t who should get what of its
contents. Incidentally they argued over the stun-pistols, which looked
like weapons but weren't because nothing happened when one pulled the
trigger. Hoddan grimaced. They'd been in store on the liner during the
voyage. Normally they picked up a trickle charge from broadcast power,
on Walden, but there was no broadcast power on the liner, nor any on
Darth. They'd leaked their charges and were quite useless. The one in
his pocket would be useless, too.

He grimaced again and swerved to the building where the landing grid
controls must be. He opened the door and went in. The interior was smoky
and ill-smelling, but the equipment was wholly familiar. Two unshaven
men--in violently colored shirts--languidly played cards. Only one, a
redhead, paid attention to the controls of the landing grid. He watched
dials. As Hoddan pushed his way in, he threw a switch and yawned. The
ship was five diameters out from Darth, and he'd released it from the
landing grid fields. He turned and saw Hoddan.

[Illustration]

"What the hell do you want?" he demanded sharply.

"A few kilowatts," said Hoddan. The redhead's manner was not amiable.

"Get outta here!" he barked.

The transformers and snaky cables leading to relays outside--all were
clear as print to Hoddan. He moved confidently toward an especially
understandable panel, pulling out his stun-pistol and briskly breaking
back the butt for charging. He shoved the pistol butt to contact with
two terminals devised for another purpose, and the pistol slipped for an
instant and a blue spark flared.

"Quit that!" roared the red-headed man. The unshaven men pushed back
from their game of cards. One of them stood up, smiling unpleasantly.

The stun-pistol clicked. Hoddan withdrew it from charging-contact,
flipped the butt shut, and turned toward the three men. Two of them
charged him suddenly--the redhead and the unpleasant smiler.

The stun-pistol hummed. The redhead howled. He'd been hit in the hand.
His unshaven companion buckled in the middle and fell to the floor. The
third man backed away in panic, automatically raising his arms in
surrender.

Hoddan saw no need for further action. He nodded graciously and went out
of the control building, swinging the recharged pistol in his hand. In
the warehouse, argument still raged over his possessions. He went in,
briskly. Nobody looked at him. The casual appropriation of unguarded
property was apparently a so