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. In the same motion, the cyborg made the lunge for the door controls.
Either the boy took Xris's advice or he had sense enough to know what was going to happen. He dove for the deck, hugged metal. Laser fire burned through the air above him.
Xris's good hand yanked the emergency lever on the airlock, pulled it down. Screeching and grinding, the door began to swing shut. Xris had a final glimpse of the Marines attempting to rush it.
Quong tossed two sleep-gas grenades out the rapidly closing gap. An invention of Raoul's, the grenades looked like the real thing, but instead of exploding, they emitted a gas that would send every oxygen-breathing person on a quick trip straight to the arms of Morpheus.
The last Xris saw, the kid, still lying on the deck, was valiantly attempting to kick one of the grenades back toward Xris.
Kid's braver than he thinks. He might get a medal after all, Xris said to himself.
The door was only half a centimeter from closing. Groping for the controls to seal the door shut, Xris heard a hissing sound. He smelled a not unpleasant odor, was suddenly fuzzy and light-headed. Everything on the other side of the door had gone velw quiet.
The door shut, sealed. Xris locked it, then sagged onto the deck. Quong and the others hurried to him, their faces worded, anxious. He waved them off.
"I'm all right. Just caught a whiff of Raoul's slumbertime concoction
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