"The Akita?"

"A part of the matriarch's retinue. Bodyguards. The one who attacked you had been caught in the fringe of the blast when the generator went."

His flesh reacting to wild radiations, swelling in grotesque cancerous growths, the brain itself distorted to fill the universe with inimical foes.

Dumarest said, "He thought he was being transformed into something wonderful. Well, now, maybe he is. Have you men to help with the transfer?"

"The steward and second engineer. The matriarch might let you use some of her people."

Su Posta was no longer a statue. The drug had been neutralized and she and the others now lived on normal time. She looked up as Dumarest entered her cabin, her eyes hard, imperious. When she spoke her voice held the arrogance of one long accustomed to implicit obedience.

"How long will it be before we are on our way?"

"Not long, my lady."

"That is not answering the question!"

He said quietly, "There are matters to be attended to and details to be arranged. I assure you that-"

"You will be paid," she snapped. "I do not wish to haggle."

"How many are in your retinue?"

"Myself, my granddaughter, two attendants, her governess and, yes, you can include the monk." Her voice took on a new asperity. "Are you intending to charge by the head?"

"I was thinking of transfer. We cannot make direct contact and so will have to transship in sacs. There is nothing to worry about but it can be a little frightening to those inexperienced. A child, say, or-"

"An old woman?"

"Yes, my lady. Some old women."

"But I am not one of them." The concept was almost amusing. She, the Matriarch of Jourdan, afraid! "The governess will accompany my granddaughter, I shall travel alone. The rest can make their own arrangements." Her gesture dismissed them as being of no importance. "Where are you bound?" She did not wait for an answer. "You will take us to Jourdan."

"Perhaps, my lady."

She blinked at his answer and stared at him with sharpened interest. Tall, hard-the way she had liked her men when younger. How she still liked them even if only to look at and keep warm old memories. Figures which held the attribute she so admired, the determination of purpose which was her own strength. But even admiration had to yield to the necessity of being obeyed.

She said, bluntly, "That was an order."

Dumarest was equally blunt. "One you are in no position to give. I command the Moira."

"Must I remind you who I am?"

"I know who you are, my lady. I also know what you are at this present time."

"A person at your mercy, it seems." Her tone was bitter. "Have you come to gloat?"

"I came to ask the use of some of your people to help in the transfer." He added, "The quicker it's done the sooner we can be on our way."

"To Jourdan." It was not a question. "Take me to Jourdan and you will be highly rewarded." Her eyes, deep-set, cold, watchful as those of a snake, searched his face. "Very highly rewarded. You have my word on that."

"Thank you, my lady," said Dumarest. "But I'd prefer it in writing."

Batrun's engineer was a woman, Olga Wenzer, short, brown, her hair grizzled. She watched Craig's deft movements and nodded, recognizing his ability and taking second place.

To Dumarest she said, "I can fill in if needed but you've got a good man there. How about a handler or a steward?"

"Shandhar is carrying on as that."

"A handler, then. Ben's a good steward." She added, "I guess he's glad of the berth. I know I would be."

"I can't pay you."

"You already have. We'd be dead if it weren't for you. A handler, then?"

Dumarest nodded and watched as she walked away to take up her duties. A new member of the crew and a new responsibility to add to the rest. Batrun and the steward and the passengers. One came running toward him as he headed toward the control room; a small bundle of furious energy which threw herself at him to be caught up in his arms and lifted high.

"Lucita!" Her governess shook her head in mock reproof as Dumarest tossed the little girl and set her squealing with laughter. "You spoil her, Earl. The future Matriarch of Jourdan should not be spoiled."

"She's young," said Dumarest. "And very beautiful." This last to the girl herself. "Will you make a good ruler? One who is kind and generous and who knows the meaning of mercy? Of course you will. Hungry? Then why not go and find Olga and ask her to ask Ben to find you something nice to eat? Want to go?"

She nodded, beaming.

"Then go!" He set her on her feet and watched her as she raced away and turned to see the governess looking at him with a strange expression. "Something wrong?"

"No. No it's just that-" She broke off, shaking her head. "You surprise me a little. I would never have thought you to love children."

"Why not?"

Because he looked too hard, too self-centered and because he commanded a ship which was too like a slaver for coincidence. Helga, the girl's bodyguard, relayed these facts and she should know. And yet, remembering how he had won Lucita's heart, she began to have doubts.

Batrun was in the control room, Ysanne at his side. Together they checked the instruments, while in the screens the bulk of the Galya drifted away, driven by the reaction of air released from its tanks. The hull shimmered with spots and twinkles of brightness; a growing scintillation which held a fascinating beauty but which warned of mounting danger.

"The nexus is centering," said Ysanne. "The hulls are acting as magnets and the potential is nearing the lower critical level. If we're going we'd better get started."

Batrun said, "We need to plot a course which will avoid the nexus but take advantage of the peripheral swirl. Can you cut in analogue filters?"

"Sure." Ysanne reached for the controls. "There!"

Space changed, became a thing of streaming colors, stabbing shafts and waves of brilliance. Energy, invisible to the eye, translated into visual light. Glowing masses which moved to coalesce and form nodes and swirls and peaks of wild forces. Radiation, particles of atoms, small furies which accumulated to equal the potential energy contained in a sun.

Dangers swept away from planetary systems by the solar wind, gathering in interstellar space to form a series of destructive hazards.

Dumarest said, "Captain!"

"What is it?" Batrun turned then, remembering, shook his head. "I'm sorry. Old habits die hard. I'm not the captain."

"You could be. I've spoken to the others about it. Ysanne and Craig share partnership with me-you may have heard about it." Ysanne's nod confirmed he had. "You've lost your command but you could get another if you're interested. Are you?"

A question put out of courtesy and Batrun could appreciate the consideration. Few captains survived the loss of a command-death was cleaner than to hang about fields after berths which didn't exist. He was too old to hope for a ship, too poor to buy a part in one, too proud to beg.

"Equal shares," said Dumarest. "And I'm not being generous. You'll earn it-and there's a condition."

"To find Earth," said Batrun. "I know." His eyes moved to the woman. "And after?"

"Does it matter?"

"To me-no." Batrun took snuff, his hand shaking a little as he lifted the powder to his nostrils. "I'd go to hell for the sake of a command. You see, I am honest."

And skilled, as he demonstrated after he had taken his place in the big chair, hands moving as if to caress the padding as he settled in his new environment.

"Engineer?" He listened to Craig's report on the generator. "Navigator?"

"Course selected for Jourdan, Captain." Ysanne matched his formality. "Three-stage flight pattern. First to operate within five seconds from activation."

"Check. Mark!"