too great an effort
to listen to the words.

I was lying on my face now, head almost against the wall. There was a
black line in front of me, a door. My head cleared a bit. It must have
been Kramer's shot working on me. I turned my head and saw Kramer
standing now with half a dozen others, all talking at once. Apparently
Kramer's display of uncontrolled temper had the others worried. They
wanted me alive. Kramer didn't like anyone criticizing him. The argument
was pretty violent. There was scuffling--and shouts.

I saw that I lay about twenty feet from the lift; too far. The door
before me, if I remembered the ship's layout, was a utility room, small
and containing nothing but a waste disposal hopper. But it did have a
bolt on the inside, like every other room on the ship.

I didn't stop to think about it; I started trying to get up. If I'd
thought I would have known that at the first move from me all seven of
them would land on me at once. I concentrated on getting my hands under
me, to push up. I heard a shout, and turning my head, saw Kramer
swinging at someone. I went on with my project.

Hands under my chest, I raised myself a little, and got a knee up. I
felt broken rib ends grating, but felt no pain, just the padded claw.
Then I was weaving on all fours. I looked up, spotted the latch on the
door, and put everything I had into lunging at it. My finger hit it, the
door swung in, and I fell on my face; but I was half in. Another lunge
and I was past the door, kicking it shut as I lay on the floor, reaching
for the lock control. Just as I flipped it with an extended finger,
someone hit the door from outside, a second too late.

It was dark, and I lay on my back on the floor, and felt strange
short-circuited stabs of what would have been agonizing pain running
through my chest and arm. I had a few minutes to rest now, before they
blasted the door open.

I hated to lose like this, not because we were beaten, but because we
were giving up. My poor world, no longer fair and green, had found the
strength to send us out as her last hope. But somewhere out here in the
loneliness and distance we had lost our courage. Success was at our
fingertips, if we could have found it; instead, in panic and madness, we
were destroying ourselves.

* * * * *

My mind wandered; I imagined myself on the Bridge, half-believed I was
there. I was resting on the OD bunk, and Clay was standing beside me.