Before Dover could answer, the deck beneath their feet trembled and the bulkheads creaked ominously. What sounded like the muffled roar of a distant explosion rumbled closer and closer, quickly followed by a tremendous shock wave. The Pilottown shuddered under the impact and her welded seams screeched as they split under enormous pressure.

The shock flung the two men violently against the steel bulkheads.

Pitt managed to remain on his feet, but Dover, unbalanced by his heavy burden, crashed like a tree to the deck, embracing the canister with his arms and cushioning its fall with his body. A grunt of pain passed his lips as he dislocated his shoulder and wrenched a knee. He dazedly struggled to a sitting position and looked up at Pitt.

"What in God's name was that?" he gasped.

"Augustine Volcano," Pitt said, almost clinically. "It must have erupted."

"Jesus, what next?"

Pitt helped the big man to his feet. He could feel Dover's arm tense through the heavy suit. "You hurt?"

"A little bent, but I don't think anything's broken."

"Can you make a run for it?"

"I'm all right," Dover lied through clenched teeth. "What about the evidence?"

"Forget it," Pitt said urgently. "Let's get the hell out of here."

Without another word they took off through the storerooms and into the narrow alleyway between the freshwater tanks. Pitt slung his arm around Dover's waist and half dragged, half carried him through the darkness.

Pitt thought the alleyway would never end. His breath began to come in gasps and his heart pounded against his ribs. He struggled to stay on his feet as the old Pilottown shook and swayed from the earth's tremors. They reached cargo hold number four and scrambled down the lander. He lost his grip and Dover fell to the deck.

The precious seconds lost manhandling Dover over to the opposite lander seemed like years.

Pitt had barely set foot on the scaly rungs when there was a crack like thunder and something fell past him and struck the deck.

He threw the light beam up. At that instant the hatch cover disintegrated and tons of rock and debris cascaded into the hold.

"Climb, damn it, climb!" He yelled at Dover. His chest heaved and the blood roared in his ears. With an inner strength he thrust Dover's 220 pounds up the lander.

Suddenly a voice shouted. The light showed a figure leaning through the upper hatch, his hands grabbing Dover and pulling him through into the aft hold. Pitt instinctively knew it was Giordino.

The burly little Italian had a keen sense of arriving at the right place at the right moment.

Then Pitt was at the top and crawling into the hold containing the nerve agent. The hatch cover was still intact, because the sloping ground above was not as dense near the stern section. When he reached the bottom of the lander, willing hands were helping Dover toward the after deckhouse and temporary safety. Giordino gripped Pitts arm.