Barton grinned and shook his head. "OK, I get the message.

"Now then. How about me? Personally. Do I get a ship or don't I?"

"You do, in a way."

"What is that supposed to mean? I told you-"

"Easy, Barton. You get a ship. But there's been an unexpected development. Of all people, / ended up in command .of the whole damn fleet!" He grinned. "Some of the military shit green when they heard about that, I shouldn't wonder."

"But what about my ship? Is it or isn't it?'*

118.

"It is. Except that you'll have your boss-that's me- nding with you. And maybe looking over your shoulder

sometimes.

"Hell's bells. Given the choice, do you think I want to ride with anyone else?" Well, it was a compliment of sorts. Barton poured them both some more coffee. The other man looked ready to go back to work, and Barton

had more on his mind.

"Who else rides with us?" he asked. "Limila has to, or no deal. How about Eeshta? Did you get my note about

that? And who else?"

"One at a time, Barton; OK?" Barton shrugged. "The ships are built to carry twelve but we're crewing them with ten, all but ours; it rides full. The idea is that if we lose a ship but not all the people, we'll have someplace to

put the survivors. You see?

"Standard crew is four qualified pilots, two communi- cations techs and four weaponry artists. Everybody doubles in brass for the other chores. Sound reason- able?"

"OK so far. Now come on with it. What does the

Easter bunny have for me?"

"All right. You get Limila and Eeshta and you have to put up with me and with Hishtoo. Don't argue; we're going to need Hishtoo, somewhere along the line. You know it, if you stop to think for a minute instead of. look- ing stubborn. k

"That leaves seven slots. Ydu and three of them will be pilots. I and one other will be communicators. You'll be one. short on weapons people. And all of us a little overstretched, guarding Hishtoo during part of our off- watch time."

Barton thought a minute. "Let me tell you what the problem isn't. Limila is your other communicator, or maybe Eeshta is and Limila is a gunner; we can figure that part out later; it's a long haul. And I see no reason

to guard Hishtoo."

Tarleton looked skeptical, so Barton told him. "No- body guarded him on the trip back here, did they?"

"But he had casts on both arms, or splints, or some- thing."

"Any reason he can't have them on again?" Barton

asked. Tarleton looked shocked. "I wouldn't even have to break his arms this time, though I don't mind a bit if you're dead set on realism. Well?" Tarleton still looked

119.

shocked; Barton laughed. "I'm kidding, man. Hell, all we need to do is keep him locked up."

"I see your point. The Agency figures to give Hishtoo free run of the ship, using some of our manpower to watch him. We may as well not bother their heads about our improved version."

"OK, Tarleton; it's a deal"

Tarleton looked embarrassed. "There's one more thing. Fm sorry, but Dr. Fox went over my head. Her professional standing is such that I can't overrule her in her own specialty."

Barton's guts went cold. "What's to overrule, specifi- cally?"

"She has a red tab on your card and she won't lift it until you take one more test run with her. I hadn't thought we had any problem there, but she seems to have a real bee in her bonnet. Believe me, I'd have squashed this if I could. I need you and Limila both;

you've convinced me. And I wouldn't really expect Limila to want to come along if you were grounded."

"No," said Barton. "If that happens, I'll tell you what else will."

Tarleton waited.

"You and the fleet will go looking for the Demu, all by yourselves. You could take Eesbta along by force, I suppose, aad Hishtoo of course. But if you took Limila that way she'd never help you find her people. Or the Demu. Don't try it.*'

"I have no such intention. In fact"-Tarleton looked a little sheepish-"I'm going to give you the keys to the car, if that'll make you feel any better. Do you remem- ber that first day, when you handed them over to me?"

Barton remembered. Well, he had picked the right man. "Thanks, Tarleton," he said. "I'll take the keys now, if you don't mind." He got them,

Tarleton wanted to talk some more, trying to give reassurance, but finally recognized Barton's preoccupa- tion and let him go. Still driving the rental car. Barton went home. There was another note from Dr. Fox, this one marked "Urgent." Limila was steaming in a hot bathtub. Dinner was simmering on the stove; it smelled good. Barton fixed a drink for himself and thought about

a small woman with a bulldog mind, and about ships, and cages.

Limila came into the room, wearing a short robe and 120.

the Tilari wig. She stood before him, waiting for his re- action. Her look was anxious.

A line came tS Barton, out of a comic strip from his childhood. "Funny," he said, smiling, "how a pretty girl looks good in anything she happens to throw on." Then she was in his lap, and the problem, if there had been one, was over.

During and after dinner he brought her up to date.

"But why do you fear this Dr. Fox?" she asked. "What can she do?"

"She can put me back in a cage, Limila. She has the authority. She can look in my mind and decide that I belong in one, and I'm afraid she will."

"But that is foolish. Barton." He shook his head. He knew that in the back of his mind was something that shouldn't be allowed to run loose. But it would, anyway, as long as he was alive. Determinedly he changed the subject and made it stick.

That night when they made love it was with an air of desperation, and sadness.

The next morning they were cheerful enough, at breakfast and when Barton drove Limila to the ship for briefing. On the way. Barton turned the rental car in to the motor pool and took a jeep in exchange. He and Limila talked, but of nothing in particular. They had a habit of doing that sometimes, he kept telling himself.

Tarleton must have been watching for them; he met them just outside the prefab where Limila usually