Gavin's eyes flashed upward. He saw a man's head, shoulder and arm
through the circular ladder well. The man seemed to be lying on the
deck above covering him through the opening with a dart-gun. Gavin
dropped his own automatic.
"Take your hand off that lever!" the man snapped.
Gavin flicked his eye to the gauge. The last of the fuel was flowing
from the tanks. He released the lever, straightened his shoulders.
Let them do what they pleased to him now, he thought, they were too
late. The _Nova_ was grounded!
The second man descended the ladder and the pair of them regarded him
curiously. They were both big men, Terrans in baggy outer garments like
the guard whose skull Gavin had cracked.
"Who the hell are you?" asked the first man in a flat voice.
These men were bad. They didn't play at it. They didn't try to be. It
was etched in their cold eyes and tight mouths.