He leaped up as Boone came through the door--face stiff, nostrils flaring. Then: "Boone--!" "That's right." Boone heeled the door shut behind him. "You're a hard man to see these days, Krobis. This time I couldn't wait." Krobis straightened slowly, a small, sharp-featured man with too-short legs. Twin spots of color came to mark his cheekbones, and his black eyes grew hard and shiny. "I don't believe I understand you, Boone." Boone laughed, harsh and bitter. "You understand, all right." He strode forward. "That's why you gave orders to the guards to keep me away from you and off the ramp." "So--?" This out of a thin-lipped, mask-like face. "So Eileen Rey doesn't take the Titan run." Boone gestured with the gun. "Let's go, Krobis." "You realize what you're doing, of course, Boone?" A raw, raging edge crept into Krobis' voice. "You know that this finishes you with IC? That as soon as my report goes in, it's the end of your career?" Deliberately, Boone spun the nerve-gun's dial to the lethal output point. "Time's too short for talk, Krobis. We're going out to the ramp. You and me, together." Again, Krobis' nostrils flared. His shoulders drew in. His head thrust a fraction forward. Boone tightened his finger on the nerve-gun's trigger. "Try it, Krobis. Just try it." Silence. Long, aching seconds of silence. Then, slowly, Krobis' head came up. He made a business of smoothing his sleek black hair and came around the desk, walking with the peculiar, waddling stride that came of trying to stretch his too-short legs farther than they were meant to go. He hadn't done quite a good enough job on his hairline, either, Boone noted. Tiny beads of sweat still showed at the roots. "Well, Boone?" Krobis carved the words out of ice. Stripping a coat from the rack, Boone draped it over his arm to hide the gun, then fell in at Krobis' left, not quite abreast him. In silence, they went through the anteroom where the stunned guard lay and on out of the administration building. Again, the ramp gate loomed.
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