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. But I forgot to tell you the big prize."
"Which is?"
"Comes the real thing, we bet three desserts. After ifs over, you guess and we settle. Always bet more on real ones."
Mata sniffed. "Bud, are you trying to make him nervous?"
"Are you nervous, Thorby?"
"Nope!"
"Quit fretting, Sis. Got it firmly in your grubby little hands?"
"I relieve you, sir."
"Come on, Thorby; let's eat. Berry tarts -- aaah!"
Three days later the score stood even, but only because Thorby had missed most of his desserts. Sisu was enormously slowed, almost to planetary speeds, and Losian's sun loomed large on the screens. Thorby decided, with mildest regret, that his ability to fight would not be tested this jump.
Then the general alarm made him rear up against safety belts. Jeri had been talking; his head jerked around, he looked at displays, and his hands moved to his controls. "Get on it!" he yelped. "This one's real."
Thorby snapped out of shock and bent over his board. The analog globe was pouring data to them; the ballistic situation had built up. Good heavens, it was close! And matching in fast! How had anything moved in so close without being detected? Then he quit thinking and started investigating answers . . . no, not yet . . . before long though . . . could the bandit turn a little at that boost and reduce his approach? . . . try a projection at an assumed six gravities of turning
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