"I'm all right. You first," I said.
Toal slung her weapon and climbed up the net as if she had had no exercise for days. Ypsilanti's fleshy face appeared in the light. Roughly, he helped Toal over the sawtoothed parapet.
Slowly, I followed. No one assisted me at the top. I tore two new gashes in my ragged oversuit, and my ankles turned under me when I dropped down to the walk.
Someone turned a searchlight and illuminated the six men and one woman standing on the planks. Ypsilanti gripped Toal's wrists in his big hands. "Why treat me this way, Betty?" he asked, "Were to marry next week. Am a strong, handsome Dominant. Any female Minimum should be proud Controls Council selected me for her."
"Turn loose, Ypsilanti!" Toal said.
Ypsilanti said, "You imitate the alien's ugly accent. Have schemed to be deported rather than marry me."
Toal said, "I'd cut my throat first."
Ypsilanti released her. His voice throbbed with anger. "Would not have you! Have been in the woods with an alien!" He put his open palm in her face and shoved. Toal slammed back against the logs.
Shocked by the shuttle pilot's brutality, I swayed to my feet and grabbed his shoulder. I said, "Don't—" and then Ypsilanti's clenched hand thudded against my jaw. I flipped backward, slid on my shoulders, and stopped with my head hanging over the edge of the walk.
Although I had seen box fights in historical tridies and read of them in books, I had always supposed they belonged in mythology.