He had spotted it earlier in the day while loafing at the area spaceport. Sleek and small, he knew that it would be a fast job, and the stiff, military bearing of the officer who had been directing the provisioning and refueling had been the final tip-off that it was the ship he wanted.
Loafing outside the barrier fence, playing the part of an idly curious, no-good android, he had carefully entered the officer's mind. Ten minutes later, he was on his way, with the information that he needed.
The ship did carry a time warp unit.
It was not taking off until the next morning.
It would be guarded during the night.
Without a doubt, Sutton told himself, one of Trevor's ships, one of the fighting fleetships of the Revisionists.
It would take nerve, he knew, to steal the ship. Nerve and fast footwork and a readiness and the ability to kill.
Saunter out onto the field, as if he were waiting for an incoming ship, mingling with the crowd. Slip out of the crowd and walk across the field, acting as if he had a right to be there. Not run…walk. Run only if someone challenged him and made the challenge stick. Run then. Fight. Kill, if necessary. But get the ship.
Get the ship and pile on the speed to the limit of endurance, heading in a direction away from his destination, driving the ship for everything that was in it.
Two years out, or sooner if necessary, he would throw in the time unit, roll himself and the ship a couple of centuries into the past.