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learned. I was promoted again to a grade just short of ‘Captain’, but by this time I was ready for something new. There was talk of transfer to a new posting, but now occurred an event which changed the course of my life.
    “From the town Serafim, out in the Beyond, came a dilapidated old Model 11-B Scudder with a crew of four ruffians. They attacked the Creach , a freighter which happened to be in port, killed the master and crew, then took the Creach aloft and away, presumably back into the Beyond, where our authority was nil and the law barred our presence.
    “At the time there were only three agents posted to the Wanne office. We were all outraged by the contemptuous act of the pirates. It was an insult to our dignity and it demanded a reaction, illegal or not.
    “The commanding officer was Captain Wistelrod. He promoted me to full ‘Captain’, then put me on indefinite leave and decommissioned me, so that I was temporarily a civilian and could go where I saw fit, without arousing an uproar from do-gooders and pussy-footers. I took the Model 11-B up from the Wanne spaceport and flew across the edge into the Beyond. I made for the town Serafim, where we thought the pirates would take their prize. When I arrived at Serafim I put down at night in the wilderness which surrounded the town and ran through the moonlight to the spaceport. Sure enough! There was the Creach !
    “To make a long story short, I killed the pirates and took the Creach back into Gaean space. Along the way, a constructive idea came to me. The previous owner of the vessel was dead. De facto title had passed to the pirates, once they had gone Beyond. By salvaging the ship from the pirates, title had devolved upon me. Since I was now a civilian, I need not surrender the ship to the IPCC. I fell in love with the ship, which was sound, secure and competent. I renamed it the ‘ Glicca ’.
    “At Wanne I reported briefly to Captain Wistelrod and told him of my decision, which was to remain on indefinite leave. He was sorry to lose me, but wished me well. I assembled a crew and at once began to transport cargo.
    “For one reason or another, three years passed before I put into Traven. I was a year too late. My father had been killed in a boating accident at the country club lake. After a few days of mourning, my foolish mother had gone off with a man whom my aunt and cousin described as an out-and-out adventurer. He had beguiled her with romantic nonsense, and their present whereabouts was unknown. The big house on Telmany Heights had been sold and was now inhabited by strangers. It was a depressing situation, with a single spark of comfort: my father, knowing my mother’s impulsive disposition, had ordered the executors of his will to consolidate his assets into a trust fund, from which my mother should be paid an adequate but not lavish annuity: a wise precaution, which could only frustrate her new consort.
    “I was troubled by the circumstances of my father’s death; I had come to revere, if not love him. He had drowned when his small sailboat had capsized on a calm day, under questionable circumstances. But I was able to prove nothing.
    “My aunt and my cousin knew very little of the man involved with my mother. She had brought him to their house only once, for a visit of half an hour. The man had given his name as ‘Loy Tremaine’, and seemed considerably younger than my mother. She clearly doted upon him and had acted like a moonstruck girl. Tremaine sat stiffly, making no effort to hide his boredom. Neither my aunt nor my cousin found him agreeable, though they admitted that he was personable, even magnetically so. His hair, short, thick and black, clasped his head like a casque. His eyes were black, intense, a trifle too close together, beside a high-bridged nose. It was a face which, in the opinion of both my aunt and my cousin, indicated a self-centered willfulness, or even cruelty. Both noticed a small tattoo on his neck, just under