gain, Gore looked around.

"Come on, you little ginny!" he chortled. "I see you! Come to Moby, my
beauty. You'll be queen of the hold, and this scurvy litter will kiss
your feet every day."

* * * * *

He pursued her as she ran, bowling over or trampling on the
fear-stricken prisoners as they tried to scramble out of his way, men
and women alike. But she made up in agility what she lacked in
strength, lifting up the hem of her robe so that her legs twinkled
bare, ducking under Gore's outstretched arms, or leaping over the
fallen form of some stumbling, panic-stricken unfortunate.

Only in her eyes was there a true picture of her terror. Gore's
uncertain temper was changing again, and in a few moments he was
cursing foully, his little red-rimmed eyes glistening, as he dashed
after her with short, boar-like rushes.

Again she skimmed past where Quirl cowered in simulated fear, and the
look she gave him struck straight at the disguised officer's heart. So
it was that when she slipped and fell to her knees, and Gore charged
in with a triumphant laugh, Quirl met him with no thought of anything,
no feeling but the joy of battle, the delight of a strong man when he
meets a foe whom he hates. And to that heady, feral emotion was added
the unforgettable picture of a lovely face whose obvious fear was
somehow tempered by hope and confidence--in him!

As Gore lunged past, Quirl struck him. It was a short, sharp,
well-timed jab that would have knocked out an ordinary man. But Gore
was by no means ordinary. The blow laid open his cheek against the
jawbone, but Gore scarcely slowed as he swerved. With a bellow of
rage, he came straight at Quirl, arms outstretched.

Philosophers have said that no matter how far the human race advances
in the sciences, its fundamental reactions will still be atavistic.
Gore could have dispatched Quirl in a second with his ray weapon, with
perfect safety. Yet it is doubtful that the weapon even entered his
mind. As he came to the battle he was driven only by the primitive
urge to fight with his hands, to maim, to tear limb from limb like the
great simians whom he resembled.

* * * * *

To Quirl, coolly poised, the picture of Gore did not inspire terror.
In the passengers, it did. They saw a brutal giant, gorilla-like, and
roaring like a beast, charging at a half-naked youth apparently only
half his size. It seemed that those tremen