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The Starfall was a long way down scale from the pleasure houses of the upper town. Here strange vices were also merchandise, but not such exotics as Wass provided. This was strictly for crewmen of the star freighters who could be speedily and expertly separated from a voyage's pay in an evening.
Arv Hanson would captain one seacopter, Mel Flagler the jetmarine, while Zimby Cox, Chow, and four crewmen would accompany Tom in the Sea Hound. Because of their sonar-blinding systems, Tom realized there was a chance of the ships losing contact with one another especially if their analyzer sonars developed trouble.
"Well, I dare say the Red Doctors will have their chance at me, all in good time. But first there are certain things which must be taken care of." He looked up at the attendant. "You're quite certain that the ship has been decontaminated?" The attendant nodded. "Yes, sir." "And the crewmen?" "It's safe to talk to them, sir, as long as you avoid physical contact."
Just as they broke up, they heard a muffled metallic sound from the nearest compartment grill. It was the clang-clang-clang of the orbit-ship's general alarm. Crewmen stopped with food halfway to their mouths, jerked away from tables. Orders buzzed along a dozen wires, and section chiefs began reporting their battle-stations alert and ready.
The electric light suddenly went out, and two enormous waterspouts crashed onto the deck of the frigate, racing like a torrent from stem to stern, toppling crewmen, breaking spare masts and yardarms from their lashings. A hideous collision occurred, and thrown over the rail with no time to catch hold of it, I was hurled into the sea. A Whale of Unknown Species
Officers and crewmen quickly lined up to pipe Boswellister aboard. But the crowd pushed in close, forcing Boswellister to the rear as they screamed for their free samples. Two bulky crewmen stood embattled by the entrance port, strong-arming the kids who tried to storm through the port and inside. "Space Angel's inside!"
The first boat broke contact and the second hooked on. The second boat broke contact. Both came back to the Horus. The screen before Bors lighted up. One of his own crewmen nodded out of it. "All clear, sir," said his voice briskly. "They behaved like lambs, sir. No arms. We've locked them in a cargo hold." "You know what to do now," said Bors. "Yes, sir. Off."
The first meeting with Jack Alvarez hardly seemed promising to either Dal or Tiger, but if there was trouble coming, it was postponed for the moment by common consent. In the few days before blast-off there was no time for conflict, or even for much talk. Each of the three crewmen had two full weeks of work to accomplish in two days; each knew his job and buried himself in it with a will.
That was their battle cry as they tried to wriggle under the legs of the crewmen. "Ya sellin' Oatbombs?" one screamed in the commander's ear, then reached up to snatch off a shoulder patch. Boswellister stood in the rear of the crowd and wrung his hands while the crowd clamored for their samples. "Give us the pitch, then pass out the stuff!" "Lookit that ship! Ain't it a dilly!
"You ... Rosss " Vistur fronted them, his face a mixture of bewilderment and awe. "The Foanna " said in a half whisper, echoed by crewmen gathering around, but not too close. "Gordon!" Karara elbowed her way between two of the Hawaikans and ran across the deck. She caught the Agent's both hands as if to assure herself that he was alive and there before her. Then she turned to the three Foanna.
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