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Updated: June 24, 2025
Like a monster gasping for breath, the imprisoned air sighed out. Taking advantage of the moment when Rodan's and Dutch's hands moved in life-saving instinct to reseal their collars, Frank Nelsen leaped, and then kicked twice, as hard as he could, in rapid succession. At Dutch's stomach, first. Then Rodan's. They were down safe from death, since they had managed to re-latch their collars.
Here was a diabolical backfiring of schemes, all around. Returning to Rodan and Dutch, he examined their Archers through their servicing ports. Rodan's was as the manufacturer intended it. But Dutch's was jimmied the same as his and Lester's. Nelsen swung Helen around to face him, and unlatched a port at her Archer's shoulder.
"Maybe I overplayed my hand, but just the same, I still think I'm the best to say what's to be done and maybe get us out of a jam, and I can't have Helen or Rodan or anybody else doing any more cockeyed things to screw matters up even worse than they are." Nelsen trussed Rodan up, too, then searched Rodan's thigh pouch and found a bunch of keys. "You come along with me, Les and Helen," he said.
The others leapt to help Nelsen, Ramos, Gimp and Lester strip and pack their gear. Ramos' and Gimp's drums were loaded into the job scout's rocket. Nelsen's and Lester's went into Rodan's. Gloved hands clasped gloved hands all around. The Bunch, the Planet Strappers, were breaking up. "So long, you characters see you around," said Art Kuzak.
But David Lester was lost and vague, his food almost untouched. "I I don't know!" he stammered. Scared and embittered further by this bad sign, Frank turned to Helen. "And how are you?" he asked hopefully. "I am all right," she answered, without a trace of encouragement. She was in jeans, maybe she was eighteen, maybe she was Rodan's daughter. Her face was as reddened as a peasant's.
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