"Terry! You're hurt!"
"I didn't get him good enough with my first shot. I'll be all right. What do we do now?"
"We can clear the ship by throwing some chloryl triptanate into the air system. But even after that, we can't even go back to the moon to return Jandro to his own people—that would bring the whole fleet down on them."
"We'll figure something out," said Terry optimistically. "We didn't expect to get this far. I wonder what happened to that guy Jandro. Have you found out where he actually is yet?"
"No. He apparently killed Rennies, but I've heard nothing from him."
"I'll get the triptanate, and some mesarpin for antidote. If I'm not back in half an hour, it'll be your baby."
"You guard here," said Underwood, "You'd better take it easy with that arm of yours."
"You're more important around here than I am. I'll be back in five minutes." Terry disappeared in the direction of surgery.
Underwood sat down wearily—and suddenly became aware of the fixed dead stare of the eyes of Commander Rennies, who lay on the floor.
His name had been vaguely familiar to Underwood and now he knew why. Rennies had attained considerable renown in the interstellar military field. He had been an able leader, highly trained, widely read, intelligent, and a clever tactician—yet his mind had been as vulnerable to Demarzule as the most illiterate of the Disciples.