"What about the woman?"

"She can wait."

"With respect, commander, I must disagree." Yemm laid a hand on the transparent lid. "Even though the metabolism of the Lady Lucia has been slowed the deterioration of her nervous system is progressing. Unless she receives treatment she will wake an imbecile. She might not even wake at all."

"Chagal?"

"He could be right." The physician scowled as he studied the figure in the casket. "It would be a damned shame to ruin a body like that. Resurrect her and I'll supervise the transfer of tissue. Yemm will advise me on the correct procedure. He has all the equipment needed in his cabin. Do it," he urged. "What have you to lose?"

Nothing or perhaps too much. Dumarest looked down at the woman in her frozen sleep, feeling the turmoil of conflicting emotions. Of caution against the urge of old associations. To arouse her could be to wake a demon better left asleep, but to allow her to die could bring eternal regret.

"Do it," whispered Zehava. "Earl, you must!"

To press the right controls and to wait, watching, counting as the seconds slipped by. Living again in memory the experience of resurrection. To rise through layers of ebon chill as the eddy currents warmed flesh and bone and interior organs. Sensing the injected drugs which guarded against the agony of returning circulation. Knowing when the electric stimulator ceased and allowed the heart to beat under its own power. The resuscitator yielding to allow the natural function of the lungs. To wake as if reborn, hearing the pneumatic hiss as the casket opened, rearing upright, glowing with the euphoria of resurrection.

Within minutes he could hold Kalin in his arms and know again the wonderful ecstasy of her love.

But later – for now it was best she stayed as she was.

Chapter Fourteen

Chapman said, impatiently, "Earl, if there's a chance of salvaging that ship we've got to take it. Do you realize how much it's worth?" He looked at the Evoy where it showed on the screen; an astronomical chance of easy wealth made concrete. "There's more. Yemm has made me a proposition. It makes a lot of sense. Zehava backs him."

"On what?"

"Yemm claims that if we return the Lady Lucia to the Tyrant he'll reward us with an amount equal to half the salvage value. He'll also buy the vessel if we want to sell. Either way we make a fortune. But he insists she's to be released from the casket. I can't understand why you haven't done it already. Neither can anyone else. If she dies we lose the reward."

A disturbing possibility to a greedy man and one no raider would tolerate. Dumarest turned from the screen which dominated the bridge. They were alone in the compartment, the panels facing the big chair winking with intermittent dots of light as instruments monitored their position.

"It's only been a few hours," said Dumarest. "We had other things to do. Does Mauger think he can repair the generator?"

"He's confident he can do it in about two days. Basically it's a matter of cleaning and re-adjusting. No vital component was destroyed. It's mostly flare-damage probably caused when a conduit cracked and flashed to another. It could have been metal-fatigue caused by distortion induced by the warp. The surge must have blown the fuses."

"And killed the captain and engineer."

"That's right."

"It's what Yemm said happened. What was written in the log." Dumarest looked again at the drifting vessel, imagining what was said to have happened, trying to picture the events, uneasily aware of the caution which rasped at his nerves. "Don't you think it odd that they were together at that spot at that time? And why wasn't an attempt made to repair the damage?"

"You just gave the reason. The captain and engineer were dead. The navigator was killed by the duenna. It makes sense, Earl. What would a rich bitch and a walking laboratory know about repairing a generator?"

"The navigator wasn't killed right away," reminded Dumarest. "The food and water would have lasted for some time. Why didn't he try to repair the generator while he had the chance? Did Mauger report that any work had been done on it at all?"

"No," admitted Chapman. "But that doesn't mean anything. Not all navigators have engineering skills. Maybe he was killed early in order to conserve the food and water. When it ran out the duenna put the others into the caskets. It's not important. Once we repair the ship we'll have it made. The salvage and an extra bonus for returning the girl."

"Big money promised but that's all you have as yet. A promise. From someone you know nothing about. We only have his word for who and what he claims to be. How can you trust him?"

"I can't reject the offer. Yemm swears the money will be handed over. In any case the Tyrant won't get the girl until we get the reward."

"You're forgetting the warp," said Dumarest. "And the suspected stasis which could have lasted for decades. The Tyrant could be dead by now. His son, too. Whoever now rules may not want the girl. You've a long way to go before you could make radio contact. The journey could be wasted."

"Someone will want her."

"You want the reward."

"As you want to get to Earth," snapped Chapman. "That's why you don't want us to collect the reward and salvage. You don't want to use the time. Admit it."

"Why can't you see the obvious?" Dumarest paced the bridge, fighting to control his anger at the captain's stubbornness. "Look at what we have. A ship conveniently disabled. A story written in a log and how to tell if it's true? Sweet air in a vessel which has been drifting for years. A casket holding a man thinned almost to a skeleton. Another holding a girl who looks in the prime of health. Why hasn't she lost her fat? How to avoid it if she has been in the box as long as claimed? What really happened to the duenna? Was there ever one at all? Yemm could have waited until the last moment then set the controls and closed the lid on himself. He'd be taking a risk but only a small one."

"What are you getting at?"

"It could be a trap."

"Out here? Using a ship as a decoy? That's ridiculous! Who would want to trap us? How would they know we were close?"

The Cyclan, predicting their course or learning of it from an agent. A suspicion Dumarest kept to himself.

"Forget the reward," he urged. 'There's a world of treasure waiting for us. Why risk losing it for the chance some ruler will be generous? Carry out the task you were commissioned to do. Damn it, captain, if you abandon it now you'll be committing a form of mutiny!" Then, before Chapman could answer, he added, "Let's play it safe. Put a spare crew on board the Evoy. They can follow us to Earth."

"To hell with Earth," snapped Chapman. "It can wait. I want to make sure of what I have. There will be time later to chase a legend."

Chapman was adamant, blinded by greed. Badwasi lacked imagination. He said, "There's nothing out there, commander. I've maintained a scan and the instruments register nothing out of the ordinary."

Dumarest said, "What you're really saying is that you can't discern any movement."

"Well, yes, I guess I am." Badwasi gestured at the void. "If a ship was out there I'd have spotted it. The field leaves a trail. Even if drifting the mass would register if it was close. In that case we could even get a visual sighting. There's nothing. Space is clear."

"What if a vessel was out there? Field down. Drifting. Stationary in relation to us?"

"It would be invisible," admitted Badwasi. "Especially if it stayed on aline between us and a star. But why would it do that?" He narrowed his eyes with belated suspicion, examining the screens, the instruments. "Is there something out there?"

"I don't know," admitted Dumarest. "But there could be. Keep watch and if anything should appear make sure you target and track it. Have missiles armed and ready."