"Stop it, you fool!" Jason Tarsh caught him by the shoulders and began to shake him violently. "You've paid seven million dollars to die young. Why, you ought to be tickled pink. Remember the slogan of Galactic Stores--'Originality is the Test of Taste!'" Gillian Murray seized the lawyer's hand. "Curtis, you said something about a method." He pointed at the emergency hangar over on the far side. "There's a lifeboat in there. It may have been damaged by the blast, so don't pin your hopes on it. But if we can shift the loose stones and get the doors open, we'll soon know." Arm in arm, they walked across the landing strip. * * * * * Twice the relief boat shot low over the runway, sweeping round in a gigantic circle. Then it changed course and climbed steeply into the stratosphere. They watched it disappear out of sight--the last link with the world they knew. In the center of the landing strip, a dense column of smoke billowed up from a pile of smoldering moss--a warning that no pilot could fail to observe. In the stillness, it rose in a tall spiral, twisting and turning, signaling to the winds. "You should've let it land." Walter Pellinger was almost in tears; he blinked miserably. * * * * * Delman had never pictured him like this, small, myopic, with fair hair and sloping shoulders. The structure of his eyes had changed during the intervening weeks and the contact lenses he'd worn until recently were quite useless to him. Now, at twenty-one, he was half-blind and of little practical help to them. "They didn't stand a chance," the lawyer replied. "Oh, but they did! On the Law of Probability, they had one in sixty-seven--and our lives are worth a thousand of theirs." "Yes, I know. Our lives are essential to humanity. You've said it all before and I still disagree with you." "Have I? I don't remember." "You have. But it doesn't matter. Come on back. We've got to clear those stones. There aren't many left." As he strode toward the hangar, the lawyer knew that the days were running short. True, the launching ramp was intact and one door of the hangar was already open; but it would take at least a week to remove the chunks of rejuvenite blocking the remaining door. Tarsh and himself had done most of the heavy work. Yet even Tarsh, with all his feline strength, was beginning to tire. The constant effort to make use of every scrap of daylight was proving too much for them. According to Gillian, the lifeboat was unharmed. Delman hadn't the time to inspect it properly. But the very position of the hangar, squeezed tight against the cliffside, had given it the best protection possible. No, if only they could remove those stones!