The spaceman's face turned a dusky red under his swarthy complexion. "All right, all right! If that's the way it is, that's the way we'll play it. But I'm warning you, Manning, stay away from me."
Strong glanced at his wrist chronograph. "You have five minutes before the blast-off, stand by." He shook hands with Roger. "Good luck, Roger, and be careful. And remember, Captain Miles has already proved himself a crackerjack spaceman. Don't interfere with him."
"Yes, sir," said Roger.
"Good luck, Miles," said Strong and offered his hand. Quent ignored it.
"Thanks for nothing," he sneered. "I know how much you want me to have."
"The best man wins," snapped Strong. He turned on his heels and left the black ship.
Quent Miles and Roger faced each other. "All right, Manning," said Miles after he had closed the air lock, "take your station. And remember I'm skipper of this ship."
"So what?" said Roger. "I'm still the monitor—!" He turned and swaggered away.
Miles watched him go, a crooked smile twisting his lips. "Make the most of it, Manning," he muttered under his breath.