As the airtruck came to a halt, the Prophet opened the door. "Secure the rocket!" he cried. Jan leaped to the ground with the African close behind him, and ran to the ship, shouting, "Brown, Brown, lay down your blaster! Brown, lay down your blaster!"
The Mohcans swarmed aboard, their weapons at the ready. Within two minutes the ship was theirs and the work of loading provisions had begun. Six of them stood guard around the ship.
Volleys of blaster fire broke out around the administration building. Then a police car came racing across the field. The Mohcans on guard and the police opened fire. The action was brief. Only half a dozen shots were fired before the police car went out of control and turned turtle with a shattering crash. One of the Mohcans lay dead. A tall blonde threw herself on him, crying "Jack, Jack, oh, Jack!"
The Prophet went to her and picked her up. "There will be time later for weeping, Sister Ellen," he said. Firmly he carried her aboard the rocket.
The pioneers had been well trained. Within less time than Jan would have believed possible they had their rations aboard and were in their acceleration compartments. Jan took his place in front of the master controls. The Prophet and the African stood behind him.
He turned on the public address system. "All hands, hear this," he said. "We have been kidnapped and are about to blast off for an unknown destination. Prepare to blast off."
Jan took a last look at Terra. The administration building was on fire.
"Ready to blast off," he said into the microphone.
"No. 1 ready, sir."