Eric said, "look--they might get back to Earth someday--their progeny a
bunch of savages; the hope and dreams of the race reduced to--nothing.
We can kill if we have to."
It was agreed. Without saying anything, Striker himself activated the
lock.
* * * * *
Two men with clubs rushed them in the corridor, howling "Lazarus" and
"death." It was Striker who shot them where they stood, before they
could use the clubs.
After that, they fired shots into the air, and people ran screaming
away from them. Their first rush carried them almost to the control
room and briefly Eric remembered when he had looked out from there
with Clair at the bright faraway stars. But he could not quite picture
Clair's face. He tried to, but he saw the girl, Laurie....
A dozen uniformed men stood before the control room. They looked badly
frightened, but they stood their ground, then advanced.
"What do we do now?" Chambers asked. "We couldn't get them all, not
before--"
There was a rush behind them as a score of figures marched into the
corridor. "We're trapped!" Striker cried.
Eric grinned. "I don't think so." He had seen Laurie in the vanguard of
the newcomers.
They did not have to use their guns, not as they had been meant to be
used. They fought with tooth and nail, using the guns as clubs. But
mostly, they stood back and watched their allies tear into the guards.
The girl Laurie cried: "I told you there were some who believed, Eric
Taine. I told you!"
They reached the control room door, battered at it. Half a dozen men
came up with a great post of metal, heaved. The door shuddered. Again.
Again. It crashed in.
Lindquist and Larkin stood there, over a great pile of charts and
books. "You won't take this ship on to Centauri," Larkin yelled.
A little flame flickered at the end of the tube in his hand. He
crouched.
"If those are the astrogation charts--" said Striker.
Eric dove, caught Larkin's midsection with his shoulder, threw the man
back. They struggled on the floor, and dimly Eric was aware of others
who held the writhing Lindquist. Larkin fought like a snake, twisting,
turning, gouging.
Eric, out of the corner of his eye, saw Lindquist breaking loose,
watched him running with the brand to the pile of charts. A shot
crashed through the room, echoing hollowly. Lindquist fell over his
charts.
Now Eric had Larkin down, was pinning him, felt the man's hands
twisting, clawing at his stomach, saw them come away with his gun. They
grappled, and Eric cursed himself for forgetting the gun. Larkin held
it, laughed, squeezed the trigger as Eric pushed clear.
Then the laughter faded as Larkin stared stupidly at the gun he had not
known how to use. Larkin gasped once, held both hands to the growing
red stain on his middle.
* * * * *
"Dead," Richardson said later. "They're both dead. You know, I think
it's better this way. They would have been trouble. But now--now all we
have to do is find the course again, turn the ship around--"
"It'll mean two extra generations in space," Chambers said. "They've
been heading back for Earth twenty-five years."
With Eric, he studied the charts, assembled them, punched a few buttons
on the computing machine. "Like this," Eric said. He twirled a few
dials. "It takes a long time with the overdrive, but we'll be back on
course in three years."
For a while he gazed out the port, fascinated by the huge sweep of the
Milky Way, clear and beautiful in the black sky. When he turned back
and away from it, Laurie stood beside him.
"Hello, Lazarus."
"Very funny," he said. "Call me Taine--better still, call me Eric."
"Eric, then. Hello, Eric."