A yellow beam flashed down from the hatch and ran over the ground at the base of the rocket. It stopped, pinning Nagel in a circle of light. His face was turned up. He was cursing wildly, violently.
"Nagel!" Crag shouted a warning. Nagel shook his fist toward the hatch still screaming. Flame spurted from the black rectangle and he fell, crumpled on the plain.
"Move further back," Richter said quietly.
Crag stood indecisively.
Richter spoke more imperatively. "He's gone. Move back—while you can."
"Happy dreams, Mister Crag ... and a long sleep." The hatch closed.
CHAPTER 21
Nagel was dead. He lay sprawled in the ash, a pitifully small limp bundle in a deflated suit. He had gotten his wish—he would never see earth again. Under the wide and starry sky ... Now he was asleep with his dream. Asleep in the fantastically bizarre world he had come to love. But the fact still remained: Nagel had been murdered. Murdered in cold blood. Murdered by the killer of little Max Prochaska. And now the killer was in command! Crag looked down at the crumpled body, reliving the scene, feeling it burn in his brain.
Finally he rose, filled with a terrible cold anger.