"No!" grunted Dave, turning his back on the pilot, who was approaching.
He scooped up the tool kit with his left hand and walked rapidly to
get out of range of whatever loudspeaker system the enemy had in the
laboratory. He strode thirty feet towards the pilot, who also came
towards Dave about the same distance. Then--
"You're not--"
"Up!" snapped Dave, dropping the tool kit and pulling the captured
revolver out of its holster.
The pilot snarled and made a side-swinging fadeaway motion, bringing
the rifle up from its under-arm position. The pilot fired and the slug
snapped past Dave's head. Dave fired and winged the pilot in the right
shoulder, spinning the man around and dropping him to the ground.
Then Dave raced forward, made a long leap, and landed, kicking the
rifle away with one heel and planting the toe of the other foot cruelly
in the armpit of the wounded shoulder.
Pain crazed the pilot and he writhed on the ground, half-conscious.
When he came to, Dave had his knees and ankles trussed with friction
tape and was winding his free arm against his body with more tape.
The pilot mouthed some unprintables.
"Shut up!" snapped Dave.
"Bah!"
Dave backhanded the pilot across the face. The face writhed in pain and
the eyes half-closed again. Dave tore the sleeve from the shirt and
bound the bullet wound crudely.
"Now," he said harshly, "you'll live if you behave. It ain't painless,
but you'll live--if you want to."
"You can't get away with this."
"No?"
"We'll get you sooner or later--"
"Think you'll live to see it?"
"Yes."
"You're wrong again, chum."
"Bah! We know your kind, all of you. Self-centered and egotistical, not
one of you would care to die for his fellow man. We--"
Dave snorted scornfully. "During the last time we got in a scrap to
prove that we're not as sloppy as you think, I took on a load of
fission products. I don't much care whether you kill me quick right now
or whether you let me die six months from now. I'm a dead man anyway.
But in the meantime, little pawn of the superstate, I might be able to
foul you up because I have nothing to be afraid of--but failure!" Dave
let that sink in, although he doubted whether it made much impression.
Then he demanded, "What do you know about this?"
"Nothing."