I think you've realized that by now, Albrekt. That's why you won't kill us."

Albrekt was eating a meal at the table in the living quarters, his heat gun lying beside his hand. The others were seated on bunks across the room. Since the only necessity was to protect himself and keep the others out of the control room, he had discontinued the practice of making the crew go below while he ate. Despite the atmosphere of enmity, the conversation and companionship filled a need he was beginning to recognize more keenly.

"That's true," answered Albrekt agreeably. "For that and other reasons, I won't kill you unless I'm forced to."

"But there's nothing to prevent our killing you and retaking the ship," reminded Carrel.

"Nothing but this." Albrekt laid his hand on his heat gun.

"As a matter of fact, I don't want to kill you, Albrekt," said Carrel. "I want to capture you alive, and take you back to Mars. I imagine you have some information about Flanjo plans that would be pretty valuable to the council."

Albrekt laughed.

"I admire your courage, Carrel," he said. "But I've been in dangerous positions before, for longer periods than this. I don't intend to let my guard down."

Carrel apparently was blessed with iron self-control and Qoqol, like all Martians, habitually showed emotion in ways no Earthman could interpret. But Albrekt's practiced eye detected Migl's restlessness. When the crew's move came, two days later, Albrekt was ready for it.

As he had anticipated, it happened at mealtime. Albrekt was beginning to spend more time outside the control room, always keeping the others from getting between him and the hatch to higher decks, but mealtime was the logical time for his guard to be lax.

At some signal Albrekt failed to catch, Carrel and Qoqol launched themselves directly at him from opposite sides of the round room. Simultaneously, Migl drove through the air for the hatch to the upper decks.

Albrekt's muscles reacted like steel springs. Scooping up the heat gun, he dove across the table and twisted in the air as he floated swiftly between Carrel and Qoqol. Ignoring them for the moment, he trained the gun on the hatch to the navigation deck above and pressed the trigger. Migl had to grab the ladder 

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