By LEIGH BRACKETTFar beyond molten Mercury flashed the
Patrol-pursued Falcon.... Out
to where black Vulcan whirled his
hidden orbit, and a flame-auraed last
child of Sol played his cosmic game.
Eric Falken stood utterly still, staring down at his leashed and helpless hands on the controls of the spaceship Falcon.
The red lights on his indicator panel showed Hiltonist ships in a three-dimensional half-moon, above, behind, and below him. Pincer jaws, closing fast.
The animal instinct of escape prodded him, but he couldn't obey. He had fuel enough for one last burst of speed. But there was no way through that ring of ships. Tractor-beams, criss-crossing between them, would net the Falcon like a fish.
There was no way out ahead, either. Mercury was there, harsh and bitter in the n***d
