The silence broke, then.
A thousand ways it broke: in the Whish! of a club, and the thud of a heavy blow landing; the quick scrape of feet, the blurred whir of fast movement. A curse and a clanking, a raw ring of metal.
Lor went down as a rock falls, blood spurting from a head-wound.
Eileen screamed.
And then, there was Krobis: tight-lipped, sharp-featured Krobis of the too-short legs and too-slicked black hair.
Guards crowding past him, he stood in the converter-room hatchway, and never had Boone seen such malice on any human face.
"So, you traitor!" Now Krobis was laughing. "I swore that I'd get you, and by Rega, I have!"
Boone stood wordless, gripped by sick numbness.
"Chelan, take that blaster!"
A guard shuffled forward.