"Now what?" he asked subduedly.
"Let's take a look outside, maybe set up the Zelta guns. Can't tell but what that protoplasmic nightmare might take a notion to pay us a visit in the near future!"
"Right!" Splinter unscrewed the port cogs, swung the portal back.
He swung lithely from the portal, reached down a hand to help the older man. After much puffing and grunting, Kerry Blane managed to clamber through the port. They stood for a moment in silent wonder, staring at the long lazy rollers of milky fluorescence that rolled endlessly toward the beach, then turned to gaze at the great fern-like trees that towered two hundred feet into the air.
"How big do you feel now?" Kerry Blane asked quietly.
Splinter Wood was silent, awed by the beauty and the tremendous size of the growths on the water world.
Kerry Blane walked the length of the cruiser, examining the slight damage done by the crash, evaluating the situation with a practiced gaze. He nodded slowly, retraced his steps, and stood looking at the furrow plowed in the sand.
"Won't be any trouble at all to lift the ship," he called. "After rewiring the board, we'll turn the ship with an underjet, swing it about, and head her toward the sea."
Splinter nodded, dropped into the open port. A moment later, he flipped a rope ladder outside, where it dangled to the ground, then climbed out himself, carrying the two Zelta guns.
"We'd better test these," he said. "We don't want any slip-ups when we do go into action."