He missed the elevators, but by some miracle found a hatchway leading to the cargo holds. Sliding through, he cut down the intensity of his blaster beam and melted the plastic and metal hatchcover into a fused mass. That should delay them a few minutes. He scuttled down a deserted passageway and began climbing flights of stairs. If he could only find his way back to the sally-port from this other direction. He came suddenly into the room of his hasty barricades next to the sally-port. It was occupied.
Two men had been left behind as guards. He caught them unawares, and burned both down with one sweep of his beam.
The sally-port was empty. The box lid lay on the floor and the airlock door was closed tight.
With the butt of his blaster, he tapped out the signal on the airlock door.
There was a smooth hiss of releasing metal parts and the airlock door came open. He slipped through and slammed the door, spinning the lockbolts tight.
"Thank heavens, you made it," Gerda said. Pale and shaken, she handed him the heavy space-armor. "I was afraid you'd run into those others in the next room. They almost caught me. I had the lid half-raised when they came into the sally-port to check."
"Put on your helmet," he ordered roughly, as she handed him the fishbowl-like contrivance.
She laughed. "The air's bad in here. I could hardly breathe, and I didn't know how to work the valves in the helmet."
Coran swore briefly, then adjusted her helmet and put on his own. He set the microphones and the space communicators.
"I shut the outside door," she complained. "I even bolted it, but it won't stay locked."