He was inside the city.
The others poured through now, picking him up as they charged in so he wouldn’t be trampled underfoot. Someone spotted the spaceship and they ran that way.
A man ran around the corner of a building toward them. His Pyrran reflexes sent him springing into the safety of a doorway the same moment he saw the invaders. But they were Pyrrans too. The man slumped slowly back onto the street, three metal bolts sticking out of his body. They ran on without stopping, running between the low storehouses. The ship stood ahead.
Someone had reached it before them; they could see the outer hatch slowly grinding shut. A hail of bolts from the bows crashed into it with no effect.
“Keep going!” Jason shouted. “Get next to the hull before he reaches the guns.”
This time three men didn’t make it. The rest of them were under the belly of the ship when every gun let go at once. Most of them were aimed away from the ship, still the scream of shells and electric discharges was earshattering. The three men still in the open dissolved under the fire. W7hoever was inside the ship had hit all the gun trips at once, both to knock out the attackers and summon aid. He would be on the screen now, calling for help. Their time was running out.
Jason reached up and tried to open the hatch, while the others watched. It was locked from the inside. One of the men brushed him aside and pulled at the inset handle. It broke off in his hand but the hatch remained closed.
The big guns had stopped now and they could hear again.
“Did anyone get the gun from that dead man?” he asked. “It would blow this thing open.”
“No,” Plies said, “we didn’t stop.”
Before the words were out of his mouth, two men were running back toward the buildings, angling away from each other. The ship’s
guns roared again, a string of explosions cut across one man. Before they could change directions and find the other man he had reached the buildings.
He returned quickly, darting into the open to throw the gun to them. Before he could dive back to safety, the shells caught him.
Jason grabbed up the gun as it skidded almost to his feet. They heard the sound of wide open truck turbines screaming toward them as he blasted the lock. The mechanism sighed and the hatch sagged open. They were all through the airlock before the first truck appeared. Naxa stayed behind with the gun, to hold the lock until they could take the control room.
Everyone climbed faster than Jason, once he had pointed them the way, so the battle was over when he got there. The single city Pyrran looked like a pincushion. One of the techs had foqnd the gun controls and was shooting wildly, the sheer quantity of his fire driving the trucks back.
“Someone get on the radio and tell the talkers to call the attack off,” Jason said. He found the communications screen and snapped it on. Kerk’s wide-eyed face stared at him from the screen.
“You!” Kerk said, breathing the word like a curse.
“Yes, it’s me,” Jason answered. He talked without looking up, while his hands were busy at the control board. “Listen to me, Kerk-and don’t doubt anything I say. I may not know how to fly one of these ships, but I do know how to blow them up. Do you hear that sound?” He ffipped over a switch and the faraway whine of a pump droned faintly. “That’s the main fuel pump. If I let it run-which I won’t right now-it could quickly fill the drive chamber with raw fuel. Pour in so much that it would run out of the stern tubes. Then what do you think would happen to your one-and-only spacer if I pressed the firing button? I’m not asking you what would happen to me-since you don’t care-but you need this ship the way you need life itself.”
There was only silence in the cabin now. The men who had won the ship turned to face him. Kerk’s voice grated loudly through the room.