They looked around. The space was almost dark; the only light from widely spaced, low-power neutro-lamps. They were standing on a narrow platform, little more than a ledge, from which a catwalk bridged a complex of girders and cables. Brad mentally reconstructed their route before Cordy's challenge. The portal through which they boarded should be within fifty meters of where they crouched. Their lives depended on the catwalk passing close to it. Studying the arrangement of the structures around them and the coding on cable bundles, Brad peered along the catwalk, first in one direction, then the opposite. He looked at the open hatch and shouted down. "We demand safe conduct to our ship. Do you hear me?" Silence. Scarf shoved his face close to Brad. "Are you kiddin'?" he said, his tone expressing his disbelief. "I just killed one of their men. They're not gonna give us safe conduct anywhere." "I know that," Brad replied. "Even if they do promise us safe conduct, it'll be just to get at us. I want them to think we're going to hole up here until they give us an answer. Bura must know by now. We've got to get off before he personally takes charge of the search." Brad again scrutinized the ship's stringers and cable insulation colors. He pointed. "Stay close." They crossed stretches where ledges and walkways narrowed abruptly to barely enough for passage. Sharp projections along the way snagged and abraded their protective suits. They realized that they might face serious seepage from their suits as soon as they entered the vacuum of space. A sudden, raking fire erupted behind them. Metal frames around them darkened from the bolts of energy. Scarf jerked his weapon and returned the shots before Brad could stop him. The flash of his weapon provided the ideal target, and brought concentrated fire in return. Stooping and sliding, Brad and Kumiko stumbled forward. Scarf scrambled along behind, firing haphazardly to the rear. Scarf howled with sudden pain. Brad looked back. In the dim light, Scarf hung over a girder, motionless. Brad raced back to his side. A wide strip from sleeve and shoulder was burned away; blood oozed. Kumiko bent beside Brad. She yanked her glove off, reached in through the still smoking sleeve and felt for a pulse in Scarf's neck. "Alive." She stepped back. Brad, in the cramped space, hauled the unconscious Scarf upright, bent, and with Kumiko's help, lifted him on to Brad's back. Scarf's scream of pain had brought a pause to the firing. Grasping stanchions and cables for support, Brad staggered along the catwalk. "Hatch up ahead." "Might be it." Brad gasped. Even in the light pseudo-gravity, Scarf's bulk was hard to maneuver. "Take a peek." Kumiko was gone and back in an instant. "Looks clear." "No choice. Down you go. I'll drop him through." Kumiko dropped out of sight. Brad thrust Scarf through the hatch and followed. The drop was not deep.