“Well, send that damned tug.”
Markham shook his head. “It has better uses. It was about ready to return anyway. It will take Secunda orbit and wait for an asteroid that is due in shortly.” He spoke like a man using irrelevancies to stave off the moment when he must utter his real meaning.
“Okay, the warship.”
“It too has other duties. I've told them about Saxtorph's babbling of kamikaze tactics. Hraou-Captain must keep his vessel prepared to blow that boat out of the sky if it comes near — until Saxtorph's gang is under arrest, or dead. He will detach his auxiliaries to search.”
“Let him,” Ryan jeered. “Bob's got this whole system to skulk around in.”
“Tertia is the first place to try.”
“Go ahead. That old fox is good at finding burrows.”
Werlith-Commandant growled. Markham grew paler yet, bowed, turned on Ryan and said in a rush: “Don't waste more time. The master wants to resolve this business as soon as possible. He wants Saxtorph and company preferably alive, dead will do, but disposed of, so we can get on with the business of explaining away at Wunderland what happened to Rover. You will cooperate.”
Sweat studded Ryan's face. “I will?”
“Yes. You shall accompany the search party. Broadcast your message in Hawaiian. Persuade them to give themselves up.”
Ryan relieved himself of several obscenities.
“Be reasonable,” Markham almost pleaded. “Think what has happened with Fido. The rest can only die in worse ways, unless you bring them to their senses.”
Ryan shifted his feet wide apart, thrust his head forward, and spat, “No surrender.”
Markham took a backward step. “What?”
“Your mother's motto, ratcat-lover. Have you forgotten? How proud of you she's going to be when she hears.”
Markham closed his eyes. His lips moved. He looked forth again and said in a string of whiperacks: “You will obey. Werlith-Commandant orders it. Look yonder. Do you see what is in the comer? He expected stubbornness.”
Ryan and Tregennis peered. They recognized fiume and straps, pincers and electrodes; certain items were less identifiable. The telepath slumped at the feet of the torturer.
“Hastily improvised,” Markham said, “but the database has a full account of human physiology, and I made some suggestions as well. The subject will not die under interrogation as often happened in the past.”
Ryan's chest heaved. “If that thing can read my mind, he knows—”
Markham sighed. “We had better get to work.” He glanced at the kzin officers. They both made a gesture. The guard sprang to seize Ryan from behind. The Hawaiian yelled and struggled, but that grip was unbreakable by a human.
The torturer advanced. He laid hands on Tregennis.
“Watch, Ryan,” Markham said raggedly. “Let us know when you have had enough.”
The torturer half dragged, half marched Tregennis across the room, held him against the wall, and, claws out on the free hand, ripped the clothes from his scrawniness.
“That's your idea, Markham!” Ryan bellowed. “You unspeakable—”
“Hold fast, Kamehameha,” Tregennis called in his thin voice. “Don't yield.”
“Art, oh, Art—”
The kzin secured the man to the frame. He picked up the electrodes and applied them. Tregennis screamed. Yet he modulated it: “Pain has a saturation point, Kamehameha. Hold fast!”
The business proceeded.
“You win, you Judas, okay, you win,” Ryan wept.
Tregennis could no longer make words, merely noises.
Markham inquired of the officers before he told Ryan, “This will continue a few minutes more, to drive the lesson home. Given proper care and precautions, he should still be alive to accompany the search party.” Markham breathed hard. “To make sure of your cooperation, do you hear? This is your fault!” he shrieked.
“No,” Saxtorph had said. “I think we'd better stay put for the time being.” Dorcas had looked at him across the shoulder of Laurinda, whom she held close, Laurinda who had just heard her man say farewell. The cramped command section was full of the girl's struggles not to cry. “If they thought to check Prima immediately, they will be at Tertia before long,” the captain's wife had stated.
Saxtorph had nodded. “Yah, sure. But they'll have a lot more trouble finding us where we are than if we were in space, even free-falling with a cold generator. We could only boost a short ways, you see, else they'd acquire our drive-spoor if they've gotten anywhere near. They'd have a fairly small volume for their radars to sweep.”
“But to sit passive! What use?”
“I didn't mean that. Thought you knew me better. Got an idea I suspect you can improve on.”
Laurinda had lifted her head and sobbed, “Couldn't we… m-make terms? If we surrender to them… they rescue Juan and, and Carita?”
“Afraid not, honey,” Saxtorph had rumbled. Anguish plowed furrows down his face. “Once we call‘em, they'll have a fix on us, and what's left to dicker with? Either we give in real nice or they lob a shell. They'd doubtless like to have us for purposes of faking a story, but we aren't essential — they hold three as is — and they've written Fido's people off. I'm sorry.”
Laurinda had freed herself from the mate's embrace, stood straight, swallowed hard. “You must be right,” she had said in a voice taking on an edge.
“What can we do? Thank you, Dorcas, dear, but, I'm ready now… for whatever you need.”
“Good lass.” The older woman had squeezed her hand before asking the captain: “If we don't want to be found, shouldn't we fetch back the relay from above?”
Saxtorph had considered. The same sensitivity which had received, reconstructed, and given to the boat a radio whisper from across more than two hundred million kilometers, could betray his folk. After a moment: “No, leave it. A small object, after all, which we've camouflaged pretty well, and its emission blends into the sun's radio background. If the kzinti get close enough to detect it, they'll be onto us anyway.”
“You don't imagine we can hide here forever.”
“Certainly not. They can locate us in two, three weeks at most if they work hard. However, meanwhile they won't know for sure we are on Tertia. They'll spread themselves thin looking elsewhere, too, or they'll worry. Never give the enemy a free ride.”
“But you say you have something better in mind than simply distracting them for a while.”
“Well, I have a sort of a notion. It's loony as it stands, but maybe you can help me refine it. At best, we'll probably get ourselves killed, but plain to see, Markham's effort to cut a deal has not worked out, and — we can hope for some revenge.”
Laurinda's albino eyes had flared.
– “Aloha, hoapilina.—”
Crouched over the communicator, Saxtorph heard the Hawaiian through. English followed, the dragging tone of a broken man: “Well, that was to show you this is honest, Bob, if you're listening. The kzinti don't have a telepath along, because they know they don't need the poor creature. They do require me to go on in a language their translator can handle. Anyway, I don't suppose you remember much Polynesian.
“We're orbiting Tertia in a boat from the Prowling Hunter warship. 'We' are her crew, plus a couple of marines, plus Arthur Tregennis and myself. Markham stayed on Secunda. He's a kzin agent. Maybe you've gotten the message from Fido. I'm afraid the game's played out, Bob. I tried to resist, but they tortured not me — poor Art. I soon couldn't take it. He's alive, sort of. They give you three hours to call them. That's in case you've scrammed to the far ends of the system and may not be tuned in right now. You'll've noticed this is a powerful planar 'cast. They think they're being generous. If they haven't heard in three hours, they'll torture Art some more. Please don't let that happen!” Ryan howled through the wail that Laurinda tried to stifle. “Please call back!” Saxtorph waited a while, but there was nothing further, only the hiss of the red sun. He took his finger from the transmission key, which he had not pressed, and twisted about to look at his companions. Light streaming wanly through the westside port found Dorcas' features frozen. Laurinda's writhed; her mouth was stretched out of shape.