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Bors had arrived at the grimmest decision of his life when his cabin speaker said curtly: "Captain Bors, sir. Space-yacht Sylva calling. Asks for you." "I'm here," said Bors. Gwenlyn's voice came out of the speaker. "Are you in trouble, Captain? One of our Talents insists that you are." Bors swallowed. "I thought you'd gone on as you were supposed to do. Yes. There is trouble.
He'd saved two days and secured the promise of many more such valuable feats. As soon as the Isis broke to normal space near Garen, there was a call on the communicator. A familiar voice; "Calling Isis! Calling Isis! Sylva calling Isis!" Bors said softly, "Damnation! For the second time, what are you doing in this place?" Gwenlyn's voice laughed. "Traveling for pleasure, Captain Bors!
What's happened?" Gwenlyn's voice, bland and amused. "Nothing happened. But we've got some news for you. Make rendezvous at the fourth planet?" Bors swore again. That was where he was to meet the cargo-ship captured and sent aloft, supposedly destroyed on Tralee. But he drove on out, around and away from Tralee. He was reasonably satisfied with his landing on Tralee.
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