"The liner circled back and radioed the Patrol," the ratty fellow explained. "We thought we better put it out of the way." He grinned. "We just gave 'em a small dose—cooked 'em. When the Patrol comes, won't they get a headache trying to figure that out?"

Vanger laughed with him till a fit of coughing darkened his face.

Ricker ground his teeth. So that's what happened to the liner! They'd blasted it like the small boat, but with only just enough heat to—. Ricker thought of the friendly old sourdough. The dirty yellow weasels!

Suddenly he sprang up like a whip, lashed his fist into Vanger's mouth. The Martian crashed backward into the instrument panel. Ricker started after him with blind fury in his heart.

Something banged into the back of his head, stunning, blackening.

As he fell, he saw Molly Borden standing over him with a wrench in her hand. Her green eyes glinted with a look he could not define as he wavered into blackness....

"We can't fail!" The words reached Ricker through a haze of pain throbbing in his head. "With all that equipment, it'll be like capturing a rabbit hutch. And won't I just love potting several rabbits I know. The chief of police, the judge, twelve rabbits that were on the jury—I really can't wait!"

Ricker opened his eyes, fought with his whirling senses. The Martian leaned against the opposite wall, the other two men worked silently at the controls. The woman sat on the floor with her legs neatly crossed, a cigarette spiraling toward the ceiling. Her green eyes played the Martian like a piano and apparently the strings of his black heart were attuned.

"But," Molly Borden purred, "you don't know what I went through on that liner, Van. After we passed Uranus and nobody came, I almost gave up. I knew there wasn't a livable place after Jupiter and—well, I had no idea you could have located at Neptune...."

"So!" Vanger glanced toward Ricker, interrupted her. "Our publicity agent's with us again!"

Ricker met his eyes evenly, said nothing. Sinking into his mind was what he had just heard. Something was located on Neptune; something would be like shooting rabbits.... But Neptune was covered with snow a hundred miles deep. Its surface was a bleak hell of frozen, screaming winds. Nothing could hide, or live on Neptune. And equipment—rabbits—?

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