"The ship leaves in eleven hours."
"Eleven hours," Rodney repeated. "Eleven hours!" He reached out for the switch again. Martin swore, stepped forward, pulled him back roughly.
He directed his flashlight at Rodney's thin, pale face. "What do you think you're doing?"
"We have to find out what all this stuff's for!"
"Going at it blindly, we'd probably execute ourselves."
"We've got to—"
"No!" Then, more quietly—"We still have eleven hours to find a way out."
"Ten hours and forty-five minutes," Wass disagreed softly. "Minus the time it takes us to get to the lifeboat, fly to the ship, land, stow it, get ourselves aboard, and get the big ship away from the planet. And Captain Morgan can't wait for us, Martin."
"You too, Wass?"
"Up to the point of accuracy, yes."