Straining his eyes in the darkness, Pell presently saw the slight figure of Gret Helmuth approach. When she saw him, she broke into a limping run and threw herself into his arms. "Oh, Pell, I never thought I'd see you again," she cried, burying her face in his shoulder. Pell swore and looked up to see Gutridge loom out of the dark. The big man had a small box in his hand which he waved debonairly at Pell. "You know, just in case. This little gadget can transmit a radio wave that will touch off the explosives," Gutridge chuckled. "That woman of yours is bad medicine--she scratches like a wild cat." Pell stifled his rage with difficulty, noting with small satisfaction that his face, too, had sustained no small damage. "Where's that space ship?" Gutridge asked, now all business. Pell didn't reply, but gestured for the big man to follow and the party made its way to the surface in an elevator that still functioned. * * * * * A beautiful dawn was breaking, but it affected Pell not at all. Morosely he stared through the plastine window of his cramped quarters in the blaster tower. Through the window he could make out the busy activities of the Insurgents. Gingerly they had cleared away the rubble of the demolished entrance to the armory and were now engaged in carrying the vaults of U-235 out of the fortress. As he watched them absently, the door opened behind him and Gret entered, her brown gold hair gleaming intoxicatingly in the early light. Even her rough jumper couldn't hide the fresh young curves of her body. "What's the matter, Grouchy?" she teased. "Still worrying about Gutridge escaping?" "Yeah," Pell growled. "As long as he's alive, the game isn't finished. But--" he smiled "--I've got you. That ought to be enough for any perfectionist." He was about to kiss her when the door opened again and Dallard entered. He looked from Pell to Gret and raised his eyebrows. "I trust I wasn't interrupting anything," he drawled slyly. "Oh, come in, Dallard," Pell said, although not very enthusiastically. "How are your men coming along with the uranium?" "Fine. Fine. But, I say, you're hardly the bright and cheery fellow one would expect to meet this morning." "He's worried about Gutridge escaping," Gret explained. Dallard laughed. "Pell, haven't you heard about his ... ah ... little accident? It seems someone forgot to inform the planet-mounteds that our friend would be departing, so I'm afraid he's little more than a cinder now. Frightful mistake, eh?" He clucked innocently and, twirling his sandy mustache airily, walked jauntily from the room. Pell looked after him amazed, a small shudder running the length of his spine. "You colonials are forgetful people, aren't you?" he observed. "Perhaps," Gret replied, wrinkling her nose at him, "but sometimes it pays." "Well, in the future," Pell said, "don't forget I like my ham and eggs in bed."