Garth looked at her. She'd fail. She couldn't handle these ten hard-shelled fighters, headed by Sampson. She'd fail. And, in the end, she'd go back to Earth, in the brig, back to the certain death of the Silver Plague. Oh, it might miss her, of course. But it might not.
Paula would die as Moira had done, years ago.
Garth shrugged and slapped the girl's weapon down. "Stay out of this," he commanded, and turned away, walking across the clearing to where Sampson and the others were shouldering their kits.
The red-haired giant looked up at Garth's approach. "Step it up," he said. "We're in a hurry."
"I'm not going."
Sampson's furry brows drew together. "The hell you're not. We need you!"
There was a band of ice around Garth's middle. "I know that. You can't get through without me. You'll never get out of the Forest alive. That's tough. Paula and I are going ahead, with Captain Brown. We're finishing what we started."
"You lousy so-and-so!" Sampson roared. His big hand reached out, clutching. Garth stepped back, drawing his pistol.
"Take it easy," he said under his breath. But there was a gun in Sampson's hand now. Behind the giant, the other men stirred angrily.
"You're coming with us!"