Now Wilding and Tichron circled each other warily. Tichron stopped circling and slid forward in liquid rhythm of movement. He caught Wilding flat-footed, jerked the lighter man off his feet and raised him high overhead. Wilding crashed to the floor with stunning force. Tichron leaped to come down on his prone opponent with both feet. But Wilding was already rolling. He caught one of Tichron's feet, twisted and jerked. The giant sat down violently.
As Tichron rose, Wilding launched himself in a suicidal dive at the giant's stomach. Again he connected like a battering ram. The sound of expelled breath was explosive. This time, as Tichron bent double, Wilding brought up his knee against the exposed jaw. There was a loud crack. Pawing frantically, Tichron went down in a heap. Wilding jumped, brought both feet down on the quivering hulk. It was like leaping on a rock. But Tichron was through fighting. He lay peacefully unconscious.
The fight was over before it had well started.
Jeers changed suddenly to cheers. As winner and new champion, Wilding was king of Alcatraz. But not undisputed king—
A tall, cadaverous man stepped from the crowd.
"My name is Credus. I challenge you now?"
Wilding turned to Concor. "Is that in the rules—to fight one after another like this?"
"There are no rules," said the wily Martian.
"In that case—"
Wilding snatched a blaster pistol from the spring clip on Tiny's belt. He jammed the muzzle hard into Credus' side, but not before Credus had drawn his own gun and thrust it at Wilding.