"Yes." Pritchard drained his tall glass. "I'm not going to bother with her. If she can send a whole army of her animals against us it's going to make hunting a little difficult. We could set down on the other side and maybe get in a bit of shooting, but she'd catch up with us. Even if we try hunting from the air with the jet cruisers...." He shook his head. "It's too dangerous. I've got to look out for these boys, after all. No, I don't want to get messed up with her in any way." He stared calmly at the wall, seeing once again that lithe body straining out of his grasp, and knew himself for a liar. "Well...." The captain rubbed his nose, furtively eyeing the other man's profile. He knew when a man was lying. It was one of the things one developed long before one got to be a hundred and thirteen years of age. He lowered his wrinkled old eyelids and went on, "... she's hung on here for four years. Maybe she isn't too crazy at that. Of course, it's kind of too bad to leave a filly like her running around loose." "We'll just hope we won't be too much criticized for not bringing her home," Pritchard cut in quickly. "Thank God, we shot all that cam-rec footage. It'll--" He lifted his head, his long nostrils flaring. "Murder! What's that stink coming from?" The old man grimaced up at the air-grill. "Eeugh! Low tide on Venus!" Pritchard got up and went toward the intercom. "Something's died, I'd say, inside the ship or close by." At that instant the intercom's tiny diaphragm screamed. Screamed, and broke off into a hoarse babble. The two men froze, scowling at each other. The babble rose again into a sharp screaming "NO!"--and then stopped. Pritchard stepped to the 'phragm. "Chief on. All stations and quarters report, please." Voices came back at him out of the wall. "Nose watch. All X here, Mr. Pritchard. What happened?" "Stern watch. All X, chief. What--?" "Wardroom, Greene on. All X. Something stinks, chief." "Engine room. All X." "Majinski on, retired to quarters. Pee-yew!" Then, silence, pregnant with listening. "McManus," snapped Pritchard. "Louder," said the captain. "He may be asleep." "McManus!" The tall hunter shouted. "TOM!" Then he was out the door. The captain strode to the intercom. "All free hands to McManus. Fast!" he barked, and then ran after Pritchard who was already stepping into the axial lift. McManus's quarters were well down in the tail. Pritchard found half a dozen men clustered at his cabin door which they had torched open. Their eyes were watering and they were gagging at the incredibly foul stench roiling the air. "Where's McManus?" he demanded, starting to shoulder through them. The stench caught at his throat so that he choked on the words. A cadet hunter clutched at his sleeve. "Don't go in there, chief," he gasped. "You can't do Tom any good now." Savage was at the wall intercom. "Meyer, for God's sake, blow this ship out," he yelled hoarsely.