Earth Transit

                        By CHARLES L. FONTENAY

                         Illustrated by KLUGA

                  When murder occurs on a spaceship,
               the number of suspects is at an absolute
                 minimum--and Lefler was that minimum!

           [Transcriber's Note: This etext was produced from
                       Infinity September 1957.
         Extensive research did not uncover any evidence that
         the U.S. copyright on this publication was renewed.]


The centerdeck chronometer said 1840 hours.

That startled Lefler into full wakefulness. He was forty minutes
overdue in relieving Makki in the control room.

That wasn't like Makki, he thought as he pulled on his coveralls
hastily. Makki was as punctual--and as thorough--as the maze of
machinery whose destiny he guided. He was as cold as that machinery,
too, when others made a mistake. It made him an efficient spaceship
captain and a disliked man.

Lefler shook his head to clear it of dream-haunted memories. He
had awakened from a nightmare in which, somewhere, there was angry
shouting, to find himself floating midway from floor to ceiling of the
centerdeck of the _Marsward IV_. Somehow, his retaining straps had
become unbuckled, letting him float free of his bunk in his sleep.

Not pausing to fold his bunk back against the curving hull, Lefler made
his way briskly up the companionway, through the empty and darkened
astrogation deck and into the control room.

"Makki," he called to the figure reclining in the control chair.
"Makki, I'm due to relieve you. You're forty minutes overtime."

There was no answer. Floating up to the control chair, Lefler recoiled,
bouncing painfully off the automatic pilot.

Makki was dead. Death had robbed his wide eyes of their dark scorn and
smoothed the bitter lines of his heavy face. His coveralls were charred
around the heat-beam burn in his chest.

The heat-gun bumped against Lefler's shoulder and drifted away at an
angle across the gravityless control room. Lefler stared after it in
horror.

Licking dry lips, he punched the communicator button.

"Blue alert!" he croaked into the microphone. "All hands to control
room. Blue alert!"

Anchoring himself to the automatic pilot, he studied Makki's body as
dispassionately as he could. The captain was still strapped in the
cushioned chair. Oddly, he was wearing gloves.

The log-tape was in the recorder beside the control chair. Clipped to
a metal leaf on the stanchion beside the chair was Makki's notepad.
Scrawled on it in the captain's handwriting was the notation: "73rd
day. Earth transit."

"What's up, Lefler?" asked a voice behind him. Lefler turned to face
Taat, the ship's doctor. Taat, a plump, graying man, was wiping his
hands on the white smock he wore.

Lefler moved aside, letting Taat see Makki's body. Taat's eyes widened
momentarily, then narrowed with a professional gleam. He stepped
quickly to Makki's side, made as if to pick up the dead captain's
wrist, then turned back to Lefler with a fatalistic flick of his hands.

"What was it, Lefler?" he asked in a low voice. "A fight?"

"I don't know," said Lefler. "I found him that way."

Taat raised his eyebrows.

"Robwood?" he asked softly.

Robwood's head poked up through the companionway, and he floated into
the control room. There was a streak of grease across the engineer's
thin face.

"Great space!" exclaimed Robwood at once. "What happened to Makki?"

"Obviously, he's been shot," said Lefler in an even voice. "Any idea
who did it, Robwood?"

"Wait a minute," objected Taat mildly. "That sounds like you are
accusing Robwood, Lefler."

"I'm not," said Lefler hastily. "I'm not leaving you out, Taat. But
there are only the three of us. One of you must have killed him."

"Great space, you don't think that I--" began Robwood.

"Just to get the record straight, Lefler," interrupted Taat, "let's put
it this way: one of the three of us must have killed him."

       *       *       *       *       *

It was not only Lefler's duty watch; as astrogator, he became acting
captain as a result of Makki's death. Moving to the side of the dead
Makki, he turned the ship's radio transmitter toward distant Earth and
pressed the sending key.

"_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
mutiny on arrival at Marsport. Captain Makki's body will be preserved
and brought down at Marsport. Each crew member will dictate a statement
on the circumstances of Captain Makki's death and an outline of his
past association with Captain Makki, separately, on this beam for relay
to Marsport."

The three looked at each other.

"That's that," said Lefler. "Robwood, if you and Taat will take Makki's
body away and secure it outside the airlock, I'll get the ship's
records up to date."

Taat unbuckled Makki's body from the control chair. It did not change
its slightly bent position as it drifted slowly upward.

"Why do you reckon he's wearing gloves, Lefler?" Taat asked curiously.

"I wondered when one of you fellows was going to say something about
that!" burst out Robwood, a curious break in his voice. "All of us have
been glaring at each other, suspecting each other, when Makki could
have committed suicide!"

"Makki?" retorted Lefler dryly. "I doubt it."

       *       *       *       *       *

Pushing Makki's body down the hatch toward the airlock at the other
side of the personnel sphere would have been an easy task for one man,
but Lefler wanted Taat and Robwood to watch each other. He didn't want
an "accidental" push to send the prime bit of evidence drifting away
into space. When they had disappeared down the hatch with the corpse,
he eased himself into the control chair and played back the log from
the end of Robwood's last shift at 1000 hours.

Makki had recorded the usual observations of the solar, stellar and
planetary positions when he went on duty. There was nothing else on the
tape.

Lefler stared gloomily at the silent log-recorder. It seemed incredible
to him that never again, except on tape, would he hear Makki's harsh,
sardonic voice. The almost inaudible hum of machinery deep in the ship
only emphasized the oppressive stillness of space outside its thin
walls.

With a sigh, he picked up the log-recorder microphone and pulled the
star sextant down to eye level. He would record the bare facts of
Makki's death after the initial position observations.

"_Marsward IV_, bound Marsport from White Sands," he recited in a
monotone. "Earth-time, October 29, 2048, 1931 hours. Lefler reporting
for duty and assuming command as per conversation with White Sands, to
be recorded this date."

He squinted into the sextant.

"Positions: Sun-Mars, 24°28'42". Sun-Earth--"

He broke off. Where was Earth? Then he remembered.

"Damn!" he muttered. "The transit! A murder sure messes up the records
around here."

The Earth transit was an event of considerable importance to an
astrogator on a hop between Earth and Mars. Marsbound it began on
the 73rd day out, Earthbound on the 187th day. Timing it, spaceship
observers not only checked the accuracy of the ship's orbit, but also
contributed data to the mass of knowledge available on the movements of
Earth and Mars.

Lefler found the black disc of Earth in the smoked glass that
automatically fell across the sextant lens when it swept by the sun. He
checked the angle between the black spot and the leading edge of the
solar disc.

"Earth transit already under way," he said into the mike. "Angle with
leading edge, two minutes, forty seconds...."

He went around the sky, recording planetary and key stellar positions.
He had just finished and switched the tape of his conversation with
Earth to record in the log when Taat and Robwood returned.

"Makki's body will keep out there as well as in a refrigerator,"
said Taat with evident satisfaction. "Robwood tied the airlock into
the alarm system so nobody can go out and cut the body free without
arousing the others."

"You're both mighty cooperative for one of you to be a murderer,"
remarked Lefler.

"Maybe neither of us is," said Robwood. "As far as I'm concerned, you
may be the man."

"Or, as Robwood suggested earlier, Makki may have shot himself," added
Taat.

"Robwood, you and I are going to have to do twelve-hour watches from
here to Mars, since Taat doesn't know how to operate the controls,"
said Lefler. "I'll stay on duty till 0600, and you'd better get some
sleep after you've radioed your statement to White Sands."

"Okay," said Robwood. "But are we still going to record star positions
in the log every eight hours, or just every twelve hours now?"

"Twelve, I think. But the Earth transit's on right now, and until Terra
swings across that half a degree of the sun's face, we'd better take
readings on that every four hours, anyhow."

"Well, that's just for a little more than two days," said Robwood.
"Look, Lefler, I'm overdue on my sleeping time anyway, so how about
letting me make my statement on ... on Makki first?"

"Blast away," said Lefler. "The mike's yours. We'll leave the control
room so you'll feel freer to talk."

       *       *       *       *       *

Lefler munched thoughtfully on a hot sandwich. Across the control room,
in the astrogator's chair, Taat sucked at a bulb of coffee.

"Nice of you to fix up this lunch, Taat," said Lefler. "I'm not tied
strictly to the control room during my watch, you know. But little
things like this relax the tension."

"Yes, it's a peculiar situation, Lefler," said Taat in a tone that
indicated he had been thinking about it. "Psychologically, I mean. Now
if there were only the two of us, and Makki drifting out there dead,
both of us would know who shot him. With three of us, it's different.

"You and I are sitting here talking as though neither of us killed
Makki. Maybe you hadn't thought of it, but that means that tacitly, for
now, we're assuming Robwood killed him. But, for all I know, you did.
And, if you didn't, for all you know, I did."

"Until we find out, I have to suspect you both," said Lefler flatly.

"I could say the same thing," murmured Taat. "But one of us may be
lying."

"Of course, Makki could have shot himself, as Robwood suggested," said
Lefler. "If he had relaxed his grip on the heat-gun after pressing the
trigger, it would have drifted up away from him. There were the gloves,
you know."

"Why wouldn't Makki want his fingerprints on the gun if he were
committing suicide?" objected Taat. "I'll concede that Makki had strong
sadistic tendencies, but my guess is that the murderer put those gloves
on him just to raise the possibility of suicide."

Taat finished his coffee and left the control room. Lefler washed
down the last bit of his sandwich with his own coffee and called
White Sands on the radio. When he received an acknowledgment after the
inevitable delay, he began to dictate his statement.

Lefler told of waking from his sleep period and finding himself forty
minutes late for his watch. He described his discovery of Makki's
body, what followed, and everything he could remember of what Taat and
Robwood had said when they came to the control room.

"Makki was thoroughly detested by every member of the crew," Lefler
related. "He did not fraternize and no one wanted to fraternize with
him, because he was treacherous. In the midst of an apparently friendly
conversation, he would suddenly unveil his authority with some biting
and belittling remark. He never let anyone forget he was captain.

"Robwood was afraid of him and hated him intensely. Robwood had told
me privately he intended to ask for a transfer to another ship after
this hop to Mars. Makki held Robwood in considerable scorn because
Robwood is a timid man, and a slow thinker outside his own field of
engineering. Makki made no effort to conceal that scorn.

"Taat was as contemptuous of Makki as Makki was of Robwood. Makki was
ruthless with any open attempt to question his judgment, but Taat
could do it with a raised eyebrow, his tone of voice or a well-chosen
phrase. Makki sensed this, and alternated between treating Taat as more
of an equal than either Robwood or me and 'riding' Taat harder than
anyone else.

"Robwood and Taat have been aboard with us for the last five hops,
but I've been with Makki since both of us graduated from the Space
Academy. We were boys together, but I have never liked Makki. He always
had too little respect for human dignity. He was a good space captain
because he was a genius with such impersonal things as machinery and
astrogation, and I have never known him to slip up on a record or let a
ship get a single second off course. But mankind is better off without
him."

Lefler signed off and laid the microphone down. He realized suddenly
that he was perspiring and his hands were trembling. The statement had
been a major emotional strain.

Unstrapping himself from the control chair, he floated down past the
astrogation deck and looked in on the centerdeck. Both Taat and Robwood
were strapped to their bunks, apparently asleep.

Satisfied, Lefler returned to the control room. He wanted to listen,
without embarrassing interruptions, to Taat's and Robwood's statements
as he transferred them from the radio recording tape to the ship's log.

       *       *       *       *       *

The tapes rolled on the two connected machines, the log tape slowly,
the radio tape at a faster clip. A loudspeaker was plugged into the
radio-tape machine. Lefler kept it turned low, though the centerdeck
was two decks down.

"I woke Makki at 0930 hours." It was Robwood's low voice on the tape.
"He relieved me right at 1000 hours. I went down to the centerdeck and
had a late lunch. Lefler strapped himself in for his sleeping period
while I was eating. Taat ate lunch with me, and then we played cards
for about an hour. We do that almost every day when Taat's sleeping
periods are on the same schedule as mine. He changes his, because he's
a psychologist and wants to watch all the crew members.

"I check the rocket engines and the fuel tanks every twenty-five days.
When the Earth transit is coming up, I always do it two days ahead of
time in case there are any corrections to be made in the ship's orbit.
I got into a spacesuit and spent the rest of my free period outside
the personnel sphere doing that. I took a break for supper, I'd say
about 1600 hours, and went back to my inspection. Taat ate with me and
Lefler was asleep. Makki didn't eat with us. He did sometimes, but not
often. He usually wanted to eat alone. With the Earth transit about
due, I figured he'd already eaten and gone back to the control room.

"I was late for my sleeping period, but I wanted to finish my
inspection. I had just gotten back through the airlock and was taking
my spacesuit off when I heard Lefler call from the control room. He and
Taat were both there when I got there.

"I didn't like Makki, but neither did Taat and Lefler. I suppose
it'll come out, so I might as well tell about it. Makki broke up my
engagement with a girl back on Earth several years ago. I wasn't going
to sign on for the Mars hop because I was going to get married. Makki
couldn't find an engineer to replace me, and he smooth-talked her out
of it. He told me about it a long time afterward and laughed at me. I
haven't ever seen her again.

"Lefler and Taat are both decent fellows and I don't think either one
of them killed Makki. I think he shot himself. He ought to have!"

Robwood's final words were spoken in an outburst of concentrated
bitterness. Lefler stared thoughtfully at the unwinding tapes as he
waited for Taat's report to tune in. He hadn't known that about
Robwood's fiancée, but it was the sort of thing Makki wouldn't hesitate
to do.

"The last time I saw Makki," came Taat's calm, controlled voice from
the loudspeaker, "was 1615 hours. He had just finished lunch and was
going back to the control room when I came onto the centerdeck from
the storage deck below. Robwood came up from below a couple of minutes
later and we ate supper together.

"Robwood and I usually play a round of cards after supper when we're
on the same schedule, but he was busy and I was in the middle of an
experiment in the lab I have set up on the storage deck. We went down
to the storage deck together. He went on below to the airlock and I
started the moving picture camera again on my experiment.

"I didn't go up again until Lefler sounded the alarm. He was alone with
Makki in the control room when I got there, and Makki was dead.

"I must admit it is my personal feeling that whichever of my colleagues
killed Makki is a benefactor to the human race, and I hope he escapes
punishment. I did not know Makki before Robwood and I signed up
together on the _Marsward IV_ five voyages ago. I made the mistake of
entering into a business transaction with him on our first Mars trip.
He needed my capital and we became partners in purchasing a block
of stock in a private dome enterprise. He accused me several times
afterward of cheating him, but he handled the dividends and I think he
was cheating me.

"As a psychologist, I would say that Lefler is more likely to have
killed Makki coldly and deliberately, but Robwood is more likely to
have killed him in the heat of an argument."

Taat's voice stopped. Lefler turned off the machines and disconnected
them.

An argument. He had heard shouting in his dreams. Was that what had
awakened him?

He tried to bring the dream into focus. It barely eluded him. All he
could remember was that it was something about Makki.

       *       *       *       *       *

Both Taat and Robwood were up by 0400 hours. They brought their
breakfasts to the control room, along with coffee for Lefler.

It was a pleasant meal for the three of them. No one really seemed to
care that one of the others was a murderer, Lefler thought. They talked
and acted more like companions in crime--or like the murderer was none
of them, but someone lurking somewhere else in the ship.

He wished he did not feel impelled to find out, if he could, who killed
Makki. But he knew that Taat would be trying to find out, too--if
Taat hadn't done it--because Taat was a psychologist and would look
at it as a scientific problem. Robwood was the only one who might be
temperamentally inclined to let the solution wait until they reached
Mars.

When Robwood took over duty watch at 0600 hours, Lefler found Taat
listening to a tape on criminal psychology on the centerdeck.

"Taat, didn't I hear you say you were working on some sort of an
experiment on the storage deck while Makki was on watch yesterday?"
asked Lefler.

Taat switched off the player.

"That's what I was doing," he said carefully, "but I don't remember
saying anything about it."

"I listened to the reports you and Robwood made while I was recording
them in the log," admitted Lefler. "I was interested in your estimate
of Robwood's and my comparative abilities to commit murder."

Taat removed his spectacles, polished them and put them in his breast
pocket before answering.

"I'm not surprised that you listened, Lefler--whether you're guilty
or innocent," said Taat. "You probably noted that I mentioned I was
recording my experiments on film. If you'll go below with me, I'd like
for you to see that film."

Together, they pulled themselves down to the storage deck. Over near
the main electrical switchboard, Robwood had torn out three empty
spacesuit lockers and built a compact laboratory for Taat. A dozen
white mice and some hamsters floated in cages attached to the wall.

For Taat's convenience, Robwood had moved the storage deck chronometer
from the other side of the deck to the lab. It read 0607.

Taat unrolled a screen against one of the spacesuit lockers, attached
the film roll to the projector, darkened the deck and began the showing.

The film began on Taat's face, blurred and enormously enlarged, as he
switched on the camera. Taat stepped backward until he was in focus,
and picked up the microphone that tied into the sound track.

"This is an experiment with white mice in a maze under conditions of
zero gravity," said the Taat on the screen. Stepping aside, he waved a
hand at a wire contraption on a table. "I have here a three-dimensional
maze. The chronometer is visible above it, so we can check the reaction
time."

Lefler noted the chronometer reading. It was 1500. In the "day" square
just below its center was the figure 73.

Lefler checked the chronometer in the picture as the film ran on. There
was an announced break between 1612 and 1654. Other than that, it ran
continuously to 1851, when his own voice sounded faintly, calling,
"Blue alert! All hands to control room. Blue alert!" At that, Taat's
startled face loomed up again before the lens and the film stopped
abruptly.

Throughout the approximately three hours, Taat was always in the
camera's view, running his mice through the maze and explaining his
methods.

"What was that forty-minute break, Taat?" asked Lefler when Taat
switched the lights on once again.

"Supper," said Taat. "Robwood and I ate together, and came back down
from the centerdeck together. I saw Makki leave the centerdeck when I
went up, but Robwood got there a minute or two later and I don't think
he saw Makki."

"You seem to have established a pretty good alibi," said Lefler slowly.
"How about Robwood?"

"Lefler, for your sake, I hate to say this. The only time Robwood was
above the storage deck from the time I started this film was when we
had supper together. I'd have seen him if he'd passed through, and
the only way he could have gotten into the control room would have been
through one of the ports."

"He couldn't, without breaking it and setting off an alarm," said
Lefler. "Are you trying to tell me you think I killed Makki, Taat?"

"I was here," said Taat, waving his hand at the projector. "I was
between Robwood and the control room all the time. You're the only one
who could have gotten there without my seeing you, Lefler, and I found
you alone with him fifteen minutes after he died."

"You're sure about that fifteen minutes?"

"Within a pretty narrow range. The dilation of the pupils is an
accurate gauge. I don't say you killed him, Lefler. I hope they rule it
was suicide."

Silently, Lefler went back to the centerdeck, undressed and strapped
himself into his bunk. He found it hard to get to sleep. Something was
nagging at the back of his mind. He hoped he wouldn't dream of Makki
again.

       *       *       *       *       *

When Lefler assumed his duty watch at 1800, he asked Robwood to stay in
the control room with him for a talk. Robwood strapped himself in the
astrogator's chair and waited while Lefler made the position readings.
Then Lefler swung his chair around to face Robwood.

"I want to check some things with you, Robwood," he said. "I've
listened to your report and Taat's and I've seen a film of Taat's that
seems to give you both an alibi. After Makki relieved you and you ate
lunch, was suppertime the only time you came back into the personnel
sphere?"

"That's right," said Robwood. "Taat and I played cards a while after
lunch, but I think you were awake then."

"How long did your supper period last?"

"Oh, half an hour. Maybe a little longer. You were asleep and snoring."

Lefler shook his head savagely.

"Robwood, I'm afraid you're going to have to take over the ship. I want
you to put me in irons and turn me over for Makki's murder when we get
to Marsport."

Robwood started so violently he almost broke his retaining straps. He
stared at Lefler for a full thirty seconds before he found his voice.

"You're not serious!" he exclaimed. There was a pleading note to his
tone. "Lefler, you didn't shoot him, did you?"

"I must have, Robwood. But not consciously. I've been able at last to
remember a nightmare I had just before I found Makki's body.

"Makki and I were boys together, and he was just as mean and evil then
as he was when he grew up. I was dreaming about the time Makki smashed
my toy electric train and laughed about it. I tried to kill him then. I
beat him with the semaphore and cut his face all up before he knocked
me down and kicked me half senseless. I lived through that experience
again in my dream.

"My bunk straps were loose when I woke up. I must have acted that dream
out in a semi-conscious state. I must have gone up to the control room,
tackled Makki and finally shot him."

"That's the silliest thing I ever heard of," retorted Robwood.

"It must be true, Robwood. Neither you nor Taat could have killed him,
and Taat's got the film to prove it."

Robwood unstrapped himself and pushed himself to the companionway with
some determination.

"Well, I'm not going to take over the ship and I'm not going to put
you in irons," he said spiritedly. "I couldn't handle the ship on a
twenty-four-hour basis for the next hundred and eighty-six days, and
I'd rather think Makki killed himself."

He paused at the top of the companionway.

"Don't forget," he said. "The Earth transit ought to be at midpoint in
a couple of hours."

Then he disappeared below.

Lefler took the magnetized pencil from the memorandum pad and wrote a
reminder: "E.T. midpoint. Should check 28:16:54."

Lefler leaned back gloomily in the control chair. Had he killed Makki?
It seemed the only way it could have happened, unless Makki had,
indeed, committed suicide. And he just didn't think Makki had.

The chronometer said 1839. Exactly twenty-four hours ago, he had
awakened from a nightmare and had come up to find Makki dead in this
same chair. It seemed a century.

He glanced idly back at the memorandum pad. 28:15:64. He'd have to make
an entry in the log in a little under two hours. How could he check
accurately when the time of entry into transit was estimated?

Twenty-four plus two. Twenty-six.

He sat bolt upright, straining at his straps. He snapped down the
communicator button.

"Robwood, come back up here!" he bellowed.

Unbuckling himself hastily, Lefler headed across the room toward the
heat-gun rack.

       *       *       *       *       *

Taat was playing solitaire, waiting patiently for Robwood, when Lefler
and Robwood came down to the centerdeck together.

Lefler pointed a heat-gun at Taat.

"Go below and get the irons, Robwood," he said. "Taat, I'm sorry, but
I'm arresting you for the murder of Makki."

Taat raised an eyebrow and continued shuffling cards.

"I don't think you want to do anything like that, Robwood," he said
mildly. "Do you?"

Robwood hesitated and cast an anxious glance at him, but turned and
headed for the companionway to the storage deck.

"You've convinced him, have you, Lefler?" said Taat. "I didn't believe
you were guilty, but this makes me think you are."

Lefler said nothing, but held the gun steadily on Taat. Taat appeared
relaxed, but Lefler sensed a tension in him.

"What makes you think I did it, Lefler?" sparred Taat. The light
glinted from his spectacles as he turned his eyes from Lefler's face to
watch the shuffling cards.

"Two things," said Lefler. "If I'd killed him in a half-asleep daze, I
wouldn't have put gloves on him to make it look like suicide. Second,
your film started at 1500--a strangely precise hour--and Makki was
killed before then."

"The first point is good psychology," conceded Taat. "Since Robwood
couldn't have done it, I'll admit it looks like suicide. But your
second point doesn't hold water. Medical examination is accurate almost
to a fine point on the time of death so soon afterward."

"Medical evidence may not lie, but the examiner can, Taat," said Lefler.

The clank of the chains resounded up the companionway. Robwood was
coming back. The spring in Taat uncoiled.

With a single sweep, he hurled the deck of cards at Lefler's head and
surged upward. Lefler lost his balance and fell sidewise as he dodged
the improvised missile. But even as he lost his equilibrium, he pressed
the trigger of the heat-gun and brought it downward in a fast chop.

The straps that held Taat to his chair were his doom. The searing beam
swept across them, freeing him but at the same time blasting a six-inch
swath across his stomach. Taat screamed hoarsely as the beam swung past
him and burned along the floor of the centerdeck.

Lefler regained his balance and floated to Taat's side, pushing aside
the cards that drifted in a swirling cloud about the room. Robwood
appeared from below, the manacles in his hands.

"Your third point wins the day," gasped Taat, his hands writhing over
his mangled abdomen. "I won't last long, but if you'll get me to the
control room I'll radio a confession that'll clear you and Robwood
completely."

"Help me get him to a bunk, Robwood," ordered Lefler, grasping Taat by
the arms. "Taat, you'll have to tell us what to do for you."

"No use," groaned Taat. He managed a ghastly smile. "I unbuckled your
bunk straps to throw you off course, Lefler, but I don't want you to
think I was trying to blame it on you. I was trying to make it look
like Makki killed himself."

"But why, Taat?"

"It wasn't just that Makki cheated me," replied Taat with some
difficulty. "I'd saved several thousand dollars to build a little
clinic in Mars City--something I've dreamed of all my life. That's why
I let Makki talk me into investing--I needed just a little more. But
the business was almost worthless. He stole most of my money. I was
arguing with him about it in the control room, when he drew the gun and
threatened to kill me. He was strapped down. I wrestled with him, and
he was killed in the scuffle. That's it."

They maneuvered Taat into a bunk and tried to arrange the straps to
avoid the gaping wound in his stomach. Taat raised his hand weakly and
removed his spectacles. He blinked up at Lefler.

"I didn't think you knew enough about medicine to tell how long a man
had been dead," he said.

"I don't," said Lefler. "But you set the time of Makki's death at 1830
hours. You said you could tell.

"The Earth transit started at 1612, Taat. I've known Makki all my life.
If he'd been alive then, he'd have recorded it in the log. And he
didn't.

"I just figured the only man who had any reason to lie deliberately
about the time of Makki's death was the man who shot him."

Lefler looked at the centerdeck chronometer. It was 2025.

"Do what you can for him, then bring him up to the radio, Robwood," he
said. "I've got to get up to the control room and record the midpoint
of the Earth transit."