Jonnie protested a little at not heeding his instincts earlier. He had felt some presence. That was the worst part of wearing air masks. It denied one’s sense of smell. And he could smell it now. Despite the cold air and the rust motes Jonnie could smell a Psychlo.
He rose cautiously, holding the g*n, and backed toward his plane to get a bit more distant. A Psychlo was pretty strong stuff not only to smell but to deal with in any wrestling match. He recalled having to wait for Thor before he could approach within arm’s length of Terl. Psychlos could crush one with ease. Which Psychlo was this? Did he know him?
Zzt, pressed up against the skin, was trying to keep from vomiting with contempt and disgust. Only what it would do to his breathe-mask prevented him.
It wasn’t the blastgun shots
