re you
trying to do, alarm the whole moon?"

* * * * *

The men outside bent over the raft. They looked at it. Then they looked
at the hoist tower. They left the raft and began to run, pulling guns
out of their belts.

A Level. Hyrst's breath roared in his helmet like a great wind. He
thought of the long dark way down that was below them, and how MacDonald
had looked at the bottom of the shaft, and how he would take Shearing
with him if he fell, and nobody would get to the stars, and Vernon would
go free. He set his teeth, and sobbed, and climbed. Outside, the two men
cautiously removed the hatch and stepped into the tower.

End of the ladder. A level floor to sprawl on. Hyrst squirmed away from
the shaft. He thought for a minute he was going to pass out, and he
fumbled with the oxygen valve, making the mixture richer. His head began
to clear. Shearing was now beside him. This time they had guns, too.
Shearing gave him a quick mental caution, _Not unless you have to_. One
of the two men was placing a tentative foot on the stair that led up to
where they were. The other man was close behind him. Shearing took
careful aim and fired, at half power.

The harsh blue bolt did not strike either man. But they went reeling
back in a cloud of burning flakes, and when Shearing shouted to them to
drop their weapons and get out they did so, half stunned from the shock.
Hyrst and Shearing leaped down the stairs, stopping only long enough to
pick up the guns. Then they scrambled outside. The two men were running
as hard as they could for their ship, but they had not gone far and
Shearing stopped them with another shot that sent a geyser of methane
steam puffing up practically under their feet.

"Not yet," he said. "Later."

The two men stood, sullenly obedient. They were both young, and not bad
looking. Just doing a job, Hyrst thought. No real harm in them, just
doing a job, like so many people who never stop to worry about what the
job means. They both wore Bellaver's insigne on their vac-suits.

One of them said, as though he were reciting a lesson in which he had no
real personal interest, "You're trespassing on private property. You'll
be prosecuted to the fullest extent of the law."

"Sure," said Shearing. He motioned to the hoist tower. "Back inside."

The young men hesitated. "What you going to do?"

"Nothing fatal. It shouldn't take you more than half an hour to break
out again."