"Get in that ship," Kerry Blane barked. "Get the panel fixed the best you can. Fix up a jury-rig. But fix it so that this ship can move within seconds."
"But—" Startled knowledge came into Splinter's eyes.
Kerry Blane twisted at the gun in Splinter's right hand, tucked it into his belt, pulled at the second. His face was like chiseled stone, and he seemed strangely youthful again.
"No heroics!" he said coldly. "One of us has to get back. I've lived my life."
"Listen, Kerry—"
"Get going! If you fix things in time, I'll come aboard. If that creature ever reaches the ship, neither of us will escape."
Splinter nodded, his eyes filled with tears of mingled bafflement and rage. He touched Kerry Blane gently on the arm, then dropped through the port. Kerry Blane watched him go, shivered slightly, then lifted the port and clanged it shut. His mouth was a thin gash, as he turned to face the Venusian monster.
He felt no regrets; it was a good way to go, with flaming guns and the surge of excitement deep in his heart. Far better than to die unsung and unwanted in some bed on Earth.
He fired directly into the slimy body of the gelatinous mass, laughed aloud as the flame of the shot pulsed redly deep with the monster's bulk. The gigantic blob of protoplasm seemed to draw back a bit, then flowed silently forward again.
Kerry Blane half-slid, half-climbed down the ladder, raced along the beach to the left of the monster. He dodged the great blob of protoplasm that was spat at his running figure, felt a sick faintness creeping into his mind, when he saw the mindless horror move unerringly toward the ruptured body of a crab.