"They give that only as a measure of extreme clemency," Beliakoff said with gloomy Slavic satisfaction. "Enough! We'll straighten out Mala." There was more hope than conviction in Kelly's voice. "Thar she lies, off to starboard." Mala was a tiny blue and brown sphere, suddenly growing larger in their screens. Their radio blared on the emergency channel. Kelly swore. "That's the Galactic patrol boat from Azolith. What's he doing here?" "Blockade," said Beliakoff. "Standard practice to quarantine a planet at war. We can't touch down legally until the war's declared over." "Nuts. We're going down." Kelly touched the controls and the freighter began to descend into the interdicted area. "Attention, freighter!" the radio blasted. "This is the interdictory ship _Moth_. Heave to and identify yourself." Beliakoff answered promptly in the Propendium language. "Let's see 'em unscramble _that_," he said to Kelly. They continued their descent. After a while, a voice from the patrol boat said in Propendium, "Attention, freighter! You are entering an interdicted area. Heave to at once and prepare to be boarded." "I can't understand your vile North Propendium accent," Beliakoff bellowed, in a broad South Propendium dialect. "If you people can't speak a man's language, don't clutter up the ether with your ridiculous chatter. I know you long-haul trampers and I'll be damned if I'll give you any air, water, food, or anything else. If you can't stock that stuff like any normal, decent--" "This area is interdicted," the patrol boat broke in, speaking now with a broad South Propendium accent. "Hell," Beliakoff grumbled. "They've got themselves a robot linguist." "--under direct orders from the patrol boat _Moth_. Heave to at once, freighter, and prepare to be boarded and inspected." * * * * * Beliakoff glanced at the planet looming large beneath them. He gestured at the power control to Kelly and said, "Hello! Hello! Do you read me? Your message is not coming across. Do you read me?" "Stop or we'll fire!" Beliakoff nodded. Kelly kicked in all the jets and they plummeted toward the surface. With his pilot's sixth sense, Kelly changed course abruptly. A blast seared past them, sealing a starboard tube for good. Then they were in the atmosphere, traveling too fast, the hull glowing red with friction. The heavy cruiser, built only for spatial maneuvering, broke off its pursuit curve. "All right, freighter. This means your license. You gotta leave sometime." Beliakoff shut off the radio. Kelly fired the braking jets and began to spiral in for a landing. As they circled, Beliakoff saw the shattered rubble and ruin where cities had been. He saw highways filled with military columns, and, at the distant edge of the horizon, a fleet of military planes winging their way to a fresh target. "What a mess!" he said. Kelly nodded glumly.