Liedl's convulsive thrashing grew weaker. Suddenly his knees buckled. He buckled. He slumped to the deck.
Joel followed him down, stooping over him bear-like, never relaxing the throttling pressure. Sweat ran into his eyes.
He became aware of Thorp shaking his shoulder.
"He's dead!" Thorp was saying. "Dead. Do you hear me?"
Joel drew a gasping breath, stood up, wiped the sweat out of his eyes. He didn't look at the crumpled figure on the deck. This was the second man he'd killed. The first had been an accident, but not Gustav Liedl.
Tamis said suddenly, "We can't leave him there!"
"No," Thorp agreed. "We'd better dump him down the waste chute. The reconverters will dispose of him."
He picked up the body like a limp sack of potatoes. "Open the chute."
The girl held up the lid while Thorp slid the body into it. There was a faint swoosh. Tamis let the lid drop.
An awkward silence fell upon them.