Life on other planets -- Fiction; Science fiction; Solar Queen (Imaginary space vehicle) -- Fiction; Space ships -- Fiction
At the far end of the corridor were the attendants and visitors, trapped
in the building, who had fled in an attempt to find safety at the
crashing entrance of the crawler. These flung themselves flat at the
steady advance of the two space-suited Traders who supported the
unconscious Medic between them, using the low-powered anti-grav units on
their belts to take most of his weight so each had one hand free to hold
a sleep rod. And they did not hesitate to use those weapons--spraying the
rightful inhabitants of the tower until all lay unmoving.
Having seen that Ali and Rip appeared to have the situation in hand, Dane
turned to his own self-appointed job. He jammed the machine on reverse,
maneuvering it with an ease learned by practice on the rough terrain of
Limbo, until the gate doors were pushed shut again. Then he swung the
machine around so that its bulk would afford an effective bar to keep the
door locked for some very precious moments to come. Short of using a
flamer full power to cut their way in, no one was going to force an
entrance now.
He climbed out of the machine, to discover, when he turned, that the trio
from the Queen had disappeared--leaving all possible opposition asleep on
the floor. Dane clanked on to join them, carrying in plated fingers their
most important weapon to awake public opinion--an improvised cage in
which was housed one of the pests from the cargo hold--the proof of their
plague-free state which they intended Hovan to present, via the telecast,
to the whole system.
Dane reached the shaft of the riser--to find the platform gone. Would
either Rip or Ali have presence of mind enough to send it down to him on
automatic?
"Rip--return the riser," he spoke urgently into the throat mike of his
helmet com.
"Keep your rockets straight," Ali's cool voice was in his earphones,
"It's on its way down. Did _you_ remember to bring Exhibit A?"
Dane did not answer. For he was very much occupied with another problem.
On the bronze doors he had been at such pains to seal shut there had come
into being a round circle of dull red which was speedily changing into a
coruscating incandescence. They _had_ brought a flamer to bear! It would
be a very short time now before the Police could come through. That
riser--
Afraid of overbalancing in the bulky suit Dane did not lean forward to
stare up into the shaft. But, as his uncertainty reached a fever pitch,
the platform descended and he took two steps forward into temporary
safety, still clutching the cage. At the first try the thick fingers of
his gloved hand slipped from the lever and he hit it again, harder than
he intended, so that he found himself being wafted upward with a speed
which did not agree with a stomach, even one long accustomed to space
flight. And he almost lost his balance when it came to a stop many floors
above.
Public-domain text, read in full here on John Shaqi.
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