Miles turned to the two cadets and waved his paralo-ray gun menacingly. "All right, you two. Get going!"
"Give us a few more minutes, Miles," said Tom. "We're so tired we can hardly move."
"Get up, I said," snarled the black-suited spaceman.
"I can't," whined Tom. "You'll have to give me a hand."
Miles pointed his gun straight at the young cadet. "All right. That means the big fella makes two trips and I freeze you right now."
"No, no!" cried Tom, jumping to his feet. "I can make it. Please don't freeze me again." Astro turned away to hide his smile.
Sneering his disgust at Tom's apparent fear, Miles prodded the cadets up the ladder. Tom went first, the heavy box digging into his shoulder. Astro followed, cursing the fog that prevented him from seeing where Miles stood below him so he could drop the heavy box on him.
Above them, Charles Brett watched them emerge out of the ammonia mist, ray gun held tightly in his hand. Tom climbed into the air lock safely and dropped the box on the edge of the platform, slumping to the deck beside it. Astro followed seconds later, and then Miles.
"Don't stop now," barked Miles. "Put those boxes below with the rest of them."
Tom got up slowly, leaning heavily on the outer edge of the precariously placed box. The box suddenly tilted and then slipped out of the air lock to disappear in the mist.