With an oath Campora jerked free and reached for his belt.
Before he could free his gun Lodar's heavy fist smashed into his jaw. The mate slammed against the wall, then sagged to the floor. "Dirty rat!" Lodar took his gun, then kicked him till he stirred.
"Next time you draw on me," he grated, "you go out the disposal chute!"
"That didn't solve anything." Ray stooped to help Campora up.
Probably Campora had brought the girl aboard, perhaps her presence would hang them, but the captain could have used more proper means of discipline. Instead he had deliberately goaded Campora to action. It was as if Lodar had to give physical vent to his rage like a caged animal slashing at the bars.
Then, as Lodar turned briefly his way, Ray thought he saw an appeal for understanding in the dark eyes that slowly lost their angry glare. A fleeting look of the trapped lion, but it was gone in an instant.
"Mind your own business," the captain said sourly. He turned to Campora and growled, "Go wash your face!"
Ray's lips tightened helplessly. After all, Lodar's word was law. It was the only way to run a spaceship on its vast journeying through emptiness. It was the only insurance against hysteria from taut nerves, the fear of space rays, and claustrophobia in the little metal world.
With a long breath he turned to the magnaflux and swung the detector beams. The magnatoid field would instantly react to anything within five units. There was no time lapse as with radar, a vital point when riding on a Benson Drive.