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enemy's suit. It looked quite conventional (did the Sirians use such familiar models?).
Bigman said curtly, "Are you keyed in for radio transmission?" There was sudden sound in
his ears and he jumped. The voice was a familiar one, even under the disguising distortion
of the radio; it said, "It's Peewee, isn't it?" Never in his life had Bigman needed greater
self-control to keep from using his blaster. As it was, the weapon leaped convulsively in his
hand and the figure facing him leaned quickly to one side. "Urteil!" yelled Bigman. His
surprise turned to disappointment. No Sirian! Only Urteil! Then the sharp thought: What was
Urteil doing here? 85 Urteil said, "It's Urteil all right. So put away the bean-shooter." "That
gets put away when I feel like it," said Big-man. "What are you doing here?" "The mines of
Mercury are not your private property, I think." "While I have the blaster they are, you
fat-faced cobber." Bigman was thinking hard and, to a certain extent, futilely. What was there
to do with this poisonous skunk? To take him back to the Dome would reveal the fact that
Lucky was no longer in the mines. Bigman could tell them that Lucky had lingered behind,
but then they would become either suspicious or concerned when Lucky failed to report. And
of what crime could he accuse Urteil? The mines were free to all, at that. On the other hand,
he could not remain indefinitely pointing a blaster at the man. If Lucky were here, he would
know And as though a telephathic spark had crossed the vacuum between the two men,
Urteil suddenly said, "And where's Starr, anyway?" "That," said Bigman, "is nothing you
have to worry about." Then, with sudden conviction, "You were following us, weren't you?"
and he shoved his blaster forward a little as though encouraging the other to talk. In the glare
of Bigman's suit-light, the other's glassite-hidden face turned downward slightly as though to
follow the blaster. He said, "What if I were?" Again there was the impasse. Bigman said,
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"You were going along a side passage. You were going to swing in behind us." "I said What
if I were?" Urteil's voice had almost a lazy quality about it, as though its owner were 86
thoroughly relaxed, as though he enjoyed having a blaster pointed at him. Urteil went on.
"But where's your friend? Near here?" "I know where he is. No need for you to worry." "I
insist on worrying. Call him. Your radio is on local transmission or I wouldn't hear you so well.
. . . Do you mind if I turn on my fluid jet? I'm thirsty." His hand moved slowly. "Careful," said
Bigman. "Just a drink." Bigman watched tensely. He did not expect a weapon to be
activated by chest control, but the suit- light could be suddenly raised to blinding intensity,
oror Well, anything. But Urteil's fingers finished their motion while Bigman stood irresolute,
and there was only the sound of swallowing. "Scare you?" asked Urteil calmly. Bigman could
find nothing to say. Urteil's voice grew sharp. "Well, call the man. Call Starr!" Under the
impact of the order, Bigman's hand began a movement and stopped. Urteil laughed. "You
almost adjusted radio controls, didn't you? You needed distance tranmission. He's nowhere
near here, is he?" "No such thing," cried Bigman hotly. He was burning with mortification.
The large and poisonous Urteil was clever. There he stood, the target of a blaster, yet
winning the battle, proving himself master of the situation, while with every passing second
Bigman's own 87 position, in which he could neither shoot nor lower his blaster, leave nor
stay, grew more untenable. Wildly the thought gnawed at him: Why not shoot? But he knew
he could not. He would be able to advance no reason. And even if he could, the violent death
of Senator Swenson's man would make tremendous trouble for the Council of Science. And
for Lucky! If only Lucky were here Partly because he wished that so ardently, his heart
leaped as Urteil's light lifted slightly and focused beyond him, and he heard Urteil say, "No,
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