t it. And you want
to blast the news at them!" He looked disgusted.

The girl said stubbornly, "You can't just give up without a fight. And
that's our only weapon."

"Look," Marc said grimly, "that's only a second-hand destroyer radar, so
it wouldn't carry far. No. I'm not going to use it on any such
harebrained scheme as that. And if you breathe a word about it I'll take
you apart." He added with a faint smile, "Not that _that_ wouldn't be a
pleasure."

Looking at him she knew he meant the tender joke and the knowledge
helped her.

"I think," Marc went on after a moment, "I'd better warn the boys over
on the radar project or they might accidentally start it up while the
raiders are here." He closed the door as he went into the inner office
to make the call.

A moment later he emerged and studied the still angry girl through
half-closed eyes. She blushed under his scrutiny, said coldly, "What's
the matter? Afraid I'm not attractive enough for our visitors?"

He grinned. "You could do with a mite of padding here and there. But I
was thinking the other way, as a matter of fact. It's a pity you don't
have a small mustache."

"You don't have to insult me!" Lee cried bitterly. "I'm _glad_ I'm
thin!"

"I'm not insulting you," Marc said mildly. "I even wish you were a bit
skinnier. It's the plump girls our guests are going to be looking at
first. Remember now--you stick right with me and keep your mouth shut,
d'you hear?"

"I hear," she said shortly. But he could see the fear she was trying to
hide and he knew she was honestly frightened for the first time in her
adult life. She said, "What will they--be like?"

"If it's John Mantor, and I suspect it is, they'll be rough," Marc
informed her. "He's a tough ex-pilot who got bounced off Space Patrol
and turned outlaw. He seems to hold a grudge against the whole human
race. If it's one of the others--it may be a lot worse."

"I don't see why outlaws are allowed to exist at all," she said.

Marc sighed, shook his head. "A lot of people have felt that way over a
lot of pirates over a lot of eras. But somehow they keep turning up."

A few minutes later the space-scarred pirate ship had made a rocky
landing in the middle of the small spaceport and John Mantor, pirate
chief, drove up to the comptroller's office in a cloud of dust. He was
tall and dirty and thin and tough. "Which one of you is the
comptroller?" he demanded, as he faced Marc Polder and Lee Treynor.

"I