He held his breath until they were gone, and darted out from concealment, walking more rapidly towards his destination. The mess hall wasn't a hundred yards away from the wire fence that marked the safety limit. Even from where he was, he could see the red-lettered sign that warned conqueror and vanquished alike away from the radiation-contaminated zone. Bolgar suddenly remembered that he had forgotten his ion gun. The thought troubled him only slightly. He had more vital things on his mind. It was an odd revenge he was after. The mess hall was a looming black shadow, facing the rows of sagging-roofed shacks that stretched out for a third of a mile. It was _their_ quarters; seedier, uglier, far less equipped to withstand the brutal weather than the barracks; yet somehow, warmer, friendlier, happier-looking. He hated the sight of them. He dived into the enveloping darkness behind the mess hall, stealing a look at the illuminated dial of his watch. He began his vigil. In a few minutes, _she_ would appear. Time went slowly. Then he saw her. She was giving murmured good-byes to the people with whom she visited night after night. Now it was time to go, half an hour before the sound of curfew. He saw her arms adjusting her cape over her head, in the age-old motion of women. Now she was walking hurriedly away from the shack, across the square, her low heels slipping on the loose gravel. There was a moon, and its light struck her face gently, softly highlighting the sad loveliness of her features. When she was some twenty yards away, Bolgar started after her. He walked lightly, on his toes. She didn't hear him until it was too late. His hand went out, and his fingers whipped the cape from her shoulders to the ground. One arm snaked her waist, the other arched smoothly in front of her. * * * * * But she was struggling, her foot kicking out forcefully. "Just a kiss, baby!" He leaned over her, laughing, and replaced the hand over her lips with his own hungry mouth. The kiss was savage; beyond the force of love or sexual appetite. It was a blow, a crushing onslaught, a blitz of the emotions. "You--_animal_!" she cried. "Listen--" "Help!" she screamed. "No--you don't understand--" "Stop!" he shouted. He turned around, frantic at the sounds that were gathering behind him. He saw the figures coming towards them. When the hands closed around him, he went limp and silent, and allowed himself to be led away. The tribunal took action quickly. The guards, with their rifles firm against their chests, looked at him with neither hate nor animosity. The judges were less dispassionate. "Lieutenant Bolgar?" He stared over their heads. "Janice Damon?" The girl stepped forward, still sobbing. "Yes--" she said. "He's the one. He's been watching me. I know it. I've seen him hanging around the quarters." The woman in the silken uniform looked solemn.