"Counting me, there are twenty-nine women. All but Amyth and five others like her who were born here are pretty hard cases. I'm too old for childbearing, Wilding, so you can say twenty-eight. If you're restricting your colonists to useful citizens...." "There'll be other needs, Tiny. You're a nurse. If you'll go, there'll be a place for you." "I'll go," growled Tiny. "And so will any of us. But you'd better not tell anyone else where we'll be headed. Not till you're on your way. They might get other ideas...." "Would that be fair?" "Fair or not--don't tell them. You took over the authority here. Don't start trying to squirm out of the responsibility now. Voting and fancy principles are fine for soft people in a safe and comfortably idyllic civilization. You're dealing with scared and desperate rats. They need help and strong leadership. You can give it to them, but if you show the least weakness or indecision, they'll tear you to pieces." "You may be right, Tiny. But I still don't agree with you. This is too big a decision for one man. And I don't want any along who come unwillingly. I'll think about it, but I'm sure I'll give them a choice when the time comes." "What kind of choice?" "Come with me to the stars, or stay in some prison and rot. Hobson's choice." "Think and be damned, then," said Tiny. The Amazon started to maneuver a drink to her mouth, then thoughtfully and deliberately broke the last flask of her mushroom beer on a rock. The lighter was ready. * * * * * Wilding led his picked crew of twenty cut-throats aboard. He was not especially surprised to find the control cabin occupied. Tichron sat easily in the pilot's chair, his blaster gun aimed steadily at Amyth who curled up like a sullen cat in the navigator's seat. "I go, or the girl doesn't," said Tichron. Wilding laughed at him. "You're a little previous. This is just a dry run. We're seizing the supply ship and coming back for the rest." "So I've heard. Well, I'm going with you to make sure that you do come back." "Amyth is not going this trip. None of the women. So you might hold your gun on me and let the girl get outside. We're wasting time, and I want to be sure of intercepting the supply ship long before it sights the beacon." Tichron obliged by shifting his aim to Wilding. Amyth slipped silently through the airlock and dropped to the ground. "Shall I take him now?" Grouth asked, edging toward Tichron who seemed unembarrassed by two possible targets instead of one. "Don't move," ordered Wilding. To Tichron he said, "You can put the gun down now, or go on holding it. But your arm will be pretty numb by the time we hit the supply ship." "Do I go with you?" demanded Tichron. "You're wasting melodrama, big boy. I wouldn't think of leaving you behind. Ask Concor, we were wondering what had happened to you."