A guttural, animalistic sound burst from Burrage's throat. Letting go Ross' foot, he clawed forward, grappling.
Rolling across him, Ross clutched for the fallen blaster.
In the same instant, Burrage seized Ross by the hips in a bear-hug. The muscles along his back and shoulders writhed as he drew the grip tighter and tighter.
Ross sucked in air in an anguished gasp. Fumbling, he stabbed at his antagonist with the blaster.
But always the quarters were too close, the danger of killing them both too great.
Burrage tightened his grip. A sound of bone scraping bone came dimly.
Now Veta flung herself into the fray, beating vainly at Burrage's back and shoulders.
She might as well have been a moth on the far side of the room.
Groaning, Ross smashed the blaster down atop Burrage's bullet head.