It was then he heard the crashing blaster bolt beyond the ridge, off to his right, away from the Helgae city.
Again, his heart leaped. Blasters spoke for men, not Helgae—human help, here on Hyperion with him!
Lurching, stumbling, he dragged himself up the hill.
At last, the crest.
Below, the hull of a ramped Independent carrier, scarlet and silver, came into view.
Now strength surged through Boone. He broke into a staggering run, straight down the slope.
Only then, as he careened too fast past a brushy thicket, something thrust out between his flying feet. He spilled forward in a bruising, sliding fall.
A voice rasped, "Don't move! I've got you covered!"
Painfully, Boone twisted.
A man stood in the shadow of the thicket—a man with a blaster, a man who wore the blue-grey field outfit of an Interplanetary Cartels guard.