"Got me! You're a fool to the last, Haljan! A fool to the last! But
you were always a fool."
I could scarcely move in his grip. My arms were pinned. As he slowly
bent me backward, I wound my legs around one of his: it was as
unyielding as a steel pillar. He had closed the outer panel; the air
pressure in the lock was rising. I could feel it against my suit.
My helmeted head was being forced backward; Miko's left arm held me.
In his gloved right hand as it came slowly up over my throat I saw a
knife blade, its naked, sharpened metal glistening blue-white in the
light from overhead.
I seized his wrist. But my puny strength could not hold him. The
knife, against all of my efforts, came slowly down.
A moment of this slow, deadly combat--the end of everything for me.
I was aware of the helmeted figure of Moa casting off Anita--and then
the two girls leaping upon Miko. It threw him off his balance, and my
hanging weight made him topple forward. He took a step to recover
himself; his hand with the knife was flung up with an instinctive,
involuntary balancing gesture. And as it came down again, I forced the
knife-blade to graze his throat. Its point caught in the fabric of his
suit.
His startled oath jangled in my ears. The girls were clawing at him;
we were all four scrambling, swaying. With despairing strength I
twisted at his wrist. The knife went into his throat. I plunged it
deeper.
His suit went flabby. He crumpled over me and fell, knocking me to the
floor. His voice, with the horrible gurgling rasp of death in it,
rattled my ear-grids.
"Not such a fool--are you, Haljan--"
Moa's helmeted head was close over us. I saw that she had seized the
knife, jerked it from her brother's throat. She leaped backward,
waving it.
I twisted from beneath Miko's lifeless, inert body. As I got to my
feet, Anita flung herself to shield me. Moa was across the lock, back
up against the wall. The knife in her hand went up. She stood for the
briefest instant regarding Anita and me, holding each other. I thought
that she was about to leap upon us. But before I could move, the knife
came down and plunged into her breast. She fell forward, her grotesque
helmet striking the grid-floor almost at my feet.
"Gregg!"
"She's dead."
"No! She moved! Get her helmet off! There's enough air here."
My helmet pressure indicator was faintly buzzing to show that a safe
pressure was in the room. I shut off Moa's Erentz motors, unfastened
her helmet and raised it off. We gently turned her body. She lay with
closed eyes, her pallid face blue. With our own helmets off, we knelt
over her.
"Oh, Gregg--is she dead?"
"No. Not quite--but dying."
"Gregg, I don't want her to die! She was trying to help you there at
the last."
She opened her eyes. The film of death was glazing them. But she saw
me, recognized me.
"Gregg--"
"Yes, Moa. I'm here."
Her vivid lips were faintly drawn in a smile. "I'm--so glad--you took
the helmets off, Gregg. I'm--going--you know."
"No!"
"Going--back to Mars--to rest with the fire-makers--where I came
from. I was thinking--maybe you would kiss me, Gregg?"
Anita gently pushed me down. I pressed the white, faintly smiling lips
with mine. She sighed, and it ended with a rattle in her throat.
"Thank you--Gregg--closer--I can't talk so loudly--"
One of her gloved hands struggled to touch me, but she had no strength
and it fell back. Her words were the faintest of whispers:
"There was no use living--without your love. But I want you to
see--now--that a Martian girl can die with a smile--"
Her eyelids fluttered down; it seemed that she sighed and then was not
breathing. But on her livid face the faint smile still lingered, to
show me how a Martian girl could die.
We had forgotten for the moment where we were. As I glanced up I saw
through the inner panel, past the secondary lock, that the hull's
corridor was visible. And along its length a group of Martians was
advancing! They saw us, and came running.
"Anita! Look! We've got to get out of here!"
The secondary lock was open to the corridor. We jammed on our helmets.
The unhelmeted brigands by then were fumbling at the inner panel. I
pulled at the lever of the outer panel. The brigands were hurrying,
thinking that they could be in time to stop me. One of the more
cautious fumbled with a helmet.
"Anita, run! Try and keep your feet."
I slid the outer panel and pushed at Anita. Simultaneously the
brigands opened the inner port.
The air came with a tempestuous rush. A blast through the inner
port--through the small pressure lock--a wild rush, out to the airless
Moon. All the air in the ship madly rushing to escape....
Like feathers, we were blown with it. I recall an impression of the
hurtling brigand figures and swift flying rocks under me. A silent
crash as I struck.
Then soundless, empty blackness.