John L. Chapman

“ The syphon began a steady flow.
"You won't make it," remarked Ferris. "And if you do get there, what then? There's no place for you on the Moon. They'll track you down in a few days."
Siegal laughed. "You seem quite certain of all this."
"Besides," went on Ferris, "I'll tell them all about you. They'll know just where you are, and they'll be waiting for you when you reach the Moon."
"Not if I destroy your radio," said Siegal, "and not if you ride the station back to Earth."
For a long minute there was silence. The only sound was the trickling of the liquid fuel. ”

“ His face was stone-like.
"You aren't Brooks," said Ferris. "What do you want?"
"Fuel," the other dropped a hand to a belt holster. "I need fuel for my ship—a lot of it. And you're the only fellow in my path who's got it. Let's not waste time."
"You've come to the wrong place," said Ferris, starting forward. "The barrels here are under government combination seal, and can't be opened by anyone other than the inspectors who accompany our regular ships."
"Nevertheless," the tall fellow drew his beam gun, "you have fuel in your repulsion tanks, and that's as good as any." ”

“ Ferris warned. "If the repulsion tanks are drained, gravity will take hold."
"Unfortunate," said Siegal, "but it's me or the station. I've brought a hose along—also a container. I'll give you the pleasure of filling it for me. Hurry."
Ferris had no choice, so he did as directed. Siegal had the drop on him, and it was best to play safe. Perhaps he could talk the fellow out of his wild plan. There was a chance.
"Think you'll make it to the Moon?" queried Ferris as he loosened a valve and inserted the hose. "It's a long trek for such a small amount of fuel. ”