He raced for the farther door—raced to beat the moving quicksand that oozed forward like some giant amoeba.
Rawson won by a second. He opened the door and dived inward. Quickly he closed the door and sealed it as he felt the pressure of the muck against it. The metal locks would hold.
He stripped off the space suit and hurried to the rocket deck. Everything was in order. A member of the crew had automatically cut off the disintegrator motors at the call "Abandon Ship!"
Rawson set the speed at idle. He turned the rocket levers. For a moment the ship trembled as the exhaust gases fought against the pressure of the quicksand in the tubes.
The rockets thundered in full power. Rawson waited. The heat of those exhaust gases was tremendous—made ten times so by their compression in the ooze.
Heat! That was it!
But would the rockets be powerful enough to change the composition of the quicksand?
He felt the heat of the compressed gases through the floor of the hull, and their motion through the muck was accompanied by a loud glub—glub—glub—Sounds like the choking of a primeval monster.
This sound gradually died out, and the heat became intense. Rawson removed his shirt and wiped the perspiration from his eyes. The sweat dripped down his arms and made little wet spots on the floor. He began shifting from foot to foot as the heat became uncomfortable on the soles of his feet.
There was no way to see what was going on outside the space ship. All the ports were blocked by the muck.