Voices rasped in over the audio. Anderson reported from the sleeping quarters, "All men evacuated, sir. Standing by for further orders." MacPhee snarled defiance from the engine deck, "We've plugged all doors, sirrr! We'll hold this position to the last posseeble minute!"
"It's a form of carbohydrate," mused Larkin aloud. "Plastic. Semi-fluid. But why? Why?"
"Think hard, sugar!" pleaded Lorraine. Larkin said mechanically, "Yes, honey—" Then he stiffened. "Honey!" he said.
I groaned. "This is no time for lovey-dove talk, Johnny!" I cried. "Keep scratching at those gray cells—"
And over the audio, the voice of super-cargo Freddy Harkness. "Am abandoning holds, Captain. The invading—er—substance has already covered the aft bins and is moving forward rapidly."
"Seal the safety door, Harkness—" began Bowman.
Then Larkin was at his side, suddenly frantic, eager.
"No, Skipper! Tell him to keep them open a minute! I'll be right there. I need three men!"
He lit out for the door. Bowman cried, "No, son—come back! You'll be killed. Come—"
But he was talking to empty air. Johnny was pounding down the runway. Lorraine sniffed once. Then her jaw hardened. She said, "I'm going after him."