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Han skirted the mob headed for the elevators, wading through the anticoncussion field and the drifting smoke. Like all standbys, the anticoncussion field fed off emergency power inside Stars’ End. The tower’s reserves would be limited. Han grinned in the murk and confusion; the Espos were in for a surprise.

He made his way down the steps of the amphitheater, groping along, coughing and hoping he wasn’t being poisoned by burned insulation and molten circuitry. His toe hit something. He recognized Viceprex Hirken’s discarded belt unit, kicked it aside, and went on. He located Bollux when he stumbled over the ’droid’s foot.

“Captain sir!” Bollux hailed. “We’d thought you’d quite left, sir.”

“We’re bowing out now; can you make it?”

“I’m stabilized. Max improvised a direct linkup between himself and me.”

Blue Max’s voice drifted up from Bollux’s chest. “Captain, I tried to tell you when I rechecked the figures that this might happen.”

Han had gotten a hand under the ’droid’s arm, helping him to rise to his wobbly legs. “What did happen, Max? Not enough power in the plant?” He started moving Bollux off unsteadily through the drifting reek.

“No, there was plenty of power in the plant, but the enhanced-bonding armor plate is a lot stronger than I thought at first. The exterior deflector shields contained the force of the explosion, all except the overhead one, the one that dissolved in the overload. All the force went that way. Us too.”

Han stopped. He wished he could see the little computer, not that it would have helped. “Max, are you telling me we blew Stars’ End into orbit?”

“No, Captain,” Max answered darkly. “A high-arc trajectory, maybe, but never an orbit.”

Han found himself leaning on Bollux as much as the ’droid was leaning on him. “Oh my! Why didn’t you warn me?”

“I tried,” Max reminded him sulkily.

Han was in mental overdrive. It made sense: Mytus VII’s relatively light specific gravity and lack of atmospheric friction must give it an escape velocity that was only middlin’. Still, if the tower’s anticoncussion fields hadn’t been on when the large charge had gone off, everybody in Stars’ End would’ve been colloidal slime by now.

“Besides,” Max added testily, “Isn’t this better than being dead? So far?”

Han brightened; there was no arguing with that logic. He shouldered part of Bollux’s weight again. “Okay, men; I have a new plan. Forward!” They reeled off again, away from the elevators. “All the elevators will be out; life-support and whatnot will have pre-empted all the reserve power. I saw a utility stairwell in the floor plans, but Hirken and Company will be remembering it pretty soon, too. Shag it.”

They rounded the curve of the utility core as Han took his bearings. They were almost to a yellow-painted emergency door when the door snapped open and an Espo jumped out, riot gun in hand. Cupping his hand to his mouth, the man called, “Viceprex Hirken! This way, sir!”

Then he noticed Han and Bollux and swung his weapon to bear. With only a microcharge in the blaster, Han had to make a quick head shot. The Espo dropped.

“Brown nose,” Han grunted, still hanging on to the ’droid, stooping to grab the riot gun. He manhandled himself and his burden through the emergency door. A furor of shouting reached him; the others had found the elevators useless, and someone had remembered the stairwell. Han secured the door behind him and fired several sustained bursts at its latching mechanism. The metal began to glow and fuse. It was a durable alloy that would shed its heat again in moments, leaving the latch welded shut. Those remaining on the other side would be able to blast their way through with hand weapons, but it would take precious time.

As he and Han half fell, half ran, down the stairs, Bollux asked, “Where to now, sir?”

“The stasis-booth tiers.” They careened around a landing, nearly falling. “Feel that? The artificial gravity’s fluctuating. In time the power-management routers will cut off everything but life-support.