Rapsallion lurched clumsily to his feet, swaying.
"I'll have my day in court," he growled. Hautley smiled.
"Not necessarily ... I've no doubt the lawmen can obtain a court order for a mindprobe," he drawled. Rapsallion sagged like a punctured balloon.
"He was draining me dry, the swine," he breathed. "Ever more demands ... I would have gone bankrupt if I hadn't—hadn't—"
"Take the prisoner away, bosun," ordered the Captain.
As they left the cabin, Taurean Hakefield entwined her arm with Hautley's. "That was brilliant," she breathed. "Brilliant! Let me buy you a drink?"
"You may; I could certainly use one," confessed Quicksilver.
They repaired to the Starflite Lounge, where the silver-haired bartender gave Hautley his usual cocktail and served Cns. Hakefield a Cinnabar Moonrise. They clinked glasses and sipped their beverages. Hautley cleared his throat.
"I believe you are entitled to lay over at any given stop and wait for the next IVS liner," he said. "Why not spend two or three days on Paragon with me? I can offer you white beaches, emerald palms, warm lagoons . . .?"
"And what about the dusky maidens?" she inquired with a twinkle of mischief in her eye. He grinned.
"I will gladly pass them up for a slim girl with dark red hair, amethyst eyes and a lopsided smile," said Hautley gallantly.
She smiled and squeezed his hand.