The chief let his right hand fall. A line of spearmen trotted up behind him and let fly with a fusillade of long-shafted spears. The spears fell around the military runabout, but none of them touched it.
"They stay," the chief said, "You take hundred million Mandmoorans off Mandmoora, we keep two earth people here to see nothing happens to Lord Sun. Now go!"
"Sid," Jane said. "Sid, did you hear him? They—they're going to keep us here, and—Sid, is there any chance the sun won't go nova?"
Sid shook his head. His face looked suddenly bleak. "No chance at all, kid. I guess we should have listened."
"Sid, I'm scared."
There was a roaring sound as the runabout, instead of retreating, came bucketing toward the beach. "Come on down to the water!" the corporal bawled at the top of his voice. "We'll get you!"
The Chief raised his hand. Another line of spearmen came trotting forward. "Go back," Sid shouted. "They'll kill you!"
But the runabout came toward them on the heaving surf. Before the chief could raise his hand a second time, the corporal stood up in the prow of the runabout and fired a blaster toward the beach. He had fired it high and he waited for it to disperse the spearmen. When it did not, he fired again, lower. The chief lifted his hand and brought it down. A volley of spears leaped from muscular arms, arching in the sunlight, dropping toward the runabout....
The corporal fired again and a figure near the chief slumped to the sand. Then the runabout, riddled by fifty spears at the water-line, began to sink.