"No. Nothing is wrong. My most recent communications just showed everything as usual."

She told me to just lie there and not see or hear anything. She went back to the flight deck a dozen feet away.

"Dear," she said, "he says nothing is wrong. I think it is safe to land. And we can go straight to Spiteos."

"Spiteos?" said Heller, thunderstruck. "Why?"

"Dear," said the Countess Krak, "I left some papers there. They are quite vital to our future."

"Lady," said Heller, "Spiteos is Lombar Hisst's terrain. You've been hinting at this for months. I think you'd better tell me all."

"Well, I'm sure it will be all right now to tell you. The mission is over." And she proceeded to tell him all about the Royal proclamations I had had forged. One still had to be signed, but when it was signed, it would restore her identity, titles and lands. The other had to be endorsed at the end of the successful mission and it would give him a Royal post and no more suicidal combat-engineer assignments.

Heller was amazed. "You saw these things?"

"Yes, and they are entirely authentic. You mustn't forget that other people think you are valuable, too! We only have to present them to His Majesty for their final signatures."

"Where are they?" said Heller.

"I hid them at Spiteos," said the Countess Krak.

"Oh, I don't know," said Heller. "Let's face it. You are a nonperson. You do not have any civil status at all. If they laid hands on you and you didn't have these papers, they could just imprison you again. It's too awfully much a risk. I just went through too much when I thought I had lost you to even discuss the matter further. When you're two hundred years old, gray-haired and toothless and I've been dead for decades, you can bring the matter up again. But not before. That's it. That's final. That's all there is to it. You are not going near Spiteos! FINISH!"

"Oh, Jettero."

"No, I mean it! I am NOT going to lose you again!" "Jettero, you are always telling me that all life is, is a series of Consecutive risks joined together with hairs stood on end." "I didn't say that."

"Well, the way you live, you probably think it. This isn't something one should throw away. It means you can have a much better life and it means that I can marry you. This isn't something you throw away. You sit right there."

The Countess Krak came back in. She picked up the helmet microphone. She said, "Are there any other copies of those documents anywhere?"

I had been holding my breath. But now, like a brilliant bluef lash, an idea came to me that had such certainty of success that I was in instant awe. The whole plan came to me, just like that! I could not only escape them but I could also get them captured. I was hard put to keep the elation out of my voice. I forced it to be muffled. I lied, "Yes. The exact same documents, perfect duplicates, are under the floor of my office at Section 451."

When she took the helmet off it was almost all I could do not to split my head in half with a grin. Heller and Krak had delivered themselves straight into my hands!

He passed us through the defense perimeter in the outer reaches of Voltar by giving the number of a patrol craft. I had expected that he would use my identoplate but he didn't even ask me for it.

I wondered where we were going. I had thought that he would land at the hangars of the Apparatus Space Section, of course, the point where we had taken off. By craning my neck I could see that we were over a high plateau. That wasn't even the main Fleet base! Where was he taking us?

It seemed to be late afternoon on the ground. But we were not near enough to make out much detail.

Then he did another crazy thing. A challenge came up to us from whatever was below and Heller said, "Upward Strike, requesting permission to land."

Upward Strike? That was the last of the original intergalactic battleships, 125,000 years old. A museum piece!

We came down like a plummet in Heller's usual landing style: fast and sudden.

We were tail first, bow toward the sky. It put me upside down and I hung there, standing on my head. Then my gimbal bed belatedly reversed and I was being held down, standing up and staring out the suddenly opened port.

WE WERE TOTALLY SURROUNDED BY FLEET MARINES!

They stood with weapons ready—they even had a motorized field piece.

Heller threw open the airlock.

A nailer blared out, "Give us your recognition at once!" I knew that voice. It was Commander Crup.

We were at Emergency Fleet Reserve.

Heller yelled down from the entry port, sixty feet above the ground, "I thought that would get you!" He was laughing.

"Blazing comets!" yelled Commander Crop. "It's Jettero Heller! Jet, boy! You scared us half to death! We didn't see it was Tug One until the last two seconds. You could've gotten yourself shot!"

"I didn't want to put it on the communication channels that I was arriving here. And I wanted a guard of marines. I've got a prisoner I promised to bring home for trial. I've got to deliver him to the Royal prison."

"Who?"

"Remember that Soltan Gris?" said Heller.

"A 'drunk'?" said Commander Crup. "Well, its about time somebody arrested him. What about Tug One? It's an Apparatus vessel now."

"I'm transferring it to independent duty on my own cognizance. I've had a bellyful of 'drunks.'"

"Who hasn't?" said Commander Crup. "Get the ladder out and you can get down."

"Good," shouted Heller. "And if old Atty is around, I want to see him, too."

Oh, this was boding no good for me. Those Fleet marines looked deadly. I waited anxiously to see what was going to happen.

When they got the ladder, Heller went down it in a long slide. Then he ran over and he and Commander Crup swatted each other on the back. The marines stood alertly, eyeing the tug, and I knew they were slavering in the hopes of getting a shot at a "drunk." I began to sweat.

Old Atty, once Heller's racing repair chief and a watchman BOW, came tearing up in a triwheeler and pumped Heller's hand and wiped his eyes.

Fleet reunion! I bad forgotten how many friends Heller had. Next he'd probably take me to his palatial quarters at the officers' club and let the younger men beat up on me for sport. They were grouped around Heller down there. Then Crup rushed off and a Fleet marine sergeant rushed off and Any rushed off. They all looked very businesslike. What was Heller up to?

It struck me that nobody elsewhere had the least idea we were back. I prayed I could still make my idea work. Everything depended on delivering Heller to Lombar, and here he was surrounded by Fleet, the mortal foes of the Apparatus. The marine sergeant came back and handed Heller a bag and Heller scaled the ladder and gave it to the Countess Krak. Then old Any returned with a truckload of fuel rods, followed by an atmosphere-and-water truck. Then a civilian airbus jumped the fence and Commander Crup got out and talked with Heller.

Suddenly, I heard a step in my door and glanced hastily sideways and got the impression of a Fleet marine beside me. I felt a surge of fear. They had come to get me! I felt the buckles of the gimbal bed part and looked up.

I WAS STARING INTO THE FACE OF THE COUNTESS KRAK, DRESSED AS A FLEET MARINE!

Her hair was tucked under the combat helmet. The tan, high-collared tunic was darker than the slight tan of her face. She had done something with makeup and looked like a too-handsome young space soldier.

So that was how he was going to hide her. I overcame my terror of being so close to her and filed the information away.

Now, Soltan," Krak said. "No tricks. When does your office close?"

A surge of hope raced through me. I didn't show it in my face. "Six," I said.