The disposal chute was just forward of the rear jets. Gavin reached it unobserved, as far as he could see, and began to worm his way up the inside of the tube like a climber ascending a chimney. He reached the lock and got his shoulder beneath it. The lock had been designed to operate in space where the pressure inside the ship helped seal it. Now, aided by Jupiter's dense atmosphere, he succeeded in prying the lock up and scrambling into the trap.
Ten minutes later, he climbed out of the chute directly aft of the galley. The air was warm and light, bringing him the odor of cooking soup.
The passage was deserted.
Gavin slipped into the escape well which led from the engine room to the Nova's outer skin, clambered downward again. He stepped from the escape well softly into the engine room itself.
At first he thought it was deserted. Then he discovered a guard posted beside the sealed door in the aft bulkhead. Gavin had never seen him before. He was a big Terran in coarse outer garments. He was facing half away from the T.I.S. agent, holding a dart-gun.
Gavin slipped his fingers through his brass knucks. He edged cautiously from behind the Nova's cyclotron, crept up on the man with the stealth of a ferret. At the last moment, the fellow heard him and swung around.
Gavin clipped him behind his ear with the weight of his shoulder back of the blow. The guard's head banged against the steel bulkhead. He slipped nervelessly to a sitting posture, tumbled sideways. His breath bubbled with a rattling sound from his mouth. Then he stopped breathing.
Without bothering to check his pulse, Gavin turned to the control panel. The fuel gauge showed a comfortable surplus.
Ears straining to catch any untoward sound, he slowly pulled down the lever which dumped the fuel, watched the gauge with a growing tensity of nerves.