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Updated: June 20, 2025
He stepped in quickly and chopped two straight lefts to Loring's jaw, then doubled the spaceman up again with a hard right to the heart. Loring gasped and tried to clinch. But Roger threw a straight jolting right to his jaw. The prisoner slumped to the floor, out cold. The fight was finished. Roger went over, picked up the paralo-ray gun, and opened the cell door again.
"Yeah. Tyrannosaurus." "Tyranno, eh?" nodded the little man. "Well, now, you'll need heavy stuff for that. I'd say at least three heavy-duty paralo-ray pistols for side arms, and three shock rifles. Then you'll need camping equipment, synthetics, and all the rest." He counted the items off on grubby little fingers. "Let's take a look at the blasters," said Tom. "Right this way," said the man.
They saw what appeared to be a well-organized squadron of jet boats come in for a landing with near military precision. The doors opened quickly and men poured out onto the dusty field. They were dressed alike in coveralls with short quarter-length space boots and round plastic crash helmets. Each man carried a paralo-ray gun strapped to his hips.
Now I've got to adjust the mixture of the fuel, otherwise she'll kick out on you and we'll have to clean out the tubes." "Yeah," sneered Loring. "Well, I happen to know you do that right on the control board." He motioned with the paralo-ray gun. "Get back down!" "On regular space drive, you do," agreed Tom. "But we're on hyperdrive now.
"Very well, Corbett," he shouted, not being able to judge the volume of his voice. "Good job! Can't seem to pick them up at the Academy again. Had them once, then lost them. Am placing you in command of an expedition for a quick look outside. Arm yourselves with paralo-ray guns and rifles. Take a jet boat and under no circumstances are you to land. Dismissed! Oh, yes, one more thing.
"That all depends on where you're standing, Walters!" said a voice from the hatch. The three spacemen whirled at the sound of the voice and were dumfounded by the appearance of Quent Miles, standing to one side of the hatch, holding an automatic paralo-ray rifle, trained on them. "Stay right where you are," he said softly. "The first man that moves gets frozen solid!"
Suddenly Miles appeared above him, walking across the open control deck with a clip board in his hand, making a standard check of the many instruments. Before Roger could find a hiding place, Miles saw the cadet. He drew his paralo-ray gun quickly, firing with the speed of a practiced hand. Roger dove toward the space suit and wrenched open the holster but found it empty.
He pulled the small charge of explosives from his tunic and held it in front of him. "All right, you two!" he shouted. "Drop those paralo-ray guns. This is the booby trap you planted in the tunnel. You fire those ray guns and we all go up together." Brett jumped back. Miles took a half step forward and stopped. "You haven't got the nerve," he sneered. "Shoot and you'll find out," said Tom.
He opened fire, squeezing the trigger rapidly. The first row of green-clad men were immediately frozen. Dropping to one knee, the spaceman again opened fire, and men in the second row stiffened as they tried to return the fire. "Fire! Cut him down!" roared Hilmarc frantically. The men broke ranks and the area in front of Sinclair's house crackled with paralo-ray gunfire.
He stared at the darkened screen and began estimating the chances of success for a plan he had in mind. Deciding that, regardless of what happened, he had to take over the ship, he got up and turned toward the hatch and the gun locker. He stopped cold. Loring stood framed in the doorway, a paralo-ray gun in each hand. "Just stand right where you are, spaceboy!" snapped Loring.
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