"Guest of Miss Melvin, commander. And you?"
The officer indicated a paper. Barnard noted that his other hand remained close to his holster.
"We're impounding this ship. The Space Police can't be responsible for old wrecks endangering human life and limb on the spaceways."
"Very thoughtful of the Space Police all of a sudden," said Barnard.
There were two other patrolmen with Lansfer, he saw. Remish and a red-haired man he knew to be named Grady. His searching eyes picked out several shadowy figures lurking at corners of the field. He looked again at Lansfer.
"You have our word," he said, "that this ship is to be used only as living quarters by Miss Melvin."
Lansfer stared coolly up at him. "This court order calls for the Chicago to be delivered immediately into the custody of the sheriff and auctioned for scrap. You and Miss Melvin will leave it immediately."
Barnard nodded agreeably. "All right, commander. We'll leave—right now."
Lansfer relaxed. He was about two feet below Barnard, the platform being that high from the ground. Barnard reached out carefully with his foot and shoved. The spaceman flew backwards into Grady, and the two of them crashed to the frozen ground.
Barnard pulled the door swiftly. Lansfer was clawing for his gun and shouting for Remish to stop them. Remish's gloved fingers fumbled as he drew and the outer door was closed before he fired. Barnard grinned as the bullets bounced off the door. That hull was more than tough enough to handle all the bullets the Space Police could throw at it.