up!" Boone snarled. "I know what you're thinking. You're
thinking we ought to let them officers and Secret Servicemen to ram home
the subspace drive. But use your head, man. Probably they'll kill us
all, but if they don't--"

"Then you admit there's a chance!"

"Yeah. All right, a chance. But if they don't kill us all, if they save
us by ramming home the subspacer, what happens? We're all taken in on a
mutiny charge. It's a capital offense, you fool!"

"Well, it's better than sure death," the man said, and moved toward the
door.

"Allister, wait!" Boone cried. "Wait, I'm warning you. Any man who tries
to open that door--"

Outside, a steady booming of blaster fire could be heard, but the
assault-proof door stood fast.

"--is going to get himself killed!" Boone finished.

Grimly, Allister reached the door and got his already blistered fingers
on the lock mechanism.

Ackerman Boone shot him in the back with an N-gun.

* * * * *

Larry's whole body felt like one raw mass of broken blisters as, flat on
his belly, he inched his way along the outside hull of the _Glory of the
Galaxy_. He had no idea what the heat was out here, but it radiated off
the hot hull of the _Glory_ in scalding, suffocating waves which swept
right through the insulining of the spacesuit. If he didn't find the
proper hatch, and in a matter of seconds....

* * * * *

"Anyone else?" Ackerman Boone screamed. "Anyone else like Allister?"

But one by one the remaining men were dropping from the heat.
Finally--alone--Ackerman Boone faced the door and stared defiantly at
the hot metal as if he could see his adversaries through it. On the
other side, the firing became more sporadic as the officers and Secret
Servicemen collapsed. His mind crazed with the heat and with fear,
Ackerman Boone suddenly wished he could see the men through the door,
wished he could see them die....

* * * * *

It was this hatch or nothing. He thought it was the right one, but
couldn't be sure. He could no longer see. His vision had gone
completely. The pain was a numb thing now, far away, hardly a part of
himself. Maybe Mayhem was absorbing the pain-sensation for him, he
thought. Maybe Mayhem took the pain and suffered with it in the shared
body so he, Larry, could still think. Maybe--

His blistered fingers were barely able to move within the insulined
gloves, Larry fumb