ed white about the space
helmet he was about to don. He had to prove his loyalty. Had to prove
that the accidents were accidents. And little time was left, as the
_Kastil_ could load completely in two days.

"There's the pit, Mister Jerill." The navigator's voice was strained.
"See anybody?"

"Not yet. Set her down."

The cargo jet dipped. The vast peaks of shattered stone sped up at them
with terrifying speed. Scott refrained from closing his eyes, saw the
razor-toothed surface of this shattered world streak toward him. Ahead,
the bulk of the _Kastil_ loomed. They must have used the ore pits as a
landing marker, he thought. And--what was that?

Motion at the lip of the ore pit.

The jet grounded hissing on the burnt landing strip. "Watch it," Scott
warned. "We got visitors out there."

There was an ugly muttering among the men. As Scott threw open the cargo
doors and dropped to the rocky ground, he saw the crewmen checking
blasters and the slender polonium tubes that could permanently blind a
man.

He stepped away from the jet. And as he did so, seven men detached
themselves from the shadows about the mine's edge, and strolled toward
him. Seven men--two more than were with Scott. The odds might be worse,
he thought with a sense of relief.

Cautiously, he loosened the blaster in his belt. They were tricky
weapons to handle in space gloves, but he'd better be ready to use it
fast.

"Party from the _Bertha_?" The words came thin and metallic into Scott's
helmet.

"Right," he grunted. "You?"

"From the _Kastil_. Who gave you a clearance to land on our claim?"

"We have a prior claim on this pit," Scott flared. "We have it posted
and registered. If you're going to mine, find someplace else."

A giant figure, grimly grotesque in a cumbersome vacuum suit, swaggered
forward. "I don't see any of your claim posts."

Scott indicated a tall metal stake glittering somberly in the glare of
the jet's loading lights.

The tall man laughed easily, his voice thin and far away in Scott's
helmet. "Think of a better story. We just dug that claimer in ourselves.
Now suppose you people jet out of here. Ought to be plenty of good
claims someplace else."

Scott scarcely heard the sudden bitter burst of protest from his men.
His body felt light and cool. The blaster pressed hard against his side.
"There are plenty of good claims," he said. "You better go find them."

He swung the blaster up in a single smooth motion.

T