He paused, thinking. From the start of Bearpaw's odd tale. Barton had been piling up questions. He'd saved them, because maybe the answers would be later in the story, and a lot of them were. All right; Bearpaw's ship, and the one Barton was on now, were magnitudes ahead of those he was used to. But the grav-Iift and variable-G showers were certainly derived from the original Demu ship Barton had swiped on Ashura; Tarleton's fleet could

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have had those, except that it would have taken longer and they were in a hurry. Barton remembered the day those things were decided; for a moment he wondered whether any areas of these big ships had the Demu pee-through floors, then shook his head. The matter simply wasn't important.

And what was? Barton was tired; concentration came hard. But before he slept, he wanted some answers.

So he began asking.

What Bearpaw's ship had and what this one had,, it turned out, were two different buckets of clams. "We're going to leave this one adrift, remember," said Hayward.

**A total loss. So as soon as we accepted the order to divert, the ship was systematically stripped of everything not essential to the mission. And that equipment was unloaded on Tilara."

Barton asked for details. The faster-than-Iight communi- cation gear was gone; after rendezvous, Beai-payy's ship could do the report to Base. Maybe Hennessy on Tilara would get his hands on the apparatus, make use of it, and maybe not Barton had had another idea, but now he dropped it. He cleared his throat; it felt dry. "How about weapons?" He didnt know what he migfat want to do with weapons, but it would be nice to know what he had, just in case,

Hayward shook his head. *They dismounted the big laser; it's gone. Of course we still have the Demu Shield; they couldn't send us out totally defenseless, in case we met Demu raiding ships. And-"

"And since the sleep-gun works from the same power supply and some of the same wave-form generators, we should have that, too."

"I'm not sure," said Hayward. "It's not my line of work.",

Barton stood. "Let's find out." They went up a level and Barton tried those controls; the indicators sho*wed no power going out, so he led the way to the generator turret and saw where components had been removed.

For a moment he was stumped, and if he hadnl been so tired he might have done a little cussing. Then he grinfc *'., "Hayward? Do you know how to check your spareal, ventory?" y

Barton's faith in human inefficiency was rewarde^ 456.

When Hayward showed him where to find the parts stocks, and Barton plugged things in where they belonged, the sleep-gun came operative.

"I still don't understand," said Hayward, "why you want that thing working." It was Barton's morning now;

in the Command-First's quarters that dwarfed the com- partments on Ship One, he and Limila had slept well.

Arlie seemed happy enough living in the style of a Command-Second. Hayward, of course, had captain's digs.

Pausing between bites of breakfast. Barton said, "How should I know? What I want is all the options I can get."

He shrugged. "Who knows? Maybe we could fake out all those super-psi types and solve the whole mess with one good shot of sleepy-bye." He grinned, then, so that nobody would take the idea seriously. Because, he didn't.

But Limila nodded. So she knew he'd decided where they were going.

One serious idea, he did have. Done eating, they went above and Barton had Hayward put the galactic-Arm map on the screen, "Show us our course, huh?" he said, and Hayward produced a thin, curving line that arced from Tilara to a point in the dead belt Leaning forward, Barton studied it.

Finally he sat back. "Too far. No time and not enough fuel." Before Hayward could speak. Barton said, "I think / you know already, but I'll make it official; I'm not going to interfere with your mission. But still-" He slapped a hand against the side of a console. "Those aux boats Bearpaw mentioned. I don't know their range, anything about them. But Tarleton needs some warning. And maybe, if the budget-minded types hadn't been so pinch- penny about stripping this ship . . ."

He saw Hayward gulp, and the man said, "They left me an aux craft. In case, you know. One man to handle the whole ship, and if something should go wrong-well, I'm a volunteer, but not any kind of kamikaze.'*

"What's its range?"

Hayward told him, and Barton sat back. Again he looked at the screen, and said, "We can do it. Bend course enough to get within safe distance for the aux boat to Sisshain, and this ship still rendezvous as planned."

Hayward's eyes widened. "Then you're taking the boat to Sisshain?"

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"No." said Barton. "You are."

"But why?" All three asked him that, and Barton had no real answer. The real answers had been censored out of Renton Bearpaw's tape, by the Others. AU that Barton had to go on was a hunch-a hunch, and a memory.

But whatever had happened, and would happen on that ship he'd never seen, he wanted to be there.

What he said was, "Tarieton needs information, not me. I'm trouble for him, and dealing with Hennessy, he'll have enough of that." Hayward tried to talk; impatient, Barton waved him off. "If they'd left us P.T.L.-comm capability, there'd be no problem. Well, not so big a one. We'd call Earth, is all, and get things straight Now we can't So we'll do it the way I said." He stood. "You can navigate, Hayward. Or you wouldn't be here-**

The young man nodded, and Barton said, "Then rig course to let yourself off for Sisshain, with a safety mar- gin. Meanwhile, I'll tape the stuff for you to take to Tarieton."

Nobody argued. Barton expected to finish his taping in maybe fifteen minutes, but it took him nearly two hours. Because every time he thought he had 't right, he found he'd forgotten something.

The course changes looked right to Barton, and the computer agreed, so Barton watched while Hayward put them into effect Then everybody gathered in Hayward's plushy quarters. Now that things were decided, even though Barton had made most of the choices, the situ- ation felt more relaxed to him. He couldn't take the sweet wine, though, that was all Hayward had in the way of alcohol, so he ran a computer check on the cargo, and Arlie Fox went along and helped him find a case of tolerable bourbon.

After that, the party went better, and when Barton and Limila left, he knew he'd bagged about as much of a load as he could use. '

He got away with it without a hangover, but that was the only time Barton came anywhere near getting smashed- drunk. He guessed he'd needed it, though, the once^' let some of the tension off. y JT

Now as days passed and the ship plowed spacer 'me, faster than the ships he'd known but still measuring, in-

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terval by the slow movement of chronometers. Barton studied this new ship. For he needed to know it, and was determined that he would.

Hayward didn't seem to be so sure. One day he said, "Do you really think you'll be able to take over, so quickly? I mean, what if you miss something, and I'm gone, and there's no one to ask?"

Barton rubbed sweat off his forehead. He'd run into some trouble, with the haywired circuits that grouped all important controls to one central pilot's position, and he didn't welcome the interruption. Looking up, he asked how long it had taken Hayward to pick up his own briefing.

Hearing the answer, he nodded. "About the same time as I have, now. So quit worrying."

"But I had training by expertsl"

Barton snapped a refractory connector into place and eased back onto his haunches. "You ever land a ship, Hayward?" Headshake. "Well, I have. The first" time, with no training by anybody at all-and I damn near put it in the drink, but I didn't. On my second try it was bat- ass sideways, and the drive knocked dead at the last of it; hadn't been for the Shield, we'd've splattered halfway around Sisshain.*' Realizing how be must be glaring, Barton felt silly. "All I'm saying, Hayward: I've done new stuff before."

"Of course you have. I knos? that. Barton. But-"

Fed up with the argument. Barton sighed. "Put it like so. I don't see how any one pilot could land this crate.

But if it came up that way, sure's hell I'd have a try at it"

Hayward still worried, though; Barton wished he wouldn't do it out loud so much. At lunch once, puzzled frown on Hayward's face: "What happens if you make rendezvous and they don't? I mean, there you are, prac- tically out of fuel and no F.T.L. communications."

Well, no end to the kid's frettings, it seemed. Bar- ton set his plate back-he was near enough done with it as to make no difference-and said, "We miss con- necting, the other ship'U be yelling a lot; wouldn't you say? So Base sends out more troops, and I doubt they'll forget us entirely." He couldn't help but shrug, then.

"Meanwhile, this is a supply ship. Three people area't going to run short of anything.*'

* "Three?" said Arleta Fox. "Make that two. Barton."

He looked at her. The regrowing curly auburn hair didn't

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make much bulk yet, around her head, but now there was enough of it that no hint of scalp showed through. Nei- ther did her thinking. Barton realized; maybe it was a little too long since he'd last talked with her. '

He knew she was sharing quarters with Honds Hay- ward-his, since those were the better accommodations- after the first tea days or so aboard this ship. It was some- thing he hadn't asked about, because it was none of his business. Now he said, "Sure, Arlie. You want to leave in the aux boat, for Sisshain, that's your right.. Care to tell me why, though?" *