For the moment, though, they were stuck with each other. Ben shook his head in disgust. “You really take the stupid prize,” he said to the youth. “You made your big mistake when you climbed aboard this crate.”
The intruder was still staring at the view screen as though it were lying. “I don’t see how it’s possible,” he said. “There wasn’t any recoil.”
“Null-grav engines don’t recoil.”
“And there’s no way off this thing?”
“You’re so right,” Ben said.
On the floor of the cabin the girl had given up struggling in the tangle web, finally realizing that if she lay perfectly still the adhesive bands stopped tightening around her arms and legs. The youth looked down at her and shook his head. “Sorry, kid,” he said softly. “It looks like we’re out of luck. He’s pulled away clean.”
Tears were forming in the girl’s eyes. “You shouldn’t have tried it. You should have just let me go.”
“Well, it’s all over now. Maybe it won’t be too bad for you. And if he has any decency maybe he’ll make it quick for me.” He gripped the girl’s shoulder for a moment, and turned to face Ben. “All right,” he said. “I’m ready any time.”
Ben blinked. “Ready for what?”
“Don’t make it tough,” the youth said desperately. “You’ve got the gun in your hand.”
“You bet I have,” Ben said. “I’m keeping it, too. Now if you’ll kindly step way back, I’ll break that web loose so the girl can breathe.”
The Earthman didn’t budge. “Look,” he burst out. “You’ve got your prize, you’ve got what you came for. What more do you want?”
Ben stared at him. “You think I’m going to shoot you?”
“Well, what else? I don’t want to be a guinea pig for any of your infernal Spacer experiments.” Ben snorted. “Friend, I’ve got trouble enough just having you aboard this ship alive. I’d have a real mess on my hands if I brought you in dead, with your sister here to testify. Now get back against that wall and shut up before I put you in a tangle web.”
The Earthman moved back, obviously confused. Ben was angry; the intruder’s words didn’t make sense to him, and he didn’t feel like pondering mysteries right then. Watching his captive out of the corner of his eye, he checked the control panel, adjusted the drive a fraction of a degree, and started the automatic probe signal that would establish contact with his sister ships. Then he knelt by the girl and started to cut the adherent strands of the tangle web with a small hand unit.
The web was gentle but firm, adhering to itself but not to its victim as the inactivated strands fell to the floor like strips of gauze bandage. But the girl started struggling violently the moment he came near and the webs tightened perceptibly.
“Just hold still,” Ben said. “The more you fight the more they tighten up and the harder it is to get them free.”
The girl only struggled harder. Ben cut a mass of strands that were holding her right arm behind her neck; then he cut the left arm loose. Half-released, the girl twisted around suddenly and bit his arm as hard as she could.
Ben jerked away. “Say, stop that!”
“Then get away from me,” the girl said viciously.
“I’m only trying to release you.”
“Don’t you ever touch me!” the girl said. “If you so much as come near me you’re going to get bitten.” Ben sat back and glared at her. The radio was chattering with incoming signals now, and the ship was jarring violently as ground-to-air missiles exploded too close for comfort. In anger Ben snatched a cleaning towel from the rack and unceremoniously stuffed it into the girl’s mouth, tying the corners behind her ears. “Now go ahead and bite,” he said. “I’m going to get this web off before you choke yourself in it.”
She continued to struggle, making indignant noises through the towel, as Ben cut the rest of the tangle web free. He dodged flailing arms and legs as she hit him in the jaw with her knee, and then in the pit of the stomach with a bare heel. Once she was untangled, he pulled away the gag. Her teeth were chattering and she could hardly talk. “Just keep away from me,” she cried, backing away from him and across the cabin toward her brother. “Just don’t come near me.”
There was no doubting it: the girl was terrified, almost incoherent with fear. “I’m not going to touch you,” Ben said. “I’m not even going to lay a finger on you.”
“Go ahead and lie,” the girl shot back at him. “You can’t fool me.” Ben spread his hands helplessly. “What’s she afraid of?” he asked her brother.
“What do you think she’s afraid of? What are we supposed to think you kidnapped her for?”
“To be a mauki, of course,” Ben said.
“What’s a mauki?”
“Why, a mauki’s a… a mauki,” Ben said, staring at the youth. The Earthman sounded as though he had never heard the word before, and Ben’s confusion deepened. What could he say to explain, if these people were really ignorant of a mauki’s place in the Spacer world? That a mauki was the wife of a Spacer? His companion in the dreadful loneliness of a Spacer’s life? The mother of his boys? The proud and loyal head of the Spacer family? A mauki was all of these things, of course, and far more that was not so easy to express—at least not now, to two hostile Earth people.
At the control panel the radio chatter was becoming more insistent by the moment, and Ben’s confusion gave way to suspicion. Earthmen couldn’t be this ignorant; it had to be a trick to draw his attention away from the ship, and obviously escape had to come first. The girl was huddling against the wall, her bathing suit still damp, her lips and fingers blue. Angrily Ben threw open the hatchway to the rear compartment of the ship and pulled out a bundle of clothes. “Here,” he said, tossing them to the girl.
“Get out of those indecent things and get some clothes on. And let’s get something straight. I’m going to move this ship out to the rendezvous point one way or another. You two can stay out of my hair while I’m doing it. If you don’t, so help me I’ll wrap you both in tangle webs and let you choke until we get there. Now take your choice.”
The girl clutched at the clothes and disappeared into the rear compartment, slamming the hatchway behind her. Her brother relaxed and slumped down on a stool. “Anything you say,” he said.
“What’s your name?” Ben asked.
“Barron. Tom Barron. Her name is Joyce, and if you leave her alone I won’t interfere with you.” The ship lurched again, violently. Ben caught a shock bar and sat down at the control panel. If anything, the barrage in space around them was becoming more intense, and the radio was chattering incoherently. Ben twirled the dial, searching for the command frequency that would connect him with his squad leader, so that he could signal that he was away free and clear. He found the frequency, but there was nothing but static, and a confused babble of voices. The ship was following a pre-set escape orbit for the moment; but without contact there would be no way to locate the orbit ship for rendezvous.
Five minutes later Ben was still searching for contact, without success. He could catch only fragments of chatter from the radio. Somebody trapped on the surface was broadcasting frantically for a rescue craft; somebody else with a cargo of wheat in tow between Earth and the moon had lost his null-gravs and was trying to reach a squad leader before a ground missile found him a sitting duck. From time to time a blanket of static blotted out everything. In growing alarm, Ben sent out his contact signal, but still there was no answer.
Something was wrong. By now every ship that had cleared into space should have made contact and be homing in on the orbit ship under direct radio control. This above all was critical to an effective escape; it had been rehearsed until every crewman knew the procedure to follow under every predictable circumstance from heavy barrage to merely token resistance.