"What did I do?"
"Don't ask me. This is just a job, but I'm sure they'll let you know." The man was snickering.
Ker-jon pulled his arm free. "Well, you tell me where to report; I'll go later."
"You promise?" said the man with the gun, smiling vapidly.
"Yes."
"That's good! He promises. Come on now!"
Ker-jon grunted, relaxed. The man's gun-hand wavered, only for a moment, but it was enough. Ker-jon swung his right fist up and felt his knuckles bruise against the man's jaw. Without waiting to see the effects, he darted for the 'ponics door and inserted his key.
Something crashed against his legs, behind the knees, and he stumbled against the door, striking his head sharply. When he came away he found himself reeling dizzily on hands and knees. The man who had tackled him scrambled off the floor first, waited while Ker-jon clambered half-way up. A heavy boot exploded against his face, then seemed to explode all over again inside his skull. He fell flat on his stomach, hands clawing at the floor feebly.
He got up groggily, felt the caked blood stiffening the skin of his face. His wrist-chronometer's dial marked off eleven hours and thirty minutes!