perhaps there still was time, though the other's attitude suggested the crisis was dangerously near. There was no more he could do till he had slowed considerably.
Jamieson quieted his leaping pulses and said gently, "Tell me, is the whole Council in on this murder? Or is it a scheme of your own?"
"There's no harm in telling you now," the woman retorted. "We decided you're not going to make any such recommendation about ezwals to the Galactic Convention. Of course we knew this moon would never be accepted as a substitute base."
Jamieson laughed, a hard, humorless but understanding laugh that hid the slow caution with which he slanted toward the ground. The strain of the curving dive racked his body, tore at his lungs, but he held to it grimly. He was alone in the sky now; the shining spacesuit of his guide had vanished into the dim distance. Evidently she had not turned her head or noticed the deviation on her finder. Anxious for the discovery to be as long delayed as possible, Jamieson said, "And how are you going to kill me?"
"In about ten seconds," she began tautly, "your engine—" She broke off. "Oh, you're not behind me any more. So you're trying to land. Well, it won't do you any good. I'll be right back that way—"
Jamieson was only fifty feet from the bleak rock when there was a sudden grinding in the hitherto silent mechanism of his motor. The deadly swiftness of what happened then left no time for more than instinctive action. He felt a pain against his legs, a sharp, tearing pain, a dizzy, burning sensation that staggered his reason. Then he struck the ground, and with a wild, automatic motion jerked off the power that was being so horribly short-circuited, that was burning him alive. Darkness closed over his brain like an engulfing blanket.
The blurred world of rock swaying and swirling about him— that was Jamieson's awakening! He forced himself to consciousness and realized after a moment of mental blankness that he was no longer in his spacesuit. And when he opened his eyes he could see without a sense of dazzle, now that.he had only the one helmet—the one attached to his electrically heated clothes. He grew aware of something—an edge of rock—pressing painfully into his back. Dizzily, but with sane eyes, he looked up at the determined young woman who was kneeling beside him. She returned his gaze with unsmiling hostility and said curtly, "You're lucky to be alive. Obviously you shut off the motor just in time. It was being shorted by lead grit and burned your legs a little. I've put some salve on, so you won't feel any pain; and you'll be able to walk."
She stopped and climbed to her feet. Jamieson shook his head to clear away the black spots and then gazed up at her questioningly, but he said nothing. She seemed to realize what was on his mind. "I didn't think I'd be squeamish with so much at stake," she confessed almost angrily, "but I am. I came back to kill you, but I wouldn't kill even a dog without giving him a chance. Well, you've got your chance, if it's worth anything."
Jamieson sat up. His eyes narrowed on her face inside her helmet. He had met hard women before but never anyone who seemed more sincere and honest about her intentions, now that she was out in the open.
Frowning with thought, Jamieson looked around; and his eyes, trained for detail, saw a lack in the picture.
"Where's your spacesuit?"
The woman nodded her head skyward. Her voice held no quality of friendliness as she said, "If your eyes are good, you'll see a dark spot, almost invisible now, to the right of the son. I chained your suit to mine, then gave mine power. They'll be falling into the sun about three hundred hours from now."
He pondered that matter-of-factly. "You'll pardon me if I don't quite believe that you've decided to stay and die with me. I know that people will die for what they believe to be right. But I can't quite follow the logic of why you should die. No doubt you have made arrangements to be
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