VI
And then he decided that they weren't going to get away with it. His despair was giving way to a burning rage. He was trapped, and he knew it, and the very helplessness infuriated him. He had never been on a ship before, he knew nothing about controls, or lifeboats, or navigation, but he knew a little about engines. Properly treated, they would drive a space ship. Improperly treated, they could explode.
He knew it would mean his life, and he didn't care any more. He started back through the cabin to the hatchway at the rear. It was closed. He fell upon it savagely, struggling to throw it open.
"That won't do any good," a voice said behind him. "It's locked."
He whirled, staring at the black-haired girl as if she were a ghost. And then he began kicking at the hatch again. "I'll break it open, then," he snarled, "and if you don't like it, that's too bad—"
"Stop it!" The girl was upon him now, wrenching at his wrist. "Stop it, you silly fool, and listen to me for a minute—"
"I listened to you before, and you sold me out." He struggled to break away from her. "I don't know where you were hiding, but you sold me out. It was a great act, but it's over now, and now you can go with me—"
Then she said: "The ship will touch on Titan for an hour or more. You can leave it then, if you like."
His jaw sagged, and he stared at her, the fear and bitterness and despair giving way to confusion. "On—Titan?"