Once upon a time there was something redder than Cap Hanson's face. But it exploded. So did the skipper.
"Traitor!" he bellowed. "Why, you dirty, sneaking lowdown space viper! Selling us out, are you? I'll show you!"
And he made a dive for Señor Biggs. But Thaxton, interested now, stepped between them, forced the skipper back.
To Biggs he said, "Your proposition is not impossible, Lieutenant. But might I ask what you have to offer?"
Biggs said, "When your men board the Saturn, a long search awaits them, doesn't it? They'll have to comb the entire ship looking for the contraband."
Thaxton sniffed. "Thanks to your stupid friend, the radioman," he said, "we know the contraband is stored in the aft section of the ship."
"But there are many bins in the aft section," Biggs pleaded. "I can spare you the trouble of searching them all. I'll tell you which ones to look in—if you'll grant me full pardon. I—I might even be willing to accept service in your army."
"The Venusian army uses traitors," said Thaxton pointedly, "but it does not employ them. However, I think your suggestion has merit. It's a bargain, Biggs. And we might as well take care of that little matter right now. So if you'll just tell me the bin number—"
"I'll kill you, Biggs!" howled the skipper. "One more word and I'll cut out your heart and eat it for breakfast!"
But his words fell on deaf ears. For as if the syllables couldn't tumble past his lips fast enough, Biggs was blurting out,