a
trade mark with him, and Jennette always admired it. Purple was her
favorite color. He made a joke out of it and called it Their color,
which was typical of the strange, dangerous behavior she engendered in
him.

Mark was a little worried as he plunged up toward the stratosphere in
his extra car. This time he kept clearly in his mind the fact that
this was his last serviceable body, and he could take no chances with
it getting ruined. Even if he saw a whole multitude of people, all
clustered together, he would ignore them, he told himself.

Halfway there, however, he spotted a peculiar marking on the scope,
and detoured. The peculiar marking followed him.

Anxiously, he looked out a clear view panel, but could see nothing in
the cold, mist-laden night. The marking grew more definite as he
hesitated. It was another car, and there could be no question what it
was after. A shot at Mark.

He cursed and sucked in his breath, making quick calculations. There
was a rolling billow of cobalt fog off to one side, a whole bank of
the stuff. Somebody apparently had been having a little game nearby.
It was still hot enough, according to his indicators, to discharge
anything the other car sent after him, and he would have the added
advantage of being invisible to the other man's instruments. The only
trouble was, once in the fog, he couldn't see anything either, and
could be ambushed without difficulty on the way out.

The marking on the scope became more definite, and the question
settled itself as the other car came between Mark and the cloud.
Growling with irritation, Mark swung around and sent a wide angle beam
in the direction of his pursuer, watching nervously as the indicators
described the pitiful short range of his fire at this setting.

The assailant veered off, however, scurrying into the cobalt cloud.
Mark grinned. He knew the man would expect him to wait for him to come
out, so he swooped down at max acceleration toward the surface. In
five minutes he was signaling into Jennette's shelter for permission
to enter.

There were servants everywhere--mechanical things, controlled by
electronics and not alive, although they looked it. This was
Jennette's specialty. She owned a factory that manufactured them for
mining on the scalding plains of Mercury, and these had been
superficially remodelled to act as servants. There was the usual
government man there, too, running the party. He strutted around under
his offici