Ortschugin did not at first answer. He began craning his neck, trying to look all around him without getting up from his chair. Waldstejn, guessing the ostensible reason for the other's pause, hooked a wastebasket from under the counter. The spaceman spat into it.

The delay had permitted Ortschugin to consider the blunt question at length. He found he had no better response to it than the truth. "You are right, of course. The problem is not-" he gestured with both hands and grimaced- "patriotism, it is mechanics. We can use the broadcast power line to fly to a dockyard-ifwe have a tuned receiver, andif the dockyard is in Praha. Budweis has an adequate dock, surely; but there is no pylon system to Budweis. We must leave now, and for Praha, if theKatynForest is not to lie here until she rusts away… and ourselves, perhaps, with her. I-"

The Swobodan paused again. He made no effort this time to hide his embarrassment at how to proceed. At last he blurted, "We-Pyaneta Lines- can pay you. To save the vessel, they will pay well, only name it. But there are troops guarding the trucks still in camp, and the officer in charge will not deal with me. You are our last hope."

Waldstejn stood and walked idly to the terminal on the counter. He cut it on. "Diedrichson won't deal with you?" he remarked. "Wonder what got into him. It wasn'thonesty, that I'm sure of." He began tapping in a request, using one finger and wondering how Hodicky was doing on the other terminal. "Diedrichson and the Major are close asthat," the Supply Officer concluded, crossing his left index and middle fingers and holding them up. A massive silver ring winked on the middle finger. A crucifix was cast onto the top in place of a stone setting.