He slipped inside the space ship. He found the space suit. He donned it quickly, fastened the space helmet around his head. The space suit would help him in any emergency.
He was moving from the lockers to the control room past the port when a guard saw him. The man grabbed for him. "Gotcha!"
But the muscles strung on his bony frame exploded in power and the crew man fell aside. Rawson leaped through the lock and landed on the white ridge beside the quicksand pool.
The guard's yells brought the rest of the crew, and they advanced on him from all sides.
He backed slowly from the menacing circle, looking for an opening through which to dart. But they came from both sides of the ship. In his rear was the slimy quicksand. He backed toward it.
One of the crew's stumbling feet loosened a boulder and it came hurtling toward Rawson. He leaped aside but his crane-like feet landed on gravel and he started to slide off balance backwards.
The crew realized before Rawson did what was happening. "He's sliding into the quicksand! Stop him!"
Rawson felt the pressure of the wet sand on the space suit. He struggled for a hold on the rocks. They came away in his hands. He slid deeper.
He felt the suction at his feet, climbing up to his waist, over his shoulders.
The white quicksand went over the space suit visor and cut out the light of the moon. Still he kept sinking, slowly, steadily, in the depths.