able to break through where Van Rycke and the Captain had faced a stone
wall. And, worse than the future which could face the Queen, was the
thought that he might have introduced some dangerous drug into Sargol
with his gift of those few leaves. When would he learn? He threw himself
face down on his bunk and despondently pictured the string of calamities
which could and maybe would stem from his thoughtless and hasty action.

Within the Queen night and day were mechanical--the lighting in the
cabins did not vary much. Dane did not know how long he lay there forcing
his mind to consider his stupid action, making himself face that in the
Service there were no short cuts which endangered others--not unless
those taking the risks were Terrans.

"Dane--!" Rip Shannon's voice cut through his self-imposed nightmare. But
he refused to answer. "Dane--Van wants you on the double!"

Why? To bring him up before Jellico probably. Dane schooled his
expression, got up, pulling his tunic straight, still unable to meet
Rip's eyes. Shannon was just one of those he had let down so badly. But
the other did not notice his mood. "Wait 'til you see them--! Half Sargol
must be here yelling for trade!"

That comment was so far from what he had been expecting that Dane was
startled out of his own gloomy thoughts. Rip's brown face was one wide
smile, his black eyes danced--it was plain he was honestly elated.

"Get a move on, fire rockets," he urged, "or Van will blast you for
fair!"

Dane did move, up the ladder to the next level and out on the port ramp.