But there was nothing pleasant or sociable about the paragun in his hand. It stayed steady and unwavering.
"As I said, my dear Ross," Mawson murmured, gesturing with the weapon, "I'm taking over."
He pressed a button in the flying chair's control-arm as he spoke.
The seat plummeted down into the room.
CHAPTER VII
THIEVES' HONOR
It was one of those moments when everything happens at once. For as the grav-seat dropped, Cheng whipped up his gun, firing at Mawson.
Veta Hall screamed.
Ross lunged across the room towards girl and slaver.