"And just look at those guns she's carrying!" the deeper of the two
strange voices commented. "The real stuff, too--a stunner and an Ophto
Needle! Better get them from her. If it isn't a baby Flauval!"
"I didn't shoot nobody lately!" Peer said, trembly-voiced.
"No, and you ain't going to shoot nobody either!" the other strange
voice mimicked her. That one was high-pitched and thin, with a
pronounced nasal twang to it. "Chief, if there're kids with them, it's
just a bunch of space-rats that happened along. It couldn't be Flauval!"
"I'd say 'it couldn't be Flauval', if we'd found her dead in her
cabin," the deep voice said irritably. "But that door was burned out
from inside--and _somebody_ ditched the _Ra-Twelve_ on this clod!" It
sounded as if the discovery of Peer had interrupted an argument between
them.
"I still can't see how she got out," Nasal-voice Ezeff said sullenly.
"She must have been sleeping in her spacesuit. We were out of the ship
thirty seconds after I slap-welded that lock across her door! She must
have felt the boat leaving and started burning her way out the same
instant--"
"It doesn't matter how she did it," said the deep voice. Apparently, it
belonged to someone with authority. "If Flauval could think and move
fast enough to switch the drives to Full Emergency and still get alive
out of a ship full of the Yomm, she could cheat space, too! She always
did have the luck of the devil. If we'd had just that minute to spare
before leaving, to make sure--"
It paused a moment and resumed gloomily: "That stubborn old maniac of a
Koyle--'I'm the Duke's man, sir!' Committing suicide--like _that_--so
no one else would get control of the Yomm! If we hadn't managed to
start the launch's locators in time.... Well, I hope I'll never have
to sweat out another four days like the last. And now we still have to
find whoever got Koyle's records!"
"Flauval ain't here," Peer offered at that point, brightly.
There was a pause. It seemed that the two newcomers must have almost
forgotten their prisoner for a moment.
* * * * *
"What was that you said, kid?" Nasal-voice inquired carefully.
"Those space-rats are all half crazy," the deep voice said
contemptuously. "She doesn't know what we're talking about."
"Sure I know!" Peer said indignantly. "You was talking about Flauval.
It's Wilf that's the crazy one--I ain't! And she ain't here. Flauval."
"She ain't, eh?" Nasal-voice said, with speculative alertness.
"No, sir," Peer said, timid again. "She's went with the rest of'm."
Both voices swore together in startled shock.
"Where are they?" the deep voice demanded. "Hiding on the ship?"
"No, sir," quavered Peer. "It's just me on the ship, till they come
back."
"You mean," the deep voice said, with strained patience, "you're
supposed to be on the ship?"
"Yes, sir," said Peer. She added in a guilty mutter, "Sleepin'...."
"Where did the others go?" Nasal-voice inquired sharply.
"But I ain't tired," said Peer. "Well, with the boxes and stuff! What
Flauval wants buried."
There was another duet of exclamations which Channok, at almost any
other time, would have considered highly unsuitable for Peer's ears.
Right now, it escaped his attention.
"She's got Koyle's records!" stated the deep voice then.
"What's in those boxes?" Nasal-voice snapped.
"D-d-don't shake me!" wept Peer. "Papers and stuff--I don't know. They
don't never tell me nothing," she wailed, "because I'm just a little
girl!"
"Yes, you're just a little girl," said Nasal-voice, exasperated.
"You're not going to get much bigger either."
"Cut that," said the deep voice. "No sense scaring the kid."
"Well, you're not figuring on taking them back, are you?" Nasal-voice
inquired.
"No. Just Flauval. The colonel will be glad to chat with Flauval a bit,
now that she's turned up alive again. Koyle may have told her plenty
before we soured him on her. But there's no point in making the rest of
them desperate. It's easier when they surrender."
There was a short pause. Then the deep voice addressed Peer with a sort
of amiable gruffness:
"So they all went off to bury the boxes, but you don't know where they
went--is that it, little girl?"
"Oh, sure!" Peer said, anxious to please. "Yes, sir! I know that!"
"WHERE?" said both voices together, chorusing for the third time.
"It's that big Mound over there," Peer said; and Channok started
nervously. "It's got a big door on top. No," she added, "I guess you
can't see from down here--and you can't see from the ship. That's why I
came out. To watch for'm. But you can see it plain from the top of the
rocks."
"That would be the old reservoir or whatever it was we passed back
there," said the deep voice.
"That's right," said Peer. "That's just what Flauval called it at
lunch! The word you said. There was water there oncet, she said. They
flew the boxes over with jets, but they'll be back before it's dark,
they said."
There was a brief silence.
"Scares me when it's dark, it does!" grumbled the idiot-child.
"Well, that ties it up!" the deep voice said, satisfied. "It's the
exact kind of stunt Flauval would try. But she's outsmarted herself,
this time!"
* * * * *
"How do you figure on handling it?" Nasal-voice inquired.
"Get up on one of those rocks with the kid where you can watch
both that 'mound' and the lock of their ship. Yes, I know it's
more trouble that way--but don't, ah, do anything conclusive about
the--uh--aforementioned, before we've corralled the rest! Much more
useful while capable of inhaling. Hostage possibilities. Inducement to
surrender!"
"Uh-huh," Nasal-voice said comprehendingly.
"Yes, sir!" added Peer.
There was another short pause.
"Might as well skip the circumlocutions," the deep voice continued.
"Barely human! I'll send a couple of men through the ship and, if it's
empty, I'll leave one of them in the forward lock where you can see
him. That's just in case anyone slips past us and comes back. The rest
of us will go over to the reservoir in the launch. If the entrance is
where she says it is, we've got them bottled. If it looks right, we'll
go in."
"That'll be only four of you," said Nasal-voice. "No; three--you're
keeping one at the launch-guns, aren't you?"
"Yes, of course. Hey, little girl--how many are with Flauval?"
"Of us, you mean?" Peer asked.
"Of what else?" snarled Nasal-voice.
"Now don't get her so scared she can't talk!" the deep voice reproved.
"That's right, little girl--how many of you?"
"Well, there's me," sniffled Peer, "and my old man, and my big brother
Dobby. And then there's Wilf--that's all. But I don't like Wilf!"
"I don't like Wilf either!" agreed Nasal-voice. "Four against three,
chief! It might be safer to bring over the two from the _Ra-Twelve_
first--no point in searching her anyway, now that we know where the
records are!"
"No," said the deep voice. "Flauval could just happen to decide to
come out in the few minutes we're gone. It's sewed up too neatly right
now. We'll have the heavy guns from the launch and we'll give them a
chance to surrender. Flauval's too intelligent to pass that up--she
never stops hoping! The chances are there won't be any shooting, till
afterwards."
"Any friends of hers are likely to be tough," Nasal-voice warned.
"Very tough," said his chief. "Like the kid there! You worry at the
wrong times, my boy. A parcel of space-rats that happened along."
He swore again. "That woman's unbelievable luck! Well, take care of
yourself, Ezeff. I'm off. Keep your eyes open both ways! Just in case--"