n the control room, he found Donna and Truesdale peering into the
screen. He crowded close to look over their shoulders. A small blob of
light floated near the center of the view. "That it?" he asked.

"Yes," answered Donna. "Just enough Mars-light to show it."

"How near are we?" asked Phillips.

"About a hundred and fifty miles. I have quite a large magnification,
but they may spot us if they're alert. Are you ready to ... do
something?"

"Reasonably," said Phillips. "Where's Brecken?"

"You probably _killed_ him!" Truesdale broke in accusingly.

"I found a first-aid kit and gave him a shot," said Donna. "He has a
nasty lump on the head, but he might sleep it off."

Phillips was watching Truesdale. The youth was visibly nervous. Was it
the thought of Brecken, the engineer wondered, or fear of what they were
planning to do? Perhaps it would be best to clear the air now, before it
was too late.

"I guess you can handle it here, Donna," he said. "Truesdale and I will
go to the turret and stand by."

The youth shrank away. "No! I won't go up there again! You can't make me
do this!"

"Do what?" demanded Phillips.

"It's _murder_! You both know it is! They won't even have any warning."

"I _hope_ not," said Phillips drily. "They might get _us_!"

"You _would_ put it that way," sneered Truesdale; "you're homicidal at
heart anyway!" He turned on Donna, wiping perspiration from his
forehead. "Are you going to let him do it?" he shrilled. "Are you going
to help him commit such a crime?"

The girl stared at him with a worried look in her blue eyes but said
nothing.

"Come on, Truesdale," said Phillips, making an effort at a peaceful,
persuasive tone. "It will be either their lives or ours if they spot
us--and millions more if they get by. They'll be too desperate to think
of us. Do you want to die?"

The instant he spoke the last words, he remembered the other's record
and wished he had kept quiet. He saw, a strange, wild expression creep
over Truesdale's features. It changed into a look of hateful cunning as
the youth, began to sidle toward the door.

"_I'm_ not afraid to die!" he boasted in a low-pitched but tense voice.
"But how about you, Phillips? How about the big, brutal space engineer
who is proud of smashing men's skulls against steel walls, who would
like nothing better than to blow up a shipload of innocent people. How
do you really know they're dangerous? But you don't care, do you?"

"Truesdal