He dragged himself away to starboard.
Trailing blood, he scrambled to the rail.
The major snatched his revolver from its holster.

Up came the "Captain's" gun, once more.
"No, no!" the Master shouted, stung into sudden activity.

"Not that! Alive--take him alive!" The stowaway's answer was a laugh of wild derision; a hideous, shrill, tremulous laugh that rose in a kind of devilish, mockery on the air of that high level.

For just a second the man hung there, swaying, at the rail.

Beyond him, up the tilt of the falling _Nissr_, brighter flames whipped back.