"All right," said Bellaver. "Wilson, break out the grenades."
The entire surface of Hyrst's body burst into a flaring sweat. For one panic-stricken second he wanted to rush out the crack pleading for mercy. Then he got his feet against the wall and pushed hard, and went plunging across the chamber in a sort of floating dive. Shearing got there at the same time and helped to pull him down. They huddled together on the floor, with the coffin-shaped block between them and the crack. Hyrst sent out a frantic mental call to hurry, directed at the spaceship of the brotherhood.
"They're all going to hurry," said Shearing. "Vernon has found the ship now. He's telling Bellaver. Here comes the grenade—"
Small round glittering thing of death, curving light and graceful through the airless gloom. It comes so slowly, and the flesh shrinks quivering upon itself until it is nothing more than a handful of simple fear. Outside the men are running away, and the one who has thrown the grenade from the cramped, constructing vantage of the crack is running after them, and Shearing is crying with his mind Will it to fall short, will it to fall sh—
There is a great brilliance, and the rock leaps, but there is not the slightest sound.
CHAPTER VI
"The Ram, the Bull, the Heavenly Twins,
And next the Crab the Lion Shine.
The Virgin and the Scales—"
The old zodiacal rhyme was running through Hyrst's mind, and that was the only thing that was in his mind.
The Virgin and the Scales.