Lors picked it up and straightened to hand it to the Terran. Lors saw the punch coming, but surprise prevented him from making any move in his defense. Nolan Brice’s fist smashed into the side of his face with stunning shock and he flew backwards onto the bed.
“Thanks,” he heard Brice snarl.
Lors rolled off the bed and onto the floor, the [p140] force of the punch making his head reel. He heard the door to the room close and the sound of Brice’s running feet outside as he staggered to his feet. You damned fool, he thought. You can’t get off this ship alone!
He started running after the Terran, drawing his pistol as he ran...
[p143]
CHAPTER SEVENTEEN
Lors dashed down the hallway into the main corridor, passing the limp body of the doctor and the young spacer who had been on duty at the desk. Apparently, Brice had come into the place fast, swinging the auto-rifle like it was a club. Both of the men were unconscious, but there was no blood in sight.
“Crazy fool,” Lors said aloud and slammed the door as he dashed into the corridor.
Brice was running blindly.
“Brice! Stop!” Lors fired the auto-pistol over the fleeing man’s head.
Brice stopped and whirled, dropping to one knee to bring up the rifle he carried. He snapped off a fast burst and Lors dived across the polished corridor to hug the wall. He landed, rolling, his pistol zeroed on the Terran, but he couldn’t bring himself to shoot.