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Updated: June 28, 2025
"Have you an eavesdropping microphone, Haljan?" I hesitated. "Yes." "I was thinking...." He leaned closer. "If, in half an hour, you could use it upon Miko's cabin I would rather tell you than anyone else. The cabin will be insulated, but I shall find a way of cutting off that insulation so that you can hear." So George Prince had turned with us.
That Ob Hahn, at your table " "Snaky looking fellow," I commented. "He and the Englishman are great on arguments. Did you have Princes' cabin searched?" My breath hung on his answer. "Yes. Nothing unusual among his things. We searched both his room and his sister's." I did not follow that up. Instead I told him about the burn on Miko's thick arm. He stared. "I wish we were at Ferrok-Shahn.
There came a flash from Miko's weapon. It gave us confidence: he was unable to reach us at this distance. The Grantline beam repeated: Cannot come out. Ports broken. You cannot get in. Stay where you are for an hour or two. We may be able to repair ports. I extinguished my light. What use was it to tell Grantline anything further? Besides, my light was endangering us.
"Gregg! The chart room!" I turned and ran, with Balch after me. Prince had fallen or been felled by Miko. A flash followed me from Miko's weapon, but again it missed. He did not pursue me. Instead he ran the other way, through the portside door of the library. Balch and I found ourselves in the library. Shouting, frightened passengers were everywhere.
Their hand projectors stabbed at close range. Our men crumpled and fell.... We were in position again. I flung my last missile, watched its light as it dropped. On the dome roof two of Miko's men were crouching. My bomb was truly aimed perhaps one of the few in all our bombardment which landed directly on the dome roof.
But down in the Earth glow at the crater base, Miko's lights had not vanished! I had missed! An error in the range? Abruptly I knew it was not that. Miko's lights were still there. His signals still coming. And I noticed now a faint distortion about them, the glow of his little group of hand lights faintly distorted and vaguely shot with a greenish cast. Benson curve lights!
It was in a transverse corridor similar to A22. The corridor was forward of the lounge: it opened off the small circular library. The library was unoccupied and unlighted, dim with only the reflected lights from the nearby passages. I crouched behind a cylinder case. The door of Miko's room was in sight. I waited perhaps five minutes. No one entered.
"Why, George Prince! How strange you look!" Anita did not move. She was stricken with horror; she shrank back against the wall, huddled in her cloak. Miko's sardonic voice came again: "How strange you look, Prince!" He took a step forward. He was grim and calm. Horribly calm. Deliberate. Gloating like a great gray monster in human form toying with a fascinated, imprisoned bird.
Grotesque, abnormal combat! Like fighting in weightless water. Johnson clutched his weapon, but I twisted his wrist, held his arm outstretched so that he could not aim it. I was aware of Miko's voice shouting on the deck outside. Johnson's left hand was gouging at my face, his fingers digging at my eyes. We lunged down. I twisted his wrists.
"But not now. It will be some hours before we are ready." I nodded, and he wandered away. Anita whispered: "Did he mean that signal room up in the tower? Oh Gregg, maybe it's only the control room." "Suppose we go up and see? Miko's signals might start any minute." And the electronic projector seemed about ready. It was time for me to act. But a reluctant instinct was upon me.
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