One of the aliens just ahead of Raf in the line of march suddenly
swung around, his weapon pointing up, and from its nose shot a beam of
red-yellow light which brought an answering shrill scream as a large,
winged creature came fluttering down. The killer kicked at the
crumpled thing as he passed. As far as Raf could see there had been no
reason for that wanton slaying.
The head of the party had reached a doorway, sealed shut by what
looked like a solid slab of material. He placed both palms flat down
on its surface at shoulder height and leaned forward against it,
almost as if he were whispering some secret formula. Raf watched the
muscles stand up on his slender arms as he exerted strength. And then
the door split in two, and his fellows helped him push the separate
halves back into the wall.
Lablet, Hobart, and Raf were among the last to enter. It was as if
their companions had now forgotten them, for the aliens were pushing
on at a pace which took them down an empty corridor at a quickening
trot.
The corridor ended in a ramp which did not slope in one straight reach
but curled around itself, so that in some places only the presence of
a handrail, to which they all clung, kept them from losing balance.
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