"We might as well try it now," he told the Jovian in low tones. "The ship seems quiet."
"I'll do my best to make as little noise as possible," Holk Or muttered. "Are you ready?"
The Jovian's big hands grasped the knob of the door. Kenniston crouched a little behind him, every muscle tense.
Holk Or suddenly put all his gigantically magnified strength into a tremendous tug at the door. Its bolt snapped with a crack like that of a pistolshot, and it swung wide open.
The man on guard outside turned startledly, his hand darting to the atom-gun at his belt and his mouth open to yell. But Kenniston had launched himself like a human projectile as the door was torn open.
Kenniston's fist smashed the space-sailor's chin and the man sagged limp and unconscious with no chance to utter the cry on his lips. Hastily, Kenniston took his atom-pistol and eased him to the floor.
He and Holk Or listened tensely. The single sharp crack of the snapping bolt had apparently aroused no one. The ship was silent. All aboard were sleeping exhaustedly.
"Come on," Kenniston murmured tensely to the Jovian. "We've got to hurry to get to Dark's camp before night is over."
Holk Or chuckled. "The chief will welcome us with open arms when he learns we've got the equipment here for him."
Kenniston gripped the atom-pistol as they stole through the dark ship and out of the space-door. Outside, they paused in the darkness.