Rex's shoulders--broader by far than Carl's--bunched up. He growled,
"Yeah. _I'm taking a ride._"
"Swell. I'll go with you."
"Nope."
"Why not?"
Rex turned and, with a single motion, jumped to the edge of the
airlock. He jeered, "I don't want any boy scouts along with me this
trip. G'bye!"
Carl felt a rage he had never really shown Rex. He leaped. All it got
him was a bad fall on the slippery ice underfoot. When he finally got
to his feet, the airlock door was whining shut. A few seconds later,
the ship leaped away, the rocket apertures throwing out their blatting
swords of energy. The ship roared skyward.
Carl stood looking after it, a wet crawling on his skin. He was
terribly frightened. The worst part of it was, he didn't know what was
frightening him. He turned and started back down the ladders to the
underground city.
Four years, he thought, as he climbed the ladders down. Four years
we've been here. It seems forever since we ran away that night. And for
two of those years, Rex has been busy with something. Manufacturing
merbohydrate and taking trips out into space. Why?
_Distress signal!_
The two words hit him with smashing impact. He wrapped both hands
around the ladder, to keep himself from falling down the shaft. He
trembled and shook and dizzy spots grew in his eyes.