"It's too late."
"If we could—if we could destroy the ... that ship ... if we could ram it: prevent it from setting off the charge...."
"It's too late," Herb said doggedly. But even with the words, he felt the first hesitant flicker of hope. If he could take over this ship, and with it assault the great ship in space, there capture the remote-control mechanism by which the charge would be detonated then perhaps Earth could really be saved. First kill the Oligarch. Then....
Norma whimpered to herself.
"You stay here," he hissed, too softly, he hoped for the microphones to pick up his voice.
Her eyes widened in protest. "Don't go. He'll...."
"Shhhhhh," he silenced her. Bending, he whispered, "I'll find him first. You'll be all right."
He left her. At the doorway, he looked back. She seemed crumpled and lifeless and defeated.
The Oligarch was somewhere to his left. In the corridor, waiting? Herb could not know. There was only one way to find out. He stepped from the room, gun ready to fire.
The corridor was empty.