The Lumpies were professionals, all right. Braking to an instant halt, they jumped backward in unison, putting themselves between Thompson and the unknown danger. I jumped back, too, landing upright beside Thompson; and as the Lumpies yanked their guns out of their back holsters, I slid around behind Thompson, got an arm around his neck, and pressed my plasmic into his right ear. "Don't turn around," I said conversationally. "But do set your weapons on the ground."
Again in unison, and flagrantly ignoring my orders, they started to swivel around. I shifted my aim and sent a plasma blast directly between them to spatter off the ground ahead. "I said not to turn around," I reminded them, returning my plasmic to its previous resting place against Thompson's sideburn.
He flinched away from the residual muzzle heat, but I pressed it hard against the skin. It wouldn't damage him, and I'd always found that a little mild pain did wonders for cooperation. Especially with people who weren't used to it.
Thompson was apparently very unused to pain. "Don't move," he seconded hastily, his voice breaking slightly at the top. "Do what he says—he means it."
"I do indeed," I agreed. "Anyway, heroics would be wasted. I'm not going tohurt anyone unless I have to—don't forget I could have shot both of you in the backjust now. So be smart and put your guns on the ground in front of you—slowly, of course—and then take two steps past them."
They obeyed quickly and without argument, raising my estimation of Thompson'sstatus another couple of notches. He might look like an accountant with nostomach for even potential conflict; but when he talked, even in a squeakyvoice, people listened.
More importantly, they obeyed. The Lumpies became models of cooperation, dutifully stepping past their weapons and lying facedown as I ordered withtheir hands visible. I retrieved their guns—between them and Fulbright and the firstset of Lumpies, I was starting to make a nice little weapons collection here—
and had Thompson relieve them of the restraints I knew they would have broughtwith them.
He came up with two sets, which seemed to be one set too many unless theyeither had planned to stiff Fulbright or else intended to shackle me hand and footand carry me away draped over someone's shoulder like a bag of cement. Butwhatever the reason, it was certainly a convenient number for my purposes. A minutelater I had the Lumpies cuffed together through one of the slots in the bottompalletwith Thompson cuffed on the other side of the stack. With the weight of therest of the stack on top, and the utter lack of leverage any of them had to workwith, I was pretty sure they would stay put until someone happened by, whichfrom the evidence would probably not be until the next shift change at themaintenance buildings. Hopefully, that wouldn't be for at least another coupleof hours.
"You won't get away with this," Thompson warned as I went quickly through hispockets. "Not a chance in the universe. If you release me now, I promisenothingwill happen to you because of this incident."
"Nothing over and above what you planned to do to me anyway?" I suggested.
"Thanks, but I'll take my chances."
"Your chances don't exist, McKell," he said flatly. "And we don't want you, anyway. All we want is the Icarus. All of you are free to go." He cocked hishead to the side as he looked up at me, a gesture that somehow made him lookeven more like an accountant. "I'll do better, in fact. I can promise you thatif you'll turn the Icarus over to me, you'll profit quite handsomely on thedeal."
"Thanks, but this will do," I said, withdrawing a neat stack of hundredcommark bills from one of his inside pockets. "I know it's not nice to steal," Iadded, slipping the stack into my pocket, "but we're likely to have some unexpectedexpenses along the way. If you'll give me your name and address, I'll makesure you're properly reimbursed."
"Fifty thousand, McKell," he said, staring unblinkingly into my eyes. "Fiftythousand commarks to take me to the Icarus and walk away."
I gazed down at him, a hard lump forming in my throat. What in hell's namewere we carrying, anyway? "I appreciate the offer," I said, checking the otherinside pocket. This one yielded a phone and a slim documents folder. "But I'm alreadyunder contract."
"A hundred thousand," he said. "Five hundred thousand. Name your price."
I patted his shoulder and stood up. "You might be surprised sometime to findout what money can't buy," I said, tossing his phone onto the stack of palletswhere none of them could reach it and pocketing the documents folder. "See youaround."
"You're making a big mistake, McKell," he said. His voice was quiet, but itheld an absolute conviction that sent a chill up my back. "You have no idea whoyou're dealing with."
"Maybe this will tell me," I countered, tapping the pocket where I'd put hisfolder.
I passed around to the other side of the pallets, where Fulbright was stilllying trussed up glaring at me. "Sorry about this, James," I apologized. "I'llmake it up to you next time, all right?"
The look in his eyes made it abundantly clear what his plans were for the nexttime. But again, that was a future too distant to worry about right now.
I hopped on the southbound slideway and headed back toward the spaceportcenter, keeping an eye on the Lumpies and Thompson as long as they were in sight. Theminute they were lost to view I got off the slideway and headed east towardthe Icarus's landing cradle, walking quickly along until I reached a properlydirected slideway and getting on it.
And there, with finally a moment of breathing space, I opened Thompson'sfolder and started going through his papers. I was only halfway through when I putthem back into my pocket and pulled out Fulbright's phone.
"Yes?" Ixil's melodic voice answered.
"It's me," I said. "How's the fueling going?"
"Probably no more than a quarter finished," he said. "They only got herefifteen minutes ago."
"Tell them to quit and seal the ship back up," I told him. "And get the bridgeand drive preflights started. We're out of here as soon as I get back."
There was just the briefest pause. "What did Uncle Arthur say?"
"I never got to talk to Uncle Arthur," I told him. "And I'll explain as muchas I can when I get there. Just get us ready to fly, all right?"
"Got it," he said. "We'll be ready when you are."
The Icarus was buttoned down, with no fuelers in sight, by the time Iretracted the ramp and sealed the hatchway. Tera and Everett tried to collar me in thecorridor, demanding to know what the rush was; I ordered them back to theirstations in no uncertain terms and headed to the bridge.
Ixil was waiting for me there. "All set," he said, standing up and relinquishingthe control chair to me. "Nicabar is ready with the drive, the fuelers arepaidoff, and I've got lift permission from the tower."
"Good," I said, sliding into the chair and sounding the lift alert. "Let's getout of here."
We were off the ground, nearly out of Dorscind's World's atmosphere, anddrivingfor the blackness of space when he finally broke the silence. "Well?"
I leaned back in my seat. "Someone out there wants to get hold of the Icarus,"
I said. "They want it very badly."
He frowned. "Why?"
"I don't know why," I said, pulling Thompson's documents out of my pocket andhanding them over. "But I do know who."
He leafed through the papers, and stopped at the same place I had. Staring atthe plain ID card with its operative number and ornate governmental seal andnothing else, the ferrets on his shoulders twitching with his astonishment. "Idon't believe it," he said mechanically, looking up at me.
"I don't believe it either," I agreed grimly. "But it's true. We, my friend, are being chased by the Patth."
CHAPTER 7