"Exactly this. I intend that if this ship reaches Callisto, I'll be
the only man alive on it. On the other hand it may reach Earth; if it
does, _you'll_ be the only man alive on it, and you'll have my signed
statement clearing both yourself and your brother."
Ron was listening. "Go on," he said.
Tarnuff indicated the pistols in Ron's belt. "Two identical atom
pistols there. The Martian _V'Nith_--you have heard of it?"
* * * * *
Ron was suddenly tense, standing there; his brain was spinning with the
idea. Yes, he had heard of it--the cunning dueling game which men like
Tarnuff sometimes engaged in, mostly on the dark asteroids; the duel
which called for the most infinite precision and cunning; in which the
first mistake usually meant death.
Tarnuff was watching Ron shrewdly now; he saw his indecision; he said
sharply:
"All or nothing, man! Get it over with quickly! After all, you've more
to gain than I ... your brother's life and your own."
"Also more to lose," Ron muttered. He glanced around the control cabin.
"But here, in the ship? How--"
"No, of course not here! One loose atomic bullet would blast through
the hull. We combat outside, and only one of us will enter this ship
again."
Ron drew one of the Martian pistols, hoisted it thoughtfully in his
hand. He had slain Oruk with it. That had been the first time he'd
ever fired one. But he liked the easy, comfortable feel, every bit as
familiar as his own electro-pistol.
"Well?" Tarnuff was impatient.
With a sudden surge of confidence Ron made up his mind.
"You're right, Tarnuff. We'll get it over with one way or the other! I
think I'm as good a man as you at any game! Rules?"