d him in a slow
measured pace. Tom jerked his head back, then peered out again as the
footsteps receded.

The guard was a big man, with a heavy-duty stunner resting in the crook
of his elbow. He paused, scratched himself, and resumed his pacing. Tom
waited, hoping that something might distract the big man, but he moved
stolidly back and forth, not too alert, but far too alert to risk
breaking out into the main corridor.

Tom moved back into the darkened corridor where he was standing, trying
to decide what to do. It was a side corridor, and a blind alley; it
ended in a large hatchway marked HYDROPONICS, and there were no
branching corridors. If he were discovered here, there would be no place
to hide.

But he knew that he could never hope to accomplish his purpose here....

A hatch clanged open, and there were more footsteps down the main
corridor as a change of guards hurried by. There was a rumble of voices,
and Tom listened to catch the words.

"... don't care what you think, the boss says tighten it up...."

"But they got them locked in...."

"So tell it to the boss. We're supposed to check every compartment in
the section every hour. Now get moving...."

The footsteps moved up and down the corridor then, and Tom heard hatches
clanging open. If they sent a light down this spur ... he turned to the
hatch, spun the big wheel on the door, and slipped inside just as the
footsteps came closer.

The stench inside was almost overpowering. The big, darkened room was
extremely warm, the air damp with vapor. The plastic-coated walls
streamed with moisture. Against the walls Tom could see the great
hydroponic vats that held the yeast and algae cultures that fed the crew
of the ship. Water was splashing in one of the vats, and there was a
gurgling sound as nutrient broth drained out, to be replaced with
fresh.

He moved swiftly across the compartment, into a darkened area behind the
rows of vats, and crouched down. He heard footsteps, and the ring of
metal as the hatchway came open. One of the guards walked in, peered
into the gloom, wrinkled his nose, and walked out again, closing the
hatchway behind him.

It would do for a while ... if he didn't suffocate ... but if this ship
was organized like smaller ones, it would be a blind alley. Modern
hydroponic tanks did not require much servicing, once the cultures were
growing; the broth was drained automatically and sluiced through a
series of pipes to the rendering