moved the car out. The route to the port was easy enough, and he found the ship they wanted first, with no trouble.

livaJJ met the group at the airlock, and Captain Etraig offered Tilaran wine while she quizzed Cheng and Myra about their qualifications. Then she made a call to a nearby ship, and Barton was surprised at how fast Dupree had himself a new job. The short man stood, and reached to shake Barton's hand. "I wouldn't .have thought," he said, "when you and Tarieton took me up to try out on your Demu ship, that I'd end up this way.

But I expect that I'll enjoy it."

"Just goes to show," said Barton. "Good luck, Dupree."

After the man left, it was obvious that Etraig wanted to start briefing Myra and Cbeng on what their new duties would be. So Barton made poUtes and helped Limila up, and they all said their so-longs. Myra almost spoiled it, by saying, "What are you going to do. Barton? I'm wor- ried."

But he said, "Get on a ship like this one, maybe. And likely see you." So the moment passed, and finally he and Fox and Limila made slow going down the ramp and stood on bare Tilaran ground. Twilight was ending; in moments, the darkness deepened.

Then they got in the car and he put' his mind to re- tracing their course back out of the aux port. He missed a turn, and found that ahead lay the huge ship from Earth. Well, all right. He said, "Long as we're this- close, let's have a look at that thing. I mean, I'm wearing the rigfat costume to be entitled."

He wore the Marine uniform Cheng had shanghaied for him-but with the insignia of rank turned upside- down in the way that meant he was off duty. So, in theory, nobody should bother him-

He drove quite near the new ship, before he saw a painted perimeter line and decided it was best Co step without crossing it. Looking up, he sighed. "That thing is big."

"Yes," said Limila. It she had any interest at all, her tone of voice didn't carry it. But when Barton said he wanted to take a closer look, and got out, he found that she and Arlie had followed him. She shouldn't do this walking, he thought. But he couldn't argue wjtK her, so they walked, slowly at her pace, toward the'%onster ship.

He stopped short of it, and again looked up. Now it

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towered over them. Barton said, "How many times big- ger do you suppose it is than the ships we know?" Not like the great ship on Sisshain, he knew, but somewhere in the middle of sizes.

Before Limila could answer, bright light struck. Bar- ton turned, shielding his eyes from the spotlights. An amplified voice shouted, "Stop where you arel" And Limila slumped to the ground.

So Barton, with his own Shield nipped on as a matter of instinct, and knowing that nobody from the second fleet had portable Shields, pulled out his personal sleep-gun and sprayed its radiations until, from out there behind those spotlights, he heard no sound at all. Then he picked Limila up and carried her to the big ship's ramp and climbed to its airlock. No one stopped him; no one even met him. He went inside and set Liroila down, then turned to look back outside, because Arleta Fox was still there. But she was up already and to the ramp, mak- ing a shaky job of climbing it. Nothing else moved, that Barton could see.

He started toward Fox, but she waved him back. "I'm all right Just caught the edge of it, I guess." So he picked Limila up again and waited until the small woman was inside. Then he thumbed the airlock-closing button, and watched the thing shut. "What are you going to do?" Ar- leta said. ^

Barton tried to shrug; the burden of Limila didn't let his shoulders move all that much. "For now, there's only one real answer. This ship seems to have a status outside the second fleet's authority. And sure as bell, there's more space in it than anybody could search in a hurry."

So, not breathing too hard under Limila's weight be- cause he was somewhat back in shape, and downstairs was easier than climbing, Barton descended. Arleta played rear guard. Barton had the. sleep-gun in one hand, but nobody showed, so he didn't need to use it. He kept going until they were past everything that looked to be quarters, down where cargo holds should start-and then three more levels. There he tried a big door, and it opened.

Cargo, all right. Going in. Barton made sure the door closed behind them, after he hit the switch that kept the lights on. He walked around until he found a place, way back in the hold, with soft stuff they could lie on, and set Limila down.

"This'll do for now," he said, "Wait here." The doc-

415.

tor nodded, and Barton went back to cut the lignts.

Then, first stopping in a corner to pee on the floor since there wasn't any other place to do it, he retraced his way to where he'd left the others. The scattered dim standby lights had stayed on; he could see well enough not to run into anything.

Limila still slept; beside her, Fox sat upright. She said.

**How long do you intend that we stay here?"

Barton sat, too, at Limila's other side. He listened to her breathing; it was slow and regular. "We can't do much until she wakes up," he said. 'Three up and walking make a better team than two up and one flat out." It wasn't much of an answer, he knew, so he continued. "For now, Arlie, I think I'll just lie down here and see if I can rest."

So he did. And until he felt the ship shudder and rise under him. Barton hadn't thought he'd gone to' sleep at all.

Limila was awake now. The last thing she remem- bered was the sudden glare of light; Barton had to explain to her where they were, and why. "It seemed like a good idea at the time."

Fox was either awake again, or still; Barton didn't ask which. She started to say something, but just then the ship bucked and rang with vibration, so she waited for the jarring to pass. When it did-and even through the grav-field Barton could feel, subliminally,' the in- creased rush of acceleration-he said, "We're up out of air now. There's no way a ship this size is going to waste the fuel to go back and land, and have to lift again. Not even to extradite a bunch of desperate criminals, such as us."

He grinned. "I'm not awfully hungry yet, but I'm get- ting damn thirsty. Now that the ship's mushed plowing air, and everybody upstairs can relax, let's go upland meet our hosts."

Limila was walking better already, but still the climb was slow. Barton, leading, kept his sleep-gun bolstered but had a hand on the switch of his Shield, just in case.

The strange part was that climbing through ierel after level of this huge spacecraft, they saw and heary no one at all. When they reached the first deck of quarters, Barton peeked into a few compartments. They were all deserted. In two he saw odds and ends of people's be-

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longings, the kind of thing somebody might not bothe to take along when leaving. But those cabins, as well aj others less littered, had obviously been occupied an( then vacated.

"Running with a skeleton crew, maybe?" Barton aske< himself out loud. "All moved into officers' digs, farthe up?" This thing was so much bigger than Ship One, 01 even ap Fenn's ships, that he had trouble visualizin!

what size of crew it would need. Whatever it was, the]

had to be around here somewherel

When they found the galley empty. Barton used a fev curses he hadn't remembered for a long time. On an]

ship at any time, there were always folks hanging arounc the galley; it was the natural social center for everybody who was off watch. But in this monster dining area, no body at all.

He smelted coffee, though-and fairly fresh, not left over battery acid, simmering into oily bitterness. The over sized brewing um at the end of a long counter seemet the obvious source, but when Barton went over an( touched it, it was cold. Then he tuned his nose in an< spotted the small pot steaming on a unit heater. He looke< into it; it was nearly full, so he picked up three cups an( poured them full. Turning to Limila and Arleta, he said "I don't know about you^but maybe a little of this coul( help me think better."

Nobody else spoke; they 'moved to a table and sat. Bar ton set himself to face the main entrance, and scannet to watch the two side doors, too. He was taking his firs sip when Limila pointed and said, "There, at that table Someone has eaten, recentlyl"

Sure enough, there was a tray, left by some slopp'

diner who hadn't picked up after himself. Barton got u]

and walked to look. Remains of egg and toast, dregs o juice and coffee, smeared tableware. Somebody whos watch-sked made this breakfast time.

But one tray? It didn't make sense. Barton rej'oine the two women and sat, and sipped again. "Well, it's nc bad coffee."

Limila had begun to answer when the man came ir and yelled. "Who the hell are you? What are you doin here?"

The man was short, blond, young, curly haired-an 417.

most important. Barton saw, not armed. Barton got up and walked toward him-not fast, and doing something with ha face that he hoped would look like a friendly smile. He reached to shake hands. "My name's Barton; I was Exec on Tarleton's fleet. You've heard of it?" He wasn't being entirely sarcastic; who knew what might be happening nowadays, on Earth? But the young roan nodded, and accepted the handshake, so Barton went on.

"I got in a little jam with the second fleet, so we hitched a ride on here- I hope you don't feel obliged to tell the second fleet everything you know? I mean, it's not your mommy or daddy, is it? Because that could cause us some problems, here."

Looking puzzled, the man shook his head. "This is an independent mission, and a very important one. Acting- Admiral Hennessy tried to opt us into his own" forces, but our captain refused, naturally."

"Your captain," Barton said. "That's somebody I'd like to meet."

The man's eyes widened. "But you can't. Not now.

Didn't you know? The whole crew's debarked on Tiiara;

the captain, too. I'm a volunteer, the only one aboard for the mission. Or rather, I was supposed to be."

Even the first parts, for some sort of bare understand- ing, took a lot of sorting out. The young man, who was singlehandedly crewing the biggest starship Barton had ever seen get off the ground, gave them guidance on fix- ing themselves breakfast in this luxurious, semi-automated eatery. Barton introduced his companions, and their host said. "I'm Honus Hayward. They call me Honey."

He did a double-take at his own words, and his face red- dened. "Don't get any wrong ideas. It's just a nickname."

Barton hadn't been getting any ideas at all. He said, "Sure,-! know how it is. No problem." He stood, *md got himself more coffee, from a fresh pot Hayward had made.