Brice swung his eyes to the Firstspacer, the muscles of his jaws working. "I'll kill you," he said, with a horrible softness in his voice. "Nolan. Listen, I'm here to help you." "You've done a lot of helping, spaceman. I know what you want. Earth." "Don't be silly. I want to help you and Danson to get back home..." "I don't need you!" "Shut up and listen. I'm risking my neck coming in here to help you, so you damned well better follow orders. In a minute I'm going to call that guard in here, and we're going to borrow his uniform. Then we'll head for a scout ship and get you to hell back to Terra. Will that suit you?" "This is some kind of trick..." "Do you want to go, or stay here," Lors demanded coldly. "I don't have time to lecture you. I'll leave that up to your friend, Danson." "Play it your way, spaceman," Brice said tightly. "Okay." Lors stood up and spoke through the door to the guard, pulling his auto-pistol from the holster. "Come in here, spacer!" The guard shoved the door open and came in. "What is it, Firstspacer?" "Him." The guard swung to look at Brice and, as his head turned, Lors brought the butt of the pistol down hard. The guard grunted and dropped heavily to the floor, his auto-rifle falling with a loud thud. By now, if everything was working out right, Danson should be on his way to the scout ship hangar. Lors looked at Brice. "Come on, Nolan. Get into these clothes!" Between the two of them, the stripping of the guard was fast. In a few minutes, Brice was wearing the spacer's blue uniform and was buckling the black cartridge belt about his waist. He gripped the auto-rifle in his hands eagerly and looked at Lors. "Hand me his helmet," he said. Lors picked it up and straightened to hand it to the Terran. Lors saw the punch coming, but surprise prevented him from making any move in his defense. Nolan Brice's fist smashed into the side of his face with stunning shock and he flew backwards onto the bed. "Thanks," he heard Brice snarl. Lors rolled off the bed and onto the floor, the force of the punch making his head reel. He heard the door to the room close and the sound of Brice's running feet outside as he staggered to his feet. You damned fool, he thought. You can't get off this ship alone! He started running after the Terran, drawing his pistol as he ran... CHAPTER SEVENTEEN Lors dashed down the hallway into the main corridor, passing the limp body of the doctor and the young spacer who had been on duty at the desk. Apparently, Brice had come into the place fast, swinging the auto-rifle like it was a club. Both of the men were unconscious, but there was no blood in sight. "Crazy fool," Lors said aloud and slammed the door as he dashed into the corridor. Brice was running blindly. "Brice! Stop!" Lors fired the auto-pistol over the fleeing man's head.