Then he was mouthing incoherent curses. Her figure had been flung across the screen, on the couch. She had put up a fight. Her face was scratched, her blouse ripped. There was a gag in her mouth and her hands were tied behind her.
"She dies unless you turn back!" the voice said. It meant every word.
Karin had guts. She was shaking her head, imploring him with her eyes not to turn back.
If he only had time to think! What did the rest of the world mean to Case Damon? Nothing, if it was a world without Karin. Yet, she was his own kind, this girl he had married. Were their positions reversed, it would have been Case who shook his head. Better to die than live in a world dominated by a murderous, merciless power.
And yet, she was ... Karin. Without her there was nothing. Already Case's hands were busy, throwing switches that would cut in the retarding jets, swinging the responsive craft about. He had to give in. He didn't have time to think.
"All right," he started to say.
His right hand reached out to turn on his transmitter. His lips framed the words again. But it was too late!
The video was distorting into a mass of wavy lines, the audio brought nothing but a jumble of sound. Interference was scrambling the telecast waves beyond hope of intelligibility. He couldn't get through. The first rumble rose to audibility and made the ship shiver.
"Too late," Case said, and was beyond cursing.