"Many, many thanks," he
intoned. "Nothing but the best--a sub-commander's rations at least! We
shall deliver top star rating to this thoughtfulness when we are
questioned by the powers that shine."
It _was_ good food. Dane ate cautiously because of his torn lip, but the
whole adventure took on a more rose-colored hue. The lapse of time before
they were put through the usual procedure followed with criminals, this
excellent dinner--it was all promising. The Patrol could not yet be sure
how they were to be handled.
"They've fed us," Ali observed as he clanged the last dish back on a
tray. "Now you'd think they'd bed us. I could do with several days--and
nights--of bunk time right about now."
But that hint was not taken up and they continued to sit on the bench as
time limped by. According to Dane's watch it must be night now, though
the steady light in the windowless room did not vary. What had Hovan
discovered in the Queen? Had he been able to rouse any of the crew? And
was the spacer still inviolate, or had the Terrapolice and the Patrol
managed to take her over?
He was so very tired, his eyes felt as if hot sand had been poured
beneath the lids, his body ached.
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