Fantastic Voyage - By Isaac Asimov Page 0,73

Owens had been right. A glitter of light was racing down the length of a long nerve process which until then had been dark.

Duval was aiming the laser beam in short bursts now at quick intervals.

Grant said, "I think we've just about had it, doctor. Time's gone."

"I'm just about done. The clot has crumbled away. Just one portion. Ah ... Mr. Grant, the operation has been a success."

"And we've got maybe three minutes to get out, maybe two. Back to the ship, now ..."

Cora said, "Someone else is here."

Grant veered, lunged toward the aimlessly swimming figure. "Michaels!" he cried. Then, "No, it's Owens, What ..."

Owens said, "I don't know. He hit me, I think. I don't know how I got out here."

"Where's Michaels?"

"On the ship, I sup..."

Duval cried, "The ship's motors have started."

"What!" said Owens, startled, "Who ..."

"Michaels," said Grant. "Obviously he must be at the controls."

"Why did you leave the ship, Grant?" demanded Duval, angrily.

"It's what I'm asking myself now. I had hoped Owens ..."

"I'm sorry," said Owens, "I didn't think he was really an enemy agent. I couldn't tell ..."

Grant said, "The trouble is I wasn't completely certain of it myself. Now, of course ..."

"An enemy agent!" said Cora, with horror.

Michaels voice sounded. "All of you, back off. In two minutes, the white cells will have come and by that time, I'll be on the way out. I'm sorry, but you had your chance to come out with me."

The ship was angling high now, and making a large curve.

"He's got it under full acceleration," said Owens.

"And," said Grant, "I think he's aiming at the nerve."

"Exactly what I'm doing, Grant," came Michaels' voice, grimly. "Rather dramatic, don't you think. First, I'll ruin the work of that mouthing saint, Duval, not so much for the sake of that alone as to do the kind of damage that will call a cohort of white cells to the scene at once. They'll take care of you."

Duval shouted, "Listen! Think! Why do this! Think of your country!"

"I'm thinking of mankind," shouted back Michaels, furiously. "The important thing is to keep the military out of the picture. Unlimited de-miniaturization in their hands will destroy the earth. If you fools can't see that ..."

The Proteus was now diving directly for the just-relieved nerve process.

Grant said desperately. "The laser! Let me have the laser!"

He snatched at the instrument from Duval, forcing it away. "Where's the trigger? Never mind. I've got it."

He angled upward, trying to intercept the hurtling ship. "Give me maximum power," he called to Cora.

"Full power!"

He took careful aim and a,pencil-wide beam of light emerged from the laser, and flickered out.

Cora said, "The laser gave out, Grant."

"Here, then, you hold it. I think I got the Proteus, though."

It was hard to tell. In the general dimness there was no way to see clearly.

"You struck the rudder, I think," said Owens. "You've killed my ship." Behind his mask, his cheeks were suddenly wet.

"Whatever you struck," said Duval, "the ship doesn't seem to be handling very well."

The Proteus was shaking now indeed, its headlight flashing up and down in a wide arc.

The ship pulled downward, crashed through the arteriole wall, missed the nerve by a hand's breath and lunged downward into a forest of dendrites; catching and breaking free and catching again, until it lay here, a bubble of metal, entangled in thick, smooth fibers.

"He missed the nerve," said Cora.

"He did damage enough," growled Duval. "That may, start a new clot-or maybe not. I hope not. In any case the white cells will be here. We had better leave."

"Where?" said Owens.

"If we follow the optic nerve, we can make it to the eye in a minute or less. Follow me."

"We can't leave the ship," said Grant. "It will de-miniaturize."

"Well, we can't take it with us," said Duval. "We have no choice but to try to save our own lives."

"We can still do something, perhaps," insisted Grant. "How much time do we have left?"

Duval said emphatically, "None! I think we're beginning to de-miniaturize now. In a minute or so we'll be large enough to attract the attention of a white cell. "

"De-miniaturizing? Now? I don't feel it."

"You won't. But the surroundings are slightly smaller than they've been. Let's go."

Duval took a quick view of his surroundings for orientation. "Follow me," he said again, and began swimming away.

Cora and Owens followed and, after a last moment of hesitation, Grant followed them.

He had failed. In the last analysis, he had failed because, feeling not entirely convinced that Michaels was