Rip’s face was a mask of worry.  “He must have had a full dose.  I can’t bring him around.”

Was this the end of their bold bid?  Let each or all of them go before the screen to plead their case, let them show the caged pest.  But without the professional testimony of the Medic, the weight of an expert opinion on their side, they were licked.  Well, sometimes luck did not ride a man’s fins all the way in.

But some stubborn core within Dane refused to let him believe that they had lost.  He went over to the Medic huddled in a chair.  To all appearances Hovan was deeply asleep, sunk in the semi-coma the sleep ray produced.  And the frustrating thing was that the man himself could have supplied the counter to his condition, given them the instructions how to bring him around.  How many hours away was a natural awaking?  Long before that their hold on the station would be broken—­they would be in the custody of either Police or Patrol.

“He’s sunk—­” Dane voiced the belief which put an end to their hopes.  But Ali did not seem concerned.

Kamil was standing with their captive, an odd expression on his handsome face as if he were striving to recall some dim memory.  When he spoke it was to the Com-tech.  “You have an HD OS here?”

The other registered surprise.  “I think so—­”

Ali made an abrupt gesture.  “Make sure,” he ordered, following the man into another room.  Dane looked to Rip for enlightenment.

“What in the Great Nebula is an HD OS?”

“I’m no engineer.  It may be some gadget to get us out of here—­”

“Such as a pair of wings?” Dane was inclined to be sarcastic.  The memory of that incandescent circle on the door some twenty floors below stayed with him.  Tempers of Police and Patrol were not going to be improved by fighting their way around or over the obstacles the Traders had arranged to delay them.  If they caught up to the outlaws before the latter had their chance for an impartial hearing, the result was not going to be a happy one as far as the Queen’s men were concerned.

Ali appeared in the doorway.  “Bring Hovan in here.”  Together Rip and Dane carried the Medic into a smaller chamber where they found Ali and the tech busy lashing a small, lightweight tube chair to a machine which, to their untutored eyes, had the semblance of a collection of bars.  Obeying instructions they seated Hovan in that chair, fastening him in, while the Medic continued to slumber peacefully.  Uncomprehendingly Rip and Dane stepped back while, under Ali’s watchful eye, the Com-tech made adjustments and finally snapped some hidden switch.

Dane discovered that he dared not watch too closely what followed.  Inured as he thought he was to the tricks of Hyperspace, to acceleration and anti-gravity, the oscillation of that swinging seat, the weird swaying of the half-recumbent figure, did things to his sight and to his sense of balance which seemed perilous in the extreme.  But when the groan broke through the hum of Ali’s mysterious machine, all of them knew that the Engineer-apprentice had found the answer to their problem, that Hovan was waking.