ry," Kerk called back. "We won't hit you."

"I know that--it's this idiot here that I'm worrying about. You just
can't shoot him for trying to do his job. In fact I'm surprised to
find out that there is one honest cop left on any of the places I've
been."

"Don't talk so crazy," Meta said with maddening sweetness. "We'll kill
him, Jason. We'll take care of you."

Anger hit him. "You will NOT take care of me because I can take care
of myself. Either of you kill him and so help me I'll kill you." Jason
shuffled backwards faster now until his legs hit the lower edge of the
hatch. He clambered into it and burst out laughing at the dumfounded
expressions of his friends' faces. The laugh died as something pricked
the back of his neck. The pressure of the gun was gone and he swung
around, surprised to see the floor rushing up towards him, but before
it struck him blackness descended.

Consciousness returned, accompanied by a thudding headache that made
Jason wince when he moved, and when he opened his eyes the pain of the
light made him screw them shut again. Whatever the drug was that had
knocked him out, it was fast working, and seemed to be oxidized just
as quickly. The headache faded away to a dull throb and he could open
his eyes without feeling that needles were being driven into them. He
was seated in a standard spacechair that had been equipped with wrist
and ankle locks, now well secured. A man sat in the chair next to him,
intent on the spaceship's controls; the ship was in flight and well
into space. The stranger was working the computer, cutting a tape to
control their flight in jump-space.

Jason took the opportunity to study the man. He seemed to be a little
old for a policeman, though on second thought it was really hard to
tell his age. His hair was gray and cropped as short as a skull cap,
but the wrinkles on his leathery skin seemed to have been caused more
by exposure than advanced years. Tall and firmly erect, he appeared
underweight at first glance, until Jason realized this effect was
caused by the total absence of any excess flesh. It was as though he
had been cooked by the sun and leeched by the rain until only bone,
tendon and muscle were left. When he turned his head the muscles stood
out like cables under the skin of his neck and his hands at the
controls were the browned talons of some bird. A hard finger pressed
the switch that actuated the jump control, and he turned away from the
board to f