He turned. The door had irised shut behind him, erecting an invulnerable barrier between him and freedom.
He studied the door while the loathsome once-men greeted the men who would replace them at their deadly task. It looked fairly familiar; it was almost like--by space, it _was_!--an ultron-relay door.
A door Dave Conroy had helped to design, he and his partner Lloyd Regan, back before the terrible lab accident that had killed Regan and set Conroy to drinking.
Moving unobtrusively away from the group, he edged to the door. Yes--it _was_ an ultronic door, he confirmed on close inspection. And that meant--
Hands that had once been those of a skilled engineer felt along the smooth metal for the emergency-hatch, found the microscopic depression built into the cupralloy for use in case the delicate ultronic mechanism of the door failed. His finger nestled in the slot for an instant--
"Hey!" he shouted, and jumped through. He heard the startled cries of the convicts.
"It's a trap," someone yelled. But another said, "Let's run for it"--and then the whole pack of them swarmed through the open door, Conroy in the lead.
They dashed back up the long corridor and Conroy opened the other door by the same process. Then they were out in the main room again.
Major Hawes gasped in astonishment as he saw the ragged army sweep toward him. He drew his blaster, but one of the half-skeletonized veteran jetmen stumbled forward and took the bolt in his stomach, then kept going and wrapped decaying arms around the Major's throat.
Conroy's fist collided with the mouth of a surprised Space-Station guard; his knuckles felt a sharp stab of pain, and teeth crumbled. Dave came up with a staggering blow to the guard's midsection and he fell.
That left two more to take care of. The lightning assault was still only seconds old. One of the guards was fingering the firing-stud on his blaster, but a man Conroy knew only as Pete sprang forward, wrenched the gun away, and dove into the guard.
Conroy grabbed the fallen gun, scooped it up and fired. His bolt spurted redly into the arm of the remaining guard.
Three more Space-Station men in gray uniforms came in, and Conroy and his little army swept forward to meet them. In the general confusion, Conroy's blaster was swept away--and, alone, unarmed, he slipped past the milling rebels and escaped into the corridor outside.