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Siva's paradise, according to Hindu mythology, is on Mount Kailása, in the Himályas, north of Mánasa. Tawney's translation, which is used throughout this work.
Even if Johnny did manage to damage the Ranger ship, what difference would it make? They had been fools to come out here, idiots to ignore Tawney's warning, the three of them. Tawney had told them in so many words that there would be trouble, and they had come out anyway, just begging for it. Well, now they had what they'd begged for. Greg slammed his fist into his palm angrily.
Greg said. "Not much. For an orbit-ship, this place is a fortress. I got a good look at that scout ship coming in ... it was armed to the teeth. Probably they all are. And they're keeping a guard now at every airlock." "So we're sewed up tight," Greg said. "Looks that way. They've got us, boy, and I think Tawney's patience is wearing thin, too. We're either going to have to produce or else."
Tawney's men hadn't found it, either. Why not? There must be a reason. But he could not put his finger on it. Half an hour later he was seriously worried. Half the compartments in the area were deserted, the men leaving for the cafeteria. The thought reminded Tom how hungry he was, and thirsty. His small emergency ration kit was empty.
Greg looked at him. "So I see." "And very efficient, too. Our men have everything they need to work with. We can mine at far less cost than anyone else." "But you still can't stand the idea of independent miners working the Belt," Greg said. Tawney's eyebrows went up. "But why not? There's lots of room out here.
"Then I think we'll stick to the law," Tawney said, "and call it an accident." "And what about my brother? Was that an accident?" "Ah, yes, your brother." Tawney's eyes hardened. "Quite a different matter, that. Sometimes Doc tends to be over-zealous in carrying out his assigned duties. I can assure you that he has been ... disciplined." "That's not going to help Tom very much."
To say nothing of totally disabling a seventeen-million-dollar orbit-ship and placing the lives of four hundred crewmen in jeopardy." The Major picked up a sheet of paper from his desk. "According to Merrill Tawney's statement, the three of you hijacked a company scout-ship that chanced to be scouting in the vicinity of your father's claim. Your attack was unprovoked and violent.
They turned to see the heavy face and angry eyes of Merrill Tawney. The Scavengers of Space The casual observer might have been fooled. Tawney's guard was down only for an instant; then the expression of cold fury and determination on his face dropped away as though the shutter of a camera had clicked, and he was all smiles and affability.
He glanced at the food on the table, then reached under the chair cushion and withdrew the disconnected microphone, looked at the loose wires, and tossed it aside. "They're clean," the guard said. Tawney's face was a study of uneasiness, but he clearly could not pinpoint what the trouble was. Finally he shrugged, turned on the smile again, although his eyes remained watchful.
In another compartment he heard a dispatcher chattering his own special code-language into a microphone in a low-pitched voice. He passed another grill, and then stopped short as a familiar voice drifted through. Merrill Tawney's voice. Tom hugged the grill, straining to catch the words. The company man sounded angry; the man he was talking to sounded even angrier.
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