A gamble, but if he had guessed right the vessel must be near-deserted. Vellani and his men must have come from the Moira and they, together with Pendance and his men, would almost have emptied the ship. He based this calculation on the reluctance of mercenaries and free-traders to split profits more than they had to; the pod and decoys must have taken a lot of space.
Dumarest swayed as the outer port swung closed. He was burning fuel at an enormous rate and had only recently used slow time before. His body tissue, wasted then, was being used now to his detriment. Unless he neutralized the drug and ate, he could, literally, starve to death or collapse from dehydration.
Within the ship he paused then headed for the engine room where the engineer was usually to be found. He was sitting at his console, head slumped on his arms, apparently asleep. The hold was empty as were the cabins and salon. No handler, then, and no steward or they had accompanied Pendance. But surely he must have left more than one man to guard the vessel?
He was in the control room, a stylishly dressed man of late middle age who sat in the pilot's chair with one hand supporting his chin while his eyes remained fastened on a screen. It pictured Zabul and the lock to which the ship was connected and, already, Dumarest could see the expanding plume of escaping air from the hole he had made.
This was a minor emergency which could easily be handled by the technicians, but he had aggravated it by smashing the alarms and so helped to create a greater degree of confusion.
A device to gain time; by the time things had settled he hoped to be well away.
Lights flickered on the control panels, moving even to his accelerated sense of vision, and he guessed the Moira was monitoring the environment for a wide area around. Each drifting mote of debris or movement of the structure would be sensed, checked, assessed and registered.
Leaning forward Dumarest checked the controls. A switch would break the connection with the tube in case of emergency and he threw it, seeing the flexible connection draw back to Zabul as the ship began gently to drift away impelled by the gust of expelled air. The gap widened but too slowly for his liking and Dumarest frowned as he studied the controls. They were unfamiliar, more complex than those of normal free-traders, proof as to his earlier suspicions.
Then, as he straightened, something ground into the base of his neck.
"Don't move your hands," said a voice. "Just hold them from your sides. Good. Now lift them and lock fingers on the top of your head. That's right. Now back out and keep backing until you're in the salon." A sigh as he obeyed. "Now you can turn."
He faced a woman.
She was tall and lithe with a copper-hued skin and long hair black as night which hung in thick braids over her shoulders and the high promontories of her breasts. A creature of the wild with high cheekbones and flared nostrils and eyes of liquid ebon deep-set beneath thick brows. Her mouth was full, the lower lip pouting with betraying sensuosity, the chin rounded and with a dimpled cleft. Facts he noted as he assessed the broad shoulders and narrow waist, the rounded hips and long, swelling curves of her thighs and calves.
Details lost in the forceful blaze of her personality as she stood, staring at him, the peculiar gun she carried pointed at
"You're fast," she said. "So am I with this dope but in case you think you've an edge you'd better think again. I'm using a laser, wide-spread beam like a fan. No trigger that takes time to operate but an induction button instead. Move and I'll touch it and unless you can jump ten feet to one side you'll be burned. Ten feet at a speed as fast as light," she added. "Can you do it?"
"No."
"Just that? Nothing else?"
Dumarest said dryly, "I'm in no position to argue. Can I lower my hands?" He did so as she nodded. "How did I miss you?"
"I should be asking the questions."
"And why the slow time?"
"A precaution," she said. "I was checking and noticed signals which shouldn't have been so I took a shot of slow time just in case. When you searched I just moved from one cabin to another while out of your sight. You're Dumarest, right?"
"Earl Dumarest, yes. And you?"
"Ysanne."
"Ysanne who?"
"Just that. Ysanne. Where I come from we only use one name. Why were you stealing the Moira?"
He said bluntly, "In order to save my life. Can you think of a better reason?"
"If I were in your position, probably not," she agreed. "But I haven't your problem and don't want to share it." She frowned as he swayed. "Don't try it if you're thinking of jumping me. And don't think I won't use this if I have to." She gestured with the gun. "I had it specially made to take care of characters who think a woman's easy prey." Her tone changed a little. "Are you ill?"
"Weak. I've been in slow time too long. Can we get away from here so I can neutralize?"
For a moment she stared at him then, throwing back her head, filled the salon with genuine laughter.
"Man, you're the most! What makes you think I'd abandon Pendance and the others? And for what?"
"Money," said Dumarest. "A lot of money. And a ship. And, maybe, just for the hell of it."
A gamble but now luck was with him and he relaxed a little as, again, her laughter pealed through the salon. A woman but more than that. An adventuress, a kindred soul-he had sensed it as an animal could sense its mate over miles of frozen terrain. Then, as he saw her face change, he realized it had been a two-way exchange.
"Here!" She handed him a hypogun. "Neutralize while I put the Moira into a course away from Zabul."
"Heading toward the other ship," Dumarest added, as she stared at him. "And radio to let them know you have me safe. Arrange a rendezvous for the exchange."
"I thought you wanted to escape."
"That's the idea."
He lifted the hypogun as she left the salon and aimed it at his throat before pulling the trigger. Air blasted a charge of drugs into his bloodstream and he felt a momentary vertigo as his metabolism slowed back to normal. He was on his third cup of basic when Ysanne returned. He handed her one as she, suddenly, stood before him.
"Here! You must be hungry."
"I can go without food for a week at a time."
"So can anyone if they have to." Dumarest swallowed more of the liquid. It was loaded with protein, sickly with glucose, tart with added vitamins. A cup provided a spaceman with enough energy for a day. "Who is that in the control room?"
"Maynard. The second in command. He won't bother us." Ysanne lifted the hypogun in explanation. "I gave him a shot to put him out so we can talk. And I told Craig to stay where he is."
"The engineer?"
"That's right. Did you see his face?"
"No."
"It's burned," she said. "Pendance's work. A dose of acid when the generator went on the blink. If he weren't so good he'd be dead by now. Persuade me and he'll ride along."
"Persuade?"
"The money. The adventure. You think I'm doing this just because I like your face? You're valuable property, I know that, but just how damned valuable? And why? Did I tell you I was curious?"
More than curious and with a feline grace which emphasized the contours of her face, the dark glitter of her eyes. They were ebon pools which widened as he talked then narrowed with sudden speculation, calmed as she made her evaluation.
"You're mad," she said. "But it's the kind of craziness I go for. To hunt down a legend! Well, there are worse things."
"Like slaving?"
"That depends on which side you're on. Pendance made it pay."
"So you went along with it?"
"Sure. Why not? There are worse things."
"Not if you've ever worn a collar." Dumarest changed the subject, like the cat she seemed she was amoral. For her the concepts of good and evil did not exist. A fact he recognized but one overlaid by the necessity to win her cooperation. "Work," he said. "Ship after ship, world after world. After a dozen they all seem the same. I'm giving you a chance to break free."