Wearily, Boone turned and stumbled down the slope through the brush towards the ramped carrier.
But for all despair, fatigue, a spark still burned within him.
Krobis must not win! He must not!
Ahead, the ground fell away more sharply; and there were trees and bushes, saplings.
With cold deliberation, Boone tripped—pitched forward—let himself fall headlong.
But as he fell, he caught the limb of a slender treelet.
It bent almost double.
Prone now, Boone clung to it.
The guard ran to him, blaster ready. "Get up, you!" Face a mask of wary menace, he stepped closer.
Too close.