Ray's fist slammed the grinning lips, with savage joy he felt the smash of teeth. He hammered at Lodar's face, beating it in frenzied rage while his lungs strained for air. His back jolted the wall and Lodar was slamming his head on the plates.
His lungs were jerking, the room blurred with pulsing darkness. He saw only Lodar's blazing eyes, felt the power of his viselike grip. The man was made of steel, driven by raw violence.
And, in that flashing moment, Ray guessed Lodar's secret, the why of his driving energy, cagelike pacings, and burning eyes!
Space Rays! Ray heaved convulsively, trying to break the strangling grip.
Lodar had been too long in space. The days were killing him, burning him up inside. He would go on with roaring metabolism, like an overdriven jet, till his heart burst!
And that would be soon now. Lodar's compelling urge to return to Earth was the instinct of a dying animal for its lair, to die with its kind. Nothing would stop him. Nothing except death!
The pounding in Ray's head flashed streams of light through the blackness. Only faintly could he feel his own hands beating for air.
Then suddenly his tortured lungs heaved, sucking in life. The grinding clutch dropped from his throat. For a moment he could only gulp, rub his agonized neck. Then slowly sight returned.
McVane stood holding a gun. There was a foolish, startled look on his lined face as he stared at Lodar. The captain, gritting his teeth and leaning on the control board, held a hand to his shoulder. It was a mass of blood and rags.
"You—you fool!" Lodar swayed, starting at the engineer. "You bleary-eyed little Sir Galahad!"