ldn't go back
to the Fleet station after we have the stuff. Gadgetry of that kind
suggests bad intentions ... also a rather sophisticated level of
criminality for an I-Fleet. We'll return directly to the Hub. We might
have to go on short rations for a few weeks, but we'll make it. And
we'll keep those two so-called crew members locked up."

The doctor cleared his throat. "Miss Mines ..."

"She doesn't appear to be personally involved in any piratical schemes,"
Dasinger said. "Otherwise they wouldn't have bugged her cabin and the
control rooms. If we dangle a few star hyacinths before her eyes, she
should be willing to fly us back. If she balks, I think I can handle the
Mooncat well enough to get us there."

Dr. Egavine tugged pensively at his ear lobe. "I see." His hand moved on
toward his right coat lapel. "What do you think of ..."

"Mind watching this for a moment, doctor?" Dasinger interrupted. He
nodded at his own hand lying on the table before him.

"Watch...?" Egavine began questioningly. Then his eyes went wide with
alarm.

Dasinger's hand had turned suddenly sideways from the wrist, turned up
again. There was a small gun in the hand now, its stubby muzzle
pointing up steadily at Egavine's chest.

"Dasinger! What does ..."

"Neat trick, eh?" Dasinger commented. "Sleeve gun. Now keep quiet and
hold everything just as it is. If you move or Quist over there moves
before I tell you to, you've had it, doctor!"

* * * * *

He reached across the table with his left hand, slipped it beneath
Egavine's right coat lapel, tugged sharply at something in there, and
brought out a flat black pouch with a tiny spray needle projecting from
it. He dropped the pouch in his pocket, said, "Keep your seat, doctor,"
stood up and went over to Quist. Quist darted an anxious glance at his
employer, and made a whimpering sound in his throat.

"You're not getting hurt," Dasinger told him. "Just put your hands on
top of your head and stand still. Now let's take a look at the thing you
started to pull from your pocket a moment ago ... Electric stunsap, eh?
That wasn't very nice of you, Quist! Let's see what else--

"Good Lord, Egavine," he announced presently, "your boy's a regular
armory! Two blasters, a pencil-beam, a knife, and the sap ... All right,
Quist. Go over and sit down with the doctor." He watched the little man
move dejectedly to the table, then fitted the assorted lethal devices
care