I pulled him toward me. It was difficult to twist him around, more difficult to turn him toward the ship. Finally I succeeded in pointing him right and I thumbed open the jet petcock at the base of his oxygen equipment. He shot forward, but the line attached to both our belts made him somersault, and there was a tug on the thin strand that tied us together. He was pulling me _away_ from the ship, putting more distance between me and safety. For him, it didn't matter. Quickly I pulled him back. I grabbed both his legs, like the handles of a wheelbarrow, and pointed him toward the ship, which with each second was getting farther and farther away. How far I had no idea because, as I said, distances are hard to judge in space. Now the air jet was shoving us forward, accelerating us toward the ship. I hoped it would match the ship's acceleration but I couldn't tell at first. Then I laughed out loud. My voice made a hollow sound in my ears. We _were_ gaining. Just a tiny bit, but the ship was getting larger. Now the question was, did I have enough air on Morrie's back to carry us to the ship? The air jet was intended for only short bursts, such as I'd used when I crossed from the Saturn capsule to the Jehad. Now I needed continued acceleration. The thin vapor stream from the flask continued and now we were above the stern of the ship, where Gail's quarters had been established. Then the rush of air didn't seem quite as strong--we weren't creeping up as fast. The air locks weren't far ahead, but we were above the ship, maybe two hundred yards away. Morrie's life line, the part still attached to the ship after I cut him loose, was whirling around with the ship, thrown out to its full length by the rotation. Whoever had released my line hadn't bothered Morrie's. Maybe the killer knew Morrie was dead--or maybe his object was only to kill _me_. I steered down, hoping to get close enough to grab the line. Then the oxygen fizzled out. No more vapor came from the tank. It was empty and I couldn't quite reach the line. It was just a foot or two beyond me. In desperation I gave Morrie a push and then praised God for Isaac Newton's action and reaction. The shove I gave Morrie was sufficient to push me back so that my free hand caught the line. I grabbed it and held on. A couple of moments later I was pulling myself hand over hand toward the locks. Just as I reached the locks, they opened. A hand stretched out, grasped my arm and pulled Morrie and me inside. I detached the life lines. It was Axel Ludson, standing there in a spacesuit. Instantly, all the suspicions I'd had in space crystallized. Axel had unfastened the life line! I watched him close the locks and turn the valve that would presently fill the locks with air. "How long have you been here, Axel?" I demanded.