He was right. I heard the sandcycle, and then the squeal of its brakes
below the entry port.
"Olsen!" Bill was yelling as he scrambled in. "Hell is loose out there!
The Marties--"
[Illustration: _I was at the mercy of a lunatic--and the Marties
waiting outside!_]
"Look out!" I yelled, but too late. Bill was panting and didn't have a
chance to hold his breath as Mike slapped the sleep mask over his face.
Mike caught him as he fell and loaded him into the other cushions.
There must have been at least a hundred green-skinned Marties milling
about outside. They'd followed Bill from T'lith and they were really
milling in a most un-Martian fashion.
"What have you done, Mike?" I cried, then I understood what the word
"aghast" really means. That's what I was. Aghast.
Mike slammed and dogged the port, but even through the insulated hull I
could hear the uproar outside.
Bill opened his eyes, gave me one look of utter disgust, and started
struggling.
"Mike!" he roared. "Get us the hell out of here! Turn me loose! All the
Martians have gone crazy! They chased me, damn it!"
Mike just grinned, but tensely.
"You let me out of here at once!" Bill bellowed. "Damn it all, this is
mutiny!"
"Oh no," Mike protested. "I'm not responsible. I'm crazy. You put it in
the log that way yourself."
Wild Bill's face went purple. "Then blast us out of here yourself,
before they kill us all," he yammered. "You were right! They're on the
warpath!"
"No!" Mike refused flatly. "I'm not finished yet."
Bill's language grew luridly unprintable, and when he refused to quit
shouting Mike finally gassed him out again.
Then he went back to the Hustic. Mostly he kept it on _send_, but every
few minutes he'd flip over to _receive_ for just a second or two. Then
he'd make another infinitesimal adjustment.
Once he froze in his chair. One of his arms was half raised and it
stayed that way, unnaturally motionless. He looked like a statue--or a
Martie--or someone who had the Malignant Inertia Complex.
"Mike!" I yelled, more frightened than ever.
He shook his head dizzily and flipped the switch out of the _receive_
position.
"Thanks, Swede," he said. "That Thing almost had me that time, but now
I've got it."
He twisted the power knob full over. The transformers howled under the
overload. He jammed the helmet down more firmly on his head and stood
up, staring blankly at the bulkhead as though looking through the solid
steel.
"Listen, Thing!" he growled.