Something snapped thinly. There was a flaring shock inside his helmet. He fell, and staggered up and on, and the hungry branches whipped away from the girl.
She stood there, her thin white body showing through the torn vac-suit, and laughed at him.
He saw Miner Hilton crawling dazed on the living ground, toward the thing that looked like Sheila and laughed with mocking golden motes in its eyes.
A vast darkness settled on Falken's soul. He turned. Sheila Moore crouched where he had thrown her from him, in his struggle to help the lying shell among the trees.
He went and picked her up. He said to Miner Hilton,
"Can we fix these broken wires?"
Hilton shook his head. The shock of the breaking seemed to have steadied him a little. "No," he said. "Too much burned out."
"Then we're beaten." Falken turned a bitter, snarling face to the green sky, raised one futile fist and shook it. Then he was silent, looking at the others.
Sheila Moore said softly, "This is the end, isn't it?"
Falken nodded. And Miner Hilton said,