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Hell’s fire and damnation! I’d have to waste more time.

I looked up at the ceiling. The surface wasn’t more than a hundred feet overhead, but it felt as though it were a hundred light-years.

If I could get that guard away from that door for five seconds, all would be gravy from then on in. But how? I couldn’t have the diversion connected with me. Or–

Sometimes, I’m amazed at my own stupidity.

I beetled it down to the nearest phone and got hold of my BANning number.

“Jack already inside?” I snapped.

“Hell, yes! What happened to you?”

“Never mind. Got to make the best of it. I’m a corner away from Area Four. Where’s your nearest man?”

“At the corner near the freight office.”

“I’ll go to him. What’s he look like?”

“Five-nine. Black, curly hair. Your age. Fat. Name’s Peter Quilp. He knows you.”

“Peter Quilp?”

“Right.”

“Good. Circulate a report that Jack has been seen in the vicinity of the main gate to Area Four. Put it out that there’s a reward of five thousand for the person who finds her. I’m going to have Quilp gather a crowd.”

He didn’t ask a one of the million questions that must have popped into his mind. “Right. Anything else?”

“No.” I hung up.

* * * * *

Within ten minutes, there was a mob milling through the corridor. Everybody in the neighborhood was looking for Jaqueline Ravenhurst. Then Peter Quilp yelled.

“I’ve got her! I’ve got her! Guard!”

With a scene like that going on, the guard couldn’t help but step out of his cubicle to see what was going on.

I used the key I was carrying, stepped inside, and relocked the door. No one in the crowd paid any attention.

From then on up, it was simply a matter of evading patrolling guards–a relatively easy job. Finally, I put on my vac suit and went out through the air lock.

McGuire was still sitting there, a bright blue needle that reflected the distant sun as it moved across the ebon sky. Ceres’ rotation took it from horizon to horizon in less than two hours, and you could see it and the stars move against the spire of the ship.

I made it to the air lock in one long jump.

Jack Ravenhurst had gone into the ship through the tube that led to the passenger lock. She might or might not have her vac suit on; I knew she had several of them on Ceres. It was probable that she was wearing it without the fishbowl.

I used the cargo lock.

It took a few minutes for the pumps to cycle, wasting more precious time. I was fairly certain that she would be in the control cabin, talking, but I was thankful that the pumps were silent.

Finally, I took off my fishbowl and stepped into the companionway.

And something about the size of Luna came out of nowhere and clobbered me on the occiput. I had time to yell, “Get away!” Then I was as one with intergalactic space.

* * * * *

Please! said the voice. Please! Stop the drive! Go back! McGuire! I demand that you stop! I order you to stop! Please! PLEASE!

It went on and on. A voice that shifted around every possible mode of emotion. Fear. Demand. Pleading. Anger. Cajoling. Hate. Threat.

Around and around and around.

Can’t you speak, McGuire? Say something to me! A shrill, soft, throaty, harsh, murmuring, screaming voice that had one basic characteristic. It was a female voice.

And then another voice.

I am sorry, Jack. I can speak with you. I can record your data. But I cannot accept your orders. I can take orders from only One. And he has given me his orders.

And the feminine voice again: Who was it? What orders? You keep saying that it was the man on the couch. That doesn’t make sense!