picked the
gatelock. The watchman came out of his shack, picking his teeth. He
looked sleepy, but grinned appreciatively at Darbor.

"Hi, Tod! You sure get around. Man just called about you. Sounded mad.
What's up?"

"Plenty. What did you tell him?"

The watchman went on picking his teeth. "Nothing. He don't pay my
wages. Want your ship? Last one in the line-up. Watch yourself. I
haven't looked at it, but there've been funny noises tonight. Maybe
you've got company."

"Maybe I have. Lend me your gun, Ike?"

"Sure, I've eaten. I'm going back to sleep. If you don't need the gun,
leave it on the tool-locker. If you do, I want my name in the papers.
They'll misspell it, but the old lady will get a kick. So long. Good
luck. If it's a boy, Ike's a good, old-fashioned name."

Tod Denver and Darbor ran the length of the illuminated hangar to the
take-off pits at the far end. His space sled was the last in line.
That would help for a quick blast-off.

Darbor was panting, ready to drop from exhaustion. But she dragged
gamely on. Gun ready, he reached up to the airlock flap.

Inside the ship was sudden commotion. A scream was cut off sharply.
Scurried movement became bedlam. Uproar ceased as if a knife had cut
through a ribbon of sound.

Denver flung open the flap and scrabbled up and through the valve to
the interior.

Two of Big Ed's trigger men lay on the floor. One had just connected
with a high-voltage charge from Charley. The other had quietly
fainted. Denver dumped them outside, helped Darbor up and closed the
ship for take-off. He switched off cabin lights.

He wasted no time in discussion until the ship was airborne and had
nosed through the big dome-valves into the airless Lunar sky.

A fat hunk of Earth looked like a blueberry chiffon pie, but was
brighter. It cast crazy shadows on the terrain unreeling below.

Darbor sat beside him. She felt dazed, and wondered briefly what had
happened to her.

Less than an hour before she had entered the _Pot o' Stars_ with
nothing on her mind but assessing the clients and the possible
receipts for the day. Too much had happened and too rapidly. She could
not assimilate details.

Something launched itself through darkness at her. It snugged tightly
to shoulder and neck and made chuckling sounds. Stiff fur nuzzled her
skin. There was a vague prickling of hot needles, but it was
disturbing rather than painful. She screamed.

"Shut up!" said Denver, laughing. "It'