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sufficient reason to break an international treaty. Like it or not, I was little more than an illegal immigrant who’d managed to con my way aboard the Lee , my former rank as a UA officer notwithstanding. If I’d been carrying top-secret documents, the situation might have been different; Tereshkova might have been willing to go to bat for me. But I had nothing but the clothes on my back and a sunny smile, and neither of them cut much ice with her. Nor could I blame her. She had rules by which she had to play, and I was just some schmuck lucky enough to get to third base on a bunt.
    But this was just the end of an inning. The game wasn’t over yet.
    We left the bridge and started down the ladder to the lower decks, Mr. Heflin in front of me and the warrant officer bringing up the rear. The steps were narrow; Heflin had his right hand on the railing, and I was willing to bet that the warrant officer was doing the same. And both of them were relaxed. After all, I’d been a perfect gentleman about this whole thing, giving no one any trouble at all.
    I waited until we were about three steps from Deck Two, then I quickened my pace just a little bit. Not enough to alarm the warrant officer, but enough to put me within range of Mr. Heflin. Hearing me come closer, he started to turn to see what I was doing…and then I gripped the rail with my right hand and shoved my right foot against the ankle of his left foot.
    Heflin tripped and sprawled forward, falling the rest of the way down the ladder. He hadn’t yet hit the deck when, still holding the rail tight with my right hand, I threw my left elbow back as hard as I could.
    Just as I hoped, I caught the warrant officer square in the chest. He grunted and doubled over, and I twisted around, grabbed hold of his collar, and slammed him against the railing hard enough to knock the wind from his lungs. Gasping for air, he started to fall against me. I let him go and jumped forward, landing on the deck next to Heflin.
    By then, the chief petty officer realized what was happening. Raising himself on one elbow, he started to make a grab for me. I hated to do it—he seemed like a pretty decent chap, really—but I kicked him in the head, and down he went.
    The warrant officer was beginning to recover. Still on the ladder, he clutched the rail as he sought to regain his feet. I snatched the stunner from his holster before he could get to it, though, and there was the awful look of someone who’d just screwed up when I shot him with his own weapon. He tumbled the rest of the way down the steps, landing almost on top of Heflin.
    Hearing a gasp behind me, I looked around to see Ms. Fawcett standing in the hatch leading to the passenger section. For some reason, I didn’t have the heart to shoot her even though she posed a threat to my getaway.
    â€œThanks for the drinks,” I said, and then I dove down the ladder to Deck One.
    Just as I figured, the lifeboat bays were located directly beneath the passenger section, where they would be easily accessible in case of an emergency. The hatches were on either side of a narrow passageway, tilted downward at a forty-five-degree angle. I was halfway to the nearest one when someone—Ms. Fawcett, no doubt—hit the panic button.
    Red lights along the ceiling began to flash as a loud barrruuggah-barrruuggah came over the speakers. A crewman darted through a hatch at the opposite end of the corridor. He saw me, and his mouth dropped open, but by then I’d grabbed the panel above the lifeboat hatch, wrenched it open, tossed it aside, and found the lock-lever within. A quick yank to the left, and the hatch opened with a hiss of escaping pressure. I jumped into the boat, then turned around and shut the hatch behind me.
    No time for the niceties of strapping myself down or making sure that all systems were active. Any second now, either Ms. Fawcett or the crewman who’d seen me would be telling the bridge