“Zzap. Zzap,” he heard again, more distant this time. He came to the end of the aisle and had to slow to keep from slamming into the wall in front of him. He reached out his left hand and grabbed the corner of a crate to help him execute the turn. As he made the quick right angle twist at the end of the row of crates, he glanced behind him with his peripheral vision. Joe was close behind him and several yards farther away were two of the miners. Even as he looked, he saw the airbot fly over the crates into the aisle he had just cleared, missing the ceiling by less than a foot. With the hated “zzap” sound, it fired one beam toward the miner at the rear of the headlong retreat, and the man went limp and collapsed. His momentum carried him forward several feet before he stopped moving. Zip saw it all in a split-second as his inertia carried him out of view. He looked forward again and sped down the aisle; after passing a few rows he turned again to the left. Far ahead of him he saw the elevator door with the bulging rupture through which the airbot had burst into the warehouse. Suddenly the airbot flew over the stack of crates to Zip’s left and appeared about fifteen yards in front of him. A feeling of panicky horror surged through Zip as he saw the airbot re-orient itself in his direction. All at once every point of light on the airbot went out and it hung motionless in the air. Then it sped back to the elevator door as if jerked by a cable. It smashed through the hole it had made and flew into the shaft. Instantly there was a dull “whump,” more felt in one’s tissues than heard aloud. A bright light came through the opening like a spotlight, then faded. “What happened to the airbot?” Joe’s amazed voice behind him asked the question that was in Zip’s mind. “Let’s go,” said Zip. “Let’s find out who’s down and carry them away.” Both the Starmen were breathing hard, but quickly returned to normal as they paced the aisles. In moments they had assembled those whom the airbot had not found. Only four men had been disabled by the airbot’s beams. “Take us out of here, George,” ordered Zip. His voice was quiet but carried the authority of leadership that people welcome when there is a crisis. Using the fireman’s carry, eight men easily transported the four who were unconscious. George St. George turned without a word and led the way. Everyone followed. St. George came to the end of the walkway and turned to the left around the last row of storage units. On his right was a bank of elevator doors, some large and some small. He came to the first one and with his hand shaking pressed some numbers into a control panel. Nothing happened. He looked up to Zip with a countenance marked with anguish and pleaded, “I can’t do it. My fingers won’t work. Mr. Foster, you press the numbers, please.” Zip stepped up to the panel. As the asteroid miner called out the directions, Zip pressed the buttons.