Grouth shook his head glumly. "Too late for that."
"Shall we tell the others?" asked Tiny. "No use of their wasting their labor now—"
"Not just yet," said Wilding. "Finish the loading. We may be able to bluff our way out."
"They'll be coming in after us soon," warned Concor. "Then it'll be a choice of surrender or being blasted out with atomic torpedoes."
Wilding sighed unhappily. "We'll surrender ... if it comes to that. But they won't try anything like that until they've tried to bargain with us for the hostages. Stall them along. When the ship is loaded, seal it up and take-off. We'll meet them in space and try to run a bluff with the hostages...."
"It won't work," prophesied Grouth gloomily. "You can't make a deal with the Security Patrol."
Privately Wilding agreed. But he said, "We can try."
The final processes of loading and stowing seemed to drag endlessly. At last it was accomplished and word given to close up the ship.
It was a grim and silent company in the control awaiting the blast-off. Grouth, Concor and Tiny were morose, already disheartened by the knowledge of defeat. Amyth and Elshar stood close to Wilding, both smiling enigmatically. He found their presence irritating, but said nothing. Only Tichron seemed untouched by the atmosphere of failure. He studied Wilding curiously, and even attempted to joke.