Ross' eyes fanned the room, then fixed on the old-fashioned fire-tube hatch set into the wall in one corner. Dragging Veta across to it bodily, he wrenched it open, stuffed her in, and let her drop, then hastily followed suit himself as the voice in the hall rose even more belligerently.
The tube discharged them into a narrow, litter-choked court between the building's wings. Veta slung over his shoulder like a sack of meal, Ross ducked into the nearest entryway.
The niche sheltered the doors to two apartments. The sound of a man and woman arguing violently pulsed from one; from the other, silence.
Now a shout rose on one of the building's upper levels: a man's angry bellow, echoing and reechoing as it bounced back and forth across the narrow court. Veta moaned and moved her head groggily.
A trickle of sweat rilled from Ross' hairline. Stepping close to the door of the silent apartment, he tried the knob.
The door was locked.
Overhead, another shout. Then, from the court's ground level, a harsh rattle of answer.
Ross stepped back fast, eyes distending. Lifting a foot, he smashed a battering-ram kick at the door's lock.
The door burst open. Dodging past it as it swung back, Ross heeled it shut behind him. He was breathing hard, and another rill of sweat had joined the first.
Prowling through the empty apartment now, Veta still slung limp over his shoulder, Ross jerked back storage area sealers until, after half-a-dozen tries, he came upon and dragged out a heavy, shapeless space-sack of the type used by cruiser crewmen.