"Marsward IV to White Sands," he called. "Marsward IV to White Sands."

It would be several minutes before a reply could reach them.

Taat, on the other side of the control chair, was examining Makki's corpse. Robwood stood peering over his shoulder.

Lefler waited to see which one would comment first on the fact that Makki was wearing gloves. Neither appeared to notice it.

But the gloves put a thought into Lefler's own mind. Fingerprints!

He looked around the control room and found the heat-gun, bumping against the celestial camera. He pushed himself across the room, pulling a handkerchief from the back pocket of his coveralls as he did so. He wrapped the heat-gun in the handkerchief, stuck it in a drawer beneath one of the control panels, locked the drawer and put the key in his pocket.

The loudspeaker buzzed.

"Marsward IV, this is Capetown," said a slightly wavery voice. "We're relaying you to White Sands. Go ahead, please."

Lefler picked up the mike.

"Marsward IV to White Sands," he said. "This is Lefler, astrogator. Makki, captain, shot to death under unknown circumstances. I am assuming command. Instructions, please."

Taat turned away from Makki's body.

"He's been dead about thirty minutes." Taat looked at the control room chronometer. It said 1906 hours. "I'm going to list the time in the death certificate as 1830."

"You can tell?" asked Robwood in astonishment.

"By the eyes," said Taat.

"Wait a minute," said Lefler. "It was only 1840 when I started up here. You mean he'd been dead only ten minutes then? He was already forty minutes overdue waking me for my duty watch."

"Could be ten or fifteen minutes either way," conceded Taat. "If he was late, don't forget that we don't know what happened up here."

"One of us does," reminded Lefler grimly.

"Capetown to Marsward IV," said the loudspeaker. "Relaying instructions from White Sands. Lefler's temporary command of ship confirmed. All personnel will be booked on suspicion of murder and 

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