"What is all this, Hamlin?" the mate demanded.
Coran had taken time to study the identification files on all the Aphrodite's officers at headquarters before coming aboard. He recognized the three officers instantly as Harriman, first mate—Hamlin, the purser—and Nalson, the navigator or astronaut—but was careful not to give himself away.
"I heard a sound in the captain's office, and when I came in to investigate, I found him," Hamlin explained. "The captain's been murdered."
Mate Harriman looked Coran up and down. "Where's the gun?" he asked.
"How should I know? I just came in a minute ago. He was like this when I got here."
Harriman drove a fist into Coran's mouth. "Come now, you don't expect us to believe a yarn like that. Where is that gun?"
Coran spat blood from his mangled lips. "I don't know anything about it. The purser can tell you why I wanted to see the captain."
Hamlin spoke up. "I told him to wait till we were out in space," he snapped. "He said he wanted to check the passenger list."
"I demand to see the first mate," Coran said.
The words seemed to recall Harriman to his duties. "I am the first mate," he said. "I haven't time to bother with you now. I'll take care of you later. Throw him in the cells till we get out in space. I'll have to take over for the Old Man."