"All right, Russ," said Greg. "Turn him loose."
Stutsman swayed and almost fell as the bands of force released him.
"Get into that suit," ordered Greg.
Stutsman hesitated, but something he saw in Greg's face made him lift the suit, step into it, fasten it about his body.
"What are you going to do with me?" he whimpered. "You aren't going to take me back to Earth again, are you? You aren't going to make me stand trial?"
"No," said Greg, gravely, "we aren't taking you back to Earth. And you're standing trial right now."
Stutsman read his fate in the cold eyes that stared into his. Chattering frightenedly, he rushed at Greg, plunged through him, collided with the wall of the ship and toppled over, feebly attempting to rise.
Invisible hands hoisted him to his feet, gripped him, held him upright. Greg walked toward him, stood facing him.
"Stutsman," he said, "you have four hours of air. That will give you four hours to think, to make your peace with death." He turned toward the other two. Chambers nodded grimly. Craven said nothing.
"And now," said Greg to Craven, "if you will fasten down his helmet."