Dasinger took an ointment tube from his pocket, removed its cap,
squeezed a drop of black, oily substance out on a fingertip. "Mind
rolling up your sleeve a moment?" he asked. "Just above the elbow...."
"What for?"
"It's because of the way those hypno sprays work," Dasinger said. "Give
your victim a dose of the stuff, tell him what to do, and it usually
gets done. And if you're being illegal about it, one of the first things
you tell him to do is to forget he's ever been sprayed. This goop is
designed for the specific purpose of knocking out hypnotic commands.
Just roll up your sleeve like a good girl now, and I'll rub a little of
it on your arm."
"You're not rubbing anything on my arm, mister!" Duomart told him
coldly.
Dasinger shrugged resignedly, recapped the tube, and dropped it in his
pocket. "Have it your way then," he remarked. "I was only ..."
He lunged suddenly towards her.
Duomart gave him quite a struggle. A minute or two later, he had her
down on the floor, her body and one arm clamped between his knees, while
he unzipped the cuff on the sleeve of the other arm and pulled the
sleeve up. He brought out the tube of antihypno ointment and rubbed a
few drops of the ointment into the hollow of Duomart's elbow, put the
tube back in his pocket, then went on holding her down for nearly
another minute. She was gasping for breath, blue eyes furious, muscles
tensed.
* * * * *
Suddenly he felt her relax. An expression of stunned surprise appeared
on her face. "Why," she began incredulously, "he _did_ ..."
"Gave you the spray treatment, eh?" Dasinger said, satisfied. "I was
pretty sure he had."
"Why, that-- At his beck and call, he says! Well, we'll just see about
... let me up, Dasinger! Just wait till I get my hands on that bony
partner of yours!"
"Now take it easy."
"Take it easy! Why should I? I ..."
"It would be better," Dasinger explained, "if Egavine believes you're
still under the influence."
She scowled up at him; then her face turned thoughtful. "Ho! You feel it
isn't that he's a depraved old goat, that he's got something more
sinister in mind?"
"It's a definite possibility. Why not wait and find out? The ointment
will immunize you against further tricks."
Miss Mines regarded him consideringly for a few seconds, then nodded.
"All right! You can let me up now. What do you think he's planning?"
"Not easy to say with Dr. Egavine. He's a devious man." Dasinger got
himself disentangled, came to his feet, and reached down to help her
scramble up.
"They certainly wrap you up with that hypno stuff, don't they!" she
observed wonderingly.
Dasinger nodded. "They certainly do!" Then he added, "I'm keeping the
doctor and his little sidekick locked up, too, until we get to the
planet. That leaves you and me with the run of the ship."
Duomart looked at him. "So it does," she agreed.
"Know how to use a gun?"
"Of course. But I'm not allow-- I don't have one with me on this trip."
* * * * *
He reached into his coat, took out a small gun in a fabric holster.
Duomart glanced at it, then her eyes went back to his face.
"Might clip it to your belt," Dasinger said. "It's a good little
shocker, fifty-foot range, safe for shipboard use. It's got a full load,
eighty shots. We may or may not run into emergencies. If we don't,
you'll still be more comfortable carrying it."
Duomart holstered the gun and attached the holster to her belt. She
slid the tip of her tongue reflectively out between her lips, drew it
back, blinked at the flight screens for a few seconds, then looked
across at Dasinger and tapped the holster at her side.
"That sort of changes things, too!" she said.
"Changes what?"
"Tell you in a minute. Sit down, Dasinger. Manual course corrections
coming up...." She slid into the pilot seat, moved her hands out over
the controls, and appeared to forget about him.
Dasinger settled into a chair to her left, lit a cigarette, smoked and
watched her, glancing occasionally at the screens. She was jockeying the
Mooncat deftly in and out of the fringes of a gravitic stress knot,
presently brought it into the clear, slapped over a direction lever and
slid the palm of her right hand along a row of speed control buttons
depressing them in turn.
* * * * *
"Nice piece of piloting," Dasinger observed.
Duomart lifted one shoulder in a slight shrug. "That's my job." Her face
remained serious. "Are you wondering why I edged us through that thing
instead of going around it?"
"Uh-huh, a little," Dasinger admitted.
"It knocked half an hour off the time it should take us to get to your
planet," she said. "That is, if you'll still want to go there. We're
being followed, you see."
"By whom?"
"They call her the Spy. After the Mooncat she's the fastest job in the
Fleet. She's got guns, and her normal complement is twenty armed men."
"The idea being to have us lead them to what we're after, and then take
it away from us?" Dasinger asked.
"That's right. I'm not supposed to know about it. You know what a Gray
Fleet is?"