"Get in your ship! We'll take care of this! It's paras!"
But Calhoun stood still. It was instinct not to show alarm. Actually, he didn't feel it. This was too preposterous! He tried to grasp the situation and fearfulness does not help at such a time.
A bolt crackled against the Med Ship's hull just beyond him. Blasters rasped from beside him. A bolt exploded almost at Calhoun's feet. There were two men in the first-moving ground car, and now that another car moved to head them off, one fired desperately and the other tried to steer and fire at the same time. The siren-sounding car send a stream of bolts at them. But both cars jounced and bounced. There could be no marksmanship under such conditions.
But a bolt did hit. The two-man car dipped suddenly to one side. Its fore part touched ground. It slued around, and its rear part lifted. It flung out its two passengers and with an effect of great deliberation it rolled over end for end and came to a stop upside down. Of its passengers, one lay still. The other struggled to his feet and began to run—toward Calhoun. He fired desperately, again and again——
Bolts from the pursuing car struck all round him. Then one struck him. He collapsed.
Calhoun's hands clenched. Automatically, he moved toward the other still figure, to act as a medical man does when somebody is hurt. The grid operator seized his arm. As Calhoun jerked to get free, that second man stirred His blaster lifted and rasped. The little pellet of ball-lightning grazed Calhoun's side, burning away his uniform down to the skin, just as there was a grating roar of blaster fire. The second man died.
"Are you crazy?" demanded the grid operator angrily. "He was a para! He was here to try to kill you!"
The police head snapped:
"Get that car sprayed! See if it had equipment to spread contagion! Spray everything it went near! And hurry!"