Dawson whistled. "You ordered that?"
The General nodded. "Benson is a good man, but he doesn't know this interplanetary belt half as well as you do. I don't have the confidence in him that I have in you. He's fine as the Master of an interplanetary luxury liner, which the Astera certainly is. And during times of peace he knows his job well. But this isn't a peaceful task I have in mind. It's a dangerous assignment, as I've said before! Benson is over sixty. You're young, and you're a fighter. You're the only man in the Merchant Space Service in this interplanetary belt whom I consider capable of getting the Astera through."
Dawson considered this soberly. Then he asked:
"And aside from members of the state and diplomatic staff, who else will be aboard the Astera?"
"There'll be a scattering of interplanetary merchants and their wives. Most of the wives and children of the Federation space soldiers stationed here—I ordered them to leave. And any other civilian residents who wish to take advantage of my last offer for their escape."
Dawson nodded. "There won't be many of the latter," he predicted. "Everyone on this damned base is far too smug and sure of its utter invulnerability."
"I know," Space General Selwin agreed gravely. "But there's little I can do about it."
"Supposing," Dawson said, "that Farisha doesn't fall? Supposing by some miracle it can stave off the Venusians until relief can arrive? Supposing still further that I fail to bring the Astera through the Venusian gauntlet, and that my vessel and all aboard are lost to the enemy? Do you realize what a spot that would put your neck in? Do you realize that people all over the universe will say that you should have known the human beings you ordered from the base here would have been far safer in remaining?"
"I know that," Selwin said quietly. "And I might add that my daughter will be aboard the Astera when you leave port. I am taking the same risk with her safety as I am with the others. And so help me God, it's the only thing to do. Farisha is doomed!"
The door of the room on the fourth floor of the Royal Hotel in Farisha was slightly ajar, and the thin, middle-sized, beady-eyed man in the light linen tunic, knocked once on it briefly, then pushed into the room without waiting for an answer.
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The girl whirled to face the intruder
The slim, raven-haired girl standing before the traveling bag opened on the bed, whirled swiftly to face the intruder. She was wearing merely brief
