_Far out in limitless space, Valduma, queen of the voluptuous half-life, plied her deadly trade ... a Lorelei of the black void, beckoning adventurous spacemen to death and destruction with her beautiful siren lure._ Basil Donovan was drunk again. He sat near the open door of the Golden Planet, boots on the table, chair tilted back, one arm resting on the broad shoulder of Wocha, who sprawled on the floor beside him, the other hand clutching a tankard of ale. The tunic was open above his stained gray shirt, the battered cap was askew on his close-cropped blond hair, and his insignia--the stars of a captain and the silver leaves of an earl on Ansa--were tarnished. There was a deepening flush…
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