I pushed him back. “Careful!”
He was spluttering, and over it Miko’s sardonic laugh sounded. “Very well––but you will talk? Shall we argue about it?”
I stood up. “What do you want to say, Miko?”
Behind him the tall, thin figure of his sister showed. She was plucking at him. He turned violently.
“I won’t hurt him! Gregg Haljan––is this a truce? You will not shoot?” He was shielding Moa.
“No,” I called. “For a moment, no. A truce. What is it you want to say?”
I could hear the babble of passengers who were herded in the cabin with brigands guarding them. George Prince, bareheaded, but shrouded in his cloak, showed in a patch of light behind Moa. He looked my way and then retreated into the lounge archway.
Miko called, “You must yield. We want you, Haljan.”