Then suddenly the magnifiers picked up a response.
"I've got it!" shouted Graham. "It's all right—they see me."
V.
Deadening Hours
The signals had caught a patrol ship. Graham gave the Comet's position at the time of the accident. The patrol would come and find them. It was some million miles away— There was an interval of darkness, five minutes perhaps. Then Graham caught a final message. He flung off his switch; the helio current went dead. He turned his tense white face to his companions, but he was triumphant.
"It's all right now. They'll be here in ten hours or so. They've cut off—nothing more to say. We've ample air—and with the Captain's lunch we won't even be hungry."
Kol looked up. "You're sure?"
"Sure of what?"
"Sure that everything is all right?"
"Yes, they're positively coming. Don't look so frightened, Kol. You're safe enough now."
"You will need to send no more messages?"
"No. Nothing more to say. Besides, that damned helio uses too much of our air. Smell the chlorine?"
He disconnected the main helio-wires, and stood up. "Come on, you two, let's go in and see the Captain's lunch. We'll have to divide it up. Three parts—"
His arm went around Alma. He felt strangely happy—life had come to them again. A few hours more, and then rescue.
"Come on, Kol. Nothing to worry over now. We're safe enough."
Graham stood holding Alma. And suddenly Kol leaped upon them. His fist struck Graham full in the face. Graham staggered and fell. But he did not lose consciousness. He was aware that the Martian was trying to drag Alma away from the cubby. In the blurred starlight he could see their struggling forms. He felt himself floundering, lurching to regain his feet. He knocked over a chair. Kol and Alma were near the door, but she resisted as he dragged her.
And as Graham stood erect, with strength flooding back to him, Alma wrenched herself loose. She staggered and fell against Graham as he leaped forward.
"You all right, Alma?"
"Yes! Yes!"
Kol had disappeared through the doorway. A madness was on Graham. A lust to kill this ungrateful wretch who became an enemy instantly his safety was assured.
But Alma clung. "No! Graham, no! Not murder—"
She held him just a moment too long. It flashed to Graham that Kol had run toward the Captain's rooms. And in the chart-room was the Captain's arsenal of weapons hanging in a rack on the wall.
"Alma, let me go!"
He tore from her. But on the bridge outside the helio room he was halted. A bullet sang by him and flattened itself against the heavy metal wall plate of the cubby. Then another. The two reports reverberated through the dome-space; and in the doorway of the chart room he saw the crouching figure of Kol, with leveled rifle.
"Alma, get back!"
Graham turned. Another bullet thudded near him, as he jumped back into the cubby. From the chart room, rifle in hand, Kol was advancing along the catwalk.
Graham slid the heavy door closed, and barred it. Kol came up. They could see him through the glassite pane. He was wary at first, and then deciding that Graham was unarmed, he came boldly and tugged at the door. Found that it would not yield. Thumped upon it. And his voice floated dimly in on them.
"Open the door, you fool! You'll smother in there."
Graham did not answer. He stood with his arm around Alma, holding her close as she huddled tremblingly against him.
"Don't be frightened, Alma. He can't get in. Nor fire through the door, nor the walls. They're too thick."
It was true enough. But Graham was cold with realization nevertheless. The tiny cubby was bullet-proof. But it was air-proof also. Only a few cubic feet of air were in here, and with the door closed already it was air fouled by the helio's chlorine fumes. It could never last until the patrol ship came.
Hours had passed—long torturing hours, as the fouling air made each breath a gasp of pain. Their heads felt swelled—distended, and they had to reassure each other they were not floating through empty space.
How could they last until the patrol came.
"We can't stay here," Graham would say over and over. "This is death—"
Their ears were roaring with the diluted chlorine fumes and the poisonous carbon-dioxide; the precious oxygen every moment was lessening as their lungs took it in; used it.
VI.
A Desperate Move
Outside on the catwalk the Martian still lurked, rifle in hand. His only desire was to murder Graham before the rescue ship arrived. And Graham now knew why; Alma had swiftly told him hours ago with a rush of half-coherent words. The characteristic, murderous jealousy of a Martian thwarted. He had met Alma in Ferrok-Shahn. He was a professional collector of beauties, this rich Martian. His harem was famous in the city. He had wanted to add the beautiful Earthgirl to it. Repulsed, he had flown into an insane jealous rage and threatened her life. When she tried to escape, he had followed her to the Comet and embarked with her. So that
