"We could try it, Captain," he urged. "Where's the harm in trying?"
"None at all," said Dumarest. "What have you to lose? And we'll count you in. Five shares and an equal split. One each for you two. One for Ysanne. One for me and the other-" Again he patted the woman's stomach, his hand rising toward the buckle, the knife it contained. "A deal?"
He moved without waiting for an answer, turning, the short, wicked blade gleaming as he drew it free; his left hand knocked up Pendance's right, the gun it held, the knife following the line of forearm and bicep to bury itself in the armpit.
To be twisted and withdrawn in a fountain of arterial blood. The stab once more. To rise bathed in carmine, to be thrown. To send Brice to join his dead captain on the floor.
"Here." Batrun dropped something small and round on the table in the salon. "The detector. Jud found it tucked in an air vent. Shall I destroy it?"
"No." Dumarest touched it with a finger, feeling the tacky adhesiveness of its surface. "We'll cycle it through the lock when we're in space." With Pendance and Brice now in sacs. If their ship should follow the signal it would find only the dead. A false trail which would yield valuable time.
The captain said, "About a cargo. I can get us a load-"
"No cargo," snapped Dumarest. "Not from Jourdan. We leave empty."
"Heading for nowhere with nothing in the hold." Batrun shrugged and looked at Ysanne as she entered the salon. "See a stubborn man. Maybe you should see what you can do with him."
"I know what to do with him." She sat as the captain left, one hand reaching out to rest warm fingers on Dumarest's own. "I'd like to give him everything a man could want," she said softly. "The home of his dreams and children to fill it. In the meantime I'll settle for what I can get. For as long as I can get it." Her fingers tightened. "More trouble, Earl?"
"No."
"Just says we can leave in an hour. No one's going to look for Pendance and his man. So why not take a cargo?"
"No cargo," he said. "And we'll change the name of the ship as soon as we can. Call it-" he broke off, then shrugged. "Call it what you like."
"The Erce." She didn't hesitate. "Andre likes the name and so do I. This time you don't overrule us, Earl. The Erce-it could bring us luck."
Luck to set against the risk of advertising himself to the Cyclan, but luck loaded with the possibility of gaining the attention of someone with essential information. A chance set against a risk but what was one more risk against so many?
How long must he run and hide and run again?
"No cargo," said Ysanne thoughtfully. "So no clue as to where we're going. And the changed name-more deception?" Her eyes searched his face as she added, evenly, "How close are they, Earl?"
Too close. Pendance would have communicated with the cyber left on Zabul and the Cyclan would know where he was and the fact he had a ship. An easier target to spot than a man but it gave him greater mobility. Again the setting of advantage against risk-all his life had been a similar gamble.
Ysanne said, "I'm not stupid, though I might appear to be so at times. And I can put scraps together to form a pattern. The Cyclan is looking for you and you're looking for Earth. Are they trying to stop you from finding it?"
That seemed a good enough explanation and he nodded.
"So they traced you to Zabul. Why did you go there? For information? What did you learn?"
"Nothing."
"Just that? Nothing at all?"
"I was kept rather busy," said Dumarest dryly. "Too busy to really question the Terridae. All I gained was a silly rhyme. Nonsense to do with a children's game, I think. At least that's what I was told."
"And you believe everything you hear?" She met his eyes, her own serious. "What was it, Earl? Can you remember?"
A thing heard once then drowned beneath a flood of action, but the data had been recorded by the machinery of his brain and could be retrieved. He sat thinking, throwing back his mind in an effort to relive the moment. Seeing again the wrinkled old face, hearing the thin, cracked voice.
"Thirty-two, forty, sixty-seven-that's the way to get to Heaven. Seventy-nine, sixty, forty-three-are you following me? Forty-six, seventy, ninety-five-up good people, live and thrive."
Ysanne frowned as he repeated it. "Are you sure?"
"I think so." Again Dumarest concentrated. "Yes, that's it. A number game of some kind."
"Or a mnemonic!" She reached for paper and a style. "A key learned in order to remember something of greater complexity. Now let me see." She scribbled, frowned, scribbled again. "Take the first line. Numbers can be spoken many ways so 324067 could be a sum total of an identifying number or even a code."
"A cypher?"
"Maybe, but I doubt it. That would add an undesired complexity." She scribbled again, gnawing at her bottom lip. "Three lots of six digits-what do they look like in a column? A row?" A moment then she shook her head. "It could mean anything but it has to be basically simple for it to be remembered. It must apply to something-but what?"
"The words?" Dumarest looked at the marks she had made. "What about the words?"
"Most probably they are a unifying doggeral. The figures must be the important factor. The figures?" Her voice dropped as she mumbled, "Three, two, four, zero, six, seven--Earl!"
"You've got it?"
"Drop the zeros and what do you have?" She shook her head at his expression. "Sorry, you're not a navigator, I am. Drop the zeros and you've three lots of five units. Navigational data, Earl! We don't use double figures because of possible confusion. So if I, as a navigator, say 'thirty-two, twenty', I'm really saying 'three, two, two.' Understand?"
She ignored his nod, burning with the excitement of discovery, eager to demonstrate facts he already knew.
"Think of the galaxy as a sphere," she urged. "A huge onion if you like. Cut it open and imagine it to be in layers. Nine of them numbered from the middle out. Each layer is divided into nine others and so on. Do you follow me?"
"Concentric circles," he said. "Eighty-one of them in nine separate zones."
"You've got it. Now take the first line; 3,2,4,6,7-we forget the zero. That's the third band out from the center, the second band from the inner edge of the third, the fourth from the inner edge of that and so on. That gives the first set of coordinates. The second lies on the plane which is divided like the rest. But how to tell which one?"
"The words," said Dumarest. He forced himself to be calm. "They must hold the clue."
Her lips moved as she read the doggeral. "That's the way to get to Heaven." We've found that. The next?" Her frown deepened. "Are you following me?" She looked at Dumarest then back at the paper. "Are you-" Her tone changed. "RU! Radial Unit! RU following me! Me? Meridian! The radial unit following the meridian. That means RU 1. And the rest? Up or down? North or south of the galactic equator? Which, damn it? Up or-" She broke off, one hand slapping the table to signal success. "Up, Earl. It has to be up. The words hold the answer. Up good people live and thrive. So that's it. We have the circumpolar location, the radial unit-, and angular position. All held in the mnemonic jingle." Her voice rose a little. "And remember where you got it from. Earl-these are the coordinates of Earth!"