I USED TO KNOW HIM

CHAPTER TWENTY-EIGHT

     Callum Brice was seated on the edge of the bed staring at the wall, but

Lors did not believe that he was in a state of shock. He had the knotted

jaws of a man who is firmly determined to betray nothing to his captors.

He sat there with his fingers, laced together, hanging between his knees,

his clothing rumpled and hanging loose from his broad frame.

"Callum?"

     Brice swung his eyes to the First spacer, the muscles of his jaws

working. "I'll kill you," he said, with a horrible softness in his

voice.

"Callum. Listen, I'm here to help you."

"You've done a lot of helping, spaceman. I know what you want. Earth."

"Don't be silly. I want to help you and Danson to get back home..."

"I don't need you!"

      "Shut up and listen. I'm risking my neck coming in here to help you, so

you damned well better follow orders. In a minute, I'm going to call that

guard in here, and we're going to borrow his uniform. Then we'll head

for a scout ship and get you to hell back to Terra. Will that suit

you?"

"This is some kind of trick..."

     "Do you want to go, or stay here," Lors demanded coldly. "I don't have

time to lecture you. I'll leave that up to your friend, Danson."

"Play it your way, spaceman," Brice said tightly.

     "Okay." Lors stood up and spoke through the door to the guard, pulling

his auto-pistol from the holster. "Come in here, spacer!"

The guard shoved the door open and came in. "What is it, First spacer?"

"Him."

     The guard swung to look at Brice and, as his head turned, Lors brought

the butt of the pistol down hard. The guard grunted and dropped heavily

to the floor, his auto-rifle falling with a loud thud. By now, if

everything was working out right, Danson should be on his way to the

scout ship hangar. Lors looked at Brice.

"Come on, Callum. Get into these clothes!"

     Between the two of them, the stripping of the guard was fast. In a few

minutes, Brice was wearing the spacer's blue uniform and was buckling

the black cartridge belt about his waist. He gripped the auto-rifle in

his hands eagerly and looked at Lors.

"Hand me his helmet," he said.

     Lors picked it up and straightened to hand it to the Terran. Lors saw

the punch coming, but surprise prevented him from making any move in his

defense. Callum Brice's fist smashed into the side of his face with

stunning shock and he flew backwards onto the bed.

"Thanks," he heard Brice snarl.

     Lors rolled off the bed and onto the floor, the force of the punch

making his head reel. He heard the door to the room close and the sound

of Brice's running feet outside as he staggered to his feet. You damned

fool, he thought. You can't get off this ship alone!

He started running after the Terran, drawing his pistol as he ran...

Lors dashed down the hallway into the main corridor, passing the limp

body of the doctor and the young spacer who had been on duty at the

desk. Apparently, Brice had come into the place fast, swinging the

auto-rifle like it was a club. Both of the men were unconscious, but

there was no blood in sight.

"Crazy fool," Lors said aloud and slammed the door as he dashed into the

corridor.

Brice was running blindly.

     "Brice! Stop!" Lors fired the auto-pistol over the fleeing man's head.

Brice stopped and whirled, dropping to one knee to bring up the rifle he

carried. He snapped off a fast burst and Lors dived across the polished

corridor to hug the wall. He landed, rolling, his pistol zeroed on the

Terran, but he couldn't bring himself to shoot.

     Callum Brice, however, had no scruples about shooting at Lors. He fired

continually, cursing as the bullets missed. Beyond the Terran, Lors

could see four other spacers running down the hall toward Brice. One of

them fired.

     Brice whirled, spotted them, and brought up his rifle. The gunfire, in

the emptiness of the hall, sounded like a machine gun being fired in a

cave. Lors saw a spacer slam backwards, rolling crazily from the impact

of the bullet, that Brice had triggered.

     The Terran was hunched over in a crouch, like an old gunfighter,

shooting from the hip. Suddenly he jerked to his feet, spun crazily in

two directions at once and fell flopping to the floor. The auto-rifle

clattered as he let it fall.

     Lors came slowly to his feet and shoved his gun back into its holster;

then he walked over to where Brice was staring at the ceiling through

unseeing eyes. It was a damned shame, but he had brought it on himself.

One of the spacers looked at him.

"Are you all right, sir?"

Lors nodded.

"Is he a spacer?" One of them asked, looking at the uniform.

     "An escaped Terran," Lors said, and then he remembered that Danson was

probably down at the hangar. "Don't jettison this body until I give you

the orders. Put it in quick freeze."

"Yes, sir," the spacer said.

     But Lors was already on his way down the corridor. He could do nothing

for Brice now ... perhaps it had even been a good thing. The shooting

would have drawn most of the high ranking officers toward the end of the

ship, leaving a comparatively clear space between him and the hangar. He

hoped that the doctor would stay out for a while.

As the Terrans said, they weren't out of the woods yet.

      He found a vacant elevator and took it down to the hangar level. As the

door whirled open, he raced into the corridor, nearly upsetting a

startled spacer with his rush. He had no idea how long it would be until

it was discovered that Narvi had let Danson out, but he knew the escape

would not remain unnoticed for long.