ate in the cold eyes that stared into his. Chattering
frightenedly, he rushed at Greg, plunged through him, collided with the
wall of the ship and toppled over, feebly attempting to rise.

Invisible hands hoisted him to his feet, gripped him, held him upright.
Greg walked toward him, stood facing him.

"Stutsman," he said, "you have four hours of air. That will give you
four hours to think, to make your peace with death." He turned toward
the other two. Chambers nodded grimly. Craven said nothing.

"And now," said Greg to Craven, "if you will fasten down his helmet."

The helmet clanged shut, shutting out the pleas and threats that came
from Stutsman's throat.

* * * * *

Stutsman saw distant stars, cruel, gleaming eyes that glared at him.
Empty space fell away on all sides.

Numbed by fear, he realized where he was. Manning had picked him up and
thrown him far into space ... out into that waste where for hundreds of
light years there was only the awful nothingness of space.

He was less than a speck of dust, in this great immensity of emptiness.
There was no up or down, no means of orientation.

Loneliness and terror closed in on him, a terrible agony of fear. In
four hours his air would be gone and then he would die! His body would
swirl and eddy through this great cosmic ocean. It would never be found.
It would remain here, embalmed by the cold of space, until the last clap
of eternity.

There was one way, the easy way. His hand reached up and grasped the
connection between his helmet and the air tank. One wrench and he would
die swiftly, quickly ... instead of letting death stalk him through the
darkness for the next four hours.

He shivered and his hand loosened its hold, dropped away. He was afraid
to hasten death. He wanted to put it off. He was afraid of death ...
horribly afraid.

The stars mocked him and he seemed to hear hooting laughter from
somewhere far away. Curiously, it sounded like his own laughter....

* * * * *

"I'll make it easy for you, Manning," Chambers said. "I know that all of
us are guilty. Guilty in the eyes of the people and the law. Guilty in
your eyes. If we had won, there would have been no penalty. There's
never a penalty for the one who wins."

"Penalty," said Greg, his eyes half smiling. "Why, yes, I think there
is. I'm going to order you aboard the _Invincible_ for something to eat
and to get some rest."