"Hunting us down," Sam confirmed. "He seems to be working for the LORDS.".

Father Marco sighed and shook his head. "Poor Destinus! We knew he was keeping bad company, being in the government and all-but I didn't know it was this bad . . . well!" He slapped his knees and sat up straight. "Looks as though I made the right decision, coming along with you."

"How so?" Dar frowned. "Finding out about your half-cousin makes that much of a difference?"

Father Marco nodded. "Family obligation. It's up to me to try to counter the damage Destinus's trying to do to you."

"Well, don't be too hard on the boy." Dar frowned up at Sam. "I mean, it's not as if he were doing it on his own. He's just acting for his bosses. They're the ones who're going in for telepath-hunting."

"Oh, I wouldn't be too sure of that." Sam's lip curled slightly. "Do you think hardheaded politicians would really believe in telepaths? I mean, believe in 'em enough to mount a major hunt?"

"Why else would they bring in their own 'police'?"

"Because," Sam grinned, "it makes an excellent excuse to immobilize you and me, before we can get Bhelabher's resignation to BOA."

"Could a governorship of a boondocks planet be all that important?"

"To the governor's righthand man it could. Besides, even if the LORDS are planning to cut off all the outlying planets, that doesn't mean they like the idea of governors who're ready to get along without them very nicely, thank you."

"A point," Dar admitted. "That is a little deflating to the collective Terran ego. Which makes me think Myles Croft can't be all that popular with BOA, either."

"He always was an independent cuss. My was." Whitey grinned, leaning back with his hands locked behind his head. "Myself, I think it's just fine, seeing the outer worlds getting ready for Terra to ax 'em"

"Ready? Eager, almost." Lona was watching her data board. "About to isomorph, gentlefolk-tighten your webbing." She frowned, and peered closer at her detectors. "Strange-that blip's gotta be another ship lifting off from Falstaff."

"Strange indeed." Dar frowned, too. "There weren't supposed to be any arrivals or departures for a month."

"You don't think . . . ?" Sam began, but then the isomorpher kicked in, and reality turned very fuzzy for a while.

Chapter Nine.

Out near the asteroid belt, on the Jupiter side, the solar system's tapestry of gravity begins to thin out just enough for a ship to emerge from H-space. It's not the safest thing to do, of course; there is a respectable chance of Jupiter's gravity fouling the isomorpher enough to make the ship twist into that other realm where ships that nearly made it back out go to. Still, probability favors success; so, if you're in a hurry, you might try it.

Dar and Sam were in a hurry, so Lona tried it.

Deceleration slammed Dar against his webbing. It was killing pressure, but it slowly eased off-very slowly; it took the ship's internal field a while to win over momentum. When he could sit back and talk again, he did. "I-I take it we made it?"

"We're in one piece." Lona sounded offended as she scanned her damage readout. "Not even a split seam."

"Didn't mean to question your ability," Dar said quickly. "It's just- well, it was a little risky."

Lona snorted.

"Not for my niece." Whitey leaned forward and tapped the autobar for Rhysling. "The only kind of machine Lona doesn't understand is a hammer-it doesn't have any moving parts, let alone circuits. Anyone join me?"

Red light exploded off the walls and ceiling. Lena's hands flew over her board. "That was a cannon bolt! Chug that drink and hold on!"

Something groaned, winding up to a scream as ship's gravity fought to keep up with velocity changes. But it was a losing battle; Lona was putting the little ship through so many rolls and dives, a four- dimensional computer couldn't've kept up with her.

Which, of course, was exactly the idea. But their pursuer's battle comp was good; ruby flashes kept flickering off the walls, now brighter, now dimmer, now brighter again.

"How about the traditional shot across the bows?" Dar called.

"They're not big on tradition," Lona snapped, sweat beading her brow.

"I never did have much use for iconoclasts," Father Marco grumbled.

"It's a Patrol cruiser!" Sam stared at the rear viewscreen in horror.

"The Solar Patrol-the ones who rescue stranded spacemen from starship wrecks!"

"And shoot down smugglers," Whitey added grimly. "But they never shoot without warning!"

"You've been watching too many Patrol-epic holos, Grandpa," Lona grated. "These are the real ones!"

"Are they?" Sam keyed the transmitter. "Let's find out! Ray of Hope calling Patrol cruiser! Come in, Patrol cruiser!"

An energy-bolt lanced past them as Lona rolled the ship to starboard.

"Come in, Patrol cruiser! Why're you shooting at us? We haven't broken any laws! And we're not carrying contraband!" Sam let up on the key and listened, but there wasn't even a whisper of static.

"Maybe it's broken," Dar said quickly, "not picking up their answer!"

"Dreamer," Lona growled.

"I'll try anything." Sam spun the sweep-knob, and a voice rattled out of the tiny speaker ". . . at the top of the roster. It's on his new holocube, 'Roll Me to Rigel!'"

"Commercial channel," Sam grated.

A new voice interrupted the announcer in mid-word. "Ganagram News Update-brought to you by Chao-Yu's Chandlers, with the latest in used burro-boat fittings!"

"Must be the Ganymede 3DT station," Whitey said, nodding. "They broadcast for the asteroid miners, mostly."

"How can you tell?"

"Who else uses burro-boats?"

"We interrupt this program to bring you a special hot flash," the radio went on. "We've just been notified that a small pirate ship with a notorious telepath aboard has just entered the Solar System. Citizens are advised not to worry, though-the mind reader's being chased by a Solar Patrol cruiser They should be calling any minute to tell us he's been captured and locked up."

"They're talking about us," Dar choked.

"Correction," Lona snapped. "They're talking about you."

"They did say, 'he,'" Whitey admitted.

"Also, that they're going to capture us-which sounds like a fine idea, right now." Sam keyed the transmitter again. "Ray of Hope to Solar Patrol cruiser! We surrender! We give up! We throw down our arms!"

Red light blazed through the cabin, and the whole hull chimed like a singing bell.

"That was really close!" Lona rolled the ship over so fast that Dar's stomach lost track of his abdomen. "They've got a weird idea of capturing!"

"I think," Whitey mused, "that they're out to avoid the expense of a trial."

"So, what do we do?" Dar demanded. "We can't keep running forever So far, the only reason we're still alive is their lousy marksmanship, and Lena's fantastic piloting."

"Flattery will get you an early grave," Lona snapped. "I need ideas, not compliments!"

"Well, how's this?" Dar frowned. "We came in between Jupiter and Mars, heading sunward. What's our speed?"

"We're back up to point nine seven light-speed."

Father Marco's eyes lost focus. "Let's see, that means. . . it's been about five minutes for us, so for the people on Earth . . ."

"It's been a few weeks," Lona finished for him, "and if we don't do something soon, we're going to get punctured by a small swarm of teeny-tiny asteroids, and flattened when we run into a few big ones!"

"Asteroids!" Sam sat up straight, her eyes locking on Dar's. "We did it once ..."

"And I'll bet the Solar Patrol aren't much smarter than pirates!" Dar turned to Lona. "Can you match velocity with an asteroid?"

"Of course]" Lona crowed. "Kill our power, and all we are is a new asteroid with a high albedo!"

"Not even that, if you can get a big rock between us and the sun. Can we slow down that fast?"

"Can do." Lona nodded. "It'll take most of our power, though, and it won't be very comfortable."

She had a nice knack for understatement; it was hell. Not as bad as it could've been-at least she had the courtesy to turn the ship around so she could decelerate with the main engine, and they were plastered back into their seats instead of being slammed against their webbing- but they were rammed so far into their couches that Dar could've sworn he felt the hard plastic of the frame, and held his breath, waiting for the couch to either snap or spring a leak. But it held, and he began to wonder if he would. His nose felt as though it were trying to flow around both sides of his face to join his ears; his eyes tried bravely to follow their optic nerves to their sources; and after a while, it occurred to him that the reason he was holding his breath was simply that he couldn't breathe. It was about three anvils, a barrel of horseshoes, two blacksmiths, and a Percheron sitting on his chest. . . .

Then the pressure eased off, and swung him against the side of the hull as Lona turned. The acceleration couch slowly regurgitated him, 'and he found himself staring around at a cabin that perversely persisted in looking just the way it had before they passed through the hamburger press.

Then Lona flicked a finger at her console, and the lights went out.

All he could think of was that she was over there, and he was over here, still webbed in. It was such a horrible waste of a great situation.

Into the sudden darkness her voice murmured, "I've killed all power, so they won't have any energy emissions to track us by. Don't let it worry you; you can still see out the ports. And we won't lose heat too fast; the hull's well insulated. But the air recycler's off, and this isn't all that large a cabin for five people. So do the best you can not to breathe too much. Breathe lightly-sleep if you can. And don't talk- that's a waste of ait"

"If the power's off, your detectors're out," Father Marco murmured.

"Right. We won't know where they are, except by sight. Which doesn't do too much good, of course-they could be far enough away to only show as a speck of light, but they could still get here in a matter of minutes."

"So, how will we know when to turn the lights back on?" Whitey asked.

"When the air starts getting foul," Lona answered. "When you start feeling short of breath, and drowsy."

"But they might still be nearby then," Dar objected.

"Life is filled with these little chances," Lona murmured. "But let's make it as long a wait as we can. No more talking."

Sibilant silence descended on the cabin, filled with the rasp and wheeze of people in various states of health trying to control their breathing. After a few minutes, someone began to snore softly- Whitey, no doubt; Dar could only admire his composure. For himself, he was watching nervously out the nearest porthole, and, sure enough, there was the tiny dot of light, swelling rapidly, turning into a Patrol cruiser which shot by overhead so close that Dar had to fight the urge to duck.

"One pass," Lona murmured.

"Gadget-lovers," Father Marco chuckled. "They don't trust their eyes anymore; if it isn't on a sensor-screen, it doesn't exist."

"Then, pretend we don't," Sam hissed. "Shut up!"

The patrol cruiser slid out from the top of the vast asteroid that hid the Ray of Hope. Dar held his breath; if there were a single eye actually watching out a porthole, all he'd ever know about it would be a huge red flash that just might bum out his life before it melted his eyes. But, come to think of it, he didn't even see any portholes, and the big ship drifted on past them and disappeared into a cluster of space junk.

Sam heaved a sigh of relief, but Lena hissed, "Belay that!"

"What?" Sam protested. "Breathing?"

"You were hoping," Lona accused.

"What's wrong with that?" Sam demanded, but Father Marco assured her; "It's too soon."

And right he was, because here came the space-shark again, drifting up so closely above them that Dar halfway expected it to ask if he was interested in life insurance. But there must have been enough nickel- iron in their friendly asteroidal neighborhood to hide the Ray of Hope's mettle, because the cruiser lifted its nose and rose above them, more and more quickly until it disappeared into the clutter of floating rock overhead.

A multiple sigh filled the cabin, and Whitey croaked, "Huh? Wha'sa matter? They find us? Huh? What?"

"I think they went up above the plane of the ecliptic. Grandpa," Lona assured him.

"Hoping to get a better view of the situation-looking down at us," Dar suggested.

"Can I hope now?" Sam squeaked.

A huge bass chime shook the cabin, and Lona hit the power key. "Only if we get out of here," she answered Sam. "That was our first visiting neighbor, hinting we should move out of the neighborhood."

"A little asteroid, colliding with us," Dar explained as the lights came on and gravity sucked him back down into his seat. "It's a wonder it's only the first one; they could've knocked us to bits by now."

"Not really," Lona said, punching buttons. "We came in above the plane of the ecliptic, matched velocities with this asteroid, and swooped in right next to it. Most of the local pebbles are in orbit around it. That little stone that just hit us shot in from a close bypass with another big rock. It was just a matter of time before it came calling though."

"But it won't happen again if we're going back above the plane of the ecliptic?"

"Are you kidding?" Lona snorted. "That Patrol boat's up there! We're going below, sister, so we'll have the whole depth of the asteroid belt between us and them, to foul their sensors! Brace yourselves, everyone-this is going to be a rough ride!" "Nos morituri te salutamus," Father Marco intoned. We who are about to die, salute thee . . . Dar shivered. "You could've thought of a cheerier blessing, Father."

"You speak Latin?" Father Marco cried in surprise. "What are you-a fossil?"

"No-I just got stoned at Cholly's a lot." Then Dar's stomach rose as the ship sank and a huge gong reverberated through the hull.

"Nothing to worry about." Lena's voice was tight with strain. "It can't really hurt us unless it's as big as my head, and I can swerve around anything that size-I think."

Then Whitey was pointing upward out the porthole and shouting-but the gist of his comment was lost in another huge BONG! as red lightning lit the cabin and the ship bucked like a metal bull. Over the fading chime, Dar could hear Lona cursing as she fought to stabilize the craft. The red glow faded-and left them in darkness broken only by the shards of reflected sunlight from the dancing asteroids around them. Sam shouted in panic, and everybody started talking at once.