As Maynard ignited the cigarette, he thought: Carefully prepared evidence! How painstaking they were! Even the scratches on the wall made so that the earlier ones would be made first. The millions of fingerprints. And destroyed because it would be bad evidence against us. Ironic. And yet--they might have missed something. And supposing Williamson hadn't armed that torpedo but had taken the crate in to Terra instead? Then Ertene's evidence would have been needed. We couldn't have known-- "Now for that shower," he said to Ben. There was no use in deliberately thinking of Ertene now. Forget it. To Ben he added: "Might run through that log of mine. Gives you the story pretty well, and my voice-box is still unused to talking much. I'm going, but I'll be back." "Good thing you kept a log," said Ben. "It'll be most valuable evidence for the investigation." Investigation! Guy hadn't thought of that factor. Naturally he must give his evidence before a court-martial, though he would by no means be on trial. Yet, they were thorough and he prayed that he wouldn't make the most unnoticed slip. They'd ply him with questions and watch his answers. He was glad that he hadn't memorized the log by rote. To repeat word for word certain parts would be expected, and to miss completely other parts would be expected. There would even be parts he had forgotten and parts too doleful for the mind to keep fresh. Then Guy Maynard put it all aside. He forgot his troubles and his worries, and gave himself up to the luxuries of civilization once more. His act was most convincing. He ate with relish and smoked until his throat was sore. He was reticent at the right time, and he made it appear as though it had become habit with him to remain silent; and also brought out the fact that his larynx was slightly unused to exercise. He was glad to be home, though he deplored the destruction of his lifeship--he spoke of it affectionately sometimes, other times he outwardly hated the thought of it--because there were some experiments uncompleted on it. They could be duplicated from the log, of course, but the originals were priceless in his estimation-- * * * * * And then the reaction really set in. Guy Maynard was home again. Home, to Guy, was the ever-changing orientation of the starry sky and the never constant gravity. He fingered the ordnance controls on the destroyer with affection and realized that Ertene was long ago and far away, and that his place was here, and that his life was geared to the quick life of a spaceman in the Terran Space Patrol. Peace was wonderful, of course, and at the time he wanted it desperately. But now he realized that the excitement of living in a system of planets offered more than the placid existence of Ertene with its one moon and the occasional space trip.