The syphon began a steady flow.
"You won't make it," remarked Ferris. "And if you do get there, what then? There's no place for you on the Moon. They'll track you down in a few days."
Siegal laughed. "You seem quite certain of all this."
"Besides," went on Ferris, "I'll tell them all about you. They'll know just where you are, and they'll be waiting for you when you reach the Moon."
"Not if I destroy your radio," said Siegal, "and not if you ride the station back to Earth."
For a long minute there was silence. The only sound was the trickling of the liquid fuel. Ferris became uneasy.
"That's murder," he said at length.
"True," agreed Siegal. "That is murder, isn't it?"
The container was full. At the point of Siegal's gun, Ferris carried the fuel to the airlock, where he was forced to don a space tunic and transport the container to the lone ship that was anchored outside. He made several trips, until the station's tanks were nearly empty. Through vision screens, the glow of the repulsion jets could be seen, receding gradually.
"The station will move in a matter of hours," said Ferris. "It's a devilish trick, Siegal, and I hope they get you for it."