the aircar which had brought the assassins.

"Barth!" Vall called. "Have you a hypodermic and a sleep-drug ampoule?
Well, give this boy a shot; he's only impact-stunned. Be careful of
him; he's important." He glanced around the landing-stage. "Fact is,
he's all we have to show for this business."

Then he stooped to help Dalla gather her things, picking up a few of
them--a lighter, a tiny crystal perfume flask, miraculously unbroken,
a face-powder box which had sprung open and spilled half its contents.
He handed them to her, while Sothran Barth bent over the prisoner and
gave him an injection, then went to the body of the other
pseudo-policeman, forcing open his mouth. In his cheek, still
unbroken, was a second capsule, which he added to the first. Tortha
Karf was watching him.

"Same gang that killed that Carera slaver on Esaron Sector?" he asked.
"Of course, exactly the same general procedure. Let's have a look at
the other one."

The man in Proletarian dress must have had his capsule between his
molars when he had been killed; it was broken, and there was a
brownish discoloration and chemical odor in his mouth.

"Second time we've had a witness killed off under our noses," Tortha
Karf said. "We're going to have to smarten up in a hurry."

"Here's one of us who doesn't have to, much," Vall said, nodding
toward Dalla. "She knocked a needler out of one man's hand, and we
took him alive. The Force owes her a new shoulder-bag: she spoiled