“Get in the ship!”
“Not without Brice!”
Lors exploded in his native tongue. “Get in that ship, Danson! How long do you think it’ll be before they come in the emergency door?”
Nick’s eyes were wide and violent. “I’m not leaving Nolan up here, goddammit! Get out of my way!”
Lors shoved the Terran as he came in and watched him backpedal into the side of the scout ship. Danson muttered a curse and dived at the spaceman. Lors had no choice in the matter. He swung hard, Terran style, in what had come to be known as the “ole one-two.” His left fist dug into Nick’s stomach and, when he bent with the blow, Lors brought his right fist up from the floor and felt it smash into Danson’s face. The Terran slammed backwards against the ship, his head striking the metal sides. He crumpled into an unconscious blue mound beside the ship.
He wasted no time. Casting a glance at the [p147] lifeless panel that was the emergency door at the far end of the blast tube, he grabbed Danson under the arms and hauled him up the short ladder to the cockpit of the ship. If they came through that emergency door, he was finished. He could not push the button in the wall that would open the huge port in the side of the starship.
They would die if he did!
It would be one thing, to free an alien, but to intentionally kill members of his own race would mean disaster. Thirty seconds after he pushed the wall button, would open the port at the end of the tube and send the void of space rushing into the chamber. Anyone who did not have adequate pressurization would be a fond memory.
He stuffed Danson’s body into the cockpit seat and buckled the strap about him. Lors left the cockpit canopy open and leaped to the floor of the tube. How long do I have? A minute? Two? Keep them outside, he pleaded, and dived for the button.
“Lors!”