Privately Dane agreed with that.  He hoped that Weeks would decide to hold out—­at least until they had a better idea of what the future would be.  No tool or weapon he saw in the assembly about them was forceful enough to penetrate the shell of the Queen.  And there were sufficient supplies on board to keep Weeks and his charges going for at least a week.  Since Tau had shown signs of coming out of his coma, it might even be that the crew of the ship would arouse to their own defense in that time.  It all depended upon Weeks’ present decision.

No hatch yawned in the ship’s sleek sides.  She might have been an inert derelict for all response to that demand.  Dane’s confidence began to rise.  Weeks had picked up the challenge, he would continue to baffle police and Patrol.

Just how long that stalemate would have lasted they were not to know for another player came on the board.  Through the lines of besiegers Hovan, escorted by the Patrolmen, made his way up to the officer at the mike station.  There was something in his air which suggested that he was about to give battle.  And the conversation at the mike was relayed across the field, a fact of which they were not at once aware.

“There are sick men in there—­” Hovan’s voice boomed out.  “I demand the right to return to duty—­”

“If and when they surrender they shall all be accorded necessary aid,” that was the officer.  But he made no impression on the Medic from the frontier.  Dane, by chance, had chosen better support than he had guessed.

“Pro Bono Publico—­” Hovan invoked the battle cry of his own Service.  “For the Public Good—­”

“A plague ship—­” the officer was beginning.  Hovan waved that aside impatiently.

“Nonsense!” His voice scaled up across the field.  “There is no plague aboard.  I am willing to certify that before the Council.  And if you refuse these men medical attention—­which they need—­I shall cite the case all the way to my Board!”

Dane drew a deep breath.  That was taking off on their orbit!  Not being one of the Queen’s crew, in fact having good reason to be angry over his treatment at their hands, Hovan’s present attitude would or should carry weight.

The Patrol officer who was not yet ready to concede all points had an answer:  “If you are able to get on board—­go.”

Hovan snatched the mike from the astonished officer.  “Weeks!” His voice was imperative.  “I’m coming aboard—­alone!”

All eyes were on the ship and for a short period it would seem that Weeks did not trust the Medic.  Then, high in her needle nose, one of the escape ports, not intended for use except in dire emergency opened and allowed a plastic link ladder to fall link by link.

Out of the corner of his eye Dane caught a flash of movement to his left.  Manacled as he was he threw himself on the policeman who was aiming a stun rifle into the port.  His shoulder struck the fellow waist high and his weight carried them both with a bruising crash to the concrete pavement as Rip shouted and hands clutched roughly at the now helpless Cargo-apprentice.