With some distantly sane corner of his mind, Arnsen realized that it was impossible for any living being to exist without protection on the frigid, airless surface of the asteroid. Then he knew that both air and warmth surrounded the girl.
The crystals protected her. He knew that, somehow.
O'Brien twisted in his arms. He saw the girl, tried to spring free. Arnsen gripped him.
The boy swung a jolting blow that jarred the giant's helmet. His mailed glove smashed against the metal plate. Dazed and giddy, Arnsen fell back, clawing at O'Brien. His fingers slipped along the other's arm; he felt something drop into his hand, and clutched it.
Then O'Brien was free. He wrenched an oxygen-tank from Arnsen's shoulders, whirled, and took a step toward the girl. She was further away now....
Arnsen staggered up. His head was throbbing furiously. Too late he realized that, in the scuffle, his air-valve had fouled. He fumbled at it with clumsy fingers—and fell.
His helmet thudded solidly against hard slag. Blackness took him....
CHAPTER FOUR
Circe the Immortal