Despite the leg, I didn't know whether to laugh or explode.
Moya was rattling around in an outsized bug suit and carrying the biggest Moril blaster contained in a star ship's arsenal that could still be called portable.
"What in condemned space are you doing here?" I shouted.
I was ready to give it to him right off the top of the regs about the relationship between ship's master and agents-on-assignment and the responsibilities of command, but the leg chose that moment to fail. Until then, I hadn't really been worried. I fell forward against the pitch of the slope, caught myself with my arms, and rolled over on my back. I hit my left thigh with my fist and felt absolutely nothing. Massage didn't help.
I heard Moya panting down the brow of the hill.
"Keep away!" I shouted. "Get back to the ship!"
Moya bent over me; he had opened the hood of the bug suit, and his face was grave.
"What's the trouble, Callum?"
"Can't you take orders?"
He shook his head. I pointed to the leg. He looked swiftly at the broken skin.