THEY STOOD BEFORE THE switchboard again. Martin and Wass side by side, Rodney, still holding his gun, slightly to the rear.
Rodney moved forward a little toward the switches. His breathing was loud and rather uneven in the radio receivers.
Martin made a final effort. “Rodney, it’s still almost nine hours to take off. Let’s search awhile first. Let this be a last resort.”
Rodney jerked his head negatively. “No. Now, I know you, Martin. Postpone and postpone until it’s too late, and the ship leaves without us and we’re stranded here to eat seeds and gradually dehydrate ourselves and God only knows what else and—”
He reached out convulsively and yanked a switch.
Martin leaped, knocking him to the floor. Rodney’s gun skittered away silently, like a live thing, out of the range of the torc
