"Nonsense."
The Venusian girl, who was serving as jetman had approached and was listening.
"It's hard to explain," she interrupted, her green eyes thoughtful. "I think we die, sir."
"What?"
"Yes, sir. I know it sounds ridiculous. You'll have to go through it first before you understand. It's not nice to think about. It's even less fun when it happens. The third, who was here before you, sir—he—he reformed."
"Reformed?"
"Yes, sir. He said he couldn't stand himself after the little death. He's running a mission in Venusport now."
Gavin cracked his knuckles thoughtfully. His gaunt freckled face was sober. He didn't question the pair further, but set to examining the machinery with minute care.
He found nothing until he reached the aft bulkhead. Then his pale blue eyes fell on a faint rectangular line in the rigid steel. A door. But there were neither knobs nor bolts nor any visible means of opening it.
"Look here, Fitz," he called the master mechanic to his side, pointed out the door. "Where does this lead?"