"Hmm-m," Gramps mumbled.
"Maybe," Clair said. "Maybe. And that ship, Jerry, it was too big. Much too big to be one of the family ships. One of those long, tapering, narrow-finned cruisers, brand new."
I was trying to digest this latest bit of information, when Clair popped her helmet back on her head and ran for the airlock. I called to her, but she couldn't hear me—she was going to see just who our visitors were.
"Fiery young thing!" Gramps snorted, but I hardly heard him. I zipped myself inside my suit as fast as I could and started to run for the lock. Only I didn't. I flew. I had forgotten to snap on the grav-plates, and once again I had that agonizing sensation of floating groundward.
I made it, cursing, then I tore through the lock, in record time. When I reached the Karden, Clair came darting around its other side and ran toward me, out of breath, half stumbling. We got back inside the dome, and I said:
"Well?"
"Oh, Jerry. Jerry!"
"What is it, hon?" Clair got excited easily, but not this way.
"Some men were out of the ship and I hailed them. Someone shot at me—"
"What?"