"What can we do?" Chambers demanded. Then: "Will you look at that—a hundred seventy five years and I haven't even grown a beard!"
They all laughed, and the tension was broken. "We go back," Eric said, "armed to the teeth. It won't be difficult. Some of them will die, but we can set the ship on its course again, teach them—I'd hate to see the disappointment on Earth if we went back after six generations."
Striker frowned. "Have we the right to kill?"
Eric said, "look—they might get back to Earth someday—their progeny a bunch of savages; the hope and dreams of the race reduced to—nothing. We can kill if we have to."
It was agreed. Without saying anything, Striker himself activated the lock.
Two men with clubs rushed them in the corridor, howling "Lazarus" and "death." It was Striker who shot them where they stood, before they could use the clubs.
After that, they fired shots into the air, and people ran screaming away from them. Their first rush carried them almost to the control room and briefly Eric remembered when he had looked out from there with Clair at the bright faraway stars. But he could not quite picture Clair's face. He tried to, but he saw the girl, Laurie....
A dozen uniformed men stood before the control room. They looked badly frightened, but they stood their ground, then advanced.
"What do we do now?" Chambers asked. "We couldn't get them all, not before—"