s planet is a raiding base, and 'raiding' is
the operative word. And we are not going to raid easy planets. A
planet that can be raided with impunity isn't worth the time it takes
getting to it. We are going to have to fight on every planet we hit,
and I am not going to jeopardize the lives of the men under me,
which includes your crews as well as mine, because of under-powered
and under-armed ships."

Spasso tried to argue. "We've been getting along."

Harkaman cursed. "Yes. I know how you've been getting along;
chicken-stealing on planets like Set and Xipototec and Melkarth. Not
making enough to cover maintenance expenses; that's why your ship's
in the shape she is. Well, those days are over. Both ships ought to
have a full overhaul, but we'll have to skip that till we have a
shipyard of our own. But I will insist, at least, that your guns and
launchers are in order. And your detection equipment; you didn't get
a fix on the _Nemesis_ till we were less than twenty thousand miles
off-planet."

"We had better get the _Lamia_ in condition first," Trask said. "We
can put her on off-planet watch, instead of that pair of pinnaces."

* * * * *

Work on the _Lamia_ started the next day, and considerable friction-heat
was generated between her officers and the engineers sent over from
the _Nemesis_. Baron Rathmore went aboard, and came back laughing.

"You know how that ship's run?" he asked. "There's a sort of soviet
of officers; chief engineer, exec, guns-and-missiles, astrogator and
so on. Spasso's just an animated ventriloquist's dummy. I talked to
all of them. None of them can pin me down to anything, but they
think we're going to heave Spasso out of command and appoint one of
them, and each one thinks he'll be it. I don't know how long that'll
last, it's a string-and-tape job like the one we're having to do on
the ship. It'll hold till we get something better."

"We'll have to get rid of Spasso," Harkaman agreed. "I think we'll
put one of our own people in his place. Valkanhayn can stay in
command of the _Space Scourge_; he's a spaceman. But Spasso's no
good for anything."

The local problem was complicated, too. The locals spoke Lingua
Terra of a sort, like every descendant of the race that had gone out
from the Sol system in the Third Century, but it was a barely
comprehensible sort. On civilized planets, the language had been
frozen unalterably in microbooks and voice tapes. But