"h.e.l.lo, Danson," Lors said, in English, and to his acute surprise, the Terran answered in Lors' tongue.

"This mortal bids welcome to the great G.o.d, Lors," Danson said, with a faint smirk.

"You speak my language?" Lors asked, puzzled.

"Why not? You speak mine. When they checked my brain, they found that I had a rather high I.Q. Besides, I've read all your reading material and decided that you have lousy taste. So I decided to learn the language, and try to make conversation with my watch dogs."

"You are comfortable?"

Danson nodded. "Wonderful. First rate. Now that I know the language, I'm going to get a deck of cards and teach my jailers how to play draw poker. Then I'm going to win this starship and take it to Washington for a.n.a.lysis."

"I didn't come here to jest."

Danson lit a cigarette and smiled thinly. "Why did you come here?"

"To see you. Are you well taken care of?"

"Certainly. They've hooked up my pint sized T.V. set so that I can look at the earth. I've been to the Lunar Base ... terrific real estate. A rock pile. Elaborate, but still a rock pile. I eat very well. I sleep occasionally, except that I cannot get used to the total darkness, and I have minor grievances ... like I want to get the h.e.l.l out of here!" He stood up suddenly and glared at Lors. "Am I happy! Am I content! h.e.l.l, yes! I'm so G.o.ddam content I'm going stir crazy from it!

"I'm sick of the whole d.a.m.ned mess, Firsts.p.a.cer Lors, plain downright sick and..."

"Take it easy, Danson."

"Shut up! Shut your d.a.m.ned mouth because I'm not finished! Tell me, G.o.d, have you ever been confined to a pint sized prison? You ever had your brain picked clean by a flock of intellectual buzzards? You ever sat in a room, with the walls closing in on you, listening to a couple of blue-uniformed knotheads stand outside your door talking a babble of language that sounded like Chinese, and not be able to speak to them?

Not be able to take a p.i.s.s because you don't know how to find the toilet and don't know how to ask where it is?

"Well, I have. I have and I'm up to my ears with this whole bit. I lie here every night and dream about taking this so-called starship and ramming it up your a.s.s, plate by plate..."

Danson broke off suddenly, unable to continue his wild tirade. He sat there on the edge of the bunk, his face a livid white, with the cigarette dangling from his lips. His left eye closed against the bite of the smoke and his jaws knotted as he stared at the wall.

"All finished," Lors demanded quietly.

Danson grunted. "Yeah. Yeah, ace, I'm all finished. In a way, I'm sorry ... but it felt good. I've wanted to get all that off my chest for a long time."

"I can see your position, Danson," Lors told him. "I know what you've been through, but I can't do anything about it. I follow orders."

Danson grinned. "Who're you trying to kid, pal. You got Commander Zark's daughter eating out of the palm of your hand. h.e.l.l, I'll bet you pull more strings around this ship than a puppeteer."

"I've underestimated you, Danson," Lors told him in a soft voice. "You have an interesting mind. Quite a grasp."

Danson snorted again. "You guys aren't the sharpest people in the world.

I will give you a bit of advice, for free. You better either return me to earth, or kill me. In another thirteen months, I'll figure out a way to blow this hulk into a million pieces."

"I doubt that," Lors mused.

"Go ahead and doubt it, but you'd better keep the powder magazine under double guard. And while you're at it, you better have the boys be careful of what they say around me, since I know the lingo."

"How many s.p.a.cers have you talked to?" Lors asked. "How many of them know how intelligent you are?"

Danson shrugged. "Why?"

"Just wondered."

Nick Danson looked at him narrowly. "You have something on your mind, Lors?"

"Maybe. Right now, I'll keep it to myself. Until then, keep your mouth shut about how smart you are. A weapon, Nick, is only useful when the enemy doesn't know how well it will work. When they know, a counter-weapon can be made." Lors moved to the door. "I'll be back, probably," he said and went out into the corridor, leaving the Terran to ponder on what he had said.

The guard snapped to attention, then handed Lors his auto-pistol. The Firsts.p.a.cer slipped it into the holster and snapped the flap. Then he walked rapidly toward Firsts.p.a.cer Thesa's quarters with the germ of an idea filtering and dancing through his mind.

It wasn't a complete idea, but it certainly was a wild one. The chances of its working were about a thousand to one, but if it did things might work out.

He hoped so.

He reached the door of Thesa's quarters and jerked it open. His fingers fumbled for the b.u.t.ton, inside the door, that would switch on the lighted walls. When he found it, he closed the door and flicked on the lights. He stared at the inside of the room in amazement.

She was lying on the bed, with her golden hair falling about her shoulders like a waterfall of sunlight, and her lips pulled back over white teeth to smile at him. But he was stunned, frozen to the spot.

"Jela," he whispered, in shock.

CHAPTER FOURTEEN

For a moment, she didn't move and, in the silence, he allowed his eyes to finger her.

Beneath the blond tumble of hair, her blue eyes watched him, her lips toying with a bemused smile. She wore the odd toga-like dress that had recently become popular among the women on the home planet; it was a white color, trimmed in a pale blue that went well with her hair, but Lors hardly noticed it. His eyes were fixed upon the twin lift of her b.r.e.a.s.t.s as they fought against the material.

She swung her long, curved legs to the floor, a momentary flash of creamy flesh showing at her thighs, and stood up. She came to him on slippered feet, whispering against the floor and stopped before him, her b.r.e.a.s.t.s faintly brushing the material of his tunic.

"I thought I'd never get here, darling." Her voice was soft and warm.

s.e.x, love and desire hung in her words; the emotion dripped from her voice the way water falls from the roof of a cave, giving her tone a throaty huskiness that started the blood racing in his veins. Yet she held herself back, restrained her urge to fling herself into his arms.

It was a game with her, one she had always played. "Did you miss me?"

She asked.

He nodded, unable to trust his voice. It would crack, he knew it would.

He would be able to say nothing beyond a mere croak. Too much was happening, too d.a.m.ned fast. It was almost impossible to keep up with it all.

"Well," she mused. "I realize you're stunned to see me, but you ought to kiss me. At least, that."

He reached out his hands slowly, feeling the tremble begin in his fingers as he closed them over the softness of her upper arms. A drum began pounding in his temples as he touched her, a flashflood ripped through his veins, and his stomach churned like a storm. He brought his mouth down slowly against hers and felt her lithe body flatten up against him the way a candle melts against a sheet of hot metal.

Her mouth was a pliant sweetness that shoved all his thoughts of Terra into the back of his mind; her body trembled against the lean hardness of his in a shiver of pa.s.sion. The very touch of her tongue against his lips beat aside all the problems that swirled about his muddled mind and awakened the desire and need that had lain dormant within him all this time.

"Darling," she breathed, when he had pulled his mouth from hers. "Oh, Lors..."

"Shhh."