But that was all that he could do. He did not even dare to rise and experiment with the controls spread out before him, for fear someone below would glimpse the movement. Then, from the hold, there rose a sudden clatter. Jarl swung back to the plastic window, craning and peering. * * * * * Below, the main hatch of _rey_ Gundre's ship was opening. Blue-uniformed Federation crewmen poured out, weapons glinting, and took up positions amid the debris. In the same instant, the high whine of a light, fast-traveling carrier cut through the hold. A moment later, a slim, swift craft dropped through the gaping hole in the ancient hull and set down for a landing. Its prow was marked with Bor Legat's black lightning-flash insignia. Incredulously, Jarl dug his nails into the plastic. The carrier came to rest. Its hatch swung open. A burly _dau_ leaped out. Instantly, the Federation crewmen came to their feet and crowded round. But the _dau_ ignored them. Turning, he gestured to someone still inside the carrier. Another figure dropped down ... a figure with shimmering golden hair and a scarlet tunic that emphasized the slim, ripening womanhood of the one who wore it. Ylana--! Jarl caught his breath. His palms were suddenly slick with sweat, the muscles of his chest constricted. While he watched, the girl moved calmly to the Federation flagship. The _dau_ swung back aboard the carrier. The hatch clanged shut. A moment later, the craft was in the air again, lancing out of the ancient hull and away. Ylana disappeared into the flagship. Jarl sank back, trembling. Brow furrowed, lips dry, he tried to make sense of this new maneuver. It was plain now what had happened to the girl, and Ungo. Bor Legat had captured them that night, back on Ceresta. Now he was carrying out his plan to trade her life for time, and the desperate chance that somehow Ceresta might be defended. But why should he meet _rey_ Gundre here? What had led the two of them to choose this shattered hulk for their rendezvous? Jarl looked down once more. More crewmen were hurrying from the flagship--clearing the debris from around the ramping-spot; setting up a perimeter studded with heavy weapons. They planned to stay a while; that much was plain. But why? Why, why, _why_--? The question rang in Jarl's brain like a tolling bell. But he still could find no answer. Another hour dragged by. Slowly, the shadows of ship and robots lengthened. Hunger gnawed at Jarl's belly. He moved this way and that, trying to work the ache from his weary muscles. * * * * * Down in the hold, the crewmen moved more slowly. Yet even up here, high above them, Jarl could sense a rising tension. It showed in the way they kept looking towards the burrows into which the primitives had fled ... their sudden starts, their readiness with their weapons. He hunched forward, narrow-eyed, resting his weight upon his elbows.