"Well, what?" Pace glanced up anxiously.
"Time to focus out," Murchison said. "Got a lot of space to cover."
"But it's only sixteen hundred plus thirty--"
"See what I mean?" said Towne, checking his watch. "It's a sort of
genius--"
"We'll be back in a couple of months," Murchison said, gesturing
towards the others. "We'll have a real long chat then."
"And we'll bring Laura with us," Towne said significantly.
"Don't go yet," Pace pleaded.
"Really, Pace--"
"Tell me about things. Back home."
"You get the newscasts," Briggs said. "What more can we tell you?"
"So long, fella," Towne stood up.
"It's early, I tell you!" Pace dropped the object in his hand. The
light glittered on the smooth-planed surfaces as it fell. It was the
bust of a woman, with long flowing hair, her chin tilted defiantly,
her blank eyes somehow vital and seeing. When it hit the ground, it
shattered into white powder, and the wind leaped upon the fragments
like a hungry animal.
* * * * *
"You're lucky we stayed this long," Towne said, speaking now without a
smile. "You're no fun to pay a call on, Buster. Let me tell you."
"Cut it out, Towne," Murchison's tone was sharp.
"There are fifty guys on our itinerary," Towne said. "They all have the
same problem. But you're the bleedingest heart of 'em all, Pace."
The man glowered. He got to his feet.
"Maybe I'll get lucky in two months," Towne said. "Maybe I'll get a
nice convenient virus, too--"
"_Towne!_" Briggs touched him on the elbow, and Towne shook off his
fingers angrily.
"I'm sick of this guy," he said bitterly. "Sick of all his stupid
complaints. Mister Loneliness--"
"_You dirty groundworm!_" Pace's voice shook. "_You rotten_--" His
hands clenched into white-knuckled fists.
"You watch your step, buddy."
"Cut it out, you guys!"
"I'll kill you!" Pace put a stumbling foot forward. "I'll kill you,
Towne!"
Towne stared at the man, and then he laughed.
"Go ahead," he said. "Try."
Pace made an ugly noise. His body crouched, and then he sprung at the
laughing figure of this visitor. Instinctively, Towne threw up his arms
in defense.
"_Pace!_"
"Don't be an idiot!"
The man's arms thrust forward like driving pistons, fingers clutching
toward the throat of Towne. His face twisted into a parody of rage. His
motion propelled him half a foot off the ground.
He realized his mistake too late.
His hands went through and beyond Towne's throat, his arms slipping
through Towne's chest. He fell heavily through the man's body, and hit
the ground with sickening abruptness.
He lay there, still conscious. He began to cry and the sound brought a
look of disgust to the face of the shadow he had attacked.
"What a baby," Towne said.
Briggs looked uncomfortable. "Let's focus out," he said.
"Right," said Towne.
In a room back on Earth, a dial was spun, and a connection severed.
In a room on a lonely asteroid, three spectral images--electronic
ghosts on a mission of mercy--faded, and vanished.
The man pulled himself to his feet, and looked around him.
All was silence.
The winds blew.