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her father. For her, there is no escape."
"But--"
"Your first duty will be to cultivate a friendship with her. I'm going to use her, and you, to get what I want."
"Use us?"
"Yes. One of the most rigid requirements of a Strategic Service man's character is that he be completely without one."
* * * * * * * * *
Rockford was asleep in his chair an hour later, three empty beer cans beside him. Hunter watched him, his doubt of Rockford's competence growing into a conviction. Rockford had spoken knowingly of his plan--and had done nothing but drink more beer. Now he was asleep while time--so limited and precious--went by. He hadn't even bothered to reply to Hunter's suggestion that perhaps he should call on Val Boran and counteract some of Envoy Sonig's anti-Terran propaganda.
Hunter came to a decision. If Rockford was still doing nothing when morning came, he would send an urgent message to Supreme Command.
He went outside, to find a servant and learn how mail was handled.
* * * * *
"Rook out!"
Gravel flew as overgrown feet tried to stop, and something like a huge black dog lunged headlong around the corner and into his legs. He went to the ground head first over the animal, acutely aware as he went down of the fascinated interest on the face of a not-so-distant servant.
"I sorry, Rootenant."
He got up, to look down at the doglike animal. There was a concerned expression in its brown eyes and an apologetic grin on its face. He recognized it as one of the natives of the grim starvation world of Altair Four. The Altairians had emigrated to all sections of the galaxy, to earn a living in whatever humble capacity they could fill. Many were empathic.
"I run too fast to meet, Mr. Rockford, I guess. Are you hurt, Rootenant?"
He pulled a cloud tree needle out of his hand and looked grimly down into the furry face. "In the future, try to look where you're going."
"Oh, I rook, awr right. I just not see. My name is Aronzo, Rootenant, and I stay here awr the time and guard everything for Princess Ryra. I prease to meet you and I wirr run errands for you, and do things rike mair your retters, for candy or cookies, which I are not supposed to eat much of, but Princess Ryra say not too many wirr hurt me--"
"Mail letters?" Hunter's animosity vanished. "I'm sorry I was rude, Alonzo--all my fault. I may write a letter to my dear old mother tonight, and if you would mail it for me in the morning--"
* * * * *
Rockford left ahead of Hunter and it was a minute past the appointed time when Hunter reached the meeting hall. He heard Narf's loud voice inside:
"... Boran must have stopped to watch the sunset. Told him I wanted everyone here on time--"
The low voice of Lyla said something and Narf said, "Not necessary for you to defend him, my dear. I made it plain to him."
A new voice spoke from behind Hunter:
"It seems I have annoyed Lord Narf."
He was a tall, black-eyed man, with the dark, saturnine face of an Indian. There was a strange, indefinable air of sadness about him which reminded Hunter of the sombre little Princess Lyla.
"You're Val Boran, sir?" he said. "I'm Lieutenant Hunter--"
Inside, Narf sat at the head of the table. On his left was Lyla, then Rockford. On his right was a spidery little man of about fifty, his slick-back hair so tight against his skull that it gave his head the appearance of a weasel's. His lips were paper-thin under a long nose, like those of a dry and selfish old maid, but the round little eyes darting behind thick glasses were cold and shrewd and missed nothing. He would be Verdam's Special Envoy Sonig. Hunter appraised him as a man very dangerous in his own deceptive way.
A servant showed them to their places at the table. Rockford and Val Boran exchanged greetings. The moment everyone was seated, Narf said, "Dinner tonight will--"
"Excuse me," Lyla said, "but Mr. Sonig hasn't yet met--"
"Oh ... the young fellow there--" Narf gestured with his hand. "Rockford's aide. Now, ring the chime, Lyla. Those forest stag steaks are already getting cold. I killed the beast myself, gentlemen, just this morning; a long-range running shot that required a bit more than luck...."
The dinner was excellent, but no one seemed to notice. Narf was absorbed in the story of his swift rise to eminence in the Vestan Space Guard. There were humorous incidents:
"... Can't understand why, but I seem to attract women like a magnet. I'm strictly the masculine type of male and I approve of this but it can be a blasted nuisance when you're an ensign going up fast and your commander finds one