It had to work. He had to get both of them back to the planet, even if it meant stopping a slug from an auto-rifle to do it.
He reached the door to the fourth ward and went in to look for Doctor Zuloe. The man wasn’t [p137] hard to find; he was the only person in the small anteroom.
“What can I do for you, Firstspacer?” He asked. “I’m Doctor Zuloe.”
“I’m Lors.”
For a moment, they stared at each other. The doctor was a middle-aged man with a weathered skin stretched over a rather aquiline set of features. His small, bird-like eyes were piercing in their study of Lors’ face. He smiled thinly and ran a hand through greying hair.
“Lors, huh? You the one who went down there?”
“I was in the accident. In a sense, I suppose I’m to blame for having brought Brice up here.”
“You know him?” Doctor Zuloe’s eyes narrowed visibly.
“Yes.
At least, I think I know him better than you people do.”