Wilding led his picked crew of twenty cut-throats aboard. He was not especially surprised to find the control cabin occupied.
Tichron sat easily in the pilot's chair, his blaster gun aimed steadily at Amyth who curled up like a sullen cat in the navigator's seat.
"I go, or the girl doesn't," said Tichron.
Wilding laughed at him. "You're a little previous. This is just a dry run. We're seizing the supply ship and coming back for the rest."
"So I've heard. Well, I'm going with you to make sure that you do come back."
"Amyth is not going this trip. None of the women. So you might hold your gun on me and let the girl get outside. We're wasting time, and I want to be sure of intercepting the supply ship long before it sights the beacon."
Tichron obliged by shifting his aim to Wilding. Amyth slipped silently through the airlock and dropped to the ground.
"Shall I take him now?" Grouth asked, edging toward Tichron who seemed unembarrassed by two possible targets instead of one.
"Don't move," ordered Wilding. To Tichron he said, "You can put the gun down now, or go on holding it. But your arm will be pretty numb by the time we hit the supply ship."
"Do I go with you?" demanded Tichron.