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Chapter 53




THE THREE SHIPS HUNG THERE, in the warped continuum, the destroyer’s synchronizer making slaves of the Mannschenn Drive units of the other two vessels.

From the NST transceiver came the voice of the destroyer’s captain.

Denebola to Sister Sue. You are under arrest.”

“Acknowledge,” said Grimes to Williams.

Sister Sue, stand by to receive boarders.”

“Acknowledge, Mr. Williams. Then carry on down to the after airlock to do the courtesies.”

The mate was all concern.

“Sir, can’t we fight? What will they do to you?”

“Not as much as they’d like to,” said Grimes. “Don’t worry, Mr. Williams. It will all come right in the end.”

“I said, sir, that we should never have taken a Terran ship . . .”

“But we did. Never mind, it was by my orders. You’re in the clear. Off with you, now. Be polite, but not servile. I shall be in my cabin.”

He got up from the command chair, turned to Mayhew.

“You’re in charge, Ken, until Billy comes back. You know where to find me if you want me.”

He went down to his day cabin, lowered himself into his armchair. Let the Survey Service take over now, he thought. I’ve done their dirty work for them. It was rather dirtier than I thought that it would be—but isn’t it always that way?

He filled and lit his pipe, looked up through the blue smoke that it emitted at the empty shelf upon which the figurine of Una Freeman had stood. He found that he regretted the loss of that gift very deeply. If—if!—he ever saw Una again he would tell her of the circumstances. Meanwhile he could expect a quiet voyage back to Earth, under escort and with a prize crew on board, an official rapping of the knuckles, an unofficial pecuniary reward and then a resumption of his tramping life. He hoped that Williams would stay with him, and Magda Granadu. Old Mr. Stewart probably would. Malleson and Crumley probably would not. As for the others—he would not wish to be in their shoes. But their defense, almost certainly, would be that they had mutinied against a captain who had turned pirate. There was a knock at his door. “Yes?” he called.

“Sir,” said Williams, “the officer in charge of the boarding party to see you.”

“Send him in.”

“You are under arrest,” she said.

Grimes stared up at her. On the shoulders of her silvery spacesuit were the scarlet tabs that showed that she was a member of the Corps of Sky Marshals. She had removed her helmet and was holding it under her left arm. Her face, given a coat of gold paint, would have been the face of the figurine destroyed by the killer cat.

“Aren’t you pleased to see me?” she asked.

“Yes. Of course. But aren’t you . . . ? Shouldn’t you, I mean, be on Austral?”

“I was recalled to the Corps for a refresher course. And piracy, as you know, is the concern of the Sky Marshals as well as of the Survey Service.”

“Mphm. Well. Glad to have you aboard, Una.”

“I’m glad to be aboard, John. This is far more capacious than that bloody lifeboat.”

“Yes. I’ll tell my purser to organize a cabin for you.”

She said, “Don’t bother. This will do very nicely.” She grinned. “I have to have some place to interrogate my prisoner. Somewhere well away from the other accommodation so that the screams won’t be heard.”

“Oh.”

“Don’t just sit there grinning. Put that vile pipe out for a start—and then you can help me out of my spacesuit. And the rest . . .”

“But I have to get up to Control, Una. To give some orders.”

“Don’t worry,” she told him. “I’ll be giving the orders from now on.”

***

More than once during the voyage back to Earth Grimes would think, Where is that bloody cat now that I need him?


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Framed