It must be.
Harbin rose from his command chair. “Take the con,” he said to his pilot. “I’ll be back in a few moments. If Chrysalis’s chief administrator calls, let me know immediately.”
He ducked through the hatch and walked the few steps to the door of his private quarters. They’re not going to give up Fuchs willingly, Harbin thought. They might know that we’re low on supplies, or guess it. Maybe they think they can wait us out. They could be calling for more Astro attack ships to come to their aid.
He looked at his bed. How long has it been since I’ve slept? he asked himself. With a shake of his head he answered, No matter. This is no time for sleep. He went past the bed and into his lavatory. There he opened the slim case that housed his medications. I’ll need to be alert, razor-sharp, he told himself. He picked one of the vials and fitted it to the hypospray. Rolling up the sleeve of his tunic, he pressed the spray-gun against his bare skin and pushed the plunger.
He felt nothing. For good measure he fitted another vial to the hypospray and shot the additional dose into his bloodstream.
Big George was walking Edith Elgin down the passageway to Elsinore’s main airlock, where his shuttlecraft had docked.
“You won’t need a space suit,” George was saying. “We’ll go straight into the shuttle and then we’ll dock with Chrysalis. Shirtsleeve environment all the way.”
Edith smiled, delighted with this big, shaggy mountain of a man with the wild brick-red hair and beard. He would look terrific on video.
“I’m looking forward to seeing how the rock rats live,” she said, secretly berating herself for not having a microcam attached to her and slaved to wherever her eyes focused. Always be ready to shoot, she reminded herself. You’re letting an opportunity slip away.
“Aw, there aren’t many ratties in the habitat. Mostly clerks and shopkeepers. The real rock rats are out in the Belt, workin’ their bums off.”
“Even with this war going on?” she asked.
George nodded. “No work, no eat.”
“But isn’t it dangerous, with ships being attacked?”
“Sure it is. But—”
“URGENT MESSAGE FOR MR. AMBROSE,” the overhead intercom speakers blared.
George swiveled his head around, spotted a wall phone, and hurried to it. Edith followed him.
A bone-thin woman’s face showed in the wall phone’s little screen. “An unidentified ship has taken up a parking orbit. They’re demanding we surrender Lars Fuchs to them.”
“Lars isn’t here,” George said.
“I told him that but he said we either give him Fuchs or he starts shooting!”
“Bloody fookin’ maniac,” George growled.
“He wants to talk to you.”
“Right. I want to talk to him. Put me through.”
Harbin felt perfectly normal. Bright, alert, ready to deal with these miserable rock rats or whatever other enemies came at him.
For the moment, though, he was sitting in his command chair and staring into the sky-blue eyes of a man sporting a thick mane of blazing red hair and an equally wild-looking beard.
Stroking his own neatly cropped beard, Harbin said, “It’s very simple. You surrender Fuchs to me or I’ll destroy you.”
“We don’t have Fuchs,” George Ambrose said, obviously working hard to hold back his temper.
“How do I know that’s true?”
“Come aboard and look for yourself! He’s not here.”
“He is aboard Elsinore, don’t deny it.”
“He isn’t. He’s not here. You’re welcome to come aboard and search the ship from top to bottom.”
“I’m not such a fool. You’ve already spirited him away to your habitat.”
“Search the habitat then!”
“With a dozen men? You could hide him from us easily.”
Ambrose started to say something, thought better of it, and sucked in a deep breath. At last he said, “Look, whoever the fook you are. Chrysalis is neutral territory. We’re not armed. We have no weapons. You’re welcome to search the habitat to your heart’s content. We’ll resupply your ship and fill your propellant tanks for you. What more can I offer you?”
“Lars Fuchs,” said Harbin, implacably. This stubborn fool is beginning to anger me, he realized. He could feel the rage building, deep within him, like a seething pit of hot lava burning its way toward the surface.