CHIP WARREN AND SYD Palmer were the co-owners of the Chickadee; it was Chip whose alertness had saved them in that first, terrifying moment, Chip it was who still held the controls. But it was Salvation Smith who usurped the mastership during the crisis.
“Hell’s flaming damnation!” he cried, and there rang in his voice a rage above weak need of profanity. “Lend now Thy servant strength, O Lord, to smite these sons of Hurkan!” He whirled on Palmer, snarling. “Break out bulgers for us in case they should pierce the hull! Chip, son, do the controls answer well? Good! Keep dodging. Swing aft; the beam can’t nip you there! You’ve armament aboard this heap?”
Syd, tugging three spacesuits from the store-closet, puffed over his shoulder, “Only a low-cycle heat-gun. There! Under that tarp. Press
