Brack grinned. "Not much more. But then also, you've got to remember
that it's a three-week trip. Pretty monotonous. Just the two of us."
She looked him in the eyes with understanding.
"I'd try not to get in the way."
* * * * *
They met in the middle of the night at Brack's ship. Working slowly,
soundlessly, they opened a cargo case and removed enough unit boxes to
make room for the girl.
Esther settled down in the container.
"I'm afraid that isn't too comfortable," Brack apologized, "but you'll
only have to put up with it four hours. I take off at seven."
"That's all right, Bill. Just so there's no delay. My father expects me
to open the dining room at seven."
"We'll be ten million miles away before he misses you," said Brack. He
put the top on loosely, faking the straps across the cover, so the
girl could breathe.
In his room again, Brack lay with arms folded under his head, thinking
honeyed thoughts. He would have Esther's pleasant company. His cargo
was a valuable one. Two-thirds of the receipts on Hesdin-2 would
represent sheer profit. Perhaps it would be enough to establish him
in some kind of a local freight business. Esther could make a man a
wonderful partner. Lovely, delectable girl!
He reminded himself that they were not safely away from Corbie yet, and
he passed the remaining hours in the Hotel Eros sleeplessly anxious.
Brack delayed going to his ship until the last minute before takeoff
time. Then, as he half-feared, he saw a customs officer standing beside
the airlock.
The trucker tried taking the offensive. "Gosh, I'll be late for my
convoy if I don't leave right away."
"Sorry, sir, but I'll have to inspect your ship." He was a burly,
tough-looking character in pale green uniform, blocking the doorway
with a flatfooted, wrestling stance.
Brack sensed that a contest of fists might not end in his favor. He
unlocked the entrance and waved the official in with reluctance. "Take
a look, but I've already gone through customs on Dryod-7. I can show
you my clearance."
"This isn't customs exactly," said the man. "We're searching for a
person."
"A person?" (The old man sure kept a close watch on his daughter.) "I'm
the only person aboard this ship."
The customs official remained polite. "Yes, I understand that, sir. But
Mr. Eros' daughter is missing. He thinks she may have stowed away on
your ship."
"Impossible! I had the ship locked."
They stepped into the pilot's cabin, a tetrahexahedron-shaped room
crowded with multiple-monitor screens of an astrogation-computer. Brack
threw the ignition switch to start the buildup in the ship's nuclear
engine.
"What is your cargo?" the customs man demanded.
"Fifteen cases of deluplasm," said Brack with unfeigned anxiety.
The official debated with himself. "I believe it would be best if I
opened the cases."
Brack looked at his watch with desperation. "But we don't have time!
That would take at least a half-hour! I'd miss the other ships! And
you know what that would mean. I couldn't navigate interstellar space
alone, not at a hundred times the speed of light. I'd be stuck here in
the Dryodean System until the next fleet left. That might be months!"