“They were returned!” the captain said indignantly.
“Restitution, particularly when inspired by fear of retribution, does not affect the validity of the original charge,” Councilor Rapport quoted, gazing at the ceiling.
“Second,” continued the policeman. “Purchase of human slaves, permitted under Imperial law but prohibited by penalty of ten years to lifetime penal servitude by the laws of the Republic of Nikkeldepain—”
“I was just taking them back where they belonged!” said the captain.
“We shall get to that point presently,” the policeman replied. “Third, material theft of sundry items in the value of one hundred and eighty thousand maels from a ship of the Imperial Planet of Lepper, accompanied by threats of violence to the ship’s personnel—”
“I might add in explanation of the significance of this particular charge,” added Councilor Rapport, looking at the floor, “that the Regency of Sirius, containing Lepper, is allied to the Republic of Nikkeldepain by commercial and military treaties of considerable value. The Regency has taken the trouble to point out that such hostile conduct by a citizen of the Republic against citizens of the Regency is likely to have an adverse effect on the duration of the treaties. The charge thereby becomes compounded by the additional charge of a treasonable act against the Republic.”
He glanced at the captain. “I believe we can forestall the accused’s plea that these pilfered goods also were restored. They were, in the face of superior force!”
“Fourth,” the policeman went on patiently, “depraved and licentious conduct while acting as commercial agent, to the detriment of your employer’s business and reputation—”
“WHAT?” choked the captain.
“ — involving three of the notorious Witches of the Prohibited Planet of Karres—”
“Just like his great-uncle Threbus!” nodded Councilor Onswud gloomily. “It’s in the blood, I always say!”
“ — and a justifiable suspicion of a prolonged stay on said Prohibited Planet of Karres—”
“I never heard of that place before this trip!” shouted the captain.
“Why don’t you read your Instructions and Regulations then?” shouted Councilor Rapport. “It’s all there!”
“Silence, please!” shouted Councilor Onswud.
“Fifth,” said the policeman quietly, “general willful and negligent actions resulting in material damage and loss to your employer to the value of eighty-two thousand maels.”
“I still have fifty-five thousand. And the stuff in the storage,” the captain said, also quietly, “is worth a quarter of a million, at least!”
“Contraband and hence legally valueless!” the policeman said. Councilor Onswud cleared his throat.
“It will be impounded, of course,” he said. “Should a method of resale present itself, the profits, if any, will be applied to the cancellation of your just debts. To some extent that might reduce your sentence.” He paused. “There is another matter—”
“The sixth charge,” the policeman announced, “is the development and public demonstration of a new type of space drive, which should have been brought promptly and secretly to the attention of the Republic of Nikkeldepain.”
They all stared at him — alertly and quite greedily.
So that was it — the Sheewash Drive!
“Your sentence may be greatly reduced, Pausert,” Councilor Onswud said wheedlingly, “if you decide to be reasonable now. What have you discovered?”
“Look out, father!” Illyla said sharply.
“Pausert,” Councilor Onswud inquired in a fading voice, “what is that in your hand?”
“A Blythe gun,” the captain said, boiling.
There was a frozen stillness for an instant. Then the policeman’s right hand made a convulsive motion.
“Uh-uh!” said the captain warningly.
Councilor Rapport started a slow step backwards.
“Stay where you are,” said the captain.
“Pausert!” Councilor Onswud and Illyla cried out together.
“Shut up!” said the captain.
There was another stillness.
“If you’d looked on your way over here,” the captain told them, in an almost normal voice, “You’d have seen I was getting the nova gun turrets out. They’re fixed on that boat of yours. The boat’s lying still and keeping its yap shut. You do the same.”
He pointed a finger at the policeman. “You open the lock,” he said. “Start your suit repulsors and squirt yourself back to your boat!”
The lock groaned open. Warm air left the ship in a long, lazy wave, scattering the sheets of the Venture’s log and commercial records over the floor. The thin, cold upper atmosphere of Nikkeldepain II came eddying in.
“You next, Onswud!” the captain said.
And a moment later: “Rapport, you just turn around—”
Young Councilor Rapport went out through the lock at a higher velocity than could be attributed reasonably to his repulsor units. The captain winced and rubbed his foot. But it had been worth it.
“Pausert,” said Illyla in justifiable apprehension, “you are stark, staring mad!”
“Not at all, my dear,” the captain said cheerfully. “You and I are now going to take off and embark on a life of crime together.”
“But, Pausert—”
“You’ll get used to it,” the captain assured her, “just like I did. It’s got Nikkeldepain beat every which way.”
“You can’t escape,” Illyla said, white-faced. “We told them to bring up space destroyers and revolt ships…”
“We’ll blow them out through the stratosphere,” the captain said belligerently, reaching for the lock-control switch. He added, “But they won’t shoot anyway while I’ve got you on board.”
Illyla shook her head. “You just don’t understand,” she said desperately. “You can’t make me stay!”
“Why not?” asked the captain.
“Pausert,” said Illyla, “I am Madame Councilor Rapport.”
“Oh!” said the captain. There was a silence. He added, crestfallen, “Since when?”
“Five months ago, yesterday,” said Illyla.
“Great Patham!” cried the captain, with some indignation. “I’d hardly got off Nikkeldepain then! We were engaged!”
“Secretly… and I guess,” said Illyla, with a return of spirit, “that I had a right to change my mind!”
There was another silence.
“Guess you had, at that,” the captain agreed. “All right. The lock’s still open, and your husband’s waiting in the boat. Beat it!”
He was alone. He let the locks slam shut and banged down the oxygen release switch. The air had become a little thin.
He cussed.
The communicator began rattling for attention. He turned it on.
“Pausert!” Councilor Onswud was calling in a friendly but shaking voice. “May we not depart, Pausert? Your nova guns are still fixed on this boat!”
“Oh, that…” said the captain. He deflected the turrets a trifle. “They won’t go off now. Scram!”
The police boat vanished.
There was other company coming, though. Far below him but climbing steadily, a trio of atmospheric revolt ships darted past on the screen, swung around and came back for the next turn of their spiral. They’d have to get closer before they started shooting, but they’d stay between him and the surface of Nikkeldepain while space destroyers closed in from above. Between them then, they’d knock out the Venture and bring her down in a net of paramagnetic grapples, if he didn’t surrender.
He sat a moment, reflecting. The revolt ships went by once more. The captain punched in the Venture’s secondary drives, turned her nose towards the planet, and let her go. There were some scattered white puffs around as he cut through the revolt ships’ plane of flight. Then he was below them, and the Venture groaned as he took her out of the dive. The revolt ships were already scattering and nosing over for a countermaneuver. He picked the nearest one and swung the nova guns toward it.