Self-contained capsule, Kinsman said to himself. Very neat.
A wispy plume of gas jetted from the canister, and the cosmonaut sailed purposefully over to the satellite’s hatch.
Got his own reaction motor, too. Kinsman was impressed.
Unconsciously, he hunched down deeper in the shadows as the figure approached. Only one of them; no one else appeared from the second ship. The newcomer touched down easily beside the still-open hatch of the satellite. For several minutes he did not move. Then he edged away from the satellite slightly and, hovering, turned toward Kinsman’s capsule, still hanging only a few hundred feet away.
Kinsman felt himself start to sweat, even in the cold darkness. The cosmonaut jetted away from the satellite, straight toward the American capsule.
Damn! Kinsman snapped at himself. First rule of warfare, you stupid slob: keep your line of retreat open!
He leaped off the satellite and started floating back toward his own capsule. It was nightmarish, drifting through space with agonizing slowness while the weird-looking cosmonaut sped on ahead. The cosmonaut spotted Kinsman as soon as he cleared the shadow of the satellite and emerged into the sunlight.
For a moment they simply stared at each other, separated by a hundred feet of nothingness.
«Get away from that capsule!» Kinsman shouted, even though he knew that the intruder could not possibly hear him.
As if to prove the point, the cosmonaut put a hand on the lip of the capsule’s hatch and peered inside. Kinsman flailed his arms and legs, trying to raise some speed, but still he moved with hellish slowness. Then he remembered the wrenches he was carrying.
Almost without thinking, he tossed the whole handful at the cosmonaut. The effort spun him wildly off-balance. The Earth slid across his field of vision, then the stars swam by dizzingly. He caught a glimpse of the cosmonaut as the wrenches reached the capsule—most of them missed and bounced noiselessly off the capsule. But one banged into the intruder’s helmet hard enough to jar him, then rebounded crazily out of sight.
Kinsman lost sight of the entire capsule as he spun around. Grimly, he fought to straighten himself, using his arms and legs as counterweights. Finally, the stars stopped whirling. He turned and found the capsule again, but it was upside-down. Very carefully, Kinsman turned himself to the same orientation as the cosmonaut.
The intruder still had his hand on the capsule hatch, and his free hand was rubbing along the spot where the wrench had hit. He looked ludicrously like a little boy rubbing a bump on his head.
«That means get off, stranger,» Kinsman muttered. «No trespassing. U.S. property. Beware of the eagle. Next time I’ll crack your helmet in half.»
The newcomer turned slightly and reached for one of the equipment packs on the canister-suit. A weird-looking tool appeared in his hand. Kinsman drifted helplessly and watched the cosmonaut take up a section of the umbilical line. Then he applied the hand tool to it. Sparks flared.
Electrical torch! He’s trying to cut the line! He’ll kill me!
Frantically, Kinsman began clambering along the umbilical line, hand-over-hand. All he could see, all he could think of, was that flashing torch eating into his lifeline.
Almost without thinking, he grabbed the line in both hands and snapped it, viciously. Again he tumbled wildly, but he saw the wave created by his snap race down the line. The intruder found the section of line he was holding suddenly bounce violently out of his hand. The torch spun away from him and winked off.
Both men moved at once.
The cosmonaut jetted away from the capsule, looking for the torch. Kinsman hurled himself directly toward the hatch. He planted his magnetized boots on the capsule’s hull and grasped the open hatch in both hands.
Duck inside, slam shut, and get the hell out of here.
But he did not move. Instead, he watched the cosmonaut, a weird sun-etched outline figure now, mostly in shadow, drifting quietly some fifty feet away, sizing up the situation.
That glorified tin can tried to kill me.
Kinsman coiled like a cat on the edge of the hatch and then sprang at his enemy. The cosmonaut reached for the jet controls at his belt but Kinsman slammed into him and they both went hurtling through space, tumbling and clawing at each other. It was an unearthly struggle, human fury in the infinite calm of star-studded blackness. No sound, except your own harsh breath and the bone-carried shock of colliding arms and legs.
They wheeled out of the capsule’s shadow and into the painful glare of the sun. In a cold rage, Kinsman grabbed the air hose that connected the cosmonaut’s oxygen tank and helmet. He hesitated a moment and glanced into the bulbous plastic helmet. All he could see was the back of the cosmonaut’s head, covered with a dark, skin-tight flying hood. With a vicious yank, he ripped out the air hose. The cosmonaut jerked twice, spasmodically, inside the canister, then went inert.
With a conscious effort, Kinsman unclenched his teeth. His jaws ached. He was trembling, and covered with a cold sweat. He released his death-grip on the enemy. The two human forms drifted slightly apart. The dead cosmonaut turned, gently, as Kinsman floated beside him. The sun glinted brightly on the metal canister and shone full onto the enemy’s lifeless, terror-stricken face.
Kinsman looked into that face for an eternally long moment, and felt the life drain out of him. He dragged himself back to the capsule, sealed the hatch and cracked open the air tanks with automatic, unthinking motions. He flicked on the radio and ignored the flood of interrogating voices that streamed in from the ground.
«Bring me in. Program the autopilot to bring me in. Just bring me in.»
It was six days before Kinsman saw Colonel Murdock again. He stood tensely before the wide mahogany desk while Murdock beamed at him, almost as brightly as the sun outside.
«You look thinner in civvies,» the colonel said.
«I’ve lost a little weight.»
Murdock made a meaningless gesture. «I’m sorry I haven’t had a chance to see you sooner. What with the Security and State Department people holding you for debriefings, and now your mustering-out … I haven’t had a chance to, eh, congratulate you on your mission. It was a fine piece of work.»
Kinsman said nothing.
«General Hatch was very pleased. You’d be up for a decoration, but … well, you know, this has to be quiet.»
«I know.»
«But you’re a hero, son. A real honest-to-God hero.»
«Stow it.»
Murdock suppressed a frown. «And the State Department man tells me the Reds haven’t even made a peep about it. They’re keeping the whole thing hushed up. The disarmament meeting is going ahead again, and we might get a complete agreement on banning bombs in orbit. Guess we showed them they can’t put anything over on us. We called their bluff, all right!»
«I committed a murder.»
«Now listen, son … I know how you feel. But it had to be done.»
«No, it didn’t,» Kinsman insisted quietly. «I could’ve gotten back inside the capsule and deorbited.»
«You killed an enemy soldier. You protected your nation’s frontier. Sure, you feel like hell now, but you’ll get over it.»
«You didn’t see the face I saw inside that helmet.»
Murdock shuffled some papers on his desk. «Well … okay, it was rough. But it’s over. Now you’re going to Florida and be a civilian astronaut and get to the moon. That’s what you’ve wanted all along.»
«I don’t know. I’ve got to take some time and think everything over.»
«What?» Murdock stared at him. «What’re you talking about?»
«Read the debriefing report,» Kinsman said tiredly.
«It hasn’t come down to my level and it probably won’t. Too sensitive. But I don’t understand what’s got you spoofed. You killed an enemy soldier. You ought to be proud.»