The straps that held Taat to his chair were his doom. The searing beam swept across them, freeing him but at the same time blasting a six-inch swath across his stomach. Taat screamed hoarsely as the beam swung past him and burned along the floor of the centerdeck.
Lefler regained his balance and floated to Taat's side, pushing aside the cards that drifted in a swirling cloud about the room. Robwood appeared from below, the manacles in his hands.
"Your third point wins the day," gasped Taat, his hands writhing over his mangled abdomen. "I won't last long, but if you'll get me to the control room I'll radio a confession that'll clear you and Robwood completely."
"Help me get him to a bunk, Robwood," ordered Lefler, grasping Taat by the arms. "Taat, you'll have to tell us what to do for you."
"No use," groaned Taat. He managed a ghastly smile. "I unbuckled your bunk straps to throw you off course, Lefler, but I don't want you to think I was trying to blame it on you. I was trying to make it look like Makki killed himself."
"But why, Taat?"
"It wasn't just that Makki cheated me," replied Taat with some difficulty. "I'd saved several thousand dollars to build a little clinic in Mars City—something I've dreamed of all my life. That's why I let Makki talk me into investing—I needed just a little more. But the business was almost worthless. He stole most of my money. I was arguing with him about it in the control room, when he drew the gun and threatened to kill me. He was strapped down. I wrestled with him, and he was killed in the scuffle. That's it."
They maneuvered Taat into a bunk and tried to arrange the straps to avoid the gaping wound in his stomach. Taat raised his hand weakly and removed his spectacles. He blinked up at Lefler.