The rattle of chain hoists and hiss of arc welder echoed hollowly through the drifting ship. Even so, had it not been for the comforting hum of the auxiliary generator the silence would have been maddening.
Ray had avoided seeing the girl since the death of the Mutes. Probably she blamed him as much as the others for their murder, lumping him in a general category of black infamy. And how could he prove to her that he wasn't like Lodar, Campora, and the rest? Unless she could really sense thoughts, as she hinted. It seemed preposterous, yet she might have learned some such thing from the Mutes.
She might even know what Lodar was thinking! Ray grinned at that. Even now the captain was probably fuming like an angry bull.
He was eating a huge meal when Ray entered his cabin to give him a report. He continued to ladle vast quantities of hash while the young navigator outlined the progress of repairs. Finally he threw down his spoon and wiped his mouth.
"Those men are deliberately stalling on the job!" he snarled.
Ray didn't deny it. They'd both known it all along.
"If you'd change your mind about heading for Earth—" Ray stopped. The dishes jumped as Lodar banged the table.
"Give in to a bunch of lousy space scum?" Lodar glared. "I know what they're afraid of. Every one of them is a jailbird! But, by Jupiter, I'm running this ship!"
"No one is running the ship right now," Ray said coldly. "The Vulcan is falling faster every minute. Our distance from the sun—"
"I'll talk to the swabs!" Lodar's jaw bulged as he pushed away his chair. "I'll beat out their brains if I have to!" He jerked open the door, then stared out. "What do you want?"