Lines swung
down to fasten their magnetic clamps on the flitter. Then once more they
were air borne, swinging up to be warped into the side of the ship. As
the outer port of the flitter berth closed Dane reached over and pulled
loose the lashing which immobilized his companion. The Medic stood up, a
little awkwardly as might any man who wore space armor the first time.
The inner hatch now opened and Dane waved his captive into the small
section which must serve them as a decontamination space. Free at last of
the suits, they went through one more improvised hatch to the main
corridor of the Queen where Rip and Ali stood waiting, their weary faces
lighting as they saw the Medic.
It was the latter who spoke first. "This _is_ a plague ship--"
Rip shook his head. "It is _not_, sir. And you're the one who is going to
help us prove that."
The man leaned back against the wall, his face expressionless. "You take
a rather tough way of trying to get help."
"It was the only way left us. I'll be frank," Rip continued, "we're
Patrol Posted."
The Medic's shrewd eyes went from one drawn young face to the next.
Pages:
223
224
225
226
227
228
229
230
231
232
233
234
235
236
237
238
239
240
241
242
243
244
245
246
247