Durk's mouth was bitter as an alligator's. "We're going down!"
Rawson strolled away whistling and grinning inwardly.
The rockets pounded as they were adjusted for the landing. It was a fairly simple job and Rawson knew Durk could handle it.
From the port in his cabin Rawson saw the Star Flight settle on a reef between a dark and forbidding pool and a swampy morass. Beyond was white, hilly sand.
Rawson turned sharply, on guard, as he heard heavy steps clump into his cabin. Durk and six of the crew.
"Well, Mr. Smarty, we got you now!" Durk's hoarse voice bellowed in triumph. "Yore under arrest!"
Rawson's muscles rippled and his blue eyes cracked with electric sparks. "Arrest?"
"Yeah! Not bein' in command in an emergency! Put him in irons, boys!"
Todd Rawson looked at the faces of the crew. By the tough lines about their eyes, by the grime in their skins, they showed that they were one with the underofficer—veterans of the spaceways who bowed only to experience and strength.
"This is mutiny. You know that, Mr. Durk!"