The two first ball-lightning bolts were miniatures. Hoddan now projected a full-sized ball. It glittered viciously in emptiness. It sped toward the liner and hung off its side, menacingly. The yacht from Darth moved steadily closer. Five miles. Two.

“All out,” said Hoddan regretfully. “We can’t wait any longer!”

A boat darted away from the liner. A second. A third and fourth and fifth. The last boat lingered desperately. The yacht was less than a mile away when it broke free and plunged frantically toward the planet it had left a little while before. The other boats were already streaking down-ward, trails of rocket fumes expanding behind them. The crew of the landing-grid would pick them up for safe and gentle landing.

Hoddan sighed in relief. He played delicately upon the yacht’s rocket controls. He carefully maneuvered the very last of the novelties he had built into the originally simple Lawlor drive unit. The two ships came together with a distant clanking sound. It seemed horribly loud.

Thai jerked open the door, ashen white.

“W-we hit something! Wh-when do we fight?”

“I forgot. The fighting’s over,” Hoddan said ruefully. “But bring your stun-pistols. Nobody’d stay behind, but somebody might have gotten left.”

He rose, to take over the captured ship.

CHAPTER NINE

NORMALLY, at overdrive cruising speed, it would be a week’s journey from Walden to the planet Krim. Hoddan made it in five days. There was reason. He wanted to beat the news of his piracy to Krim. He could endure suspicion, and he wouldn’t mind doubt, but he did not want certainty of his nefarious behavior to interfere with the purposes of his call.

The spaceyacht, sealed tightly, floated in an orbit far out in emptiness. The big ship went down alone by landing-grid. It glittered brightly as it descended. When it touched ground and the grid’s forcefields cut off, it looked very modern and very crisp and strictly businesslike. Actually, the capture of this particular liner was a bit of luck, for Hoddan. It was not one of the giant inter-cluster ships which make runs of thousands of light-years and deign to stop only at very major planets. It was a medium ship of five thousand tons, designed for service in the Horsehead Nebula region. It was brand-new and on the way from its builders to its owners when Hoddan interfered. Naturally, though, it carried cargo on its maiden voyage.

Hoddan spoke curtly to the control-room of the grid.

“I’m non-sked,” he explained. “New ship. I got a freak charter-party over on Walden for from here for Darth and I have to get rid of my cargo. How about shifting me to a delay space until I can talk to some brokers?”

The forcefields came on again and the liner moved very delicately to a position at the side of the grid’s central space. There it would be out of the way.

Hoddan dressed himself carefully in garments found in the liner’s skipper’s cabin. He found Thai wearing an apron and an embittered expression. He ceased to wield a mop as Hoddan halted before him.

“I’m going ashore,” said Hoddan crisply. “You’re in charge until I get back.”

“In charge of what?” demanded Thai bitterly. “Of a bunch of male housemaids! I run a mop! And me a Darthian gentleman! I thought I was being a pirate! What do I do? I scrub floors! I wash paint! I stencil cases in cargo-holds! I paint over names and put others in their places! Me, a Darthian gentleman!”

“No,” said Hoddan. “A pirate. If you don’t get back, you and the others can’t work this ship, and presently the police of Krim will ask why. They’ll recheck my careful forgeries, and you’ll all be hung for piracy. So don’t let anybody in. Don’t talk to anybody. If you do, pfft!”

He drew his finger across his throat, and nodded, and went cheerfully out the crew’s landing-door in the very base of the ship. He went across the tarmac and out between two of the gigantic steel arches of the grid. He hired a car.

“Where?” asked the driver.

“Hm,” said Hoddan. “There’s a firm of lawyers… I can’t remember the names…”

“There’s millions of “em,” said the driver. “This is a special one,” explained Hoddan. “It’s so dignified they won’t talk to you unless you’re a great-grandson of a client. They’re so ethical they won’t touch a case of under a million credits. They’ve got about nineteen names in the firm-title and—”

“Oh!” said the driver. “That’ll be- Hell! I can’t remember the name, either. But I’ll take you there.”

He drove out into traffic. Hoddan relaxed. Then he tensed again. He had not been in a city since he stopped briefly in this one on the way to Darth. The traffic was abominable. And he, who’d been in various pitched battles on Darth and had only lately captured a ship in space — Hoddan grew apprehensive as his cab charged into the thick of hooting, rushing, squealing vehicles. When the car came to a stop he was relieved.

“It’s yonder,” said the driver. “You’ll find the name on the directory.”

Hoddan paid and went inside the gigantic building. He looked at the directory and shrugged. He went to the downstairs guard. He explained that he was looking for a firm of lawyers whose name was not on the directory list. They were extremely conservative and of the highest possible reputation. They didn’t seek clients.

“Forty-two and forty-three,” said the guard, frowning. “I ain’t supposed to give it out, but — floors forty-two and forty-three.”

Hoddan went up. He was unknown. A receptionist looked at him with surprised aversion.

“I have a case of space-piracy,” said Hoddan politely. “A member of the firm, please.”

Ten minutes later he eased himself into a fluffy chair. A gray-haired man of infinite dignity said:

“Well?”

“I am,” said Hoddan modestly, “a pirate. I have a ship in the spaceport with very convincing papers and a cargo of Rigellian furs, jewelry from the Cetis planets, and a rather large quantity of bulk melacynth. I want to dispose of the cargo and invest a considerable part of the proceeds in conservative stocks on Krim.”

The lawyer frowned. He looked shocked. Then he said carefully:

“You made two statements. One was that you are a pirate. Taken by itself, that is not my concern. The other is that you wish to dispose of certain cargo and invest in reputable business on Krim. I assume that there is no connection between the two facts.”

He paused. Hoddan said nothing. The lawyer went on, with dignity:

“Of course our firm is not in the brokerage business. However, we can represent you in your dealing with local brokers. And obviously we can advise you.”

“I also wish to buy,” said Hoddan, “a complete shipload of agricultural machinery, a microfilm technical library, machine tools, vision-tape technical instructors and libraries of tape for them, generators, and such things.”

“Hm,” said the lawyer, “I will send one of our clerks to examine your cargo so he can deal properly with the brokers. You will tell him more in detail what you wish to buy.”

Hoddan stood up.

“I’ll take him to the ship now.”

He was mildly surprised at the smoothness with which matters proceeded. He took a young clerk to the ship. He showed him the ship’s papers as edited by himself. He took him through the cargo holds. He discussed in some detail what he wished to buy.

When the clerk left, Thai came to complain again.

“Look here!” he said bitterly, “we’ve scrubbed this dam’ ship from one end to the other! There’s not a speck or a fingermark on it. And we’re still scrubbing! We captured this ship! Is this pirate revels?”

Hoddan said:

“There’s money coming. I’ll let you boys ashore with some cash in your pockets presently.”

Brokers came, escorted by the lawyer’s clerk. They squabbled furiously with him. But the dignity of the firm he represented was extreme. There was no suspicion — no overt suspicion anyhow — and the furs went. The clerk painstakingly informed Hoddan that he could draw so much. More brokers came. The jewelry went. The lawyer’s clerk jotted down figures and told Hoddan the net. The bulk melacynth was taken over by a group of brokers, none of whom could handle it alone.