Chapter 43

As he'd agreed, MacPherson piloted the ship into its Earth orbit. At one point in the approach, though, he dropped so low as to virtually scrape the Earth's own mesosphere, causing Cromartie to reflexively cry out a warning.

"Calm, Warren," the captain told him, applying the acceleration needed to finalize the orbit at an appropriate altitude. "'Tis a li'le verrisimilitu'e. Ye'rre wearry, ye've nae experrience in ain thrrus'er only, ye migh' make sich a mista'e in th' cirrcumstances. 'Twill look guid t' them below."

"Jesus, Mac, don't scare me like that," said the mate. "Hell, if it were me I'd probably come in way high and settle there."

"Aye, bu' tha's nae guid t'unload," MacPherson pointed out. "We'll show sloppy, bu' we'll show i' in a way tha' doesna comprromise ourr purrpose."

The lander, the external monitors showed, was already en route before the Ark had even settled into final orbit. Mallet, it appeared, was letting no grass grow under his feet in his eagerness to complete his objective.

"It's the big one," Meiersdottir observed in satisfaction watching the lander approach from the bridge monitor. "He went for it hook, line and sinker."

"No reason for him not to, Grandmother," said Igwanda at her side. "I've got to go," he said as the huge bay doors began opening to admit the arriving lander. His station for the final segment of their extended charade was elsewhere.

As soon as the bay was re-pressurized Mallet strode confidently down the lander's extended ramp. "Cromartie!" he called out as he went. He was, as Meiersdottir had predicted, by himself. But his hand lingered suspiciously near a pocket in his suit.

"Mallet only," said Cromartie on the bridge into his communicator. He was observing the bay on the monitor.

"Go' i'," MacPherson's voice responded.

"OK," came Igwanda's whisper; he had greater need for silence.

They watched on the monitor as Mallet moved toward the bay's door to the rest of the ship and passed through, repeating his call as he did so. He'd only just cleared the bay when Ig­wanda darted silently out of a maintenance door to the side, followed by three Edenite males bearing spare lasers. Another twenty males armed with spears and knives remained behind; they'd been assembled for contingency purposes. The Ark's conspirators were taking no chances.

Just as quietly the mixed group slipped up the ramp and entered the lander. The aliens, by previous assignment, stayed at the entry lock while Igwanda continued on softly inside. He crept up behind the lander pilot so noiselessly that the man wasn't even aware of his presence until he spoke.

"Pilot, there's a laser pointed right at you," he said in a mild voice. "You're dead if you make any sudden move. Now raise your hands and get up slowly."

Meanwhile Mallet had passed through the bay door and was continuing into the ship, still calling Cromartie's name. MacPherson, who'd been waiting unseen by the entrance, had moved out of his concealment and was shadowing the director with a drawn laser.

The captain's role was one that had occasioned a little debate. Igwanda, in particular, had suggested they find someone else for the job. "You wouldn't shoot me or Al or Grandmother that day in your cabin," he'd protested to MacPherson. "Hell, you didn't even have your laser charged. This'll be a time we can't afford hesitations."

"None o' ye had done me any wrrong," the captain told him. "'Twas I had wrronged ye. T'shoo' ye was beyond' me, e'en t'thrrea'en ye torre a' me innarr's. Gene is a differren' ma'err. I'll shoo' him in a hearr'bea', i' migh' e'en gi'e me pleasurre t'do sae. I was th'ain trrick' inta doin' wha' I did, don' deprrive me o' this chance forr payback."

No further discussion had been needed.

Now, as Mallet moved toward the ship's bridge, MacPherson's communicator suddenly sounded. "Secure," the captain heard Igwanda report. So did Mallet, who spun around with his hand starting to dip into his pocket.

"Still yer han', Gene," said MacPherson coldly. "Anitherr cen'ime'err an' i' 'll no' be parr' o' yer body any langerr."

Mallet stared at him. "Cromartie said you were dead," he observed.

"You know, I think I did, Mac," said the mate, emerging from the corridor ahead. "Now how could I make that kind of mistake? Gee, Mr. Mallet, sorry about that and all."

Behind him Heisinger came out pushing Meiersdottir's chair ahead of her. "You really shouldn't believe everything you hear," she said.

The director nodded, seemingly to himself, as he took in the people surrounding him. In an instant he seemed to make a decision.

"So they got you, too," he said loudly to MacPherson. "Took your mind right away from you. I told you they'd do that—"

MacPherson was shaking his head so firmly that Mallet abruptly stopped. "Fuil me once, shame on ye," the captain quoted. "Fuil me twaice, shame on me. I'll no' shame mesel' mair."