gulps, he ducked from beneath the helmet and returned to the control board. He unlocked and opened the hatch to the navigation deck below. There was an upward swirl of air, and Albrekt permitted himself to breathe again.

A head poked itself cautiously up the companionway. Carrel. The captain's face was a strong one, lined with years of decision, golden-brown with the tan that one gets only from years in the thin air of Mars. Carrel's dark hair was beginning to gray, but his electric blue eyes were still young.

He stopped when he saw Albrekt at the control board. Albrekt held the heat gun on the captain steadily.

"I'm not anywhere near overcome," said Albrekt. "You'd better turn around and go back down."

Carrel did.

As long as the hatch stayed open, oxygen could not be cut off from the control room. Albrekt decided he could afford to leave it open, since he had possession of the weapons. He would have to lock it while asleep, of course. But, even with the oxygen supply cut off, the control room should contain enough to carry him for eight hours. If not, he could set an alarm to wake him every four hours, or even every two hours, to open the hatch and refresh his air.

The fact that he could leave the hatch open safely gave him another idea. He was hungry for some food besides the dry emergency rations.

Albrekt checked the chronometer. Within the next two hours, he was scheduled to run the other blast tape. He would have time.

Heat gun in hand, he moved quietly to the hatch. The companionway was clear. From below came the murmur of voices. He moved cautiously a few steps down the metal ladder until he could see beneath the ceiling of the navigation deck.

Migl was taking a shower on the other side of the room, while Carrel and Qoqol relaxed in contour chairs beside the dead-reckoning tracer.

"What is Flanjo, Carrel?" asked the booming voice of Qoqol, the navigator.

Qoqol was a Martian. His round body with its huge oxygen storage hump was not quite as big as a human body, but his thin arms and legs, each equipped with half a dozen double joints, were longer than a tall man's height. They were wrapped around him now, out of the way, and his big-eyed, big-eared head peered through them like an urchin's face through a tangle of vines.

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