To cut through! Dane’s hand went to his holster. A blaster could cut rock, cut it with greater dispatch than it had shorn through the tougher material of the maze. The idea struck Kosti too—the muffled noise made by his “persuasion” methods ceased.
“You’ll have to pick just the right spot,” Ali continued. “Where is the door—”
“That can be found by this old snake here, can’t it?” purred the jetman.
There was an inarticulate whimper in answer to that. Kosti must have heard it as an assent for he pushed past Dane, shoving the captive before him.
“Right there eh? Well, it better be, blue boy, it just better be!”
Dane nearly lost his balance as the Rigellian was thrust back upon him. He elbowed the man back against the wall and stood waiting.
“That you, Frank? Get back man—all of you get back!”
A second body was pushed against Dane and he gave ground, retreating with the Rigellian and the other.
“Look out for a back wash, you fool!” Ali called out. “Give it low power ‘til you see how that cuts—”
Kosti laughed. “I was flipping a polishing rag, son, when you were learning how to walk. You let the old man show his stuff now. Up ship and out!” With that wild slogan which had resounded in countless bars when the Traders hit dirt after long voyages, blazing light spewed out, blinding them all.
Dane peered between the fingers of a shielding hand and watched that core of brilliance centre on the rock, saw the stone glow red and then white before rippling in molten streams to the floor. Heat, waves of roasting heat blasted back at them, forcing retreat for all except that one big figure who stood his ground, pointing the weapon at the rock, his helmet, its protecting visor snapped into place, nodding a little in time with the force bolts which jerked his arm and body as they burst from the weapon in his hand to crash against the disintegrating wall. How could Kosti stand up to that back wash? He was taking more than was possible for a man to endure.
But the beam held steady on the point and hole grew as stone flaked away in patches, the inner rot spreading. The stink of the discharge filled their throats, gave them hacking coughs, cut at their eyes until tears wet their cheeks. And still Kosti stood in his place, with the stability of a command robot.
”Karl!” Ali’s voice rose to a scream, “Look out—Let up!”
There was a crash as a piece of rock gave way, bashing down into the corridor of the maze. Just in the last instant the jetman had moved, but he did not give more than the few feet necessary to preserve the minimum safety.
With his free hand he beat at a smouldering patch on his breeches. But his grip on the blaster did not waver and the beam of destruction continued to bore in just where he had aimed it.
By the flame Dane saw the Rigellian’s face. His wide eyes centred on Kosti and there was a kind of horror mirrored in them. He edged away from the inferno at the portal, but more as if he feared the man who induced it than if he were afraid of the blaster work.
“That does it!” Kosti’s voice was muffled in his helmet.
As yet they dared not approach the glowing door he had cut for them. But since he had holstered his arm it was plain that he thought the job done. Now he came back to join them, pushing up his visor so by the glow of the cooling rock they could see his face wet and shiny. He pounded vigorously with his gloved hands at places on the front of his tunic and breeches and carried with him the taint of singed leather and fabric.
“What’s out there?” Dane wanted to know.
Kosti’s nose wrinkled. “Another hallway as black as outer space. But at least we can get of this whirly- round!”
Impatient as they were to be on their way, they must wait until it was safe to cross that cut which radiated heat. Adjusting helmets, improvising a protection for Ali from the Rigellian’s tunic, they made ready. But before they went Kosti gave a last attention to their captive.
“We could pull you through,” he observed. “But you might fry on the way, and besides you’d be a dead jet breaking our speed if we tangle with any of your friends outside. So we’ll just store you in deep freeze—to be called for.” He fastened the man’s ankles as well as his wrists and rolled him away from the heated portion of the corridor.
Then with Ali in their midst they hurried through the cut and out into the hall. Darkness closed about them once more, and an experiment proved that here, as well as in the maze, the torches could not fight the blackness. But at least the way before them was smooth and straight and there were no openings along it to betray them into wrong turnings.
They slowed their pace to accommodate Ali, and went linked together by touch as they had in the maze.
“Worm’s eye view—” Kosti’s grumble came through the sable quiet. “Did the Forerunners have eyes?”
Dane slipped his arm about the swaying Ali’s shoulders and gave him support. He felt the engineer- apprentice wince as his clumsy grasp awoke some bruise to life and adjusted his hold quickly, though Ali made no sound of protest.
“Here is an opening, we have reached the end of this way,” Mura said. “Yes, beyond is another passage— wider, much wider—”
“A wider road might lead to a more important section,” Dane ventured.
“Just so it gets us out of here!” was Kosti’s contribution. “I’m tired of jetting around in this muck hole. Go on, Frank, take us in.”
The procession of four moved on, making a sharp turn to the right. They were now marching abreast and Dane had an impression of room about them, though the dark was as complete as ever.
Then they were stopped, not by another barrier but by noise—a shout which exploded along the hall with the crack of a stun rifle. In a moment it was followed by just that—the crack of a rifle.
“Down!” Mura snapped. But the others were already moving.
Dane ducked, pulling Ali with him. Then he was lying flat, trying to sort out some meaning from the wild clamour which floated back to them.
“Small war on—” that was Kosti managing to make himself heard between two bursts of firing.
“And it’s coming our way,” Ali breathed close to Dane’s ear.
The cargo-apprentice drew his blaster, though he did not see how he was going to make much use of it now. To fire blindly in the dark was not a wise move.
“Yaaaah—” That was no shout of rage, it was the yammering scream of a man who had taken his death wound. And Ali was very right—the battle was fast approaching where they lay.
“Back against the walls,” again Mura gave tongue to a move they were already making.
Dane clutched a portion of Ali’s torn tunic and felt it rip more as he pulled the engineer-apprentice after him to the right. They fetched up against the wall and stayed there, huddled together and listening.
A flash of light cracked open the curtain about them. Dazzled, Dane had an impression of black forms. And then a smouldering patch of red on the wall was all that marked the burst of a blaster.
“Lord of High Space,” Ali half whispered. “If they beam those straight down here, we’ll fry!”
Feet pounded towards them and Dane stiffened, clutching his weapon. Maybe he should fire at the sound, knock out the runners before they came too close. But he could not bring himself to squeeze the trigger. All a Trader’s ingrained distrust of open battle made him hesitate.
There was light up there now. Not the grey, ghostly gloom which had once lit these halls, but a thick yellow shaft which was both normal and reassuring to Terran eyes. And against that the four from the Queen saw five figures take cover on the floor, ready—no longer fleeing, but turning to show their teeth to their pursuers.
CHAPTER EIGHTEEN:
UP SHIP AND OUT
'Surrender! in the name of the Federation—” the voice boomed from the walls about them.
“Patrol!” Ali identified the order.
All right—so the Patrol had landed, Dane was willing to accept that. But which of the parties before them
