"Under any circumstances, Lejeune, the captain does not leave his ship in distress. Should I return to earth without the rest of you, I would lose my rank unquestionably. Now, before we draw too close, take the cylinder to Mercury! You're a fool not to!"
"M'sieu Rogers, I possess magnificent renown as a fool. I shall remain."
"But the cylinder—"
"The cylinder, Captain Rogers, be damned."
They looked at each other a long minute. Rogers, stripped to the waist, perspiring, his thick black hair hanging in his eyes; Lejeune, small, wiry, faint traces of a smile lurking on his lips.
Suddenly the floor shook beneath them. A violent shudder passed through the ship from stem to stern. The momentum of the sunward fall increased.
Regaining his balance, Rogers gasped, "Good God—the capsule!"
They saw a flash of light on the screen, saw the tiny rocket streak for Mercury in a flare of brilliance. It dwindled rapidly to a receding speck that was swallowed in the depths of space.
Speechless, Rogers and Lejeune raced to the supply room. They found Lane there, but no Geitz and no cylinder. Needles on the face of the capsule compartment jutting out from the wall registered zero.
"He was faking," said Rogers. "He wasn't dead—he merely pretended, the coward!"