A smuggler laughed openly, subsided when Curt spun toward him.
"I'm making no threats," Curt said finally. "But don't go looking for trouble. My men know where I am; they'll be looking for me. You can't afford to buck them."
Duke Ringo chuckled. "Don't be childish, Varga," he said. "Your men wouldn't have a chance in the tides; I only found out how to enter and get back, by accident. Play nice, and you won't get hurt. Try getting tough, and—" He spread expressive hands.
Curt took a stubborn step forward. "Listen, Ringo," he said earnestly, "my work is important; I've got to get back. I'll make a deal with you."
Jean pushed forward. "I'll double any bribe he offers you," she told Ringo, "if you keep him a prisoner for the IP. And I'll triple the reward, if you get me back to Earth within the next six days."
"Tsk, tsk, tsk!" Duke Ringo clucked his tongue. "Maybe I'll collect a reward bigger than you think—for turning both of you in later."
"How much ransom?" the Falcon said resignedly.
Duke Ringo pondered. "Not much," he admitted. "I just want to take over your base, your ships, your food-supply." He grinned, opened and shut his hands. "It looks as if I will."
Curt leaned forward, drove his right hand with every bit of strength in his rangy body. He forgot the issues at stake, in the blind rage of the moment; he thought only of his dreams he saw shattered beneath the grinding heel of the other's desire. He slashed with a desperate fury, and skin split on the knuckles of his hand.