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The sportster pilot approached, the indignation on his face changing to bewilderment, then dismay as he noted Morely's insignia and the attitude of the two men who faced him. Morely turned to the guard. "Get me his name, identification number, and the name of his leader." "Yes, sir." The guard turned to the man, who grimaced a little with pain as he slowly put a hand in his pocket.
A klaxon was sounding, and warning lights flashed from the landing slot, to warn ships away from an attempted landing. It would be a long time before the shiny, new sportster would be in condition to sweep into another parking area.
He signaled another guard, then pointed toward Morely's ship, and to the landing slot. "I can go with you now." The two went down in the elevator and walked over to the wrecked sportster. A slender man was crawling from a door. When the man was clear of his ship, Morely beckoned. "Over here, Fellow," he commanded.
Scant feet from ground surface, the sportster pilot flicked his pitch control and pulled his throttle out for the brief burst of power which would allow him to drop gently to the landing platform. Morely grinned savagely as he saw the impellers below him change pitch and start to move faster.
He twisted his own impellers to full pitch and pulled out the throttle for a sudden, roaring surge of power, then swung the control column, jerking his ship up and away. As he steadied his heli and cut power, he looked down. The powerful downblast had completely upset the sportster pilot's calculations.
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