Scott stepped to the intercom. "Attention. All men, prepare full battle equipment and stand by. Stand by. Durval, get the largest lead-lined box you have and set it outside the entrance of the main cargo hatch. Shake it up. We have half an hour till the Kastil jets off."
He cut off the intercom, lugged Elderburg to the chart room and locked him inside.
The hold was beastly hot. Standing inside the hatchway, holding suspended over his head a three-foot long cell of uranium ore, Scott felt a moment of shuddering panic. Over the storage cells along the wall, over the tumbling bodies of the cats, an eerie glow quivered—the menacing flare of radio-activity.
Scott glanced nervously at the forward screen. Chief Durval waved toward him. "Your men ready, Durval?"
The Chief nodded. "Don't go getting yourself hurt now, Scott."
Scott grinned although he did not feel much like grinning.
He shuffled forward under the light gravity of the hold. The uranium cell balanced easily in his hands. Too easily. He could scarcely feel it press against his gloves. The heat control in his suit was jammed again. His hands streamed sweat.
He inched past the cats. A quick cold thrill passed through his stomach. With the energy of the ore almost gone, the scarlet beasts were growing increasingly uneasy. They were casting about for a new supply. It would be easy enough for a foot to slip, he thought. To spill the ore across the floor. New food for the cats—and the loss of the Bertha's last chance as strange space beasts sucked away the last purified ore.
He slipped cautiously past the last row of cells. A quick dash now for the open hatchway beyond....