He knew he would have to be doubly careful now, and yet paradoxically he'd have to take a chance. With difficulty he held the space-suited figure close to his side. As he came ever nearer the stern he began to move oblique upward, peering intently all along the hull's horizon for a sight of Tarnuff. Would this trick work? Perhaps Tarnuff wouldn't fire at the first sight of a space-helmeted figure, as Ron hoped. And yet--why not? He'd be expecting no other moving figure out there except Ron's. Ron was almost at the stern tubes now. He began to wonder if Tarnuff had taken the other direction after all, toward the bow off the ship. He took a firmer hold on the body beside him, moved a few more feet obliquely upward, and then ... he had guessed right! He saw the Martian! * * * * * Ron caught only a glimpse of him, flattened against the hull with his pistol held ready, before he jerked his own head down again. He looked at Oruk's dead grayish face inside the plate so close to his own. He could only hope that Tarnuff wouldn't recognize it. Luckily the two helmets were identical, and Ron was sure that if Tarnuff fired at all, it would be at the face-plate. It was a gruesome thing to do, but this was no time for squeamishness, Ron thought, as he began easing the body up inches at a time. It was the age-old trick to draw the enemys fire. Nothing happened. He pushed the body higher, almost recklessly, but maintained a firm grip on it. Still higher. He was sure it must be at least partially in Tarnuff's line of vision by now. Why didn't he fire? Could he have detected-- And then it did happen, so suddenly that Ron couldn't even gasp his surprise. There was an abrupt puff of atomic dust above him; at the same instant he felt Oruk's body torn spinning out of his grasp. Then he saw the space-suited figure drifting lazily outward. It was grotesque, headless. The ruse had worked! Tarnuff had fired his bullet, and very accurately! Ron felt a fierce surge of exultation as he drew his own pistol and then hauled himself swiftly up into Tarnuff's sight. Tarnuff had risen to his feet. He still held the pistol loosely in his hand. A satisfied little smile was on his lips. Then he caught sight of Ron, the smile vanished, the pistol fell and went skidding lightly across the hull. The expression on his face was so ludicrous that Ron wanted to laugh. Instead, he reached up and clicked on his helmet phone, motioning Tarnuff to do the same. "Beat you!" Ron cried fiercely. "Beat you at your own game, Tarnuff, and it was easy! Now, before I kill you, I want you to know it's going to be the greatest pleasure of my life!" Tarnuff looked out at the drifting body he had just blasted. He nodded, and when he spoke his voice almost purred.