And saw the two military policemen standing there, holding the sagging Hamal between them.

“Is this your car, sir?” one of them asked. “Of course. What are you doing here?”

“It’s this man, we saw him sitting in the back talking to himself. We thought he was drunk until we heard him speak. Some foreign language, sir, sounds like the one they talk on this planet. Do you know who he is?”

I didn’t hesitate. This was war and troops die for a lot of reasons.

“Never saw him before in my life.”

My voice penetrated Hamal’s drugged brain because he looked up, blinking. Weak as his nerve was, he must have the physical constitution of an ox to be even moving after the amount of gas he had breathed. Then he groped for me shouting aloud.

“You must help me, they are going to kill me, get me out of here, it was a mistake bringing me in the first place…”

“What’s be saying?” one of the military policemen asked.

“I have no idea—though I think he might be the spy who has been causing the engine room sabotage.” Time was going by too quickly; how soon before they thought of Kraj? “Put him in the back of the car and come with me. I know how to make him talk sense.”

While they were doing this I started the engine and pulled away, even before they sat down. This tumbled them about a bit and if they noticed the blankets on the floor they did not mention them. Throttle wide open I headed for the exit.

Towards the officer who stood blocking the way, holding up his hand for me to stop. I kept going but had to brake hard at the last instant because he did not move.

“You cannot leave. The base is closed.” He was cold-eyed, hard-faced and mean. So was I.

“I am leaving. Save your orders for others.”

“My orders were to close the gate to everyone without exception.”

“I have a prisoner who may be a saboteur and I have two men to guard him. I am taking him to the Octagon for questioning. Your professional zeal is commendable. Captain, but you must know that I am the one who issues orders, not obeys them.”

“You cannot leave.” Either he was bullheaded to an insane degree—or he had specific orders about me. I had not time to find out. Through the window I could see one of the men answering the phone and I had a sharp suspicion what that call might be. I drew my pistol and pointed it at the captain.

“Move or I will kill you,” I said, in as bored a monotone as I could manage.

He half reached for his gun—then stopped. For a moment more be hesitated and I could see the worried fear in his eyes. Then he stepped aside reluctantly and I gunned the car forward. I had a brief glimpse of a soldier running out of the guardhouse, pointing at the car, shouting something that was drowned in the roar of the engine. After that I did not look back, though the military policemen obviously did. In the rear view mirror I saw them whispering together and they might have been reaching for their guns. I took no chances. As soon as we turned the first corner I threw a gas grenade into the backseat, then stopped just long enough to unload my brace of sleeping beauties.

Hamal was also now very soundly asleep and I strongly wished that I were as well. I yawned broadly and, following the side roads, headed for the dock.

Chapter 21

“Explain, DiGriz, explain and make it good.”

Inskipp was in his usual charming humor, growling and snarling and pacing the length of the spacer’s lounge.

“First tell me how the children are, my sons, never seen by their father, how do they do?”

“Yes, how are they?” Angelina asked, sitting back comfortably in one of the lounge chairs. Inskipp sputtered a bit but had to answer.

“Doing fine. Putting on weight. Eat a lot just like their father. You’ll see them soon. Now enough of that. I come I don’t know how many light years to supervise this operation because it seems to have ground to a full stop. And what do I find? My two agents have had enough and have deserted the planet of their assignment and meet me here in orbit—even though said planet is clamped beneath the iron heel of the Cliaand. Explain.”

“We have won.”

“No jokes, diGriz. I can have you shot.”

“You won’t hurt me, you have too much invested in my hide. And I meant what I said. We have won. Burada, clamped under the iron heel, doesn’t know it yet. The Cliaandian clampers don’t know it yet. Just we privileged few.”

“I’m not one of that happy number. Talk faster.”

“A demonstration is in order. Angelina my sweet, do you have our little toy?”

She opened a box next to her chair and handed over the Thing. It was smooth and black and no bigger than my hand. There were small openings on its bottom and at each end, while one end had a cluster of tiny lenses as well. I held it out to Inskipp who looked at it suspiciously.

“Do you know what this is?” I said.

“No. And I can’t say that I really care to.”

“This is the tombstone on the grave of all the Cliaandian expansionist ambitions. What type of space vessel is this we are aboard?”

“A light destroyer, Gnasher class. And what relevancy does that have?”

“Patience, and all will be revealed.”

I next took the small control box from Angelina and inserted the end of the spiked rod projecting from it into the matched opening in the Thing. Then I tapped out the serial number for Gnasher class destroyers on the keyboard. With the control box still attached I carried the Thing to the lounge exit where we could see the bulky disc of the main airlock. Angelina followed, leading the protesting Inskipp.

“We must imagine,” I said, “that this ship is on the ground and that the lock is open. All airlocks open sooner or later and when they do the Thing is waiting. And so is the operator, watching from up to three kilometers away. The lock opens and he activates the Thing. It soars straight at the open lock through it, and—”

I pressed the go button and it went. Tiny jets screamed and it darted off like an impassioned hummingbird, down the hallway towards the stem.

“After it!” I shouted and led the way at a dead run.

We caught up with it two decks down where it had been stopped by a closed door—but not stopped for long. The thermal lance in the Thing’s nose burned a quick hole through the metal and it was off again. When we reached the engine room it had almost eaten its way through this thicker door and there was just time to throw the door open as it went through. It zoomed once around the room as though getting its bearings, so small and fast it was almost impossible to follow, then it dived.

Right at the warpdrive generator where it exploded in a puff of black smoke.

“A harmless smoke charge,” I said. “To be replaced in field operation by high explosive, more than enough to destroy the warpdrive generator, yet small enough not to cause any other damage. A humane weapon indeed.”

“You’re mad.”

“Only at the Cliaand and the gray men for pursuing this futile war. If we can go back for that drink now I’ll tell you how it is going to be stopped.”

Comfortably seated, throat cooled, I explained.

“I personally polished off the warpdrive generators in nine of the Cliaand ships, just to see if it could be done and if there would be any unusual problems in ship design or construction. There were none. Cliaandian ships are just like other ships, only more so since they like a good deal of uniformity which makes our job that much easier. The Thing has been designed to do that job. The Thing operator can sit at his ease outside of a spaceport, watching the Cliaand ships through high powered glasses. When the observed ship opens its port the Thing strikes. The operator must merely aim it, feed in the type of ship, and start it on its way. The Thing has a molecular level memory bank and computer circuitry. It zeroes in on the ship at high speed, finds the port and enters and then, using its programmed knowledge of the vessel’s interior, it makes its way to the engine room, stopping for nothing. Where it blows up the warpdrive generator. End of the Cliaand invasion.”