The acceleration dragged at Gavin's lean flesh. He looked ten years older in the harsh bright light. Sweat burst from his pores; his eye-lids drooped; his mouth sagged.
Then the whine of the jets ceased. The terrific acceleration relaxed. Gavin felt like a toy balloon.
Consternation widened his pale blue eyes. He gripped himself for the buffeting he was almost sure would follow.
In the silence a wild clamor broke out from stem to stern.
The general alarm!
Gavin tensed. He could feel the pulse drumming in his temples. Then it came. The jets burst into a full throated roar. The Nova lurched crazily to the starboard and then swept upward at a tangent.
Again the Nova bucked, this time to port. A sickening circular movement took possession of his prison. The ship, he realized, must be above the clouds in the upper stratosphere and climbing higher in tight spirals.
Suddenly the Nova gave an uncontrolled lurch. A faint far away explosion reached his ears.
They were being fired at! That was an atomic shell bursting off the starboard bow. Sweat coursed down Gavin's cheeks.
Were they going to let him die in the locked cabin like a trapped rat? The crew could escape in space tenders, if the Nova were hit. Another shell burst closer, throwing the gigantic ship sideways as a hurricane tosses a chip.