At once, they dropped, for the power suit had not been adjusted to the load. Arcot yelped in pain as Torlos, in his surprise at not floating, involuntarily gripped tighter. Quickly, Arcot turned on more power and gasped as he felt the weight mount swiftly. He had estimated Torlos' weight at two hundred seventy or so—and it was more like three hundred and fifty! Soon, however, he had the weight adjusted, and they floated easily up toward the Ancient Mariner.
They floated in through the door of the ship, and, once inside, Torlos released his hold. Arcot was immediately slammed to the roof with a weight of three hundred and fifty pounds!
A moment later, he was again back on the floor, rubbing his back. He shook his head and frowned, then smiled and pretended to limp.
"Don't let go so suddenly," he admonished telepathically.
"I did not know. I am sorry," Torlos thought contritely.
"Who's your friend?" asked Wade as he entered the corridor. "He certainly looks husky."
"He is," Arcot affirmed. "And he must be weighted with lead! I thought he'd pull my legs off. Look at those arms!"
"I don't want to get him mad at me," Wade grinned. "He looks like he'd make a mean opponent. What's his name?"
"Torlos," replied Arcot, just as Fuller stepped in.
Torlos was looking curiously at a crowbar that had been lying in a rack on the wall. He picked it up and flexed it a bit, as a man might flex a rapier to test its material. Then he held it far out in front of him and proceeded to tie a knot in the inch-thick metal bar! Then, still frowning in puzzlement, he untied it, straightened it as best he could, and put it back in the rack.