With that, Lee made a sudden, frantic break for the door. He dived headlong into Feth, and for a few seconds there was a nightmarish swirling of legs and tentacles. Ken stood by, but his assistance was not needed. The pilot suddenly rolled back almost to his control board, tentacles lashing madly; but when he regained his feet, he did not seem eager to renew the struggle.
“If I’d only had—”
“Yes — it would have been very nice if Drai had let anyone but himself carry a gun. The fact is, he doesn’t; and you haven’t too much time. How about it?” Feth emphasized his words by turning up the control room thermostat, which was within his reach.
The pilot gave in. If any shred of doubt about Ken’s truthfulness remained in his mind, he did not dare gamble on it — he had seen drug addicts other than Feth, and remembered some harrowing details.
“All right — take it away!” he gasped. “I’ll do whatever you want!”
Without comment Ken picked up both ends of the sling and carried the now much lighter bundle back toward the air lock. He was back in two or three minutes.
“Made it!” he said. “I was wondering if it might not boil through before I got there — you held out longer than I thought you would, Lee. However, the air is clear after all. I may mention that that particular block is the top one in my little refrigerator, and it will take remarkably little time to bring it into action.
“Well, let’s make plans. I’d rather like to arrest our friend Drai, but I don’t quite see how we’re to go about it. Any ideas?”
“Arrest him?” A faint smile suddenly appeared on Feth’s face.
“Yes. I’m afraid I’m some sort of deputy narcotics investigator — not that I asked for the job, and certainly I’m not a very efficient one. Maybe I ought to swear you in, too, Feth — I guess I can do it legally.”