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She glimpsed a vertical sliver of unoccupied hangar. The gas grenade came in from the top of the door, hitting the deck to her right as the lock rotated back, trapping her.
The image of her rearing up in fury, fangs bared, made Grant's stomach twist. Better to let her cool off for a while, he convinced himself. Ill see her tomorrow night-or maybe after the ship's gone.
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Bah. Better to die fighting. Still, I am no priest, and I should not tell a priest how to die. Each must do what each must do. That is the law, my son.
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Kinsman frowned in the darkness. Okay. Thanks for playing dumb. Not at all, Captain. Hope it isn't trouble. Yeah. Kinsman hung up. For a half-minute he sat on the edge of the king-size bed.
Good taste and a queasy stomach at the memory prevent me from going into detail on how the next half hour went. Suffice it to say that Kalvin abandoned me and hovered near the ceiling to watch and wait until I was done.
Roo hurried to a hatchway and half-jumped down the companionway to the lower deck. He ducked through a low door into the main cargo hold and saw crates and sacks lashed down along both sides of the hold.
Old Mrs. Mokkeh studied the feig with her narrow little eyes. May that hand drop off, she intoned in the same warm, low voice. May the fingers rot one by one and wither to the wrist.