With Diane grasping his arm, Carl started down the long corridor of packing cases toward the open lock-door.
"I'm sorry it turned out this way," he said. "As soon as we ready the ship I'll go back and talk to them again. Maybe they'll change their minds."
Diane didn't answer. Instead she turned a last backward glance toward her father. It was a long glance. Too long. He was aware of her steel-tipped fingers digging into the sleeve of his jumper. He wheeled. Ten feet away, standing in a niche between the wooden cases, was a man. He wore a regulation space jumper and helmet, and was regarding them curiously over the barrel of a Westinghouse-chain-rifle. The man spoke:
"I'm interrupting something, I hope," he said evenly.
The man was Paul Spero.
Carl eyed the man warily. Diane choked out a heavy gasp.
"You should have killed me back in the ship like I suggested," Spero said smugly. "Now I'm going to have to kill you instead."
Carl flicked a quick look at Diane. "What about her? Are you planning to kill her too?"
The overhead light sparkled briefly across the rifle barrel as Spero snapped the weapon to his shoulder. Across the sights he said: "Diane will stay here with me. That's the way I planned it and that's how it'll be."
"I know I'm interfering with your plans," Carl said with mock-concern, "but I don't think she is. Not unless she wants to of course."