But it did not knock him out. Snarling, he came to his feet. Craig he ignored, the man who had slugged him was not important to him at this moment. Cursing, he started toward the open lock. Craig tackled him around the legs. The captain fell heavily. Craig rolled with him to the edge of the ramp, forced him over it. Both fell to the hard floor of the vast hangar. In obedience to the voice that had come over the intercom system, and which had sounded very much like the voice of Captain Martin, men were already pouring from the lock. Beside the ramp, Craig and Captain Martin fought viciously. In the captain's cabin, Nuoy heard the voice. He snapped open the communication line between this cabin and the control room. "What nonsense is this?" he shouted into the mike. "There is no way a dangerous condition can develop in the drive of these ships!" He was speaking the truth. Deep-space ships, all space ships, were hazard proof so far as the drive was concerned. He expected an evasive denial. "Of course no dangerous condition can develop," the voice from the control room answered. "Then what do you mean by making so stupid an announcement as this? What are you trying to do, delay my departure? I'll have you stripped of your rank for this piece of nonsense!" Wrath was in his voice. Before this wrath captains, generals, even the president of Earth Government, trembled. The voice coming from the control room did not tremble. "Aw, go buy a muzzle for your ugly face," it said, crisply. "Who in the hell do you think you're giving orders to, Dog-face?" Nuoy was utterly speechless. White with fury, he headed for the control room. He'd teach Captain Martin proper respect for his betters. Charging through the door of the control room, he found there a doddering old man whom he vaguely recognized as having seen around Pluto Station. The old man was sitting in the control chair, a monkey wrench in his hand. "Who the devil was that who was just speaking to me?" Nuoy demanded. "Why, I don't know, Mr. Nuoy. No one was speaking from here." Nuoy glared at him. His suspicions were aroused. "I believe you are lying to me. I believe you were the one who was talking to me like that. I'll have you know--" Nuoy advanced. While he explained what he was going to do, he thrust his head down until it was within a foot of the old man's face. Adam March slugged him with the monkey wrench. Nuoy went down without a sound. "That's why we call 'em monkey wrenches," March said, satisfaction in his voice. "They're made especially for use on monkeys like you!" Laying the wrench back on the arm of the chair, he ran his fingers over the complex system of controls in front of him. "Clear the ship, all hands!" his voice went out over the ship. Flipping over to listening, he caught the sound of fleeing footsteps. He smiled to himself. His orders were being obeyed. "Are all hands clear?" he shouted. "Anyone who is still in the ship, answer at once."