“Good heavens!” Crane cried.
He shot out of the cottage and with Umber hard at his heels, sprinted toward the shed. As he ran he could see the graceful nose of the spaceship within the core of heat, still looking cool and untouched. If only he could reach it before the flames softened its metal and started the rivets.
The workmen trotted up to him, grimy and panting. Crane gaped at them in a mixture of fury and bewilderment. “Hallmyer!” he shouted. “Hallmyer!”
Hallmyer pushed through the crowd. His eyes were wild and gleamed with triumph.
“Too bad,” he said. “I’m sorry, Stephen—”
“You swine!” Crane shouted. “You frightened old man!” He grasped Hallmyer by the lapels and shook him just once. Then he dropped him and started into the shed.
Hallmyer cried something and an instant later a body hurtled against Crane’s calves and spilled him to the ground. He lurched to his feet, fists swinging. Umber was alongside, growling over the roar of the flames. Crane smashed a man in the face, and saw him stagger back against a second. He lifted a knee in a vicious drive that sent the last man crumpling to the ground. Then he ducked his head and plunged into the shop.
The scorch felt cool at first, but when he reached the ladder and began mounting to the port, he screamed with the agony of his bums. Umber was howling at the foot of the ladder, and Crane realized that the dog could never escape from the rocket blasts. He reached down and hauled Umber into the ship.
Crane was reeling as he closed and locked the port. He retained consciousness barely long enough to settle himself in the spring hammock. Then instinct alone prompted his hands to reach out toward the control board. Instinct and the frenzied refusal to let his beautiful ship waste itself in the flames. He would fail— Yes. But he would fail, trying.
His fingers tripped the switches. The ship shuddered and roared. And blackness descended over him.