She was interrupted by a sudden uproar in a fierce voice along the table. Thorn jumped up.
Old Stilicho Keene was standing, his rheumy eyes glaring with rage, his thin, bony hands trembling with passion as he faced the obese green Uranian, Jenk Cheerly.
"Say that again,” shrilled the old pirate to the Uranian, “and I'll blow your lying head off your pig's body!"
Jenk Cheerly's small eyes glittered with hate as he rose to face the enraged old Martian.
"I do say it again!” squeaked the obese Uranian. “I say it was your fault that we nearly got trapped by those League cruisers today! You said you spied out the freighters and tankers before they blasted from Jupiter. If you did, you would have been sure to see those tankers were disguised battle-cruisers. So you didn't do it. Or you knew about the trap, and led us right into it!"
Old Stilicho seemed to suffocate with his own passion. His bony figure was quivering, his wrinkled face livid.
"You're accusing me of treachery!” he shrilled. “Me, Stilicho Keene, that's rocketed with the Companions for fifty years! By space, Uranian, no man can—"
The old pirate's clawlike hand was darting toward the atom-pistol at his belt. Jenk Cheerly's fat hand flew toward his own weapon.
But Lana Cain sprang in between them. Her eyes were flaming with wrath.
"If you draw, I'll blast you both down” she flared. “You know our rule — no quarreling among ourselves!"