Ron had been indecisive. Now he felt his brain become suddenly cool and concise. He knew what he must do. It had been pure luck that _he_ had taken the starboard side instead of Tarnuff. It was an omen. But it would be risky. Ron suddenly sobered, moved along until he could grasp Oruk by the collar. He tugged. The body was wedged tight, just fitting the space between the tubes. Ron thrust the pistol into his belt and used both hands. At last the body came free. He saw that he'd have to leave the pistol in his belt now. If Tarnuff should suddenly appear somewhere over the curve of the hull, it would be the end. But he'd have to risk it. Hugging the body tightly to him, he moved a little higher, up to the long line of circular ports. He moved slowly back toward the center of the ship, peering into each glassite port as he passed. But he couldn't find what he was looking for; all was dark within. At last he came to one that wasn't so dark. He saw a faint scintillation of color. Silicytes! There were at least a score of them in this cabin into which he peered. He had almost forgotten about them, but now he was glad of their faint flashing light, for he saw what he sought: one of the lockers containing space-suits. He knew the Silicytes could live in airless space, so he didn't hesitate. A few blows with his metallic shoe, and the port shattered. It was almost his undoing. The rush of air from the room came so suddenly it almost swept him away into space. Just in time he grasped the edge of the circular opening with one hand, clung tenaciously to his gruesome burden with the other. Then the air was gone, and he shoved Oruk's body into the room ahead of him. Instantly the Silicytes crowded around, their chain-like tentacles clashing, reaching out toward him. Ron could feel their crystal coldness even through his space-suit. He shoved them recklessly out of the way, knowing they were harmless. At last he procured a space-suit, and then came a job not to his liking--fitting Oruk's huge body into it. At last, however, it was accomplished. He shoved the bulging, helmeted figure outside again, and climbed out beside it. Ron's lips tightened grimly now. If his luck held, he'd make Tarnuff waste his bullet.... But where was Tarnuff? For a second Ron thought of clicking on his phone again and calling out, to see what would happen. But no--that would give his own position away. If he didn't know where Tarnuff was, neither did the Martian know where he was. Ron took a guess and moved toward the stern again.