"Made it!" Ysanne yelled her triumph. "By God, Earl, we've-"

The ship jerked as if kicked, cutting off her words, sending her hard against her panel. In the screens the stars wheeled in sudden gyration, the bulk of Krantz a mottled ball-shrinking with each appearance, diminishing as the sun it circled flared in growing prominence.

Rising from where he had been thrown, Dumarest said, "Andre! The sun! We-"

"I'm trying!"

With touches and adjustments, the balancing of forces, the skill hard-learned over the years, they steadied the wheeling stars and straightened the axis of the ship.

"Earl!" Ysanne was on her feet and looking at the panel, the lights and telltales, the message they relayed. Blood streamed from her nose and masked her mouth and chin, smears she ignored as she stared at the screens. "God! The field's down-and we're heading toward the sun!"

The screaming had died, the shouts-Belkner knew how to control his people. Now, in the engine room, he looked at the humped bulk of the generator, listened to the soft hum of the engine.

"What's wrong? What happened?"

Dumarest ignored the questions, his hands deft as he examined the engineer. The shock had thrown Talion hard against the deck, his head hitting the edge of his console as he'd gone down. Blood oozed from a ragged wound but, beneath it, the bone seemed firm.

The man was unconscious and in shock-but that would pass. More serious was the concussion he would suffer which would fog his mind and cloud his judgement, and make him useless for the work needing to be done.

To Belkner Dumarest said, "Have some men take him to his cabin. Is there anyone who could take care of him?"

"Ava has had experience as a nurse."

"Good." Dumarest added wryly, "Would you have anyone with experience as an engineer?" A stupid question-what would the Ypsheim know of space? "Forget it. Just get Talion on his feet as soon as possible."

"We're in trouble, Earl. Right?"

"You could say that."

"And you need an engineer." Belkner looked at Talion lying slumped on the deck. "Try Urich Sheiner."

Sheiner sat in a cabin, perched on the edge of the bunk, eyes somber staring at the floor. He looked a little pale and the fine mesh of lines at eyes and throat seemed deeper than before. A man feeling old, inadequate, a failure, yet too intelligent to waste time in futile anger.

Dumarest said, "I need your help, Urich. We all need it."

"Should that bother me?"

"I said all." Dumarest looked at the bruises on the man's throat, the hands resting on his knees. "That includes Eunice. If we die she dies with us." He saw the twitch of fingers as he mentioned her name. "Eunice," he said again. "The woman you love."

"And who loves you."

"So you say." Dumarest moved so as to sit beside the other man. "Would it help if I told you I have no feeling for her?"

"It's how she feels that is important."

"True," admitted Dumarest. "But you disappoint me. Once you had guts. The courage to escape from Krantz and make your own way. Now you're letting a child destroy your life. That's what Eunice is," he reminded. "A child. She's attracted to the bright and new and exciting. I saved her life-how else did you expect her to respond?"

"A child," said Urich bitterly, "who needs a father."

"Would she be the first? And what does it matter as long as love is present?" Questions Dumarest left hanging as he said, "We were damaged by a missile as we left Krantz. One at the extreme of its range which detonated close enough to collapse our field. The hull is intact and our environment stable-but we are on a collision course with the sun."

"So?"

"We need an engineer. Ours is hurt. Belkner told me you could take his place. Can you?"

"Belkner!" Urich's hands closed into fists. "How does he know so much?"

"Talk," said Dumarest. "Gossip. Spacers who may have known you. Deduction. Logic. Shrewd guesses. What does it matter? Are you an engineer?"

"I've worked as one."

A flat statement and Dumarest recognized the emotion behind it A denial would have robbed Urich of the chance of revenge against those who had robbed him of all he had achieved on Krantz; yet the admission betrayed his need. To be wanted, admired, respected.

Dumarest said quietly, "I guess it wasn't easy for you to break free. To break with your own people and to cheat, steal, rob, murder-"

"No!" Urich reared, turning to face him. "There was no killing. The rest, maybe, but how else was I to get away? And if it hadn't been for a drunken spacer I wouldn't have made it. He'd won at the tables and was loaded. A temptation and-" He shrugged. "A chance and I took it."

"And later, when you'd reached another world, there were more chances, right? How else to get by when you've nothing going for you? And the first time is the hardest. The next mark comes easier and the one after easier still. Soon it becomes a way of life. What made you give it up?"

"Three years in a Rhodian jail." Urich was blunt. "It taught me a lot of things, among them that I wasn't cut out to be a criminal or an adventurer. So I settled down to work, lived rough; saved like a miser and bought some education. I was bright and lucky and managed to get established as a trainee engineer on the Chronos Line. Ten years of eating dirt but I worked my indenture and paid all charges and was free to go where I wanted. The galaxy to rove in-and I wound up back on Krantz."

"Home."

"Home?" Urich's laugh was bitter. "I'd forgotten what it was like. What the Ypsheim are like. Dreamers content to live as slaves for, while there is life, there is hope. Live today for tomorrow may come the millennium. Tomorrow… tomorrow… always tomorrow-but tomorrow never comes."

"So you sold your skills to the Quelen." Dumarest nodded then added, "But not all the Ypsheim are as you say. Some of them do more than dream."

"Like Belkner and his women and all the rest of them on board. Thieves! They robbed me of-"

"Why not?" Dumarest was harsh. "Did you think of the spacer when you went after his cash? Care what happened to him? The others you robbed? Do you give a damn for the animals killed so you can eat meat? The slaughter? The stink? The blood and pain? What makes you so special?"

Urich said, "You've made your point. If I repair the ship will you take Eunice and me back to Krantz?"

"To the Wheel? To the whip and public execution? You know what will happen if we go back. The Quelen will make an example of us so as to keep others in line. You too- they'll never believe you weren't in on it from the beginning."

"You'd make sure of that." Urich frowned then said, "Where are you bound for?"

"Would you believe me if I told you we were heading for Earth?"

"Earth?" Urich's hand rose to touch his forehead, the scar no longer visible but which would stay with him all his life. "You're bound for Earth?" He rose from the bunk, smiling. "Then we'd better get to those engines."

Batrun leaned back in his chair, relaxed, eyes casual as he checked the panels, the screens. All was as it should be and he reached for his snuff, lifting a pinch from the box, closing the lid before sniffing the fragrant powder. It enhanced his feeling of well-being, of warm, snug security. And it was good to be in command of a real ship again. A ship with enough officers to do the job, with a cargo in the hold and passengers in the cabins, no longer crippled and diving toward a sun.

Urich Sheiner had seen to that. A good man and a damned good engineer.

There was a light and a voice from the intercom as Batrun hit a button. Talion from the engine room.

"Routine report, Captain. All systems functioning in the green. Drive operating at five per cent below max. No fluctuation. Automatics engaged. Orders?"

"Maintain status. How's the head?"