"You can live," Nolan repeated. "A full statement about the Junta frame, in writing. Write it out and thumbprint it, and we'll telestat it to the nearest TPL station. Then you can have the lifeboat, Woller, and as much of a start as TPL gives you. Are you willing to pay that much for your life, Woller?" Woller's lips were stiff but he forced the words through. "Go to hell." Nolan nodded, and the deadly weariness settled down over him again. "I see your point, of course," he said slowly. "Tri-planet doesn't come out here much and a man is reasonably safe from them. But you, Woller--power's your life blood. And a man on the run can't have much power. I know." His finger curled on the trigger of the pyro and Woller, staring avidly, desperately, whitened at the mouth. His lips moved as though about to form words-- Nolan's trigger-sharp senses caught a hint of movement behind him. _Fool!_ he thought desperately. _The door!_ He tried to hurl his body aside, out of the way of the door that opened behind him. But he couldn't do that and keep the pyro leveled on the two men at the desk. He saw Woller, exultant hatred leaping into his purpled face, plunging for a drawer of the desk; saw the door opening and someone stepping through. Then, just as he was leveling the gun on Woller again, he saw the flashing swing of the other man in the room. Forgotten Vincennes--with a heavy nightstone paperweight held bludgeon-like in his hand, leaping in at him. He had no chance even to try to turn. The weight was coming down on the side of his head. All he could do was try to roll with it. But the momentum was immense and the heavy weight struck him down to the floor, drove him headlong into unconsciousness.... * * * * * Somebody was kicking him. Nolan groaned once, then compressed his lips as he remembered where he was. He opened his eyes and rolled over. The blubbery Venusian second was standing over him, face sullen but eyes glinting with perverse pleasure. He raised his heavy spaceman's boot again-- "Hold it," said Woller from the desk. They were still in the cabin. Woller got up, came over, looking down at Nolan. His bearing was confident again; he exuded an aura of brutal power. "You should have killed me, Nolan," he said. "You only get the one chance, you see." Nolan silently pushed himself erect. His ribs were agonized where the second had booted them, and a blinding throb in the skull reminded him of the captain's blow. He was conscious that his armpit holster hung light. The pyro was gone. Vincennes had left. Only Woller and the Venusian second were in the cabin with him. "My only doubt," Woller was saying, "is whether to blast you now or save you for a little later, when I'll have more time." "Sure," said Nolan tonelessly. "If you want my vote, it's for now. Get it over with." Woller nodded. "That would be much pleasanter for you. I think I'll save you." He nodded slowly. Then, to the mate, "Take him below!"