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managed—or rather Turpyn has—to halt the unloading. And until the ship is emptied, it will remain finned down out there. It is not a passenger ship, but there is a life-unit section in it for emergencies, though we shall find those quarters very crowded if we can retape the ship and take off.”
    Andas considered all the ifs, ands, and buts that now faced them. It would be easy enough to stow aboard in that life section and allow the ship to transport them back. Only that would land them in the hands of the enemy. They must reset the ship with another trip tape. But so far all the cabinets had offered them were broadcasts of code and series of pictures in detail of men and aliens.
    Watching those as they tested tape after tape, Andas wondered if they would turn up those pertaining to any member of their own small company. So far that had not happened. And Turpyn was raiding more compartments than the first he had opened, now choosing samples in a random fashion.
    They ate again and, driven by fatigue, slept. And they continued to split into two parties, though Tsiwon at present stayed closer to Andas and his companions. While they kept together, neither Grasty nor the Veep appeared very friendly.
    It was on the second day that Turpyn admitted defeat. He stood surrounded by gaping drawers, a full tide of discarded tapes rising almost ankle-deep on the floor.
    â€œNothing.” He announced failure in a flat voice. “Nothing we can use.”
    Andas spoke up. “We have not tried the ship.”
    â€œGetting into her will be the problem,” but there was a trace of animation in Turpyn’s tone. “I have some tech knowledge, but I am no spacer. What of you?” He swung his head slowly, giving each a searching stare.
    Andas’s own experience went no farther than that of a passenger. And he believed no one here could say more, unless Turpyn, in spite of his denial, was holding out on them. To their surprise, Elys spoke first.
    â€œI know that the entrance ramps are controlled from within. But certainly this is a problem that must have arisen somewhere, sometime before. Are there no emergency ways to enter a ship?”
    It was as if her words turned a key deep in Andas’s memory. He had a fleeting picture of a ship finned down on a landing strip, a figure climbing by handholds on the outer edge of the fin itself, something he had seen in passing. He had asked an idle question at the time.
    â€œThe service hatch!”
    He was not even aware they were all watching him. Surely all ships were general in some points of construction. If so, this one should have the same hatch.
    â€œAbove the fins.” He cut his explanation. “A repair hatch for techs. There’s a chance that might open.”
    â€œAny chance is worth taking now.” Tsiwon’s usual quaver disappeared in an excitement that strengthened his voice.
    â€œAt night or at twilight anyway,” Yolyos said. When Andas, eager to try to prove his memory right, would have objected, the Salariki pointed out the obvious.
    â€œWe have no protective clothing. To go out in the glare of that sun and perhaps have to remain in the open working—”
    He was right. To none of them, different in race and species as they were, did this world hold welcome beyond the door of their prison.
    And Andas, impatient as he was, was aware of another problem. Once within the repair hatch, if they could find and open that, was there access to the rest of the interior of the ship or only to a confined section for techs? If he, if any one of them, only knew more! The education of an Imperial prince was certainly lacking in survival training. Not that they would speedily die here if they could not find a way out, but perhaps quick death would be better than lingering stagnation.
    The party attempting to invade the ship narrowed to three—Andas. Yolyos, and Turpyn, whose tech knowledge was indispensable. After the harsh sun