Larsoe laughed as he gave the slighter man a shove.
Then, still laughing, Huck Larsoe shoved the mass of gold to his own ship, his reaction pistol streaming red flame behind him. He turned his mocking face.
"I ain't even going to kill you, Timkin, like I could. No need going to the trouble. It's still your word against mine, back at Titan. You ain't got a ghost of a chance to prove this is your find."
Slowly Timkin rocketed back to his own ship. He watched Larsoe stow the gold in his hold and cast out a mess of fossil bones, lumps of coal, bits of machinery and pieces of carved stone.
"Here, Timkin," Larsoe chortled. "You can have this other junk of mine now. It'll help you pay for your trip, anyways. See? I ain't such a bad guy at heart."
And with a mocking laugh, Larsoe slipped into his cabin lock. A moment later his ship rocketed away and was lost in black space, leaving a broken old man behind.
Timkin floated beside his ship for long bitter minutes without the energy to do anything. Ten years of searching and hope wasted—ten years of hardship and toil. Fate had at last rewarded him with a magnificent bonanza—and then had kicked him in the teeth.
Timkin was on the verge of madness. For a moment he thought of opening his reaction pistol wide, gunning straight for the ring bodies and seeking peace and eternal rest there.