The Darkside Of The Sun

resistance,’ said Ways. ‘Damn.’ He sat down on the mat and took up the glass of wine. He smiled at them, and gestured with the stripper.
    ‘There must be a hundred more ships up there,’ he said. ‘Phnobic, drosk, Creap, Spooner, Pod. All watching this place and each other. How many planets in this system, Your Eminence?’
    ‘Since the First Sirian Bank shot out of his orbit and into interspace, I expect there are now six,’ said Ptarmigan.
    ‘Correct. The Bank is now in orbit forty million miles out beyond – what’s the name of your outermost world?’
    ‘Far Out,’ said Tarli.
    ‘So you see, everyone feels a burning interest in Dom’s moves during the next few days. Me too. The arrangements have been modified slightly. We are all going to Jokers World.’
    He waved them into silence. ‘Dom and I are lucky. He is protected – by the Jokers, it is believed – while my luck is genuine silicon-chip certain. However, I am afraid the rest of you aren’t lucky. Do I make my point? The terms “hostage” and “kill” are unsavoury, and therefore I will not use them …’
    A mechanical bat wheeled into the dusk as they trooped across the terrace. Ways’ little ship was there. It was small, small enough to have its shape dictated by the single matrix engine it contained. A saddle for the pilot and a frame for the auxiliary equipment were wrapped over the front of the coil, and landing gear was simply welded onto the engine housing. It was a machine for getting from place to place with the minimum of comfort and the maximum of efficiency – and it was fast. It had no name.
    Dom climbed into the saddle, closed the transparent housing and inspected the controls. Ways’ voice with its final instructions was muffled by the plastic.
    ‘Let us be quite clear. Should I lose contact with you, or should you make any improper move, I shall be forced to take steps. Wait for us in orbit.’
    The ship lifted smoothly. Once out of atmosphere Dom could survey most of the Tau Ceti system on the tiny scanner screen. The ships showed up as blue pinpoints. A long way out was something else – the scanner kept flickering from red to blue as the Class Two brain built into it tried to decide whether it was a ship or a world. As Dom watched, the blip disappeared. The Bank had ducked into interspace. Dom remembered seeing the huge matrix engine in one of the caverns. It wouldn’t take much to float a planet.
    Ten minutes later the Drunk With Infinity was a bright star over Laoth’s terminator. Ways had chosen a good ship. Dom set up the co-ordinates he had been given on the matrix computer and sighed.
    The jump was short, lasting barely half an hour subjective time. It ended in the middle of a fleet.
    Ways said: ‘Open up the communicator circuits.’
    He saw the main cabin of the Drunk , with the hostages standing mutely in the middle of the floor. Most were, at least. Joan I was being supported, and Isaac was sprawled on the floor.
    Ways walked into the field of view. ‘I’ve run into a little pocket of resistance,’ he said. ‘Don’t let that worry you.’
    ‘What’s the fleet for?’ said Dom.
    ‘Company. Who knows if we may have to fight, survey, or merely land on a dead world?’
    Dom laughed hysterically in the tiny cabin, and stopped only when he saw Ig cowering away on the control panel and gazing at him in wide-eyed terror.
    ‘You’re fools,’ he told the communicator. ‘You think I will lead you to a planet?’
    The scene of the Drunk flickered out, and another face looked at him. It was thin, topped off by a mop of black hair, and had unmistakably been born on Earth.
    ‘I am sorry about this,’ it said. ‘My name is Franz Asman, of the Joker Institute. This is our fleet. Ways is our tool.’
    ‘Earthman, eh?’ said Dom. ‘That means you don’t really think the threat of reprisals is enough to stop me running away. An Earthman would let his grandmother fry if he saw any personal profit in it.’
    ‘Sadhim preserve us from interworld animosity,’ said Asman wearily. ‘As a matter of fact, you know, I’ve been studying you for some time. There’s a staff of two hundred at the Institute who have been studying you for some time, too. We know exactly what you will do in any given situation, and in this one you won’t run.’
    ‘Studying me?’ Behind Asman’s head he could see vague figures, in front of a long panel covered with intricate patterns of coloured lines.
    ‘This is our