He leaned over the body, examining it closely. His gamble had panned out. One corner of the thermocube on Braun's right hip was fused and a pinpoint hole was evident. The heat bolt Crag thought struck the killer's accessory belt had not missed after all.
"I'll be a fork-tailed comet!" Ron Crag breathed. He glanced affectionately at the squirming, purple creatures. "Thanks, friends," he murmured.
Then he set out on shaking legs for the catatread.