He looked at his watch.
"It is now ten hours," he observed. "My men need rest, and we all want
food. Are you through with us?"
The Commander was spokesman for the other group. "You are to remain in
quarantine, Captain. Your ship has not yet been passed as port-free. But
you will be assigned quarters--"
Once again they were marched through blank halls to the other section of
the sprawling Patrol Headquarters. No windows looked upon the outer
world, but there were bunks and a small mess alcove. Ali, Dane, and Rip
turned in, more interested in sleep than food. And the last thing the
Cargo-apprentice remembered was seeing Jellico talking earnestly with
Steen Wilcox as they both sipped steaming mugs of real Terran coffee.
But with twelve hours of sleep behind them the three were less contented
in confinement. No one had come near them and Van Rycke had not returned.
Which fact the crew clung to as a ray of hope. Somewhere the Cargo-master
must be fighting their battle. And all Van's vast store of Trade
knowledge, all his knack of cutting corners and driving a shrewd bargain,
enlisted on their behalf, must win them some concessions.
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