"Hold it here," Waverill said.
Letting the ship move ahead on automatic, Murdoch turned in pretended surprise. "What...."
Waverill had a heat gun trained steadily on him. "I'll give you the course."
Murdoch casually reached down beside the pilot's chair. A compartment opened under his fingers, and he lifted a gun of his own.
Waverill's mouth went tight as he squeezed the trigger. Nothing happened. Waverill glanced at the weapon. Rage moved across his face. He hoisted the gun as if to throw it, then stopped as Murdoch lifted his own gun a little higher.
"You got to them," Waverill said flatly.
"The ones that did the remodeling job on this crate and hid that gun for you? Of course. Did you think you were playing with an idiot?"
"I could have sworn they were beyond reach."