from which he had been expelled. It seemed to be
still open.

Then he saw the shape of a helmet rise around the curve of the ship.
Someone was out on the hull.

Tremont switched on his radio and listened.

The spacesuited figure climbed completely into view. There appeared to
be a line running from the belt into the air lock, and the figure
carried a long pole of some sort.

"Oh, there you are, Tremont!" came Braigh's voice over the receiver.
"I've been waiting for you."

The chuckle that followed made Tremont curse, which in turn provoked a
hearty laugh from the other.

"You didn't think I'd forget you?" asked Braigh. "We figured out what
happened as soon as we heard you putting out those distress calls.
After that, it was just a matter of timing. Have you had an amusing
trip?"

"Have you found out you can't make anything of those papers yet?"
countered Tremont.

"Oh, the coding? It might take a little time, but we have plenty ...
now, now, Tremont! That kind of abusive language will get you
nowhere."

Tremont had drifted to a point above the other's head, almost within
reach. He was kicking out in little motions that betrayed his
eagerness to come to grips with Braigh or _something_ solid.

"Why, Tremont! I do believe that you thought I came out to bargain
with you," chuckled the blond man. "Not at all! I told you that you'd
be no trouble. I just came out to finish the job Peters bungled."

Tremont saw the pole jabbing upward at his stomach. Instinctively, he
grabbed at the end. Braigh was not disturbed.

"Take it with you, then!" he laughed, letting go his end with a
powerful push. "Let me know if you're alive the next time you come
around, so I can come out again."

Tremont began to swear at him, then got a grip on himself long enough
to snap his radio off.

He had begun pulling himself down the pole when Braigh had shoved.
That sapped some of the force, but it was still enough to send him
spinning out into the void once more.

The ship receded slowly. He saw Braigh return to the air lock and
enter. A moment later, that light was cut off, and Tremont began to
back off into space as he had the first time.

_They know all about it_, he realized. _They could leave me any time
just by burning a little fuel. Peters wouldn't care about wasting
it--I paid for it. Maybe he's just too lazy to calculate the course
correction._

If so, he decided, the pilot was right. Tremont might drift back, but
two