"Stop being noble. You're not known to be here—you might get away with it. Besides—"
The sound of an engine cut them off. From not too far away came the rapid sing-song of triple voices, and, following the chant, the irritated voice of Carolyn Niles: "Stop that, you imbeciles. Speak Terran!"
"Why?" came the insolent reply.
"Because I don't want to get into the habit of speaking out of turn. I did it once and you know what happened."
"I merely asked when we were taking off."
"As soon as we get aboard."
"Okay. Okay."
Farradyne nudged Norma with his elbow and whispered, "The cargo hold. We're pincered!"
He led her to the cargo hold and helped her down the service ladder. He followed, closing the door behind him; then, before he snapped out the dim lights, he reached up and removed one of them, saying, "I don't think we'll have an inspection, but if we do, one lamp missing will make a shadow that might help."
Huddled down in the corner of wall and floor, they sat with their feet pulled up beneath them, not daring to say a word. They waited in the dark silence, listening, and occasionally tensing when someone clumped past the wall outside or near the cargo hatch above their heads. There were voices and calls and running feet from time to time, and then the humming sound of the belt-conveyor.