"There was no action on the other side of the ship, was there, sir?"
"No. Why?"
"One of the ports, sir—fused. And there were no flames near it!"
Stan started running for the other side of the ship. There was the blasted port and then footsteps in the carbonized grass that had been flamed when the ship had landed. He ran quickly over the grass, following the footsteps, then glanced ahead into the city.
He caught one brief glimpse of them. Two figures disappearing behind some rubble, running toward one of the side streets....
And the hoop that Stan knew was in an alley behind the Russian owned and operated department store in the Eastern sector.
Stan dashed through the streets. They were two blocks ahead of him—Tanner and a girl, whom he was half pushing, half pulling.
A beam flared above Stan's head and he ducked and zig-zagged from one side of the street to the other.
The figures turned a corner and Stan fired one last, futile shot at them.
When he finally turned into the street, there was nobody in sight—only the whirling black velvet of the hoop.