Old Man put on his fighting face--look out! Here we go again, he told
himself, speculating as to just what type of action lay before them now.

"Oh, they do, do they!" Jellico began and then throttled down the temper
he could put under iron control when and if it were necessary. "Very
well, tell them to stay where they are. Van, we'll go down--"

For a moment the Cargo-master hesitated, his heavy-lidded eyes looked
sleepy, he seemed almost disinterested in the suggestion. And when he
nodded it was with the air of someone about to perform some boring duty.

"Right, sir." He wriggled his heavy body from behind the small table,
resealed his tunic, and settled his cap with as much precision as if he
were about to represent the Queen before the assembled nobility of
Sargol.

Dane hurried down the ladders, coming to a halt beside Ali. It was the
turn of the man at the foot of the ramp to bark an impatient demand:

"Well?" (Was that the theme word of every Captain's vocabulary?)

"You wait," Dane replied with no inclination to give the Eysie officer
any courtesy address. Close to a Terran year aboard the Solar Queen had
inoculated him with pride in his own section of Service. A Free Trader
was answerable to his own officers and to no one else on earth--or among
the stars--no matter how much discipline and official etiquette the
Companies used to enhance their power.

He half expected the I-S officers to leave after an answer such as that.
For a Company Captain to be forced to wait upon the convenience of a Free