y else to
help them. My throat's more valuable to me than the ship is to you; I
can't get anybody to build me a new one."

"Well, understand," one of the engineers said, "they were converting
her into an interplanetary ship. It wouldn't cost much to finish the
job."

"We need an interplanetary ship like we need a hole in the head!" The
vice-president turned to Rodney Maxwell. "Just how much prize-money do
you think you're entitled to for this wreck?"

"I wouldn't know; that's up to Sterber, Flynn & Chen-Wong. Up to the
court, if we can settle it any other way."

"You mean you'd litigate about this?" the lawyer demanded, and began
to laugh.

"If we have to. Look, if you people don't want her, sign her over to
Litchfield Exploration & Salvage. But if you do want her, you'll have
to pay for her."

"We'll give you twenty thousand sols," the lawyer said. "We don't want
to be tightfisted. After all, you fought a gang of pirates and lost
some men and a couple of boats; we have some moral obligation to you.
But you'll have to realize that this ship, in her present state, is
practically valueless."

"The collapsium on her is worth twice that, and the engines are worth
even more," Jacquemont said. "I worked on them."

The discussion ended there. By midafternoon, Luther Chen-Wong, the
junior partner of the law firm, arrived from Storisende with a couple
of engineers of his own. Reporters began arriving; both sides were
anxious to keep them away from the ship. Conn took care of them,
assisted by Sylvie, who had rummaged an even more attractive costume
out of what she called the loot-cellar. The reporters all used up a
lot of film footage on her. And the Fawzis' Office Gang arrived from
Force Command, bitterly critical of the value of the spaceport against
its cost in lives and equipment. Brangwyn and Zareff returned to Force
Command with them. A Planetary Air Patrol ship arrived and removed the
captured pirates. The liberated prisoners were airlifted to
Litchfield.

The third day after the battle, Conn and his father and Sylvie and her
father flew to Litchfield. To Conn's surprise, Flora greeted him
cordially, and Wade Lucas, rather stiffly, congratulated him. Maybe it
was as Tom Brangwyn had said; he hadn't been on Poictesme in the last
four or five years and didn't know how bad things had gotten. His
mother seemed to think he had won the Battle of Barathrum
single-handed.

He was even more surprised and gratified t