Brad faced Rimov.
"We'll be on our way. Back to the air lock."
Brad was relieved. They would soon be in the utility, heading back to the Dragon, the job done. Even Scarf could not fault them. Scarf's report might even work to the Sentinel's advantage.
Rimov took the lead. The deckhands seemed less tense. They sensed that Rimov was impressed by Kumiko's professionalism, and they, too, had observed the consideration that Kumiko had shown for the ship's equipment. She was obviously not a crowbar techie.
They moved toward the air lock single file, Rimov in the lead, Brad, Kumiko and Scarf following, and the four deckhands, two abreast, in the rear.
Rounding a corner, they stopped. Ahead, three men crouched, laser-rifles at their shoulders aimed at them.
"Rimov, and you guys in the rear, outta the way.
We're puttin' these bastards down."
The order came from a short, blond-haired buck, eyes glaring above his gunfight.
"Wait," Rimov screamed. "What's the hell's goin' on, Cordy? These guys got safe conduct from Bura."
"I don't buy that, Rimov. We got the word down below that the ship's bein' taken over by Narval's goons. We're gonna stop 'em. Come for'ard, I'm tellin' ya. They're goin' down, right now. Get ready, Joe, Pete."