Dasinger stared at the star hyacinth for an instant, then picked it up. It was slightly larger than the one Graylock had carried out of the Antares with him, perfectly cut. He found four others of similar quality within the next minute, started back down to the lock compartment with what might amount to two million credits in honest money, around half that in the Hub’s underworld gem trade, in one of his pockets.
“Yes?”
“Got the thing’s teeth pulled now.”
“Thank God! Coming right down. . . .”
The Mooncat was sliding in from the south as Dasinger stepped out on the head of the ramp. “Lock’s open,” Duomart’s voice informed him. “I’ll come aft and help.”
* * *
It took four trips with the gravity crane to transfer the salvage equipment into the Antares’s lock compartment. Then Miss Mines sealed the Mooncat and went back upstairs. Dasinger climbed into one of the three salvage suits, hung the communicator inside the helmet, snapped on the suit’s lights and went over to the edge of the compartment deck. Black water reflected the lights thirty feet below. He checked the assortment of tools attached to his belt, nudged the suit’s gravity cutoff to the right, energized magnetic pads on knees, boot tips and wrists, then fly-walked rapidly down a bulkhead and dropped into the water.
“No go, Duomart!” he informed the girl ten minutes later, his voice heavy with disappointment. “It’s an ungodly twisted mess down here . . . worse than I thought it might be! Looks as if we’ll have to cut all the way through to that vault. Give Egavine the signal to start herding the boys down.”
Approximately an hour afterwards, Miss Mines reported urgently through the communicator, “They’ll reach the lock in less than four minutes now, Dasinger! Better drop it and come up!”
“I’m on my way.” Dasinger reluctantly switched off the beam-saw he was working with, fastened it to the belt of the salvage suit, turned in the murky water and started back towards the upper sections of the wreck. The job of getting through the tangled jungle of metal and plastic to the gem vault appeared no more than half completed, and the prospect of being delayed over it until the Spy discovered them here began to look like a disagreeably definite possibility. He clambered and floated hurriedly up through the almost vertical passage he’d cleared, found daylight flooding the lock compartment, the system’s yellow sun well above the horizon. Peeling off the salvage suit, he restored the communicator to his wrist and went over to the head of the ramp.
* * *
The five men came filing down the last slopes in the morning light, Taunus and Calat in the lead, Graylock behind them, the winged animal riding his shoulder and lifting occasionally into the air to flutter about the group. Quist and Egavine brought up the rear. Dasinger took the gun from his pocket.
“I’ll clip my gun to the suit belt when I go back down in the water with the boys,” he told the communicator. “If the doctor’s turning any tricks over in his mind, that should give him food for thought. I’ll relieve Quist of his weapon as he comes in.”
“What about the guns in Graylock’s hut?” Duomart asked.
“No charge left in them. If I’m reasonably careful, I really don’t see what Dr. Egavine can do. He knows he loses his half-interest in the salvage the moment he pulls any illegal stunts.”
A minute or two later, he called out, “Hold it there, doctor?”
The group shuffled to a stop near the foot of the ramp, staring up at him.
“Yes, Dasinger?” Dr. Egavine called back, sounding a trifle winded.
“Have Quist come up first and alone, please.” Dasinger disarmed the little man at the entrance to the lock, motioned him on to the center of the compartment. The others arrived then in a line, filed past Dasinger and joined Quist.
“You’ve explained the situation to everybody?” Dasinger asked Egavine. There was an air of tenseness about the little group he didn’t like, though tension might be understandable enough under the circumstances.
“Yes,” Dr. Egavine said. “They feel entirely willing to assist us, of course.” He smiled significantly.
“Fine.” Dasinger nodded. “Line them up and let’s get going! Taunus first. Get . . .”
There was a momentary stirring of the air back of his head. He turned sharply, jerking up the gun, felt twin needles drive into either side of his neck.
His body instantly went insensate. The lock appeared to circle about him, then he was on his back and Graylock’s pet was alighting with a flutter of wings on his chest. It craned its head forward to peer into his face, the tip of its mouth tube open, showing a ring of tiny teeth. Vision and awareness left Dasinger together.
The other men hadn’t moved. Now Dr. Egavine, his face a little pale, came over to Dasinger, the birdlike creature bounding back to the edge of the lock as he approached. Egavine knelt down, said quietly, his mouth near the wrist communicator, “Duomart Mines, you will obey me.”
There was silence for a second or two. Then the communicator whispered, “Yes.”
Dr. Egavine drew in a long, slow breath.
“You feel no question, no concern, no doubt about this situation,” he went on. “You will bring the ship down now and land it safely beside the Antares. Then come up into the lock of the Antares for further instructions.” Egavine stood up, his eyes bright with triumph.
* * *
In the Mooncat three miles overhead, Duomart switched off her communicator, sat white-faced, staring at the image of the Antares in the ground-view plate.
“Sweet Jana!” she whispered. “How did he . . . now what do I . . .”
She hesitated an instant, then opened a console drawer, took out the kwil injector Dasinger had left with her and slipped it into a pocket, clipped the holstered shocker back to her belt, and reached for the controls. A vast whistling shriek smote the Antares and the ears of those within as the Mooncat ripped down through atmosphere at an unatmospheric speed, leveled out smoothly and floated to the ground beside the wreck.
There was no one in sight in the lock of the Antares as Duomart came out and sealed the Mooncat’s entry behind her. She went quickly up the broad, mold-covered ramp. The lock remained empty. From beyond it came the sound of some metallic object being pulled about, a murmur of voices. Twelve steps from the top, she took out the little gun, ran up to the lock and into it, bringing the gun up. She had a glimpse of Dr. Egavine and Quist standing near a rusty bench in the compartment, of Graylock half into a salvage suit, Dasinger on the floor . . . then a flick of motion to right and left.
The tips of two space lines lashed about her simultaneously, one pinning her arms to her sides, the other clamping about her ankles and twitching her legs out from beneath her. She fired twice blindly to the left as the lines snapped her face down to the floor of the compartment.
The gun was clamped beneath her stretched-out body and useless.
* * *
“What made that animal attack me anyway?” Dasinger asked wearily. He had just regained consciousness and been ordered by Calat to join the others on a rusted metal bench in the center of the lock compartment; Duomart to his left, Egavine on his right, Quist on the other side of Egavine. Calat stood watching them fifteen feet away, holding Dasinger’s gun in one hand while he jiggled a few of Hovig’s star hyacinths gently about in the other.
Calat’s expression was cheerful, which made him the exception here. Liu Taunus and Graylock were down in the hold of the ship, working sturdily with cutter beams and power hoists to get to the sealed vault and blow it open. How long they’d been at it, Dasinger didn’t know.
“You can thank your double-crossing partner for what happened!” Duomart informed him. She looked pretty thoroughly mussed up though still unsubdued. “Graylock’s been using the bird-thing to hunt with,” she said. “It’s a bloodsucker . . . nicks some animal with its claws and the animal stays knocked out while the little beast fills its tummy. So the intellectual over there had Graylock point you out to his pet, and it waited until your back was turned . . .” She hesitated, went on less vehemently, “Sorry about not carrying out orders, Dasinger. I assumed Egavine really was in control here, and I could have handled him. I walked into a trap.” She fished the shards of a smashed kwil injector out of her pocket, looked at them, and dropped them on the floor before her. “I got slammed around a little,” she explained.