" MacMaine asked in Kerothic.

The alien general nodded emphatically. "Perfectly. Your Kerothic is not
so bad that I could misunderstand your instructions. I still don't
understand why you are doing this. Oh I know the reasons you've given
me, but I don't completely believe them. However, I'll go along with
you. The worst that could happen would be for me to be killed, and I
would sooner face death in trying to escape than in waiting for your
executioners. If this is some sort of trap, some sort of weird way your
race's twisted idea of kindness has evolved to dispose of me, then I'll
accept your sentence. It's better than starving to death or facing a
firing squad."

"Not a firing squad," MacMaine said. "That wouldn't be kind. An
odorless, but quite deadly gas would be pumped into this cell while you
slept."

"That's worse. When death comes, I want to face it and fight it off as
long as possible, not have it sneaking up on me in my sleep. I think
I'd rather starve."

"You would," said MacMaine. "The food that was captured with you has
nearly run out, and we haven't been able to capture any more. But
rather than let you suffer, they would have killed you painlessly." He
glanced at the watch on his instrument cuff. "Almost time."

MacMaine looked the alien over once more. Tallis was dressed in the
uniform of Earth's Space Force, and the insignia of a full general
gleamed on his collar. His face and hands had been sprayed with an
opaque, pink-tan film, and his hairless head was covered with a black
wig. He wouldn't pass a close inspection, but MacMaine fervently hoped
that he wouldn't need to.

_Think it out, be sure you're right, then go ahead._ Sebastian MacMaine
had done just that. For three months, he had worked over the details of
his plan, making sure that they were as perfect as he was capable of
making them. Even so, there was a great deal of risk involved, and
there were too many details that required luck for MacMaine to be
perfectly happy about the plan.

But time was running out. As the general's food supply dwindled, his
execution date neared, and now it was only two days away. There was no
point in waiting until the last minute; it was now or never.

There were no spying TV cameras in the general's cell, no hidden
microphones to report and record what went on. No one had ever escaped
from the Space Force's prison, therefore, no one ever would.

MacMaine glanced again at his watch. It was time. He r