The Captain caught his thought immediately. “Strip. We can’t spare the time for modesty.” Matching action to word, she stepped out of her own uniform, the scant underclothing revealing an astonishingly well-proportioned figure, and climbed efficiently into her space suit.

Aton followed, still uncertain what was to be required. She did not leave him long in doubt.

“Our margin may be twenty minutes, but we can’t take the chance. We’ve got to move this cargo in Seven over to Eight, where the cooling mechanism is functioning. We’ll work together as long as possible; then I’ll cover you with the hydrant. Don’t waste any time at all, but don’t shake up the caskets any more than necessary. Let’s get to work.”

“Cover me with the—what’s in that hold?”

She picked up one of the boxes and marched out of the room. “Turlingian Aphids.”

The box in his hands quivered as her meaning sank in. The Taphids! The eaters of spaceships!

Captain Moyne explained the situation in snatches as they worked. “They’re insects, grubs. Considered a delicacy on a number of planets. Have to be shipped live, but the low temperature keeps them in hibernation. When it warms, they begin feeding. First their own casing, then the cargo. Then anything else, including the crew. Can’t stop them; they’ll bore through metal, in time. Have to keep them cold and quiet. Clock’s at 13 now. We can’t bail out.”

That was a considerable understatement. It was not physically possible to leave a ship traveling beyond the speed of light. The outside universe simply did not exist for it. Five hours deceleration could drop them into sublight—if the hunger of the Taphids could wait that long. And the economic and political consequences—

“Is this a legal cargo?”

“Don’t be naïve. Why do you think I sent for you?”

Why, indeed. The Captain, it appeared, was a ruthless businesswoman. Strictly speaking, no interstellar commerce could be considered illegal, since no planet could enforce its laws beyond its immediate sphere of influence and no jurisprudence existed formally on a larger scale. But a certain body of common law had grown up and gained steadily in power, and individual policies were similar enough to encourage travel and trade, particularly among those planets that took pride in reputation. Sector law and the sector police force existed in name only; the idea of such power alarmed the fiercely independent colonies far more than that of criminal behavior.

But violation of the common-law code was apt to blacklist the offender on many prosperous worlds. No merchant ship could afford that. The Captain had reason for secrecy.

Half the caskets were moved without event. Then it began. The box Aton was carrying bulged. Pinpricks speckled the surface, then nail holes. His heavy gloves transmitted unmistakable motion from within; then horny white maggots spewed out. The Taphid menace had awakened.