Things happened terribly fast. From behind me, I heard a scream, and then a curse. I staggered, and turned. Snow was wrestling on the ground with a Security Agent, one of the still-shaken survivors of the backlash of Baxter's shield. Evidently, he'd been about to try another shot at the fleeing Security Chief, and Snow, with unladylike good sense, had given him the benefit of one of her brother-training flying tackles, before we all died in a new rebounding ray. A wild trilling whistle came from the ship, and I jerked my head about. Baxter had let loose with the hose, and Clatclit was rolling on the ground, in a wild effort to shake the caustic droplets from his melting scales. My head was spinning. Which was to turn? Snow was in a furious fight with a full-grown man behind me, and my best friend was being dissolved before me. I didn't know what to do. Should I run and stop her from being vaporized, or him from being turned into taffy? Baxter took the decision out of my hands. "Delvin!" his voice came. I turned back toward him. Clatclit, still shuddering with the shock of that water-spray, was facing me, Baxter behind him with an arm across the sugarfoot's throat. And in Baxter's other hand he held the water hose, its pistol-control barrel aimed right at Clatclit's eyes. "Tell the others to stand back," he shouted, "or I'll burn your friend's eyes out!" By now, Snow had explained the situation somewhat to the guard, I guess, because she and he came abreast of me and stopped, listening to Baxter's threat. The guard's gun came up swiftly. "Don't, you fool!" I said, my hand clamping on his wrist. "He's got a shield!" "I know that," said the guard, whom I suddenly recognized as the corporal who had led his men to investigate the blast in the upper corridor. "I'm only going to disable the ship!" "No," Baxter called. "If the ship goes, then so do this creature's eyes!" The corporal looked at me, wavering. "It's--it's only a sugarfoot," he said, uncertainly. "Only a--!" I shrieked. How could I tell this idiot what I felt for Clatclit! "You'll shoot over my bloody corpse!" "We can't let Baxter get aloft in that thing!" the corporal said beseechingly. "If he does, we're all dead!" I was trembling with fear and frustrated rage. Baxter was backing toward the ship, taking the weakened Clatclit backward with him. They were only a few feet from the entry port, now. Then my hand went out, and I took the corporal's collapser from him. He stared at me confusedly, but let me take it. "Everybody hit the dirt!" I said, lifting the weapon and taking careful aim. Guard, girl and Scouts took a dive. I was neither aiming at Baxter, nor his ship. The blazing bolt of energy from the collapser, an instant before I joined Snow, the corporal and the Space Scouts on the ground, went where I'd intended it to. Into the nearest supporting girder of the massive converter.