Final Victim by Ray Bradbury and Henry Hasse - Hunting a criminal is tough enough, but it's even tougher when it's on a bit of Hell's own rock in the void of space!
The space-suited figure scrambled frantically over the edge of the ragged asteroid cliff, and lay panting from the exertion of the long climb upward. The pale face beneath the helmet was drawn in a tight grimace as it stared at the tiny Patrol ship on the plain below. No access to it now! He was trapped.
The young man rose to his feet, stared down the steep ravine he had just traversed. He saw the plodding figure of the Patrolman coming up toward him. There was a frightening relentlessness about that figure. He caught a dull glint of metal and knew the Patrolman had drawn his atom-blast.
“If only I hadn’t lost my gun, down there!” And then he laughed bitterly, for he knew he never would have used it. He stepped out in plain sight, threw his hands up in the universal gesture of surrender. His mind was awry with bitter thoughts. He had never killed anyone in all his life! But the Patrol thought he had, and that’s what counted now. He was glad it was all over. He would surrender, go back and face trial though the evidence was all against him.
Now the Patrolman’s bulging, space-suited figure loomed up before him just ten yards away. He raised his hands still higher to make sure the other saw them.
