nding
sound came to his startled ears. It was followed by a sudden swishing
noise. Grant knew what that meant. A meteor had ripped into the vitals
of the space-flier, and the precious air was rushing through the
fissure into outer space. He whirled without an instant's hesitation
and sprang down the long corridor toward the captain's quarters. If
caught in time, the hole could be plugged.

Even as he ran, there was another grinding smash, then another, and
another. Good Lord, they must have headed right into a meteor shower.
Panels were sliding open, and people, scantily attired, thrust
startled heads out into the corridor. Someone called after him, but he
did not heed or stop his headlong race. He must get to the control
room at once.

Already the air in the corridor was a sucking whirlpool that beat and
eddied about him in its mad rush to escape. It sounded like the
drumbeat of unsilenced exploders. A meteor shower of unprecedented
proportions! In the back of Grant's mind as he ran, hammered a
thought. Every swarm of meteors in the solar system was carefully
plotted. The lanes of travel were routed to avoid them. There was no
known shower in this particular area!

He collided violently with a strange ungainly figure. In his desperate
haste he did not give much heed, but tried to push his way past. The
figure turned on him, and then Grant stopped short, an exclamation
frozen to his lips. Red unwinking eyes stared out at him from goggles
set in a helmet. The body was completely inclosed in lusterless
creatoid. It was a Ganymedan in a space-suit!

* * * * *

Grant saw the quick movement of the other toward an open side flap. He
did not hesitate an instant. His fist shot out and caught the
Ganymedan flush in the throat, while his left hand simultaneously
seized the creatoid-covered arm that gripped a pencil-ray. The
helmeted head went back with a sickening thud. But the Ganymedan was
a powerful brute. Even as he staggered back from the force of the
blow, vainly trying to release the pencil-ray for action, his right
foot jerked forward. The next moment both were rolling on the floor,
twisting and heaving in silent combat. Frightened passengers rushed
down the corridor, screaming with terror, half carried along by the
hurricane wind, clambering over the combatants in an insane desire to
get away, where, they knew not; and still neither relaxed his grip,
seeking a mortal hold.

Pembert