He walked to her, while she watched him with catlike wariness.
"Hand me that pistol," he ordered.
"Try to take it, you Vogarian ape!"
He moved, and a moment later she was sitting on the ground, her eyes wide with dismayed surprise as he shoved the pistol in his own belt.
"Resisting a Vogarian with a deadly weapon calls for the death penalty," he said. "I suppose you know what I can do?"
She got up, defiance like a blaze about her.
"I'll tell you what you can do—you can go to hell!"
The thought came to him that there might be considerable pleasure in laying her over his knee and raising some blisters where they would do her the most good. He regretfully dismissed the idea as too undignified for even a sub-ensign and asked:
"Who are you, and what are you doing here with that pistol?"
She hesitated, then answered with insolent coolness: