The heat drove Ron away. He turned and walked back toward Tarnuff again. The latter hadn't moved. "Well, Jordan," he grated, "I hope you're satisfied with your bungling! Here goes the _Lucifer_ right from under us, thanks to you. There's enough oxygen in these space-suits for about one more hour." "Well, I wouldn't worry about it!" Ron laughed suddenly, laughed in joyous relief, and pointed. "Look! Here comes help, and just in the neck of time!" Far behind them a tiny silvery dot was barely discernible against the darkness; but it grew steadily larger as it took on the shape of a space-ship, moving unmistakably toward them. They watched in silence as it came nearer. Suddenly Tarnuff exclaimed: "Help, did you say, Jordan? Here comes the final touch, you mean--our finish! That's a patroller!" "Are you sure of that, Tarnuff?" "Sure of it? Man, I've been dodging the Patrol so much out here that I can tell 'em a million miles off!" "So--I win after all, Tarnuff! That statement you signed absolves me. Let 'em come!" Ron waved his arms wildly in the direction of the approaching ship. "Come on you birds, step on it!" Tarnuff reached suddenly in his pocket and brought out the folded paper. "Yes, it does clear you, doesn't it? You and your brother both! Thanks for reminding me, Jordan, in the excitement I almost forgot about that...." And then Tarnuff's voice became shrill with maniac glee: "But it won't do either of you any good! By the time that Patrol ship gets here there won't be any paper!" He whirled suddenly and leaped toward the stern rocket tubes only a few yards away. In a flash of horror Ron realized his intention--to destroy that paper in the rocket blast! Ron took two bounding steps after him, and then realized he could never catch him in time. But Ron still held the atom pistol. He swung his arm stiffly up in a straight line with Tarnuff's back, and pulled the trigger. It was a purely instinctive action, and not until a split second later did Ron realize it. And he laughed wildly then, for Tarnuff _had_ been bluffing about that pistol; there was no reverse action to it. He saw the center of Tarnuff's back explode in ghastly devastation. Then Tarnuff, or what was left of him, plunged head foremost down along the sharp curve of the hull toward the rocket tubes. Ron leaped after him, but it was too late. He saw the crumpled paper jarred from Tarnuff's outflung hand. It drifted lazily on, down over the rocket tube and then out into the blast, where it vanished in an insignificant little puff of flame. Ron was suddenly very weary. He didn't move from where he stood, he just sat down there, bowed his head in his hands, and waited. * * * * * "Hello, hello. Jordan, is it? Can you hear us? Hello!" The voice came so faintly in Ron's ears that it sounded like a dream. He lifted his head, stared around, and then realized it was coming through his phone.