The door of the hold opened. A voice ordered, "Dump those boxes in here, men."
They moved as if they had one mind, taking refuge behind the remnants of stores that were still in the hold. Directed by a member of the crew, a file of men entered, dumped their loads and trotted out.
"Grab a box," Craig whispered. "We'll walk out of here. If anybody questions us, we're stowing cargo."
Each carrying a box, no one challenged them.
"I want to go to the main control room," Adam whispered. "I've got an idea."
"Do you know the way?"
"Sure. Follow the ramps up." The old man moved with a sure stride toward an inclined runway. They followed. Again Craig was struck with the realization that Adam was very familiar with the ship. He led them upward as if he knew exactly where he was going.
The crew moved along the corridors, preparing the ship for flight. They seemed unperturbed by this sudden order to return to deep space. They paid no attention to the three Pluto Station people who were carrying boxes up the ramps.
No Sorodromes were in sight.