He almost hit Lieutenant Keku. The big Hawaiian had leaped to his feet and landed a hard punch on Vaneski’s nose. At the same time, Jeffers and von Liegnitz had jumped up and grabbed at Vaneski, who was between them.
Black Bart had simply stood up fast, drawn his stun gun, and fired at the young officer.
Ensign Vaneski collapsed on the table. He’d been slugged four times and hit with a stun beam in the space of half a second. He looked, somehow, very young and very boyish and very innocent.
Dr. Fitzhugh, who had stood up during the brief altercation, sat down slowly and picked up his cup of coffee. But his eyes didn’t leave the unconscious man sprawled across the table. “How could you be so sure, Commander? About his actions, I mean. About his childishness.”
“A lot of things. The way he played poker. The way he played bridge. He never took the unexpected into account.”
“But why should he want to kill you here on the ship?” Fitzhugh asked. “Why not wait until you got back to Earth, where he’d have a better chance?”
“I think he was afraid I already knew who he was—or would find out very quickly. Besides, he had already tried to kill me once, back on Earth.”
Leda Crannon looked blank. “When was that, Mike?”
“In New York. Before I ever met him. I was responsible for the arrest of a teen-age brother and sister named Larchmont. The detective in the case told me that they had an older half brother—that their mother had been married before. But he didn’t mention the name, and I never thought to ask him.
“Very shortly after the Larchmont kids were arrested, Vaneski and another young punk climbed up into the tower of the cathedral across from my office and launched a cyanide-filled explosive rocket into my rooms. I was lucky to get away.