"Boy scout to the rescue again!" Gore sneered. He was even more repulsive than before, with the marks Quirl had left on him in the last battle. But he was fearless and utterly reckless. "Well, m'lad, I know when I'm done. And when a fellow's done he don't care what happens. So here's the lay: When I get out of here, I'll be dead. And _she'll_ be dead, or you'll wish she was. Get it? She'll be killed, too, if you jolt me--the shock'll pass to her. And the first man-jack who crosses that grating'll get his from me. Now then, go ahead and pull! Goin' to kill us both, or leave her to me?" He laughed defiantly, like one who counts himself already dead. Quirl tentatively placed one foot on the platform. Instantly a fat spark jumped from the metal to his foot, and sent him sprawling into the tube. He saw Strom coming toward him. He had killed his enemies in the control room and was now on the hunt for more. "Thanks for what you did," he grunted. As a forlorn hope, Quirl explained the situation. Strom smiled a rare smile. "That's all right," he said mildly. "Quirl, you're a square man, and I'd rather do something for a square enemy than a false friend. Oh, I can do it cheaply. The jig's up for me, anyway!" Quickly he dropped through the door and launched himself. Gore saw him coming, and Strom's body shuddered as the bolt struck squarely. He was dead when he hit, but his great weight knocked Gore down. * * * * * Quirl had time to jump after him, knocking the wind out of Gore before he could rise. Lenore picked up Gore's weapon, but dared not use it for fear of injuring her lover. As the two fighting men circled warily, seeking openings in this battle that must be fatal to one of them, they did not see the slight, shadowy figure that dropped down to them. There was a flash, and Gore slumped, a knife in his back. "I done it! I done for him!" chattered Sorko. "The dirty, lousy--" "Come, Lenore, let's get up to the bow before the pirates think of it." They dashed up the ladder. Some more of the disks were out, and it was nearly dark. Three sinewy forms pounced on Quirl the moment he entered the passage. The girl, too, was caught, though she fought and bit. "Lights! Let's have some lights!" commanded an authoritative voice. "Coming, sir!" came a far-away answer. The passage became bright, and Quirl looked into the faces of his captors, in the uniforms of the I.F.P. "Got you, you dirty pirate!" gloated the husky young man on his chest. "Mike!" Quirl gasped, "don't you know me? How'd you get here?" "Dog-gone! Finner! Leggo his legs, you eggs." "Trailed you," he added. "Glommed our magnets on the navigating bow. Expected a fight, but some big guy let us in through an airlock. Well, he'd done plenty of scrapping--all the clothes torn off him. Half a dozen dead pirates in there. Who is he?"