ured of it. How
unfortunate! I am overcome with shame."

MacFife picked up a microphone. "Same here, Connie. A terrible accident.
Aye, the man who did it will hear from me."

"It was no accident," the Connie screamed.

"Ah," Galliene replied, "but you cannot prove otherwise. Commander, do
you realize what this means? You are helpless. Interplanetary law says
that a helpless space ship must be salvaged and taken in tow by the
nearest cruiser, no matter what its nationality. We will do this jointly,
the _Aquila_ and the _Sagittarius_. We will take turns towing you, my
friend. We will haul you to Terra--like any other piece of space junk."

MacFife could remain quiet no longer. "Yes, mister. And that's no' the
end o' it. We will collect the salvage fee. One half the value of the
salvaged vessel. Aye! My men will like that, since we share and share
alike on salvage. Now, put out a cable from your nose tube. I'll take ye
in tow first."

He cut the communicator off and met Rip's grin.

The two spacemen had figured out the one way to repay the Connie for his
attempts on the asteroid. They couldn't fire on him, but they could fake
an accident that would cripple him and cost Consops millions of dollars
in salvage fees.

Nor would Consops refuse to pay. Salvage law was clear. Whoever performed
the salvage was not required to turn the ship back to its owners until
the fee had been paid.

And there was another angle. The cruisers would tow the Connie into
the Federation spaceport in New Mexico. If past experience was any
indication, the Connie would lose about half its crew, perhaps more.
They would claim sanctuary in the Federation.

Rip shook hands solemnly with the grinning Scotchman. It would be a long
time before Consops tried piracy again.

"We'll be back at our family fight again tomorrow," MacFife said, "but
today we celebrate together. Ah, lad, this is pure joy to me. I've had
a score to settle with yon Connies for years. Now I've done it."

He put an arm around Rip's shoulders. "While I'm in a givin' mood, which
is not the way of us Scots, is there anything ye'd like?"

Rip could think of only one thing. "A hot shower. For me and my men. And
will you take the prisoners off our hands?"

"Yes to both. Anything else?"

"We'll need some rocket fuel. Terra says we have to correct course. Also,
we'll need a nuclear charge to throw us into a braking ellipse. And we
need a new landing boat. The sun baked the equi