"Ready?" he asked.
Susan threw herself into the acceleration cushions.
"Blast it!" she urged. "Quick, before they turn a proton cannon on us!"
Nick's finger hit the key and the world went black.
His stomach was twisting in the agonies of acceleration cramps. His shoulder thumped and throbbed, and the gashes the barbs of the barrier had left on his body felt like lines of fire. Some sharp cornered object was wedged between his side and the seat belt, poking at his bruised ribs. Clumsily, his one usable hand lacerated in his struggle with the barrier, he fished it out. His hand failed to grasp it properly and the box of Gravinol slipped through his fingers and fell to the floor.
He stared down at it, and there was longing in his look. In that little box was relief from pain. But other things too were in that box. Slavery, for instance.
He looked a long time, then slowly shook his head.
"Ease off the throttles," Susan spoke. "We're out."
He did so, aiming the cross-hairs at the green star of Earth and coupling in the gyros.
"It'll be hell back there without Gravinol," he reflected aloud. "You'll never know how bad it can be."