going to take?
He heard the scrape of boot leather on a rock somewhere ahead of him. He
glanced up sharply, seeing nothing, and scowled. They had spotted him.
They were laying a trap.
Cautiously, he climbed over a huge boulder, making no sound. There was
one man standing behind it, waiting, apparently, for Wayne to step
around into view. He peered down, trying to see who it was. It seemed to
be Hollingwood, the dignified, austere metallurgist.
Wayne smiled grimly, picked up a heavy rock, and dropped it straight
down, square on the man's helmet. The plexalloy rang like a bell through
the clear early-morning air, and the man dropped to his knees, dazed by
the shock.
* * * * *
Knowing he had just a moment to finish the job, Wayne pushed off against
the side of the rock and plummeted down, landing neatly on the
metallurgist's shoulders. The man reeled and fell flat. Wayne spun him
over and delivered a hard punch to the solar plexus. "Sorry, Dave," he
said softly. The metallurgist gasped and curled up in a tight ball.
Wayne stood up. It was brutal, but it was the only place you could hit a
man wearing a space helmet.
_One down_, Wayne thought. _Fifty-eight to go._ He was alone against the
crew--and, for all he knew, against all fifty-nine of them.
Hollingwood groaned and stretched. Wayne bent and, for good measure,
took off the man's helmet and tapped him none too gently on the skull.
There was the sound of footsteps, the harsh _chitch-chitch_ of feet
against the rock. "He's up that way," he heard a deep voice boom.
That meant the others had heard the rock hitting Hollingwood's plexalloy
helmet. They were coming toward him.
Wayne sprang back defensively and glanced around. He hoped there were
only five of them, that the rule of six was still being maintained.
Otherwise things could become really complicated, as they hunted him
relentlessly through the twisted gulleys.
He hated to have to knock out too many of the men; it just meant more
trouble later. Still, there was no help for it, if he wanted there to be
any later. He thought of the bleached bones of the crew of the _Mavis_,
and shuddered.
It was something of an advantage not to be wearing a helmet. Even with
the best of acoustical systems, hearing inside a helmet tended to be
distorted and dimmed. The men couldn't hear him as well as he could hear
them. And since they couldn't hear themselves too well, they mad
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