tradict? He had
realized the folly of his outburst the moment Wass had looked at him.

"This becomes more interesting," the Veep had remarked with that
deceptive gentleness. "You are Rynch Brodie, castaway from the Largo
Drift, are you not? I trust that Out-Hunter Hume has made plain to you
our concern with your welfare, Gentlehomo Brodie."

"I'm not Brodie." Having taken the leap into the dangerous truth he
was stubborn enough to continue swimming.

"I find this enlightening indeed. If you are not Brodie--then who are
you?"

That had been it. At that moment he couldn't have told Wass who he
was, explain that his patchwork of memories had gaping holes.

"And you, Out-Hunter," Wass' reptilian regard had moved again to Hume,
"perhaps you have an adequate explanation for this discovery."

"None of his doing," he burst out, "I remembered--"

Some inexplicable emotion made Rynch defend Hume then.

Hume laughed, and there was a reckless edge to that sound. "Yes, Wass,
your techs are not as good as they pretend to be. He didn't follow the
pattern of action they set for him."

"A pity. But there are always errors when one deals with the human
factor. Peake!" One of the other three men moved towards them. "You
will escort this young man to the spacer, see him safely stowed for
the present. Yes, a pity. Now we must see just how much can be
salvaged."

Then Vye had been brought into the shop, supplied with a ration
container, and left to himself within this bare-walled cabin to
meditate upon the folly of talking too freely. Why had he been so
utterly stupid? Veeps of Wass' calibre did not swim through the murky
channels of the Starfall, but their general breed had smaller but just
as vicious representatives there, and he knew the man for what he was,
ruthless, powerful and thorough.

A sound, slight, but easily heard in the silent vacuum of the storage
cabin, alerted him. The crack of the sliding panel door opened and Vye
crouched, his hand cupping the only possible weapon, the ration
container. Hume edged through, shut the door behind him. He stood
there, his head turned so his ear rested against the wall; obviously
he was listening.

"You brain-smoothed idiot!" The Hunter's voice was a thread of
whisper. "Why couldn't you have kept that swinging jaw of yours closed
last night? Now listen and listen good. This is a slim try, but it's
one we have to take."

"We?" Vye was startled into asking.

"Yes, we! By right