"Are there other passengers?" asked Winstead.
"No. Just checking to see if all my crew stayed. Always seems to be one that slides down the pipe before takeoff. Dunno why they sign on if they don't like the risk."
"What—what risk?"
"Didn't the Agency tell you? We've got nothing below here but tanks of concentrated landing fuel for the station on Gelbchen II. The idea makes some of them nervous now and then. They talk quiet, they walk quiet, and they wouldn't wear an orange suit."
He pulled open a door and nodded in gloomy satisfaction when the compartment proved to be empty.
"Is it dangerous?" asked Winstead.
The spacer gnawed upon a very short thumbnail. "What's dangerous?" he retorted at last. "You can get killed any day under a downcoming aircar."
Winstead considered. "Where's the captain?" he inquired.
"I'm the captain."