"It pays."
Tarnuff wrote for a minute, signed, and handed it to Ron. The latter
read it and was satisfied.
Tarnuff took the paper from Ron's hands again and slipped it into his
own pocket. "If I win I shall destroy this. If you win, which I doubt,
you may take it from me at your convenience."
"You think of everything too. Okay," Ron shrugged. He held out the
identical pistols. "Your choice, if it means anything."
"It doesn't, but I'll take this one." Tarnuff took one of the pistols
and then climbed into a space-suit as Ron waited.
"Which airlocks?" Ron asked through the audio-phone in his helmet.
"I'd suggest the central ones. I'll take the port side and you the
starboard. We'll enter the respective locks at the same instant, then
into space. After that, well, only one of us will enter this ship
again."
They moved into parallel corridors on opposite sides of the ship.
Instantly Ron was alert, not trusting the Martian out of his sight now
that they were both armed with a bullet apiece. But both their helmet
phones were on. Ron stopped a moment and listened. He heard the other's
amused voice:
"Stopping, Jordan? On to your airlock! Goodbye, but don't mind if I
don't wish you good luck."
"The same to you." Ron entered his lock. The inner door closed
automatically, and a few seconds later the outer door opened. He knew
Tarnuff had done likewise, for he could hear the faint sound of the
mechanism through his phones. Then he knew that Tarnuff had swung
outside, for he heard a couple of metallic clicks as the magnetic shoes
made contact on the outer, opposite side of the hull.
Satisfied, Ron moved out too, and his own shoes swung around in an arc
to make contact.
* * * * *
For a single instant he was appalled at the utter, outer immensity, the
sweeping darkness; then he did not look outward again, but clung to the
hull, facing it. He knew the _Lucifer_ was still speeding along on its
full rocket blast, but not relative to him.
The helmet phones had given him an idea. He held his breath, listening.
He heard the faint clicks of Tarnuff's shoes as he moved along on the
opposite side. He seemed to be moving toward the bow. Then Ron heard
a different click, as Tarnuff shut off his phone. Ron chuckled as he
reached up and shut off his own. He was sure Tarnuff had done that
deliberately, and probably was reversing his direction and moving
sternward now.
Ron didn't move at all for a minute. He clung there lightly, peering up
along the sweeping curve of the hull above his head, ready to use his
pistol if Tarnuff should appear there. But Tarnuff didn't appear, and
Ron thought it likely he wouldn't for awhile. He hadn't forgotten the
other's words, "marksmanship is not all." One bullet apiece! Probably
Tarnuff would try to make him waste his bullet, thus putting Ron at his
mercy. That would be the logical thing to do.
Keeping this in mind, Ron moved carefully sternward. He held the pistol
ready in his hand. Occasionally he peered upward along the curve, alert
and ready for anything. He wondered what Tarnuff had in mind. But this
wasn't a guessing game, it was far more deadly than that, and he'd have
to be very sure before he fired his bullet.
But there was still another danger. This hull was his only world now
and he was almost weightless. He clung to it fiercely as he inched
along, knowing that it wouldn't take much of a shove to send him
drifting free, out of its gravity forever. He looked along the straight
line of it and saw the faint glow of the rocket blasts. His brain
writhed at a sudden horrible thought. Would Tarnuff try to gain the
control room again, change the course suddenly and thus shake him off
into space?
At this thought Ron hurried his progress a little, making for the four
parallel side tubes he could see a little distance away. They were the
only tubes that weren't blasting, being used only in emergency; they
would allow him firmer footage, and maybe it would be a good idea to
wait there until Tarnuff came somewhere in sight.
As he neared these tubes, something seemed wrong with them. There was
something else there--a vague dark blur--between the second and third
tubes. Ron stopped suddenly. Could Tarnuff have reached there already?
No, that was impossible. He moved forward cautiously, and the blur
didn't stir.
And then Ron saw what it was. And he was glad he had shut off his
helmet phone, for he laughed loudly, a little hysterically, the sound
almost bursting his ear-drums inside the helmet.
Wedged between those horizontally parallel tubes was Oruk's huge body
which Ron had thought he had buried in space! Apparently it had been
caught in the gravity of the ship again, and had slid slowly along the
hull, luckily right in line with those tubes, to finally come to rest
there.
Ron had been indecisive. Now he felt his brain become suddenly cool and
concise. He knew what he must do. It had been pure luck that _he_ had
taken the starboard side instead of Tarnuff. It was an omen.
But it would be risky. Ron suddenly sobered, moved along until he could
grasp Oruk by the collar. He tugged. The body was wedged tight, just
fitting the space between the tubes. Ron thrust the pistol into his
belt and used both hands. At last the body came free.
He saw that he'd have to leave the pistol in his belt now. If Tarnuff
should suddenly appear somewhere over the curve of the hull, it would
be the end. But he'd have to risk it.
Hugging the body tightly to him, he moved a little higher, up to the
long line of circular ports. He moved slowly back toward the center of
the ship, peering into each glassite port as he passed. But he couldn't
find what he was looking for; all was dark within.
At last he came to one that wasn't so dark. He saw a faint
scintillation of color. Silicytes! There were at least a score of them
in this cabin into which he peered. He had almost forgotten about them,
but now he was glad of their faint flashing light, for he saw what he
sought: one of the lockers containing space-suits.
He knew the Silicytes could live in airless space, so he didn't
hesitate. A few blows with his metallic shoe, and the port shattered.
It was almost his undoing. The rush of air from the room came so
suddenly it almost swept him away into space. Just in time he grasped
the edge of the circular opening with one hand, clung tenaciously to
his gruesome burden with the other. Then the air was gone, and he
shoved Oruk's body into the room ahead of him.
Instantly the Silicytes crowded around, their chain-like tentacles
clashing, reaching out toward him. Ron could feel their crystal
coldness even through his space-suit. He shoved them recklessly out of
the way, knowing they were harmless. At last he procured a space-suit,
and then came a job not to his liking--fitting Oruk's huge body into
it. At last, however, it was accomplished. He shoved the bulging,
helmeted figure outside again, and climbed out beside it.
Ron's lips tightened grimly now. If his luck held, he'd make Tarnuff
waste his bullet....
But where was Tarnuff? For a second Ron thought of clicking on his
phone again and calling out, to see what would happen. But no--that
would give his own position away. If he didn't know where Tarnuff was,
neither did the Martian know where he was.
Ron took a guess and moved toward the stern again.
He knew he would have to be doubly careful now, and yet paradoxically
he'd have to take a chance. With difficulty he held the space-suited
figure close to his side. As he came ever nearer the stern he began to
move oblique upward, peering intently all along the hull's horizon for
a sight of Tarnuff. Would this trick work? Perhaps Tarnuff wouldn't
fire at the first sight of a space-helmeted figure, as Ron hoped. And
yet--why not? He'd be expecting no other moving figure out there except
Ron's.
Ron was almost at the stern tubes now. He began to wonder if Tarnuff
had taken the other direction after all, toward the bow off the ship.
He took a firmer hold on the body beside him, moved a few more feet
obliquely upward, and then ... he had guessed right! He saw the Martian!
* * * * *
Ron caught only a glimpse of him, flattened against the hull with his
pistol held ready, before he jerked his own head down again. He looked
at Oruk's dead grayish face inside the plate so close to his own. He
could only hope that Tarnuff wouldn't recognize it. Luckily the two
helmets were identical, and Ron was sure that if Tarnuff fired at all,
it would be at the face-plate.
It was a gruesome thing to do, but this was no time for squeamishness,
Ron thought, as he began easing the body up inches at a time. It was
the age-old trick to draw the enemys fire.
Nothing happened. He pushed the body higher, almost recklessly, but
maintained a firm grip on it. Still higher. He was sure it must be at
least partially in Tarnuff's line of vision by now. Why didn't he fire?
Could he have detected--
And then it did happen, so suddenly that Ron couldn't even gasp his
surprise. There was an abrupt puff of atomic dust above him; at the
same instant he felt Oruk's body torn spinning out of his grasp.
Then he saw the space-suited figure drifting lazily outward. It was
grotesque, headless.
The ruse had worked! Tarnuff had fired his bullet, and very accurately!
Ron felt a fierce surge of exultation as he drew his own pistol and
then hauled himself swiftly up into Tarnuff's sight.
Tarnuff had risen to his feet. He still held the pistol loosely in his
hand. A satisfied little smile was on his lips. Then he caught sight
of Ron, the smile vanished, the pistol fell and went skidding lightly
across the hull. The expression on his face was so ludicrous that Ron
wanted to laugh. Instead, he reached up and clicked on his helmet
phone, motioning Tarnuff to do the same.
"Beat you!" Ron cried fiercely. "Beat you at your own game, Tarnuff,
and it was easy! Now, before I kill you, I want you to know it's going
to be the greatest pleasure of my life!"
Tarnuff looked out at the drifting body he had just blasted. He nodded,
and when he spoke his voice almost purred.
"Ah, now I see. Clever, Jordan, very clever. But don't congratulate
yourself too soon, because you haven't won yet! We're back at the
stalemate again. Why don't you pull the trigger, Jordan? Go ahead and
pull it--and blast yourself to dust!"
Startled, Ron looked down at the weapon in his hand. Now it was Tarnuff
who was exultant as he went on:
"You never had a chance, Jordan! Never from the beginning! You see, I
counted on your Earth chivalry, and you did just what I expected--gave
me my choice of what you thought were identical pistols. But they
aren't identical! The one you now hold works in reverse! Such reverse
pistols have stood me in good stead on several occasions, and I always
make it a point to have one with me. Fire it--and you blast yourself,
not me!"
* * * * *
They stood facing each other, perhaps thirty feet apart. Tarnuff
glanced down and saw the pistol he had dropped. He reached out with his
foot and slid it along the hull to Jordan.
"There you are. If you'll compare the two, you'll see that the firing
mechanism of yours is in reverse. One needs to look very closely to
detect the difference."
Ron didn't bother to pick up the weapon.
"You know I don't know a thing about these Martian pistols, Tarnuff."
"Exactly. You don't."
Ron glanced at the gun in his hand, keeping a wary eye on Tarnuff. The
strange weapon looked all right to him--and yet even his inexperienced
eye saw that it _might_ very easily have been tampered with so that the
atomic bullet would explode in the chamber. He did know that these were
dangerous and tricky weapons, and that's why most men preferred the
Earth electro-pistols.
"All right, Tarnuff, we'll settle it without weapons! I--"
Ron stopped suddenly. Something was wrong with Tarnuff. The Martian
was staring past him, real horror on his face and in his voice as he
whispered hoarsely:
"My God ... Jordan!"
Ron knew this was no trick. Tarnuff was terrified.
Ron whirled, stared--and became frozen. The pistol, Tarnuff, everything
else was forgotten as he felt a chill go up his spine at the sight.
Literally dozens of Silicytes were swarming all over the hull
amidships ... and they seemed to be absorbing the metal, literally
devouring it, digesting it! Already a gaping hole was in the hull, and
it grew even larger as more Silicytes came swarming up from below, to
join in the fantastic meal!
"You did this!" Tarnuff was shrieking now at Ron. "You fool, you must
have let them out one of the portholes! I had those rooms lined with
wood, the one thing they won't digest--and you let them escape!"
Ron paid little heed to Tarnuff's raging, but went leaping toward the
Silicytes, with some notion of throwing them off into space, anything
to get them away from there. But he couldn't even reach them. When
he was yet yards away, he felt a fierce heat exuding from them, heat
generated by the digested metal! And he saw them becoming slowly, rosy
radiant.
The heat drove Ron away. He turned and walked back toward Tarnuff
again. The latter hadn't moved.
"Well, Jordan," he grated, "I hope you're satisfied with your bungling!
Here goes the _Lucifer_ right from under us, thanks to you. There's
enough oxygen in these space-suits for about one more hour."
"Well, I wouldn't worry about it!" Ron laughed suddenly, laughed in
joyous relief, and pointed. "Look! Here comes help, and just in the
neck of time!"
Far behind them a tiny silvery dot was barely discernible against the
darkness; but it grew steadily larger as it took on the shape of a
space-ship, moving unmistakably toward them. They watched in silence as
it came nearer.
Suddenly Tarnuff exclaimed:
"Help, did you say, Jordan? Here comes the final touch, you mean--our
finish! That's a patroller!"
"Are you sure of that, Tarnuff?"
"Sure of it? Man, I've been dodging the Patrol so much out here that I
can tell 'em a million miles off!"
"So--I win after all, Tarnuff! That statement you signed absolves
me. Let 'em come!" Ron waved his arms wildly in the direction of the
approaching ship. "Come on you birds, step on it!"
Tarnuff reached suddenly in his pocket and brought out the folded paper.
"Yes, it does clear you, doesn't it? You and your brother both! Thanks
for reminding me, Jordan, in the excitement I almost forgot about
that...."
And then Tarnuff's voice became shrill with maniac glee:
"But it won't do either of you any good! By the time that Patrol ship
gets here there won't be any paper!"
He whirled suddenly and leaped toward the stern rocket tubes only a few
yards away.
In a flash of horror Ron realized his intention--to destroy that paper
in the rocket blast! Ron took two bounding steps after him, and then
realized he could never catch him in time. But Ron still held the atom
pistol. He swung his arm stiffly up in a straight line with Tarnuff's
back, and pulled the trigger.
It was a purely instinctive action, and not until a split second later
did Ron realize it. And he laughed wildly then, for Tarnuff _had_
been bluffing about that pistol; there was no reverse action to it. He
saw the center of Tarnuff's back explode in ghastly devastation. Then
Tarnuff, or what was left of him, plunged head foremost down along the
sharp curve of the hull toward the rocket tubes.
Ron leaped after him, but it was too late. He saw the crumpled paper
jarred from Tarnuff's outflung hand. It drifted lazily on, down over
the rocket tube and then out into the blast, where it vanished in an
insignificant little puff of flame.
Ron was suddenly very weary. He didn't move from where he stood, he
just sat down there, bowed his head in his hands, and waited.
* * * * *
"Hello, hello. Jordan, is it? Can you hear us? Hello!" The voice came
so faintly in Ron's ears that it sounded like a dream. He lifted his
head, stared around, and then realized it was coming through his phone.
"Yeah, I hear you," he replied tonelessly, looking out at the Patrol
ship which was nearer than he had supposed.
"Commander Graham of Patrol ship _Terra_ speaking! Lucky thing for you,
Jordan--we've had you in our magniview plate for the past half-hour,
and in our phones for the past ten minutes. We heard everything, so
don't worry, you're in the clear. That _is_ the _Lucifer_ I suppose?"
"You suppose right, Commander! Come and get it!"
Ron looked back at the Silicytes. They were still at it! The damn
things were insatiable! The gaping hole had widened perceptibly, and
they were working in his direction now. Ron could almost imagine he
felt the heat of them already.
He leaped to his feet and turned on his helmet phone full power.
"Hey, Commander!" he yelled. "Pardon me for asking, but how long would
it take you to hurry? You'd better get here in five minutes or I'll be
a mere hunk of dessert for these animated rock-piles. Step on those
rockets!"
He heard someone chuckling, and then he sighed his relief as he saw the
Patroller respond with full blast.