"Heads," I said clearly.
"Son of a space cook," he said loudly. "You deal."
I glanced at Vechi casually, as though satisfying myself that he didn't want to be disturbed. He was looking at us over his book. He smiled, I thought, in a superior way.
"Want to lose some money?" I called to Deborah.
"I've got some change," she said, sitting up.
And so we commenced to play stud king on a cleared-off space on the floor. Between the laughs we got in a lot of conversation.
We figured we had time. The trip to Ul took four hours and we were only half-way there. If Vechi was up to something it would probably involve a "forced" landing somewhere just outside of Ul, away from the main rocket fleet. After all, what he wanted was in Ul.
If the pilots and Raeburn were in on the deal with him—and they had to be—we were badly outnumbered. Our only chance was not in waiting but in somehow getting control of the Starfish while it was still aloft. And of contacting the lead ship for help.
Deborah was scared. And I was glad she was scared. And I was glad she didn't turn up a single, bright idea for our salvation. Except that she would have to tell Madame Pundra about this development.