Mayer sat at the officer's
table, Martin Gunther at his right. Jerry Kennedy leaned against the
ship's bar, sipping appreciatively at a highball.

They could hear the impact of the space boat from Texcoco when it slid
into its bed.

"Poor piloting," Gunther mused. "Whoever's doing that flying doesn't get
enough practice."

They could hear ports opening and then the sound of approaching feet.
The footsteps had a strangely military ring.

[Illustration]

Joe Chessman entered, followed immediately by Barry Watson, Dick Hawkins
and Natt Roberts. They were all dressed in heavy uniform, complete with
decorations. Behind them were four Texcocans, including Reif and his
teen-age son Taller.

Mayer scowled at them in way of greeting. "Where's Plekhanov?"

"Leonid Plekhanov is no longer with us," Chessman said dourly. "Under
pressure his mind evidently snapped and he made decisions that would
have meant the collapse of the expedition. He resisted when we reasoned
with him."

The four members of the Genoese team stared without speaking. Jerry
Kennedy put down his glass at last. "You mean you had to restrict him?
Why didn't you bring him back to the ship!"

Chessman took a chair at the table. The others assumed standing
positions behind him. "I'm afraid we'll have to reject your views on
the subject. Twenty years ago this expedition split into two groups. My
team will accomplish its tasks, your opinions are not needed."

Amschel Mayer glared at the others in hostility. "You have certainly
come in force this time."

Chessman said flatly, "This is all of us, Mayer."

"All of you! Where are Stevens, Cogswell, MacBride?"

Barry Watson said, "Plekhanov's fault. Lost in the battle that broke the
back of the rebels. At least Cogswell and MacBride were. Stevens made
the mistake of backing Plekhanov when the showdown came."

Joe Chessman looked sourly at his military chief. "I'll act as team
spokesman, Barry."

"Yes, sir," Watson said.

"Broke the back of the rebels," Jerry Kennedy mused. "That opens all
sorts of avenues, doesn't it?"

Chessman growled. "I suppose that in the past twenty years your team had
no obstacles. Not a drop of blood shed. Come on, the truth. How many of
your team has been lost?"

Mayer shifted in his chair. "Possibly your point is well taken. Dean and
Rosetti were burned by the formerly dominant religious group. Rykov was
killed in a fracas with bandits while he was transporting some gold."