard never even came to see him when he was dying." Her voice cracked. "Oh damn . . ." she muttered as she was forced to fall silent.

Miceal's fingers brushed hers. "It's all right to care, you know," he told her gently. "Space, you're a Medic. You're supposed to care."

Cofort withdrew her hand. "The effect isn't cumulative," she went on, her tone steady and impersonal once more. "I was afraid it might prove so when I started my emergency room rotation, but I had no difficulty. I was able to set the discomfort aside the same as if I were dealing with a single patient and get on with my work."

"Your gift has no real effect, then?" he asked thoughtfully.

"It might in a sense. I proved remarkably able at triage, and I could single out the most serious cases present, the heart attacks as opposed to the bad sprains."

"What about during the plague?"

She shook her head. "I wasn't conscious of anything particular then except for the constant fear and grief, but I was only a child, and we were all scared. I may have been picking something up, and I suppose I might have developed some inborn ability for handling the pressure, but I can't recall anything of the sort. I know the rest, such as it is, developed as I grew. It was a major factor in my choosing medicine as my specialty."

Rael seemed to slip into her own thoughts and said nothing more for several seconds. She roused herself abruptly and faced him. "What now. Captain?"

"We head back to the Queen." His hands rested On the controls, but he did not activate them immediately. "I don't know what life is like in the Cofort organization, but the Solar Queen welcomes whatever talents her crew has. That extends to passengers and temporary hands. Bear that in mind if yours start working on you again."

Iniceal brought the machine to a halt again just before they reached the outskirts of Canuche Town's suburbs.

Rael was surprised, but when she looked to the Captain for clarification, she found him staring straight ahead, his gaze apparently fixed on some point in the far distance. "Is something wrong?" she inquired anxiously.

"Wrong, no, but the Queen will be lifting tomorrow."

"Aye. By midafternoon if nothing delays delivery of the last Caledonia shipment."

"Are you going to accept Macgregory's offer?"

"No."

"Think carefully, Rael. He meant every word of it. You're not likely to run into a chance like this'again."

"Do you want me to accept it?" she asked carefully.

"What I want's irrelevant. It's your life, and this is a major decision."

The woman shook her head. "No, I'm not going to accept. I don't like Canuche of Halio. She's Adroo Macgregory's homeworld, and he naturally loves her. I'm not going to tell him how I feel about her, but of all the Federation's habitable planets on which I might eventually choose to settle, this one's pretty near the bottom of the list. Besides, I don't want to leave the starlanes. That's where I was born, and that's where I belong."

Jellico's eyes dropped. He realized he had been gripping the controls so tightly that his knuckles glistened white under the stretched skin and hastily eased his hold. "I think that's the wiser choice, though maybe not the most financially sound one," he told her.

She studied him gravely. "I answered your question.

Now answer mine. Did you wish me to accept Mr. Macgregory's offer?"

"No. No, I did not. It would've been a disaster. Macgregory's every inch an autocrat—benevolent maybe, but a despot all the same. A Free Trader's too independent to stay under the thumb of someone like that long-term."

"You'd have let me go ahead despite that?"

"I had no right to stop you, Rael, though I would've raised the question for your consideration and stressed it pretty strongly had you given me a different answer."

His eyes were somber. "That'll leave you at loose ends once we lift. Do you have anything particular in mind?"

Cofort nodded. "I was planning to approach Deke Tatarcoff. I've never known him not to be shorthanded, and I've given him good reason to respect my abilities. If that doesn't work out, I'll just hang around for a while. This port's busy enough that I'm bound to pick up a berth in fairly short order, even if it's just another single-voyage hop to some backwater hole."

She saw him start to frown and shrugged delicately. "If it looks like there's going to be a delay, I have no objection to taking on-world work for a time to keep body, soul, and store of credits together. Some of the hospitals in Canuche Town can probably use a part-time Medic, and should worse come to worse, I might even try to wrangle a temporary job out of Adroo Macgregory."

"It sounds reasonable," he said without looking at her. "I have to confess that I had some reservations about just leaving you here."

"I'm not one who's ever likely to let herself starve."

"No."

Her voice softened. "Thank you, Miceal Jellico," she said. She sat a little straighter. "Let's go back and develop those tri-dees. I'm dying to see what we gained for our efforts."

Jellico shivered. Even this far from the shore, the sea breeze was sharp and cold and would remain so for a while yet, until Halio had warmed the land sufficiently to reverse the thermal currents and bathe the city in dry, hot, inland currents.

That alteration in the flow of the breeze, quite independent of the predominant prevailing winds, which moved parallel to the land, was a real blessing to the inhabitants of the city during the blistering months of the summer. A heat haze might shimmer over Canuche Town's streets by day, but at night, people slept well beneath light blankets.

Rael joined Jellico at the hatch, and they descended together. Both had business in the city. The Captain intended to get the flier back to the rental agency before he had to pay a second day's charges for it, and she had asked to accompany him since he would be passing close to the Caledonia plant. She wanted to give Macgregory her answer face-to-face or at least deliver a personal letter to his office if he should not be there this early rather than merely calling in her refusal over the Queen's transceiver as they prepared her for space. He deserved the courtesy of the greater effort on her part.

She smiled as she took her place in the passenger seat.

The vehicle had done them good service the previous evening ferrying them all to the restaurant the crew had chosen for their last-night dinner. It had been a fine affair all around. If their eatery had not been another Twenty-Two. the food had been good, and they had enjoyed it and themselves, Ali Kamil as thoroughly as any of his comrades. He had seemed more at ease than she had hitherto seen him, certainly more so than he had been since they had planeted on Canuche ofHalio. The confirmation of the industrial planet's apparently dark history and the reality of the peril still hanging over her had affirmed and the reality of his gift. That was a relief in itself, and it was a relief that they would soon be leaving the dangerous world behind.

"We'll cut around by the Cup," Miceal told her as they started out. "It's a bit longer that way, but I want to get a good look, at the ships."

"You're the skipper. Besides, I'd like to see them close up myself." She stifled a yawn. "After crawling out of my bunk so soon in order to see Mr. Macgregory, I hope he is an early riser."

"That one? You can put credits down oh it. He won't squander valuable daylight hours in bed."

"You needn't squander any time, either," she told him,

"at least not waiting for me. Once you drop me off, just turn the flier in and go on back to the Queen. I'll find my way home."

"Not a chance. Van'd be asking what happened to my wits if I failed to make so obvious a courtesy call on our illustrious client."

They soon came within sight of the ocean. Only two large vessels were at dock in the Cup, the low, squat Regina Maris and another slightly larger craft with the name Sally Sue displayed on her prow and sides. A number of small boats attended to the freighters' needs or to their own.

Both of the big ships were the center of considerable

activity. Miceal slowed the flier down to hover to better observe the scene. "Look at that, Rael," he said softly. "It's like a moment frozen in time. A few centuries back, that's what we'd have been doing."

She nodded. If that was all there was, they would be part of it. Trade was in their souls, and neither of them would have been content with the role of sedentary shopkeeper.

She frowned somewhat disapprovingly as she continued to study the on-worlders working around the Regina Maris.

A bit of concentrated study stripped some of the perfection from the picture for one who was familiar with the management of bulk cargo. "They go in for a lot of fuss, don't they?" she remarked. There was not half this ado when a starship was being loaded.

Jellico started to agree, but then he frowned. Commotion was one thing; idleness was another. There were a lot of dock laborers just standing about, leaving the cargo lying where it was. Those people were paid by the hour.

Whether he traversed a single planet's seas or the starlanes, no ship's master would tolerate a pack of idlers leeching away his always tight port expense funds. "She's in trouble," he announced sharply even as he sent the flier surg ing forward.

In another moment, they came to a stop beside a group

of longshoremen. "What's the problem?" he asked.

"What's it to you, space hound?" one countered. There was no real hostility in the question, just a petty enjoyment in momentary superiority over the off-worlder with his supposedly more interesting lifeway.

"Most Captains sympathize with a ship in trouble," he responded more mildly than he would have done with one of his own kind.

"A bit of a fire on the Man's," the speaker told him.

Miceal's expression registered his concern, and the longshoreman continued quickly. "It's not the same thing as you chaps have to face in space," he assured them, "at least not here in port where the crew can get off quickly. This is nothing, anyway. They'll probably have it out in a few

minutes."

"Maybe," interjected the older man standing beside him.

Jellico eyed him curiously. "You have your doubts?"

"I was the one who smelled the smoke and alerted her Captain. To my mind, he should forget about saving the. cargo and really pour in water and foam. Masters have lost ships before by playing around with steam for too long."

He nodded. "Live steam. It replaces the oxygen in the air, smothering a blaze while being reasonably kind to the goods stored around it. It's most useful in the early stages of a tightly confined fire, though. Give the flames any chance to spread, to escape into the hull between the holds, and you've got big trouble."

"You think that's happened here?"

"Well, it's not for me to say, but a fire large enough for me to sniff out just by walking near an open hatch is a deal more than a spark, and I'm willing to put down a few credits that they haven't gotten it licked even yet."

"How long have they been at it?"

"Full blast? Only about ten minutes. — Uh-oh, there goes the alarm. They want the Fire Department. That means they're kissing the cargo good-bye. — See, the crew're being sent ashore."

"There shouldn't be all that much to be damaged, should there?" the Medic asked, trying to recall what Macgregory had told them about the kinds of goods the Regina Man's was taking on. "Just the rope. Her insurance should cover that."

"Sure, and the rest, too, but exporters don't like to ship with vessels that sacrifice their cargoes too willingly. Also, the season's rush on nitrate'll be over soon ... "

Rael Cofort's face went white. "What?"

"Ammonium nitrate. A fertilizer. My lads loaded fourteen hundred tons of it in her number two hold and another eight hundred and twenty tons in number four yesterday evening. The fire's between them in number three where the rope's stowed. Both're likely to be drenched and ruined . . ."

"Spirit of Space . . . ," she whispered.

"It's a common substance," he told her in surprise.

"Until you bring a flame or too much heat near it," Jellico said tersely. "Then it's a bomb."

"Bomb! What in . . ."

"Recently we saw an experiment to illustrate that. If that ship goes up, it'll be like a low-grade planetbuster. You people would be smart to take off, pick up your families, and keep going until this is all over."

"Right," one of the women standing near them cut in.

"We'd find something left out of our paychecks if we tried that."

"Better lose a few hours' pay to panic than not be able to collect it at all because you're dead."

"I'll take responsibility," their chief informant declared, confirming the spacers' impression that he was the group's foreman. "I've got a kid up the slope in the Cup school. I'm taking him, my wife, and her mother and heading for the hardpan. The rest of you do the same."

He glanced at the pair in the flier. "What about you two?"

"We like living," the Captain replied.

The Canucheans wasted no time in clearing after that.

Rael did not watch them go. Her eyes were fixed on Jellico. "Miceal, we can't . . ."

He gave an impatient shake of his head. "These eateries should all have public surplanetary transceivers, and they'll be empty with everyone out watching the fire. I'll

warn the Queen and spaceport. You tell Macgregory and the Stellar Patrol."

As Jellico predicted, they found available booths in the first eating place they entered and both hastened to sound the alarm before the dreaded explosion rendered it worthless.

Tang Ya was on duty at the Solar Queen's transceiver.

He, like the rest of the crew, had heard his comrades' report of the Caledonia experiment and required no detailed explanation. "We're ready to go now," he told him. "All the rest of us are on board, praise the Spirit of Space. How long do we give you?" He hated to ask that, but for the sake of the ship and the bulk of her company, there had to be a limit on the time they could afford to wait.

"Lift at once and make for the hardpan outside the city.

Set down again a mile or so to the south of it to get you out of direct line with any residual blast effects, and wait there until I tell you the fire's out here or until the commotion stops. If the Man's does go up, they'll be needing help at that point. Rael and I'll either make our way out to you or be tied up with the rescue effort ourselves."

Most likely, they would either be in need of saving or beyond it, but his Captain was as aware of that as he was. "Will do. We'll pass the word to the others here as well."

"Thanks, Tang."

Miceal's head bowed as he stepped from the booth. He loved the Solar Queen and had always imagined he would

meet his death aboard her or striving in some manner for her.

The spacer squared his shoulders and looked up. Death on Canuche of Halio might be a distinct possibility, but it was by no means a certainty for either of them. There was ' no reason to blindly assume that he and Rael Cofort would not be returning to the starship and to the cold, dark reaches of interstellar space that was her domain.

He had to wait a few minutes for his companion, but she nodded gravely when she finally joined him. "I got to them both," she told him. "Mr. Macgregory's starting a full evacuation immediately. He'll also contact the Fire Department to let them know what we're facing and warn the hospitals to move as much of their gear as they can, especially their emergency facilities, out onto the hardpan so they'll be ready to start taking on cases at once if need be. Colonel Cohn's putting in calls for aid to the other towns all along the coast. — What about our own people?"

"They'll do what they must."

They found the battle against the ship fire raging in full fury when they went outside again, with fireboats and fliers pouring streams of foam and seawater into the Regina Maris's hold, augmented by the closer attention of the small firetransports crowding the dock and the men and women carrying the fight to the deck itself.

As the efforts to contain the fire became ever more spectacular, so the crowd gathered to watch it increased in proportion. Laborers delayed upon leaving their shifts or before going to their tasks; office workers left their desks to congregate outside their buildings or stood by windows offering grandstand views; messengers and passersby with more time to spare shouldered their way through to the dock itself to secure as unobstructed as possible an observation post. Rael judged that there had to be in excess of four thousand people in and around the Cup's seafront alone and easily that many again scattered farther away along the banks and on the opposite shore. A number of small merchant and pleasure craft had also drawn near, keeping just far enough away as not to interfere with the work of the fireboats.

"The smoke's coming up white now," her companion observed. "It looks like they've just about got it licked."

"I sincerely hope so. I won't object one bit if I come out looking like a total vacuum-brain in all of this." Her mouth hardened. It was not over yet, not quite. "If anything does happen, most and probably all of these people are going to be killed."

Before Jellico realized what she was doing, she had started pushing through the onlookers, showing consummate skill in weaseling her way with the deft aid of elbow and foot into minute spaces that had not seemed to exist a moment before. He was hard pressed to keep up with her.

The Medic did not stop until she had reached the fire- transport that was her target. Its crew, engrossed as both were in managing the big fire gun, did not notice her until she had leapt aboard.

"This thing's got a public address system?" she demanded before either could recover enough from his surprise to order her off.

"Of course ... "

"Switch it on!"

He complied, moved by her earnestness and air of authority. Besides, the fire was well under control, and he was curious.

"You people," the woman called into the mike he handed her, "the show's almost over, but the danger isn't.

Until the last spark and hot spot has been extinguished, there's the chance of a serious explosion. You're exposed to the full force of it out here."

Miceal mentally nodded his approval. Even now, with the fire on the Regina Marts almost out, knowledge of the full peril she represented too suddenly imparted to all these people could provoke a panic that would almost certainly claim a large number of the lives they were striving to preserve.

A siren sounded farther up the shore. Rael glanced in the direction of the noise, then raised the mike again. "I spoke with Adroo Macgregory of Caledonia, Inc., before coming here. See, he has already evacuated his plant and ordered his people out of the city."

Someone near her laughed. "That kindergarten! Are they walking two by two with their fingers on their lips?"

She glared frigidly in the direction of the speaker, whom she could not actually identify. "This is a real evacuation, not a drill for which he planned well in advance. What in all the hells do you think it's doing to his business opera- dons? People like Mr. Macgregory don't throw that Volume of credits away unless they believe there's a damn good reason for doing so. — He called it right on target the last time he gave a similar order if I heard the story correctly." Her audience greeted that with silence. Many looked uncomfortably over their shoulders. The storm to which she referred was recent enough history to still be sharp in the memories of all of them.

Miceal's eyes glittered coldly. Most of the watchers were inclined to move, but it would require some effort to push their way back, to reverse the general pressure of the crowd, and they were not sufficiently concerned to make the start.

Suddenly, he caught hold of the fire gun and whipped it

around, depressing the nozzle as he did so. The powerful stream hit the pavement at the feet of the spectators with the force of a sledge, and those nearest it leapt back, cursing, as splintered pieces flew up in every direction.

"Get moving, now, or by all the Federation's gods, I'll give you a blast of this across the shins. If you're going to stay here and die, you might as well have a good excuse for doing it. I'm prepared to accommodate you and supply it."

The nearer fireman started to shove him aside, but the other, who had just closed their transceiver, intervened.

"Let him be. They're right." His voice dropped. "Except if the Mans blows, it won't be a small, contained blast affecting only the ship and this dock. It'll take out just about the whole Cup and maybe a great deal more besides."

His voice rose again as he took the mike from Rael. "All right, folks, move along. Leave the Cup area entirely. We've just been informed that there is still some danger of a detonation. If one occurs, we'll have to be able to get medical help in quickly for any of our people who're hurt. —

Get going, now. You're blocking ground traffic and making it hard to bring in anything by air."

The onlookers muttered but slowly began to disperse. By now, most of them were upset enough by the talk of explosions to be grateful for the excuse to leave the threatened

area without having to appear panicked themselves.

"Quick thinking," the fireman told the two spacers. He shuddered. "It's almost over, but I wouldn't have been very happy working here all this time had I known what was actually shadowing us." He eyed the retreating civilians. "You two had best join them," he added sternly.

"That's our intention," the Captain assured him as he slipped over the side of the vehicle and lightly dropped to the ground. He gave his hand to steady Cofort while she followed suit.

With much of the pressure of the throng easing up around them, they experienced little difficulty in working their way back to their machine.

Rael opened the door but paused beside it. Her eyes were dark, troubled. "If something goes wrong, they'll be needing Medics."

"Only live'ones. — Move!"

She wasted no more time but sprang into the flier even as Jellico himself did.

The vehicle rose until it was a couple of feet above the heads of the pedestrians and started toward one of the narrow side streets leading into the open dock area.

"Wouldn't we make better time higher up?" the Medic asked.

"We'd also fall a heck of a lot farther if we got thrown down by a blast concussion."

Rael made no comment. She fixed her attention on the street along which they were traveling.

All the structures lining it appeared to be old. They had been constructed of Canuchean stone rather than the metals and synthetics of a later stage, more prosperous colony, and all of them obviously had been put up at the same time from a single set of plans. One was the image of all the others.

Each of the buildings had an underground story, or maybe several, perhaps devoted to storage or deliveries. At least, the entrance was invariably a broad, steeply sloping ramp leading into an attractively arched, covered loading dock.

To Cofort's surprise, Miceal did not turn onto the avenue when they reached it. "Why are we sticking to the back roads?" she asked curiously, knowing there was probably an excellent reason for taking the slower, more irregular route.

"Maybe for no purpose," he responded grimly. "I hope we won't have to find out." His mouth compressed into a hard line. "I should be sent to the Lunar mines for criminal neglect. As soon as we reach the Queen, give your friend Colonel Cohn another call and have her order the Regina Man's towed out to sea for the final cleanup. There would be no danger to the city now if I'd thought of it sooner."

The woman frowned. "Neither did I. Power down, will you. We couldn't work out everything. We're just Free Traders, not a pair of professional disaster planners."

She glanced up at him, mischief suddenly lighting her eyes as she laughed softly. "You'd make one fine tyrant, Captain Jellico," she told him. "That was a masterful stroke with the fire gun."

"One needs a variety of abilities in Trade . . ."

Whatever else he might have said was silenced as light avoid the chance of chain-reaction disaster but still close enough to offer a comforting sense of community. Most of their crews were also assembled beside their vessels, staring intently eastward.

"I could try to talk those port guys into bringing a flier out to us," Rip ventured. "They're probably not so mad that they wouldn't do it for a share of the news. I could fly over the city ... "

"You'll keep your scrambled-circuited fins planeted where they are!"

Shannon was not the only one to stare at Alt. The Engineer-apprentice gripped himself. He resumed his normal casual manner, but the deadly serious note did not leave his voice. "You'd be looking for a quick ride on Sanford Jones's comet, my boy. I saw fighters, big ones, blown out of the sky by the concussion of a major blast, never mind one of those little civilian bubbles. I wouldn't want to be in the air in one of them even this far out, much less hovering over Canuche Town, if that accursed ship blows."

"Is the Queen safe?" Jasper asked in concern. "And these others who followed us?"

"Out here, aye." It was Johan Stotz who answered for his

apprentice. He and the Cargo-Master had just come out of the ship to join them. "Van and I've been running a series of possibility scenarios on the computer. We're well away from triple the blast we could expect even if two or more freighters went up, and shrapnel definitely won't reach us, which was our biggest danger at the spaceport."

"That's over four miles from the coast, closer to five, in fact!" exclaimed Weeks.

"Not an impossible distance for a big explosion," Kamil said tensely. "It wouldn't take much. All you'd need is for a single piece of red-hot metal to pierce the liquid fuel reservoirs and none of us would have anything more to worry about, provided we'd led virtuous lives." He turned to his chief. "A fire storm could travel this far. So could gas."

"That's why Jellico insisted that we go south as well as inland. We're not in easy line with the city, and the winds're blowing toward it, not us. They're also augmented by the thermal breeze as long as the daylight and heat hold."

Thorson looked eastward again, then back to his shipmates as an idea came to him. "Could we try to focus the near-space viewer on the town?"

"Probably!" Tang agreed eagerly. "Devices designed for use in space don't work perfectly in an atmosphere, and we'll have to play with the magnification, but we should be able to get something. It'll be better than nothing, at any rate."

The Solar Queen's bridge was even smaller than her mess, but none of them grumbled about the lack of space as they gathered around the big screen while their Com-Tech adjusted one after the other of the controls directing its operation.

Gradually, fhe image of Canuche Town appeared before them, at first hazy to the point of uselessness, then as clear as if they were spying on it through impossibly powerful but otherwise standard distance lenses. Deftly, Ya depressed the focus until it rested right on the eastern horizon.

"We can't see the docks," Karl Kosti said, voicing the disappointment of all.

"Hardly," Tang told him. "The whole seaport area is on a significantly lower level than the rest of the city. The viewer can't penetrate solid rock or bend around it. We'll know it if that ship explodes, but we won't be able to observe the blast itself or its effects on its immediate, environs. — Sands of Mars! Look at all those people! There are thousands of them, and they all seem to be heading this way."

"Macgregory's staff and their families probably," Van Rycke deduced. "He's ordered evacuations before. The Captain or Rael will have warned him, too."

"I could check, see if there's something coming over the civilian waves or if the Patrol's broadcasting anything on the public channels ... "

Ya shook his head even as he finished speaking. It would not be well to have any auditory equipment actively receiving if a major explosion occurred. As an added precaution, he increased light and radiation screening on the visual receptors.

For a few minutes, he kept the lines of moving people on the screen, confirming that they were indeed making for the hardpan, then switched back to scanning the serene infinity of roof-fringed sky on the horizon.

More minutes went by. The tranquility of the unchanging scene began to draw some of the tension out of the spacers.

A burst of light ruptured the field of blue. A vast sound followed it, loud and sharp even at this remove.

As the first great flash of brilliance faded, a column of brown smoke clawed its way some six hundred feet into the air. Several dark specks seemed to balance for a moment on it, then fell back into it and plummeted to the concealed ground.

"Her hatches," Dane heard someone, Shannon maybe, say.

Soon, in nearly the same instant, more debris shot into view, some of it dark, a lot glowing red. Much of what they saw was clearly discernible, stark proof of the sizes involved. Thorson gaped at it. That stuff was not just big. It was enormous, great pieces of what had moments before been the Regina Marts.

One sight, rather pretty in itself, puzzled him, as it did most of his comrades. Burning spheres accompanied by equally brilliant sparks and streamers filled one portion of the sky, held there a fraction second, and dispersed as would a burst of demoniac fireworks.

The Cargo-Master again supplied the explanation.

"Rope. The Man's was shipping a load of it. The balls are aflame and are casting off fragments as they burn. — The Spirit of Space help the places where they land. They'll be more than hot enough to torch anything flammable that they touch."

Van Rycke's grim prediction was not long in finding fulfillment as explosion after explosion followed that first mighty detonation. They did not have to actually see the stricken area to know what was happening, not with computer-generated possibility and probability scenarios to augment their own knowledge and imagination.

Many buildings collapsing under the awesome force of the blast wave took fire directly from the explosion's heat as particularly volatile contents ignited or detonated. Others began to burn when flaming or blazing-hot shrapnel slammed into the rubble that was all that remained of many or through roof, walls, or splintered windows of those still partly standing, starting smaller fires that soon reached vulnerable materials. The exposed fuel tanks were almost immediate casualties, breaking and falling at once when the blast's fist slammed into them or crumbling and exploding when struck by flying material that made them out as accurately as would missiles shot by a sentient foe. Escaping chemicals, alone or in bastard combinations, released deadly gases. Others created corrosive pools or added still more fuel to the hellish caldron the seaport area had become.

The topography of the region magnified the effects of the already awesome disaster. In dooming its own, however, it to a great extent shielded the rest of Canuche Town as the high, sharp slopes deflected much of the force of the explosion back down on the already shattered communities below and caught the bulk of the debris it had set in deadly flight.

Pieces thrown high enough did get through, bringing fire, destruction, and terror wherever they came to ground. Jan, who was senior officer in Jellico's absence, at last turned his back to the screen, unconsciously straightening his powerful shoulders as he did so. "There may be some new fires or an odd blast or two, but I'd say the worst's over. Those people need all the help they can get and need it fast if a lot more aren't going to die who should make it.

— Steen, Johan, Tang, stay with the Queen. Keep her ready to lift fast again if you must, though I doubt that'll be necessary now, and hold the transceiver open. The rest of us'll see if we can't make ourselves useful."

The Canuchean refugees had set up their camp, a small city in itself, a good half mile north of the starship's emergency berth.

The spacers found little confusion there, and Dane Thor- son had not been long within its bounds before he felt a fierce pride in these people.

He was seeing the spirit that had carried Terra's offspring to the stars and won them their place there, on planet after planet where survival itself should have been inconceivable. The refugees had a headstart in that everything was well ordered thanks to Adroo Macgregory's preparations, the training he had insisted upon giving his people, who, with their households, made up the vast majority of those currently assembled here. Those who had actually endured the blast itself had not yet begun to arrive in number. There was grief and fear, but the Canucheans were responding with the determination to fight, not permitting themselves to sink into despair. The very young and those otherwise unable to give aid were gathered together in the keeping of appointed caregivers. The rest were already heading back to their stricken city and seaport.

The Stellar Patrol was visibly active. Rael's warning had reached them in time. They, too, along with the city's police and emergency services whom they, in turn, had alerted, had evacuated and gotten far enough out that they now had personnel and gear to send back in.

The Queen's crew found Ursula Cohn at a makeshift command post seemingly surrounded by communications equipment and an ever-changing sea of grim-faced men and women, civilians and members of the various services alike, all either bringing reports to her or awaiting her orders.

Her strained eyes swept those around her. They stopped when they came to rest on Van Rycke and Thorson. "You people probably gave this town its life. You've certainly cut down on the amount of dying. Help's already on the way from communities all up and down the coast. By nightfall, we'll have mostly everything we'll need in terms of supplies, equipment, and manpower."

"By nightfall, a lot of people alive right now are going to be dead if they're left where they are that long," the Cargo- Master stated flatly. "We're here to lend a hand. The rest of the Spacers'11 probably be following pretty close on our heels."

"We can use you." Her expression clouded. "Any word from your Captain or Doctor Cofort?"

"No."

"We've commandeered every functional flier and transport we can find. I'm giving you and your crew priority status behind my people and medical personnel. I can't send you all back into the town on one vehicle, but every one of you'll be at work within half an hour."

"That's all we want."

"That transport over there is refueling for another trip in. You and Mr. Thorson can go with it."

"We appreciate that, Colonel. Thanks."

The two Free Traders hastened to claim their promised places, squeezing in so that as many others as possible would be able to board.

Dane kept his eyes lowered, not wanting to meet those

of his chief. Van Rycke and Jellico went far back as a team,

and they were a close one . . .

Suddenly, another thought pierced him. Poor Queex!

Only two people in all the ultrasystem had loved him, and he had lost them both in one black instant of destruction.