His short-sighted squint measured the young navigator.
"Get out!" Ray clenched his fist. "All of you, except Williams, get out!" He waited as they filed past him with sullen looks, then he turned into the engine room.
McVane was sitting at his little desk, drowsing in the warm, oily air. He roused at Ray's tread and absently closed a lower drawer before he turned. Hiding his bottle! The man would drink himself to death!
"The girl is in your cabin," Ray said shortly.
"Good." McVane's eyes were bleary and, for a moment, pity closed in on Ray. After all, he had no right to condemn the little engineer for his weakness—his whole family wiped out.
"What do you know about these Mutes?" he asked more gently.
"They can't talk." McVane drew into himself. "Go ask the girl if you want to know!" His hand trembled toward the lower drawer.
Disgusted, Ray turned away. The whole crew wore an armor plate of callous indifference! It was like no ship Ray had ever flown. Muttering, he climbed back to the main deck, to McVane's cabin.
The girl was sitting on a bunk, combing her hair with angry sweeps. She gave him one hot glance, then ignored him completely.
"Look," he began, "I'm as anxious to get you out of here as you are. I don't want to see you—hurt—"