Underwood and Terry hurried out, closing the iris door behind them. They came to the storage closets and found to their relief that the invaders had not removed the weapons stored there. Underwood selected another gun; Terry took a pair. "I wish we'd hear again from Jandro," said Terry. "He may be helping the group down at the locks. We're on our own here, it appears." They came to the end of the corridor and the passage split, forming a U around the control room because the navigational machinery had to be located on the axis of the ship. "Let's separate," Underwood said. "It'll give us a chance to attack from two directions. They may not have a guard that's too alert, since we couldn't be expected to need much guarding." "Good idea," said Terry. He checked his watch with Underwood's. "Begin firing in exactly sixty seconds!" They separated and went swiftly in opposite directions. As Underwood came to the abrupt turn that would put him in a direct line with the door to the control room, he halted and listened for sounds from beyond. Footsteps were moving carelessly and hurriedly. Only one person, Underwood thought; therefore, it must be one of the Disciples. There was the unlikely possibility that one of his own men had escaped independently and had already been to the control room. He'd have to risk that. He stepped around the corner and fired. The shot caught the man--a Disciple, luckily--full in the chest. An instant's surprised agony did not prevent a wild cry from issuing from his throat. Underwood leaped over the fallen body before the Disciple ceased struggling. From inside the control room there were sudden confused shouts and orders. Underwood saw two figures running toward the iris. He fired twice, then dropped to the floor. The first man collapsed in the path of the second, but the latter was only slightly wounded. He raised his weapon toward Underwood even as he fell. * * * * * From his prone position, Underwood fired again. The blast missed and reddened the metal of the far wall of the room for a moment. Underwood did not dare move. He could find little shelter in the small corner where the circled doorway did not fully meet the rectangular corridor, but there was no other to be had. Shots from within the control room were coming close now. He could feel the heat they generated in the metal floor. While he tried to edge closer into the corner, somebody else came into his view. It was an impressive, militaristic figure, undoubtedly Commander Rennies, for his harsh, arrogant voice was ordering one of the men to call for assistance from the other end of the ship. Then, suddenly, the Commander stiffened. Even Underwood could glimpse the stare that glazed his eyes like polished glass. Jandro? The others in the room saw it also, and heard the crash as the heavy body fell to the floor.