Bart Caxton slumped into a sullen silence, his slitted eyes watching the profile of his companion. Slowly, cunning crept into his face, and his right hand slid along his thigh toward one belt-gun.
"I wouldn't," Headley said without moving. "You can't fix the ship, and help won't be sent for us for at least three months. A man couldn't live that long, on the oxygen we have left, I don't believe."
"I might make the oxygen last for me until I got back to a regular traffic lane."
Headley swung about, and anger paled his face. "Damn it, Caxton," he said brittlely, "we'll get out of this! Probably, because of the pressure and cold on the planet, we'll find frozen air which can be thawed out; we'll look for it along with the kronalium." He watched the stillness of his partner's hand. "Murder won't solve anything!" he finished softly.
Bart Caxton nodded slowly. "Sorry, Headley," he said. "It's just that I've never been in a jam like this before."
Tom Headley grinned. "We'll see it through—together," he said.
"Okay!" Caxton's tone was sullenly agreeable, but small fires of cunning still swirled in his eyes.
"Get ready for a shock-landing," Headley said relievedly, reached for the controls.
The icy wind roared like ten million furies about the grounded ship, sucking up the powdery snow, smashing it against the gleaming alumisteel hull. Great boulders of snow and ice tumbled playfully about the rubbly landscape, splashed in foamy explosions into the semi-frozen pools of liquid that dotted the planet's surface.