ired without taking aim.
My tiny heat beam flashed. I must have grazed Miko's hand. His roar of
anger and pain rang out over the turmoil. He dropped his weapon; then
stooped to pick it up. But Moa forestalled him. She leaped and seized
it.

"Careful! Fool, you promised not to harm him!"

A confusion of swift action. Rankin had turned and darted away. I saw
George Prince stumbling half in front of the struggling Miko and Moa.
And I heard footsteps beside me. A hand gripped me, jerked at me.

Over the turmoil, Prince's voice sounded: "Gregg Haljan!"

I recall that I had the impression that Prince was frightened; he had
half fallen in front of Miko. And there was Miko's voice: "Let go of
me!"

It was Balch gripping me. "Gregg! This way--run! Get out of here!
He'll kill you with that ray!"

Miko's ray flashed, but George Prince had knocked his arm. I did not
dare fire again. Prince was in the way. Balch, who was unarmed, shoved
me violently back.

"Gregg! The chart room!"

I turned and ran, with Balch after me. Prince had fallen or been
felled by Miko. A flash followed me from Miko's weapon, but again it
missed. He did not pursue me. Instead he ran the other way, through
the portside door of the library.

Balch and I found ourselves in the library. Shouting, frightened
passengers were everywhere. The place was in wild confusion, the whole
ship ringing now with shouts.

"To the chart room, Gregg!"

I called to the passengers, "Go back to your rooms!"

I followed Balch. We ran through the archway to the deck. In the
starlight I saw figures scurrying aft, but none were near us. The deck
forward was dim with heavy shadows. The oval windows and door of the
chart room were blue-yellow from the tube lights inside. No one seemed
on the deck there. And then as we approached, I saw further forward in
the bow, the trap door to the cage standing open. Johnson had been
released.

From one of the chart room windows a heat ray sizzled. It barely
missed us. Balch shouted, "Carter--don't!"

The Captain called, "Oh you, Balch--and Haljan--"

He came out on the deck as we rushed up. His left arm was dangling
limp.

"God--this--" He got no further. From the turret overhead a tiny
search beam came down and disclosed us. Blackstone was supposed to be
on duty up there, with a course master at the controls. But, glancing
up, I saw, illumined by the turret lights, the figure of Ob Hahn in
his purple-white robe, and Johnson, t