She started to hurry her pace toward the rocket hopper but found it was too tiring. Uh-oh, she thought. Fatigue’s one of the first signs of radiation sickness.
She knew the vacuum out here wasn’t empty. A torrent of subatomic particles was sleeting down upon her, mostly high-energy protons. The suit absorbed some of them, but plenty of others were getting through to smash into the atoms of her body and break them up. When she glanced at the color swatch in her helmet, though, it had gone down from bright pink to a sultry auburn.
Jeeps, Pancho exclaimed silently, the radiation level’s going down.
“Radiation warning,” the suit repeated yet again. “Radiation level exceeding maximum allowable. Get to shelter immediately.”
“I’m goin’,” Pancho groused. “I’m goin’.”
Radiation’s decreasing. The storm’s ending. Maybe I’ll make it through this after all. But then she thought that Yamagata might send some goons out to the launchpads if the radiation level’s gone down enough. Despite the aches in her legs and back, she pushed herself to walk faster.
HUMPHRIES MANSION: ON THE ROOF
Smoke was billowing up through the ventilator that Fuchs had smashed open. The guards down in the garden below pointed to it. One of them pulled a handheld from his tunic pocket and started talking into it.
We’ve got to get off this roof and out to the exit hatch, Fuchs thought. And quickly, before they get all their guards out here and we’re hopelessly surrounded.
Turning, he saw that Nodon was sitting by himself, his eyes open. He looked groggy, but at least he was conscious.
“Nodon,” Fuchs whispered, hunkering down beside the wounded man, “can you walk?”
“I think so, Captain.” Nodon’s right shoulder had stopped bleeding, but the charred spot on his coveralls showed where the laser beam had hit him. The arm hung limply by his side.
Turning to Amarjagal, Fuchs gestured toward the two guards below. “Get those two when I give the word. Sanja, help me carry Nodon.”
Sanja nodded wordlessly while Amarjagal checked the charge on the pistol in her hand. As Fuchs slid one beefy arm around Nodon’s slim waist he saw the two guards looking up in their direction. One of them was still speaking into his handheld.
“Now!” he shouted, hauling Nodon to his feet.
Amarjagal shot the one with the handheld squarely in the forehead, then swung her aim to hit his companion in the chest. They both tumbled into the bushes that lined the garden walkway.
With Sanja helping to support Nodon, Fuchs yelled, “Jump!” and all four of them leaped off the roof to land with a thump amid the shrubbery that lined the mansion’s wall. Lunar gravity, Fuchs thought gratefully. On Earth we would have broken our bones.
Half-dragging Nodon, they started up the bricked path, hobbling toward the heavy airtight hatch that was the only exit from the grotto. Fuchs heard shouts from behind them. Turning his head, he saw a trio of guards boiling out of the mansion’s front door, pistols in their hands. A tendril of pale gray smoke drifted out of the open door.
“Stop while you’re still alive,” one of the guards shouted. “There’s no way you can get out of here.”
“Amarjagal, help Sanja,” Fuchs commanded, slipping the wounded man out of his grasp and dropping to one knee. He snapped a quick shot at the three guards, who scattered to find shelter in the shrubbery. Fuchs fired at them until his pistol ran out of power. One of the flowering shrubs burst into flame and a guard leaped out from behind it.
Running back to the others Fuchs yelled, “Give me your guns! Quick!”
They obediently dropped their pistols onto the path, hardly breaking stride as they carried the wounded Nodon toward the hatch. Nodon’s the only one who knows the emergency codes to open the hatch, Fuchs thought. He’d better be conscious when we get there or we’re all dead.
He ducked behind the sturdy bole of a tree and peered up the pathway. No one in sight. They could be crawling through the shrubbery, Fuchs realized. He checked the three guns at his feet. Picking the one with the fullest charge, he began spraying the greenery, hoping to ignite it. Some of the plants smoldered but did not flame. Fuchs growled a curse as his pistol died; he picked up the next one.