'But,' shrieked the senator, 'you don't mean to leave us here, do you? We'll die!'
The bandit waved his pistol toward the southeast.
'Satellite City is over that way. You can make it on four hours of air. I did.'
His laugh boomed in their helmets.
'But you won't. Not creaking old scarecrows like you.'
Then he was gone over the ridge.
Gramp, suddenly galvanized into action, leaped toward the lifeless body of the pilot. He tugged the space-suited figure over and his hand reached out and jerked the flame pistol free.
One swift glance told him it was undamaged.
'You can't do that!' Jurg Tec yelled at him.
'Get outta my way, Marshy,' yelped Gramp. 'I'm goin' after him.'