Danson blinked.
"Sit down."
Danson sat.
"How badly do you want to get off this ship, Danson?"
"How badly do you want to make Commander?" Danson countered and lit a
cigarette.
"You willing to risk your life?"
"Why not? It isn't worth a hell of a lot anyhow."
Lors reached into Danson's shirt pocket, found the pack of cigarettes
and filched one. Nick touched a match to it and Lors dragged the smoke
into his lungs. He could see the Terran regarding him suspiciously.
"What's the play, Firstspacer?" Danson asked.
"You're dead, Nick," Lors said softly, "if you stay on this ship. That
can be either literally, or figuratively speaking, I don't know. It all
depends on Zark's plans for you."
Nick snorted, "Hell, Lors, it can't be any worse than whatever Imry had
cooked up for me."
"It'll be better. That I can assure you. Zark is a just man, but he
hasn't much feeling for Terrans..."
"Yeah, I know. The "god" theory."
Lors nodded.
"Well, look, Firstspacer," Danson said, snubbing out his cigarette.
"Your concern for my welfare touches me deeply, but I don't get it. How
come?"
Lors grinned. "I've been asking myself that same question, and while I
can get answers that make sense to me, I sincerely doubt if they'd make
sense to you.
"Why don't we just say I like you."
"That's rich, but I'll buy it. All I've got to lose is my chains..."
"And your memory."
"Come again?"
Lors sucked on the cigarette. "You can't talk about this thing to anyone
except your wife."
"Who'd believe me anyhow?"
"It's bigger than that, Danson. If you talk to anyone, I'll kill you."
"You don't make sense. Why not kill me now?"
Lors sighed. "Look, Commander Imry made a booboo, to use one of your
terms, and I got caught in the middle. This whole operation is fouled up
because of what he did. If we don't try to put things back, it's going
to be in a real tough light.
"For the first time in history, Terra is in possession of a scout ship
even though it is wrecked. Not only that, but they know it. They're hot
on the trail of us. And if enough Terrans get wise to us, we'll be in
trouble. You've read my diaries and journals. You know what it's like up
here. My planet needs Earth as a trade base, and if you people ever wake
up as a race, we'll be able to help each other a hell of a lot. Maybe
that's why I want to take you back to your wife. Is that good enough for
you?"
Danson nodded. "I guess so. I know enough about this situation to tell
that you're either on the level, or you're a damned convincing liar.
What's the plot?"
"The plot, as you put it, is to get you and Brice back to earth..."
"Brice? Nolan Brice? He's here?"
Lors nodded. "Brice found your watch where my scout ship cracked up and
guessed who I was before I did. I was hiding up at your cabin, trying to
figure things out when he decided to put a bullet into me. Both Beth and
I thought I was you and she was trying to help me figure out what I'd
been doing for thirteen months. Brice came in shooting and my people
kidnapped him."
"Great."
"In any event, I think I can get Brice to the scout ship. I'm going to
rely upon you to spring yourself out of here and get down to the hangar.
You'll pass for me easily. Okay?"
"How do I get past the guard?"
"I'll fix it. If I can't, I'll be back."
"Okay, Buck Rogers. It's your show."
Lors grinned at him. "Keep your fingers crossed," he said and went out.
* * * * *
"I won't do it," Narvi said flatly. He lifted his glass and took a large
swallow of the drink to punctuate the sentence. "You've got to," Lors
insisted. "You know as well as I do, it's the only way to straighten
things out."
"You talk to Zark?"
"How can I tell him about it? What am I supposed to do? Tell him that I
love a Terran and want her to be happy?"
"Thunder and lightning! What's so important about Brice and Danson?
They're only Terrans. This woman you're so silly about will find someone
else. Lors, by the gods, if you take those two back they'll talk to
everyone they can get their hands on..."
"No they won't, not Danson. Narvi, that's the beauty of this whole plot.
Danson understands that our people simply want to begin trade
negotiations with Terra; he's learned to speak and read our language and
he knows how badly we want to trade with his people. He'll help us..."
"What about Brice," Narvi snorted.
"Brice can be handled by Danson. If that doesn't work, we can threaten
to do all sorts of things to him."
"And you want me to take the guard's place, outside Danson's quarters,
and give you time to steal a scout ship?"
"Yes."
Narvi cast his blue eyes toward the ceiling and groaned aloud. "If I
keep doing all these goofy things for you, I'll never make commander. I
won't even make Vice-commander."
Lors smiled. "Don't worry about it. If things work out, you'll have had
a hand in opening up a new planet for our trade rockets."
Narvi sighed. "All right. I'll do it, although I should have my head
examined by the ship's doctors."
Lors grinned at him and finished the last of his drink. "It'll work out,
Narvi, and you'll probably get a medal."
"A prison cell, likely," Narvi snorted, "on Thista."
Lors slapped him lightly on the arm and left the ship's wardroom. He had
a lot to do, and damned little time to do it in.