"When you found out," Vannevan said, "why didn't you report back to your superiors? You were free. I remember distinctly that you were free."
Birrel indicated Kara with a savage movement of his chin. "She talked me out of it, damn her. With a gun."
"So," said Vannevan, and smiled, and shook his head. "But she had no weapon. I myself had seen to that."
"She had one," Birrel said bitterly. "In the hopper. She told me there was another car hidden there for emergencies, and like a fool, I believed her. Instead there was that flying-thing, and she pulled a weapon from inside it. The next thing I knew I was aboard this ship, a prisoner. They were going to take me back to Ruun whether I wanted to go or not."
Kara spoke sullenly. "His people killed Rett. It was the least we could do."
"Listen," said Birrel, struggling angrily against the straps that held him. "I don't give a curse what quarrel you have between you. I don't care if you blow each other's worlds out of the sky. I'm an Earthman. I don't belong here. I—"
He looked around at the broken ship, at space gaping monstrously beyond the riven hull. It was not difficult for Birrel to let an expression of fear come into his face.
"I want to go back," he said.
Vannevan looked at him. "How badly?"
Birrel would not meet his eyes. He muttered, "Bad enough."