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The Third Officer rolled first, and the Kadenar equivalent of nine came up. Thane rolled a five. "Now," said Pyuf, "it's Pyuf, the couturier. Step forward, gentlemen, to be fitted." Pyuf fitted the anti-grav jackets to Thane and the Third, and gave each a brief, efficient test. He stepped back and leaned against his counter. "And now, Pyuf, the referee."
He recognized the latest model lie-detector, a rather outdated narco-synthesizer, a Class B Psychocomputer. Much of the rest was unfamiliar. There were two Onzarians in the room. Both, in contrast to Pyuf, who was dark and shorter than the average, had typical Onzar features yellow eyes with a slight slant, and golden skin. Pyuf gestured towards Thane. "Give him the whole routine.
Why don't you give our friend the politics?" "Sure." Pyuf sat on the desk swinging his short legs. "First, though, I'm sorry about the duel, Thane. We had to do it." "Reine's already assured me of that once or twice," Thane said drily. "I would like to know, though, just how you did it." "That's simple enough.
The whine of power at emergency levels began. The Darzent force had screen detectors, because they stopped at once and turned back to their ship. Short, sharp rocket blasts shot out from the bow tubes of the ship, as it turned on its axis to attack the force screen. "Let's get going," Thane said. "We all can't go," Pyuf pointed out.
It could only be the landscape of Onzar II, whose gravity was about 80% that of Kadell IV. Someone obviously had reason to cart him, unconscious, across a few light years. Apparently, the duel had not been what it seemed. But how? And why? Quite possibly the Third Officer was an agent of Onzarian counter-espionage. If so, what had happened to Astrid? How had Pyuf and the others been taken care of?
So that sterling group elects a senate of 300 or so, and then goes home. But it reserves a lot of rights, like declaring war. And the senate, of course, goes ahead and elects the council. Which does its best to keep things going." "I know the system," Thane broke in. "Just what do you want to do about it?" "I don't want to do anything about it," Pyuf looked up earnestly.
"Onzar the whole five systems is probably more of an armed camp than any other political entity in the Galaxy. But that isn't the real reason for their overwhelming importance." Pyuf jumped down off the desk and flipped a switch on the far wall. The galactic map appeared, with the warp-lines superimposed in red. Pyuf pointed with his cigarette. "Take a look at those warps.
I just regarded this as a curiosity. But Astrid took it and built the Tracer." Pyuf interrupted. He was not the man, Thane saw, who could abide technical explanations when they had a clear political implication. "The Tracer," he said, "is the cork for your bottleneck. With the tracer, we know when any ship is operating on second-stage drive.
It was only with the greatest of good fortune that I was able to escape. Only the presence of Pyuf at Aberdeen Spaceport made it possible. "And another point for your consideration. We did not know your position. Your appearance is Onzarian. We could not be sure that you were what you claimed, an agent of Liaison.
The whine of power momentarily became a shriek and then died down. "That was close," Thane said. "The sooner we stop them the better." He turned to Pyuf. "Drop the screen for two seconds when I signal, to let us out." The bitterly cold wind cut into Astrid and Thane as they hurried outside. Astrid was ahead, leaning against the wind, running towards the outbuilding which housed the jet.
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