by H. B. Fyfe
fact,unless Peters were on watch, the air lock operating signal might flashunnoticed on the board.
"And I'll be cracking skulls before they know what's up!" he growled.
It struck him with a flash of ironic amusement that he had not felthalf so much hate when believing himself doomed. After two hours ofsweating out his helplessness, he had discovered a lively resentmentof the vicious callousness with which he had been jettisoned.
He was only about twenty-five yards away now, seemingly circling theship. Peering closer, he saw that actually he was sweeping in towardit.
_Now, be ready with the air tank valve, just in case!_ he warnedhimself.
The great fins loomed to his right; the hull blotted most of the skyfrom his view. It looked as if he would curve down to a spot besidethe same air lock from which he had been expelled. It seemed to bestill open.
Then he saw the shape of a helmet rise around the curve of the ship.Someone was out on the hull.
Tremont switched on his radio and listened.
The spacesuited figure climbed completely into view. There appeared tobe a line running from the belt into the air lock, and the figurecarried a long pole of some sort.
"Oh, there you are, Tremont!" came Braigh's voice over the receiver."I've been waiting for you."
The chuckle that followed made Tremont curse, which in turn provoked ahearty laugh from the other.
"You didn't think I'd forget you?" asked Braigh. "We figured out whathappened as soon as we heard you putting out those distress calls.After that, it was just a matter of timing. Have you had an amusingtrip?"
"Have you found out you can't make anything of those papers yet?"countered Tremont.
"Oh, the coding? It might take a little time, but we have plenty ...now, now, Tremont! That kind of abusive language will get younowhere."
Tremont had drifted to a point above the other's head, almost withinreach. He was kicking out in little motions that betrayed hiseagerness to come to grips with Braigh or _something_ solid.
"Why, Tremont! I do believe that you thought I came out to bargainwith you," chuckled the blond man. "Not at all! I told you that you'dbe no trouble. I just came out to finish the job Peters bungled."
Tremont saw the pole jabbing upward at his stomach. Instinctively, hegrabbed at the end. Braigh was not disturbed.
"Take it with you, then!" he laughed, letting go his end with apowerful push. "Let me know if you're alive the next time you comearound, so I can come out again."
Tremont began to swear at him, then got a grip on himself long enoughto snap his radio off.
He had begun pulling himself down the pole when Braigh had shoved.That sapped some of the force, but it was still enough to send himspinning out into the void once more.
The ship receded slowly. He saw Braigh return to the air lock andenter. A moment later, that light was cut off, and Tremont began toback off into space as he had the first time.
_They know all about it_, he realized. _They could leave me any timejust by burning a little fuel. Peters wouldn't care about wastingit--I paid for it. Maybe he's just too lazy to calculate the coursecorrection._
If so, he decided, the pilot was right. Tremont might drift back, buttwo more hours from now, when he would be at his closest, would be toolate. He would be too near the end of his air to use it to make sureof the last few feet.
He looked at the pole in his grip. It was an eight-foot section ofaluminum from the cargo racks.
"Maybe ..." he muttered.
Whirling the pole around by the end, he managed after considerabletrial and error, to slow his wild spin enough to keep the ship inview.
The only question then was whether he dared to take the chance; and hereally had but one choice. The full orbit would be too long a period.
He estimated as well as he could the direction of his progress,allowed a few degrees which he fondly hoped would curve him in to acloser approach at the meeting point, and hurled the pole into spacewith all his strength.
After that, there was nothing to do but wait and hope that he had cuthis speed enough to bring him to the ship ahead of schedule by ashorter orbit.
* * * * *
Tremont finally gave up looking at his watch when he found himselfpeeping every three minutes, on the average. The immensity of spacewas by now instilling in him a psychological chill, and he drew botharms in from their sleeves to hug an illusion of warmth to him. Theair pressure in the sleeves gradually overpowered the springs of thejoints, and extended them to make a cross.
As far as he could tell from the gauges lined in a miniature rowalong the neckpiece of the suit, his heating system was functioning asdesigned. The batteries had an excellent chance of lasting longer thanhe would.
He began to dwell upon thoughts of squeezing Peters in the steel gripof his gauntlets until the pilot's fat face turned purple and his eyespopped. Another promising activity would be to bang Braigh's headagainst a bulkhead with one hand and Dorothy's with the other.
_Wonder if they found the gun in my locker?_ he mused.
Finally, only a lifetime or two after he hoped to see it, he sightedthe ship again. His watch claimed the trip had lasted less than ninetyminutes.
He encountered unexpected trouble approaching the hull. Realizing thathe was lucky to come close at all by such a guess, he tried to steerhimself with brief jets from his air tank, and wound up on the vergeof bashing directly into a fin. He avoided that, but had to use moreair to spin back for a more gentle contact.
The metal felt like solid Earth to him as he seized the edge of a finand planted the magnets of his boots firmly on the hull.
It was perhaps twenty minutes later, when Tremont was beginning toworry again about his air supply, that the hatch of the air lock beganto open.
Crystals of frost puffed out as the water vapor left the air. Braigh'shelmet appeared, then the whole spacesuited figure floated up beforethe spot where Tremont was watching. The highjacker dropped themagnet of his life line against the hull and started to turn around.
Tremont grabbed the edge of the hatch with one hand, yanked the magnetloose with the other, and kicked Braigh in the right area.
The spacesuited figure shot off, tumbling end over end, into the void.A startled squawk sounded over Tremont's receiver.
"See how _you_ like it!" he snarled.
He ignored the begging of the suddenly frightened voice, and divedinto the air lock. In seconds, he had the outer hatch shut and wasnervously watching the air pressure building up on the gauge.
_If they notice at all, they'll think it's Braigh coming back!_ heexulted.
He made it into the central shaft without meeting anyone. Pullinghimself forward in the bulky suit was an awkward task, but well worthit for the expression on Peters' face when Tremont burst through thecontrol-room hatch.
After dealing with the pilot in about two minutes, most of it spent incatching him, Tremont went back along the shaft and found Dorothy inher bunk. Before she could release the netting, he folded the bunkupon her and secured it to the hook. Only then did he allow himselfthe time to remove his helmet and make free of the ship's air.
"What are you going to do?" demanded the girl, rather shrilly.
Tremont realized that she must have seen the unconscious Petersfloating outside in the shaft.
"You won't like it!" he promised.
"Tremont! I didn't know they'd do anything to you. Can't ... you and I ...make some kind of ... deal?"
Tremont stared at her levelly.
"But I'd have to really sleep sometime," he pointed out gently. "Howcan I trust you...?"
* * * * *
He was hardly a million miles out from the satellite system ofCentauri VI when the Space Patrol ship he had called managed to put apilot aboard to land the _Annabel_ for him on the largest moon.
Tremont returned wearily from helping the man in the air lock--whichhe did with a practiced efficiency that surprised the pilot--to re
sumehis talk with the patrol-ship captain waiting on the screen.
"We could have done it sooner, you know," said the latter curiously."Well, now that I see him beside you, perhaps you'll explain yourrequest to delay, and also what those pips trailing you are."
"It's all the same story," said Tremont, and explained hisdifficulties.
The patrol captain frowned and expressed a wish to lay hands on thehighjackers.
"Well, they're due back in"--Tremont consulted his watch--"about twohours. I wanted them near the ends of their orbits as you approached."
"You mean there are three bodies out there?"
"Live ones, in spacesuits," said Tremont. "Experience is a greatteacher. As soon as I sighted Braigh coming back, I set up a regularsystem."
He explained how he had removed all tools from the three spacesuits,added extra tanks, and
