"And now the statement," Ron said, drawing the paper from his pocket. "Which you will sign, after first adding a P.S. absolving me entirely if I should be apprehended with these Silicytes on my hands."
Tarnuff looked up, smiling. "You think of everything, don't you?"
"It pays."
Tarnuff wrote for a minute, signed, and handed it to Ron. The latter read it and was satisfied.
Tarnuff took the paper from Ron's hands again and slipped it into his own pocket. "If I win I shall destroy this. If you win, which I doubt, you may take it from me at your convenience."
"You think of everything too. Okay," Ron shrugged. He held out the identical pistols. "Your choice, if it means anything."
"It doesn't, but I'll take this one." Tarnuff took one of the pistols and then climbed into a space-suit as Ron waited.
"Which airlocks?" Ron asked through the audio-phone in his helmet.
"I'd suggest the central ones. I'll take the port side and you the starboard. We'll enter the respective locks at the same instant, then into space. After that, well, only one of us will enter this ship again."
They moved into parallel corridors on opposite sides of the ship. Instantly Ron was alert, not trusting the Martian out of his sight now that they were both armed with a bullet apiece. But both their helmet phones were on. Ron stopped a moment and listened. He heard the other's amused voice: