When Woller's dead, his subconscious answered him. Until then you're not a man, Nolan. You're a weapon!
The skid was climbing, hugging the side of one of the vast foothills to Annihilation Range itself, a hundred-foot chasm on one side and the cliff on the other. Nolan watched the girl's hands for a sharp second, then relaxed. She knew what she was doing. Unerringly the skid split the center of the trail, following its many turns as though on a track. But—
A sudden high sound escaped her lips. Her foot trod hard on the back-jet pedal. The skid slewed crazily, its side crunching against the cliff as it halted.
"What the—" snarled Nolan, hand leaping to the concealed pyro he wore under his shirt. Then he saw.
Ahead of them was an immense rounded bulk, dome-shaped, black as the frozen night. A crawler ... but what a crawler! Its horny shell was half again the height of a man, filling the trail from cliff to chasm brink. There was no passing that beast. No wonder there had been no traffic from Avalon!
Mutely the girl turned to Nolan. He grinned sourly, then clambered into the heat suit he'd just put off.
He eyed the girl for a second. "I'm going to have to trust you. I have to get to Avalon, so I have to get this misbegotten monstrosity out of my way. And I have to leave the skid to do it. That gives you a fair, clear chance."
The girl shook her head. "I'll take you to Avalon. I owe you that much. But—but how—"
"Watch," Nolan said curtly, and climbed into the tank. Before he closed the door a thought struck him.
He poked his head out at her. "If anything should go wrong," he said, "and I find myself scattered all over that valley down there, you'd better stay put. Keep the crawler away with the brake jet. And wait for someone to come along. You're not the skidster to back this crate all the way down the trail, with just a brake jet."