The guard at the hatch was such a one—an Earthman, long fled from his own home planet. Slouched at his post below the scarlet signal light, thumb hooked in belt, he stared bleakly off across Ceresta's port and puffed at a chang cigarette of Venus.
Jarl's footsteps echoed. The guard swung round.
The next instant he was whipping up his blaster. The cigarette fell from his lips, forgotten. "Jarl Corvett—!"
Jarl laughed, a cold and mirthless laugh, and raised his empty hands. "Put your blaster down. I've come to see Tas Karrel."
"He's not aboard." The Earthman's blaster did not waver.
"I know it. I'll wait."
The guard's brow furrowed. For a moment he stood hesitating, wordless.
Heedless of the menace in the cold blue eyes, Jarl brushed on past him. Chill arrogance in his stance, he strode down the echoing corridor to the crewmen's day-room.
A knot of lounging raiders looked up as he entered, then snatched for weapons. Again his name rang: "Jarl Corvett—!" "It's Corvett!"
And again Jarl laughed his reckless laugh. "That's right. It's Corvett."