There would be no more talk. Their faces told him that.
Jenkins peered at Ray through his glasses. Without preamble, he demanded, "Are you in with us or Lodar?"
It was a ridiculous question. All of Ray's training had conditioned him to meet such emergency in only one way. Right or wrong, there was only one answer.
He leaped back through the door and slammed it, then swung the emergency latch and spun the sealing wheel. It would hold them for a while—till they burned it down.
He dashed for the central well, slid down the pole in a mad spiral, and jumped for the engine room. McVane was alone at his desk, a shrunken figure in the glaring lights, his head slumped down on his chest.
Ray kicked the chair from under him and hauled him erect. "Get to the control room!" he panted.
McVane's lean hand closed on his bottle, then his feet were dragging as Ray hauled him to the well. His head wobbled as he took up the song again.
"She's gone and never will I see
My sweetheart, dear to me."