"It's no use," said Gavin harshly. "Hell, man, I'd always know that six or seven years from now another T.I.S. agent might tap me on the shoulder like I've done you. Besides, I'm satisfied. I'm a...." "Manhunter!" "If you like. I'm a manhunter. You might as well ask a cat to turn loose a mouse. It's against his nature. Come along now." "Murderer," said the man with disconcerting calmness. "I'm innocent—and you're killing me just as surely as if you shot me with that dart-gun. Do you think Amalgamated Plastic has forgotten? I'm proscribed. Their agents will get me. Why don't you shoot me outright?" His voice ran up the scale, half-hysterical with fright as he read his sentence in Gavin's cold, unblinking eyes. "You're not human. Go ahead. Kill me now. I'm not coming. Do you hear? I'm not coming." Gavin saw himself reach suddenly across the desk and rap the fugitive on the skull with the butt of his dart-gun. From its peculiar vantage point, the detached half of Gavin's personality knew the inexorable sequence of events to follow. He would haul the fellow back to Terra, where he would be murdered by agents of Amalgamated Plastic at his trial. For the first time, Gavin realized, he was seeing himself as he must appear to others. A gaunt, hollow-cheeked, sandy-haired man, with implacable blue eyes, tight-lipped, hard-faced. Manhunter! He felt the cold deck under his fingers. He opened his eyes. He was still in the Nova's engine room. The yellow mist had dissipated. He saw Villanowski standing over him. The chief's homely features were cold. "What the hell are you doing here?" Gavin pulled himself together with an effort and scrambled to his feet. "Curious," he admitted frankly. From the corner of his eyes, he saw Nadia sit up, holding her temples. Villanowski's eyes narrowed. "What did you see?" "Nothing," Gavin said in a disappointed voice. He could feel the perspiration break through his pores. Villanowski was no fool. "The mist caught us at the foot of the ladder." He paused. "Next time we go into the little death, I'd like to be in the control room with you." "You saw the control room?" "Oh, the door was open." Gavin summoned all his histrionic ability to sound convincing. "I saw you and started in. Then—then I fainted, I guess." Indecision was reflected on Villanowski's face. Finally he growled, "Get out, the pair of you. Don't come down here again except on your watch." Gavin followed the girl up the ladder, his palms slippery with sweat on the cold bars. He wasn't sure whether he'd fooled Villanowski or not. They entered the mess room, helped themselves to coffee. He realized the girl hadn't uttered a word since the little death. He saw she was regarding him with a half-frightened, half-perplexed frown. "How did the little death affect you?" he asked her. "I had a dream. At least, I think it was." She bit her lip. "What was it about?"