GENE FLEW down the corridor with his arms outstretched, not knowing exactly where he was going and not caring, as long as it was away from the control deck. He was breathing hard and fast, on the verge of hysteria. Realizing that he was in danger of losing his grip, he paused to catch his breath, and leaned against the wall.
A moment later he saw moving lights in the stairwell a long way ahead. In the growing gray illumination, he dashed forward and saw Kimball, Lorry, and Jenner coming up, carrying flashlights. When Kimball saw Gene hurrying toward him, he flashed the light directly into his eyes and roared, “What in blazes is going on in this place?”
Gene threw his hands up over his eyes, but continued to stumble forward. “You’ve got to get out of here,” he choked out. “Get your men, get your ships, go!”
Jenner put a firm hand on Gene’s shoulder, and Kimball lowered the light. “What’s going on? Where’s Zimbardo?” Jenner’s voice was a little quieter than Kimball’s but just as demanding.
Gene gulped and looked up. “He—, he’s aimed the asteroid at Earth! It’s on a collision course! He burned out all the power—all the power! He can’t stop it! He doesn’t want to stop it!”
There was a stunned silence. Jenner, his mouth opening and closing like a fish out of water, finally blurted out, “Why did he do that?”
“All the men in the fleets have been captured! We’re the only ones left, and Space Command will be boarding us in less than three hours!”
The three smugglers gasped in dismay. Jenner pushed Gene away and the three of them shot back down the stairwell. When they reached the lower level, Gene heard them shouting for their men. The light gradually diminished until Gene was once again in complete darkness.
“Gene! Gene! Where are you?” came the voice of Lurton Zimbardo from far behind him. Startled, Gene quickly whirled and peered into the darkness. From far away came a sound as of scurrying feet. There were men coming—the men from the control center, with Zimbardo. Gene spun again and ran for his own room. He had decided what he was going to do. Frantically he rummaged through his belongings until he found his own flashlight. Without turning it on yet, he ran from the room and hastened farther away from the control center.
“Gene? Gene! Is that you?” came the voice of Lurton Zimbardo. Gene inhaled quickly and looked back. There was still no light. He hesitated for a moment, then answered,