Coran got his breath back. "Help me get her out. She has no more plague than you have. Besides, she's your—"
"You're mad," Hamlin shrieked. "They'd never let her into the boats. I won't risk the lives of innocent people on your sayso." He leaned across Coran to snatch at the gun. Coran clawed at his face and layers of plastic came off in his fingers. Hamlin screamed as the stuff came loose from his flesh. Then he turned and ran.
He darted up the companion stairs. By the time Coran could reach the gun, it was too late. The man had vanished to the upper deck.
Coran got to his knees and aimed the blaster at the jammed lock on the stateroom door. The mechanism and half the door disappeared in ravening violence. The shock knocked Coran flat.
Gerda stepped through the shattered doorway.
"What's going on?" she wailed hysterically. It was apparent that she had been crying, although she had tried to efface the marks.
"Never mind that. We've got to get you out of here. Are you all right?"
She laughed wildly. "Of course I am! Has everyone gone crazy? You look a fright. D'you want to carry me, or should I carry you?"
"Get to the lower decks. Find the doctor. Show him you're not sick. And hurry—the lifeboats are leaving." Coran made a vague gesture and slumped weakly against the wall while spirals of nausea raged through him. She was halfway to the companion stair before she noticed that he was not following. Coran had fainted.