"Are you going to give me some help, or do I have to haul all this gear
myself?"
Despite the leg, I didn't know whether to laugh or explode.
Moya was rattling around in an outsized bug suit and carrying the
biggest Moril blaster contained in a star ship's arsenal that could
still be called portable.
"What in condemned space are you doing here?" I shouted.
I was ready to give it to him right off the top of the regs about the
relationship between ship's master and agents-on-assignment and the
responsibilities of command, but the leg chose that moment to fail.
Until then, I hadn't really been worried. I fell forward against the
pitch of the slope, caught myself with my arms, and rolled over on my
back. I hit my left thigh with my fist and felt absolutely nothing.
Massage didn't help.