Biron said, "You did not warn him?"
"In our business we take our chances, Farrill, but he was warned. After that he made no contact, however indirect, with any of us, and destroyed whatever proof he had of connection with us. Some among us believed that he should leave the Sector, or, at the very least, go into hiding. He refused to do this.
"I think I can understand why. To alter his way of life would prove the truth of what the Tyranni must have learned, endanger the entire movement. He decided to risk his own life only. He remained in the open.
"For nearly half a year the Tyranni waited for a betraying gesture. They are patient, the Tyranni. None came, so that when they could wait no longer, they found nothing in their net but him."
"It's a lie," cried Artemisia. "It's all a lie. It's a smug, sanctimonious, lying story with no truth in it. If all you said were true, they would be watching you too. You would be in danger yourself. You wouldn't be sitting here, smiling and wasting time."
"My lady, I do not waste my time. I have already tried to do what I could toward discrediting your father as a source of information. I think I have succeeded somewhat. The Tyranni will wonder if they ought to listen further to a man whose daughter and cousin are obvious traitors. And then again, if they are still disposed to believe him, why, I am on the point of vanishing into the Nebula where they will not find me. I should think my actions tend to prove my story rather than otherwise."
Biron drew a deep breath and said, "Let us consider the interview at an end, Jonti. We have agreed to the extent that we will accompany you and that you will grant us needed supplies. That is enough. Granting that all you have just said is truth, it is still beside the point. The crimes of the Director of Rhodia are not inherited by his daughter. Artemisia oth Hinriad stays here with me, provided she herself agrees."
"I do," said Artemisia.
"Good. I think that covers everything. I warn you, by the way. You are armed; so am I. Your ships are fighters, perhaps; mine is a Tyrannian cruiser."
"Don't be silly, Farrill. My intentions are quite friendly. You wish to keep the girl here? So be it. May I leave by contact air lock?"
Biron nodded. "We will trust you so far."
The two ships maneuvered ever closer, until the flexible airlock extensions pouted outward toward one another. Carefully, they edged about, trying for the perfect fit. Gillbret hung upon the radio.
"They'll be trying for contact again in two minutes," he said.
Three times already the magnetic field had been triggered, and each time the extending tubes had stretched toward one another and met off-center, gaping crescents of space between them.
"Two minutes," repeated Biron, and waited tensely.
The second hand moved and the magnetic field clicked into existence a fourth time, the lights dimming as the motors adjusted to the sudden drain of power. Again the airlock extensions reached out, hovered on the brink of instability, and then, with a noiseless jar, the vibration of which hummed its way into the pilot room, settled into place properly, clamps automatically locking in position. An air-tight seal had been formed.
Biron drew the back of his hand slowly across his forehead and some of the tension oozed out of him.
"There it is," he said.
The Autarch lifted his space suit. There was still a thin film of moisture under it.
"Thanks," he said pleasantly. "An officer of mine will be right back. You will arrange the details of the supplies necessary with him."
The Autarch left.
Biron said, "Take care of Jonti's officer for me for a while, will you, Oil. When he comes in, break the air-lock contact. All you'll have to do is remove the magnetic field. This is the photonic switch you'll flash."
He turned and stepped out of the pilot room. Right now he needed time for himself. Time to think, mostly.
But there was the hurried footstep behind him, and the soft voice. He stopped.
"Biron," said Artemisia, "I want to speak to you. " He faced her. "Later, if you don't mind, Arta."
She was looking up at him intently. "No, now."
Her arms were poised as though she would have liked to embrace him but was not sure of her reception. She said, "You didn't believe what he said about my father?"
"It has no bearing," said Biron. "Biron," she began, and stopped. It was hard for her to say it. She tried again, "Biron, I know that part of what has been going on between us has been because we've been alone and together and in danger, but-" She stopped again.
Biron said, "If you're trying to say you're a Hinriad, Arta, there's no need. I know it. I won't hold you to anything afterward."
"No. Oh no." She caught his arm and placed her cheek against his hard shoulder. She was speaking rapidly. "That's not it at all. It doesn't matter about Hinriad and Widemos at all. I-I love you, Biron."
Her eyes went up, meeting his. "I think you love me too. I think you would admit it if you could forget that I am a Hinriad. Maybe you will now that I've said it first. You told the Autarch you would not hold my father's deeds against me. Don't hold his rank against me, either."
Her arms were around his neck now. Biron could feel the softness of her breasts against him and the warmth of her breath on his lips. Slowly his own hands went upward and gently grasped her forearms. As gently, he disengaged her arms and, still as gently, stepped back from her.
He said, "I am not quits with the Hinriads, my lady."
She was startled. "You told the Autarch that-"
He looked away. "Sorry, Arta. Don't go by what I told the Autarch."