Slowly, the fingers around Liddell's throat released their pressure. In a world with no air and where no air was necessary, the choking pressure hadn't damaged Liddell, but his throat ached from constriction alone. He drove Short off him now with lefts and rights to the head. They were weightless, but they hurt. He couldn't explain it, no more than he could explain the sudden trans-mutation of the blaster's energy beam to solid matter. It was one of the unknown natural laws of sub-space, that was all. Presently, he was aware that Short no longer fought but hung there in sub-space with his arms slack. He drove a few more left hooks and right crosses into the face floating so near his own, then swam back and clear. Short hung there, suspended. "But how," Linda gasped, "how did you ever--" "Automatic control. I came after you." "How will we ever get back?" Liddell looked at his wrist-chrono. "In fifteen minutes, the automatic control picks us up and brings us back. Are you all right?" "He didn't hurt me. He didn't have time." They waited there in sub-space in each other's arms. When, fifteen minutes later, they began to shimmer, Liddell grabbed the unconscious Short's hand and the three of them shimmered together into normal space. Liddell went to the arsenal and secured Short with arm and leg irons. By the time he called through to Luna outbound with his explanatory message, the escaped killer had regained consciousness but maintained a grim silence. "You know," Liddell told his wife, "one thing good's going to come of this. I mean, besides recapturing Short." "Such as what?" "Such as science always regarded sub-space only as a medium of transfer. But with some of its unusual properties, I'll bet a few first-rate resorts can be built out there." "You--you're crazy," Linda said, but smiled. "And what's more--" "Let me finish for you, darling. What's more, if they're going to build any resorts out there, you're the man to build them. Right?" "Right," said Liddell, before he kissed her.