"I would much prefer, in your Earth idiom, to comb you out of my hair and continue unhampered to Callisto. But as matters stand"--he glanced shrewdly at Ron's hand, which hovered near the weapons in his belt--"you have control of this ship at the present moment. On the other hand you need my signature on this statement to clear your brother of his sentence. True, the statement implicates me to the fullest extent of the law...." He paused, the smile on his face widened imperceptibly, and Ron nodded impatient agreement. "Nevertheless," Tarnuff went on, "I will sign this damnatory statement." Ron stepped forward eagerly. "You will? Good. Now you're talking." "On one condition." "No conditions!" "I will sign this paper," the Martian went on, "and I will keep it in my possession. My conditions are that if I give you a chance at it, you'll give me an equal chance to take over this ship again. In other words--one of us takes everything." Ron frowned. "What are you driving at?" "Exactly this. I intend that if this ship reaches Callisto, I'll be the only man alive on it. On the other hand it may reach Earth; if it does, _you'll_ be the only man alive on it, and you'll have my signed statement clearing both yourself and your brother." Ron was listening. "Go on," he said. Tarnuff indicated the pistols in Ron's belt. "Two identical atom pistols there. The Martian _V'Nith_--you have heard of it?" * * * * * Ron was suddenly tense, standing there; his brain was spinning with the idea. Yes, he had heard of it--the cunning dueling game which men like Tarnuff sometimes engaged in, mostly on the dark asteroids; the duel which called for the most infinite precision and cunning; in which the first mistake usually meant death. Tarnuff was watching Ron shrewdly now; he saw his indecision; he said sharply: "All or nothing, man! Get it over with quickly! After all, you've more to gain than I ... your brother's life and your own." "Also more to lose," Ron muttered. He glanced around the control cabin. "But here, in the ship? How--" "No, of course not here! One loose atomic bullet would blast through the hull. We combat outside, and only one of us will enter this ship again." Ron drew one of the Martian pistols, hoisted it thoughtfully in his hand. He had slain Oruk with it. That had been the first time he'd ever fired one. But he liked the easy, comfortable feel, every bit as familiar as his own electro-pistol. "Well?" Tarnuff was impatient. With a sudden surge of confidence Ron made up his mind. "You're right, Tarnuff. We'll get it over with one way or the other! I think I'm as good a man as you at any game! Rules?" Tarnuff, smiling, held up one finger. "One apiece." "You're going to make it precise, eh? That's okay by me. I'm considered a pretty good shot with any kind of pistol." "And I," replied Tarnuff with easy arrogance, "have killed four men on the asteroids in duels such as this. Marksmanship is not all."