Back on the Moon, at Luna Station, three people were waiting for the Martian Express to take-off.
"You see, Steve, Gerda's really my daughter," Paul Jomian explained. "Her mother divorced me fifteen years ago, and a year later married Gartan Mors. She took the children, of course, and Mors raised them as his own. Gerda was young enough to conform but Ken was always wild. He took it for three or four years, then ran away to Venus. Gerda always idolized him, but really she scarcely knew him. If anyone's at fault in all this, I am the one to blame. I was a stubborn fool, and Nell could never stand my job."
Gerda offered her hand to Coran. "I hate long goodbyes," she said. "I'm sorry about everything. I—I don't really blame you for Ken's death. Goodbye, and good luck."
Steve decided it was safe to play out a fond and corny farewell. He took her hand lingeringly. "Don't worry about things, Gerda. I know how you feel. It wouldn't have worked out anyhow. Just let me know when you get the divorce. Let's break this up. I thought that I hated Mars-station, but now that I'm through with the Space Patrol, I can't wait to get back."
Paul Jomian put his arm around his daughter as they watched Coran turn and wave before climbing aboard the express cruiser. On Coran's face was the smug complacency of a man who has neatly avoided being stuck with a dame. He grinned and vanished up the gangplank. Jomian muttered something inaudibly.
"You're a sucker to let a man like Steve get away ... for any reason," he told her. "Such men are hard to find, and still harder to hook once you've found them."
"I know it," she said firmly, though tears brimmed in her eyes. "But I just couldn't love the man who'd killed my brother. I couldn't."
"That's the biggest mistake you ever made. Steve didn't want me to tell you, but he didn't shoot Ken. His beam went wild." Jomian nerved himself for an ordeal. "I killed him."
"Why didn't you tell me—why?" she wailed.