Dane's panic was like a light-lance beam twisting in his midriff. "Please--!" he choked. "Please...." Pfaff laughed aloud. * * * * * Dane stopped short in mid-breath. The goading, the mockery, the pig-eyes, the harsh voice, the badgering--all these he'd taken. But the laugh went one step beyond his limit of endurance. In the fraction of a second his panic turned to roiling, boiling rage. What did it matter if he didn't know who he was or from whence he came? Why should he care if his past was a blank, his future a question-mark? Why indeed--so long as for this one moment he had a course to follow! Such a course as erasing the grin from Pfaff's thick lips, for example. And after that--well, he'd play the other moments as they came along, without regard for past or future. Savagely, then, he lunged up from the cot, straight at the still-laughing Pfaff. For the barest instant the Security rep stood frozen, eyes blank with startlement. Then, with surprising agility for his heavy-bodied bulk, the man tried to twist aside, out of the way of Dane's rush. His hip hit the doloid table. He stumbled. Before he could recover, Dane smashed a fist home to the blubbery lips; felt them spurt blood as they crushed against Pfaff's teeth. The Security rep reeled. Heart surging with fierce elation, Dane followed up, hammering home a rain of blows to head and body alike. For an instant the other fell back--head down, hairy arms hugged close to protect the bulging belly. But only for an instant. Then, with a harsh roar, the bullet-head came up again. A fist like a maul swept out in a wide arc, bruising Dane's rib-cage. Another blow caught his shoulders; rocked him back on his heels. Desperately, Dane threw himself sidewise, barely clear of the other's lunge, and let fly a rabbit-punch. It landed solidly, but it was still a waste of effort. Pfaff spun about with no sign that he had even been hit, and once again, lunged for Dane. Taking advantage of his longer reach, Dane drove in a quick one-two to Pfaff's face, then started to leap back, away from the other's charge. But this time it was he who forgot the doloid table. Careening against it, he staggered for a moment off balance. The next instant Pfaff buried a fist in the pit of Dane's belly. Retching, half-paralyzed, Dane lurched backward; slumped to the floor. A roar of triumph from Pfaff. He launched a kick powered to break a man's back. With a tremendous heave, Dane writhed clear just in time. But already the Security man was kicking again--a bruising, thigh-grazing blow that tore a choked cry from Dane's throat. In desperation he rolled back and under the table, hoping against hope to avoid the other's murderous feet. Cursing, Pfaff heaved at the table, wrenching the nearest leg clear of its anchor bracket. "You chitza!" he panted, "I'll kill you! D'you hear me? I'll kill you!"