Berne was trembling with rage; waves of sick nausea gripped him. His dismal failure writhed in his stomach, and he cursed again as he groped from the cabin. Hervey had turned off the tunnel light; in the darkness ahead of him, Berne heard Hervey scrambling along the handrails, and then a clatter as something fell.
He plunged toward the sound, taking great leaps, using the power of his legs against the floor to hurl himself forward. He did not see the trap that Hervey had laid, the tangle of armored cable that Hervey had ripped from a locker and hurled into the narrow tunnel behind him. Berne smashed the cable, screaming obscenities at Hervey, and fought to free himself from the twisted mass.
Hervey had bought time with the cabin door slammed in Berne's face, with the cable hurled from the locker into the tunnel. As Berne freed himself and leaped forward again, he heard the woosh of escaping air as the inner air lock door was opened. Then the clang of the lock door echoed through the ship. Hervey was safe, for awhile.
But he couldn't go far. Sobbing, mouthing curses, sick with anger, Berne struggled into space garb and opened the gunrack beside the lock. He saw with satisfaction that the fleeing Hervey had not waited to arm himself. Berne plunged through the lock.
The great banded face of mighty Jupiter seemed to fill the whole sky, lowering down on the jagged black waste of the asteroid. Five hundred yards from the ship the gray metal dome of Astarea Station huddled forlornly at the base of the soaring beacon tower. In the cold half-light, Berne saw the bulky space-suited figure of Sam Hervey running toward the station.
Berne kneeled at the top of the ladder, took careful aim, and squeezed the switch of the heavy rifle. The rocket flame lanced out. Just behind the fleeing figure, and to the side, the rocket mushroomed in a brief blinding flare. Berne could see the glint of the face-plate as Hervey turned his head. He fired again, and cursed the weak light as he overshot. The running figure wavered, looked back, started again toward the safety of the station air lock—toward the radio that could call Mars Base, that could tell the story of murder....
The range was too great. He missed again, but Hervey turned away. Silhouetted against the circle of the station air lock, he made a good target—but running amid the nightmare shapes of the black rocks, Berne could barely see him.
Hervey realized that he would not be able to make it into the safety of the station. He swerved away, leaping high with each huge step, and sped into the wild darkness. Berne leaped down the ladder and ran toward the station, peering into the half-light, finger on the switch. Then he saw him, sitting calmly on an outcropping, watching. Berne switched on his communicator.
"You can't get away, Sam," he said.