“Can you see them?” asked Tuna.
“Yeah. Four guys, with curved daggers,” said Mark.
“How the hell did they get those on board?”
“Doesn’t matter. We have to get past them. The asteroids damaged the reactor; those terrorist bastards don’t realize that we’re all going to die if the engines go critical.”
Tuna’s whiskers twitched. He pulled the heaviest wrench from his toolbox and placed a furry paw on his friend’s shoulder. “Go. I’ll hold them back..”
Mark bolted down the corridor. The terrorists turned, knives drawn, and charged.
Tuna pounced, wrench swinging, ready to die.