He pointed at the screen before him, the stars it portrayed. Cross-hairs quartered a glowing point. As they watched the star moved to one side. An illusion; it was the ship which had moved.

"We're caught in a Blakstaad vortex," explained the navigator. "Spiraling into the center. There's a black hole there. When we get too close we'll be sucked in."

Dumarest said, "How long do we have?"

"An hour. Seventy five minutes at the most. The speed of approach increases the closer we get." Chapman reached for his panel, punched a button. "Mauger?"

"With you, captain."

"Make an immediate start on the repairs. Use all the help you need."

The engineer snapped, "Haven't you been told what happened? The situation we're in?"

"It makes no difference. Just do as I order. You've an hour to get this ship out of trouble. Understood?"

"It can't be done."

"Do it!"

Mauger snarled his anger. "To hell with that. We haven't the time and no stupid order is going to change things. Get that into your skull. We haven't the time!"

"Damn you! We're heading into a black hole!"

"You want me to put things back together again?" snapped the engineer. "Just put them back? Right, I'll do it, but it'll make no difference. Unless it's done right it'll be a waste of time. The generator won't work or, if it does, it'll blow in seconds and leave only scrap. You know that."

Dumarest said, quickly, "There's a way out. We can use slowtime."

Speeding their metabolism so that minutes turned into hours. But using it was dangerous. The mere act of living burning energy, created hunger, searing thirst and numbing fatigue. Water became a thick, cloying syrup. Food was inedible. Objects gained apparent weight because of massive inertia. Muscles were strained, sinews torn, any normal impact resulting in pulped flesh and shattered bone.

"You've used it?" Chapman sighed his relief as Dumarest nodded. 'Teach the others how to adapt. I'll have Chagal deliver it to the engine room. He'll stay to help."

"With booster shots, ice, cold water and glucose," said Dumarest. To the navigator he added, "Find us a world to run to. Pick one which is close."

Chapter Ten

Fionnulawas a world redolent of decay. A dull ball of brown and grey circling a scarlet sun blotched and marred by scabrous patches of sooty blackness. The sky was umber traced with drifting clouds of dusty brown. The soil was harsh, gritty, bearing vegetation the color of dust. Walls and houses were of rock, fretted and pocked as if made by the fumbling hands of children. On the field itself a truncated cone stood like a monument in an ancient graveyard.

"A dump!" Zehava voiced her contempt. "It's spooked. Even the air stinks."

"We didn't come for the air." Dumarest had noticed the acrid taint as he had noticed the oddity of the field. No loungers, touts, the usual entrepreneurs. None eager to talk to the crew, to obtain passage, to offer cargo. Not even the expected guards. A world seeming to be devoid of curiosity. One apparently free of greed. "They have what we need."

"Taverns, I hope. Recreation of a kind – the compliment is getting stale."

"Keep them busy. I want the ship cleaned and aired. Have them settle any personal disputes then put them to drill. Badwasi will help. Turn them into a disciplined force." Pausing he added, "Make the show impressive."

"To awe the natives?" She smiled her understanding. "A show of muscle to instill respect and to ease the negotiations. And we don't have to hurry them." Her fingers closed on his arm. "It's time we got close, Earl. Really close. Let's find a hotel. We need comfort and privacy." Her tone sharpened as he shook his head. "Why not?"

"We haven't the time. You're needed here. I'm due to meet Nadine to arrange the repairs."

The town was reminiscent of Kaldar with its narrow streets and winding ways, but the people were different. Small, subdued, faces bland and bearing a common likeness. The obvious result of intensive inbreeding. Their clothing followed natural colors brightened with stylized designs which, he guessed, denoted status and skills. He saw no sign of weapons.

Nadine was waiting before the repair sheds. As they met she said, "This is an odd place, Earl. Almost like something from a dream. But it seems peaceful and the people are polite."

"A cultural trait."

"You've met similar before?"

"All worlds have their own ways. Some are stranger than others. Did you discover who can best help us?"

"Aslam Cazele. He's waiting for us in his tower."

He sat in a chamber ornamented with relics of former days; banners, weapons, scrolls illuminated with elaborate designs. An old man, puffed beneath his clothing, his face strongly boned, eyes hard, bright with a watchful sheen.

"You are welcome." His gesture invited them to sit. "You will join me in cakes and wine, I insist. Strangers are rare on Fionnula."

Traditional hospitality displaying peaceful intent. A custom familiar to Dumarest. The cakes were small, the wine perfumed. Cazele drained his glass and wiped his lips on a scrap of fabric. Leaning back in his chair he smiled as he noticed Nadine's interest in the furnishings of the room.

"My adornments interest you? That banner was carried by an ancestor in a bloody war. That scroll lists those who first settled here. That is a graph of population trends. With that gun I brought down a gravid ulharge in the Moreau Pass. An ugly thing. I was in my late teens at the time. But enough of an old man's memories. More wine?"

Dumarest said, "What is that?"

He pointed to a glass case set against a wall. The yellow light shone in ruby reflections from a creature mounted beneath the transparent pane. A scaled and spined thing half the length of his forearm, winged, the mandibles lined with cruel serrations. The proboscis was like a needle. Compound eyes shone like jewels. The tail held a cluster of vents which could have housed stings.

"That?" Cazele was casual. "A pylas. They breed in the hills. Now tell me about yourselves. Have you come to trade? We have a fine stock of dried loosh in the warehouse and I can talk Sinclair into letting it go for a reasonable price. If you want to settle there is land to the north. Good soil and plenty of water."

"We have landed to effect minor repairs. We need parts and facilities. It seems your authority is needed before they can be provided."

"That is correct. The field and the repair sheds are in my domain. Just what do you need?"

"My engineer could tell you that better than I. If you give me the necessary authority he and your technicians can get together."

"Agreed. I also assume you would be interested in recreational facilities." Cazele poured more wine. "Fionnula may look bleak but things are not always what they seem. There is good hunting if you care to indulge in the sport. We have underground lakes and gardens. Soon it will be the time of the Carriere. The time of rain," he explained. 'The sky will be thick with cloud and the air alive with waterfalls. Three days and the sun shines again and the crops grow before your eyes. The fields will be rich with glorious color yielding a heady perfume. It is a time of festival. You will enjoy it."

"If we are here."

"It would be a pity if you were not." Cazele smiled and sipped at his wine. Shaking his head he set down the glass and rose to his feet. "I am being inhospitable. The wine is not of the best. Please excuse me while I fetch a fresh bottle."

An obvious excuse to leave them alone. Electronic eyes and ears could hear every word, see every movement and give Cazele an advantage if they were careless. Such a man would not miss the opportunity of learning what he could. Dumarest rose as Nadine leaned towards him and moved to where the pylas rested in its case. As she joined him he rested a finger on the pane.