While a jet-gun is the most deadly weapon known, you have to press a loading stud to slide another blast-capsule into place. Death Star knew this very well. So he knew he was safe in coming up from behind the spur of stone to fire his own gun. If his reflexes hadn't been as quick as they were, he would have blasted the girl. * * * * * He stopped, and stood for a second, staring at the girl. She was something to invite stares, too. In the moment that lasted between her next move, he had time to register that she was about five feet five tall, black-haired--the kind of black hair that looks like silken spun darkness--dark-eyed, and possessing both a face and a form that would make anyone stop and gulp. Then the moment of half-awed survey was over, and she leveled the jet on him, and said in a trembling voice, "Drop those weapons, or I'll blast you ... _pirate_!" Death Star said, "That jet-gun is empty. I can see the register on the magazine. And I'm not a pirate. I'm Starrett Blade." The useless jet-gun slid out of the girl's hand, and she gave a half-gasp. "Starrett Blade! I--I don't believe ..." she broke off abruptly. "So you're Death Star! A fine story for a hired killer, a pirate." Star reddened. "Look," he snapped, "I don't know who's been talking to you, but ..." he whirled, and his hand whipped the jet-gun from his belt. As he did so, the girl jerked up the jet-gun she had dropped, and flung it with all her strength. The blow landed on his arm and side, and paralyzed him long enough for the man who had leaped out behind him to land a stunning blow against his head. As Star went down, he dizzily cursed himself for becoming interested in the argument with the girl, so that he did not heed his reflexes in time ... and dimly, he wondered why it had seemed so important to convince the lovely dark-haired girl. Then a bit of the cosmos seemed to fall on Star's head, and he was hurled into blackness. An eternity seemed to pass. Deep in the blackness, a light was born. It leaped toward him, a far-away comet rocketing along, coming from some far, unknown corner of the galaxy. It became a flaming sun in a gray-green space, and strangely, there seemed to be several odd planets circling about the sun. Some of them were vast pieces of queer electronic machinery. Some were vague, villainous-looking men. One was the dark-haired girl, and there was lovely contempt in her dark-star pools of eyes. Then into the midst of this queer universe, there swam a new planet. It was the face of a man, and the man was Devil Garrett. That brought Star up, out of his daze, onto his feet as though he had been doused with cold water. He stood there, not staring, just looking at Garrett.