"So long as you are there", said Dewey Copeland 
with strange stress. 
	"What are you trying to say, Dewey?" 
	"This is what I'm trying to say!" panted Copeland. 
His gloved hand made a quick movement and was suddenly 
clasping a laser gun.
	Michael Altmann recoiled when he saw the murderous 
weapon directed towards him. His recoil was so intense 
that despite the lead soles in his boots, he sprang into 
the vacuum and fell onto the Moon soil. 
	"Dewey!" 
	Copeland placed himself into a wide legged stance 
before Altmann, the laser purposely in firing position. 
Determined eyes sparkled behind the faceplate of the 
helmet. Copeland saw the other groping for the frequency 
dial of his radio transmitter. To alarm the rest of the base 
obviously. 
	"I wouldn't do that, Altmann", he said in sharp 
warning. Altmann gave up the hasty attempt to switch 
others into the dialogue. 
	"Dewey", he squeezed out, " you can't do this. We. . . 
we're still friends!" 
	"Oh, is that what we are?" scoffed Copeland. 
	The man on the soil groaned. "Also, you can't go 
through with this. If you kill me. . . my death will be 
indicated immediately on the monitor in the hospital 
ward." 
	"Who cares? You won't be the first that Death finds 
in this desert of craters." 
	"However, someone will determine how I died. A 
laser leaves unmistakable traces. Come on, be reasonable 
Dewey. You don't have a chance, you wouldn't. . ."
	"I would", Copeland interrupted the other harshly. "In 
order to determine how you perished, one would have 

7