The level in the gauge dropped tantalizingly slowly, as the liquid fuel bubbled out of the tanks onto the surface of Jupiter to saturate the soil. It was still a half-inch from the empty symbol when he heard voices.
Someone was descending the ladder into the engine room.
Gavin's jaw set; his lips thinned. With his left hand he drew his dart-gun, but he didn't release the dumping lever. The gauge showed a three-eighths of an inch, then a quarter. A pair of boots descended into his range of vision followed by the legs and waist of a man.
The man reached the deck, faced around and stared at the T.I.S. agent in astonishment. "Don't move!" began Gavin.
Another voice from up the ladder barked "Drop that gun!"
Gavin's eyes flashed upward. He saw a man's head, shoulder and arm through the circular ladder well. The man seemed to be lying on the deck above covering him through the opening with a dart-gun. Gavin dropped his own automatic.
"Take your hand off that lever!" the man snapped.
Gavin flicked his eye to the gauge. The last of the fuel was flowing from the tanks. He released the lever, straightened his shoulders.
Let them do what they pleased to him now, he thought, they were too late. The Nova was grounded!
The second man descended the ladder and the pair of them regarded him curiously. They were both big men, Terrans in baggy outer garments like the guard whose skull Gavin had cracked.