ytor's car was waiting, and Ransome could sense the presence of the guards lurking in the dark, empty street.
"The spaceport," Ransome told his driver. "Fast."
He thought of the note he had given the crewman to deliver:
"Ra-sed would see his beloved a last time before he dies."
"Faster," Ransome grated, and the powerful car leapt forward into the night.
hips, like the men who drove them, came to Yaroto to die. Three quarters of the spaceport was a vast jungle of looming black shapes, most of them awaiting the breaker's hammer. Ransome dismissed the car and threaded his way through the deserted yards with the certainty of a man used to the ugly places of a hundred worlds.
Mytor had suggested the meeting place, a hulk larger than most, a cruiser once in the fleet of some forgotten power.