It had been a great dream, he and the kid had had. There was little interplanetary transportation; none beyond Jupiter except by the Patrol. It had been the outer planets they had wanted to link. First the Patrol hitch to qualify, then the charting of bases and trajectories. With those they could have gone to the Earth government for financing. Mike wanted to say, "Don't worry, kid. I'll pick up the pieces." But he couldn't. From behind him he heard the low squealing of the Moon mimic and Edward Snyder's laugh. "Getting up the courage, Lieutenant?" he mocked. Logan could see him in the panel mirror, head cocked to one side, fat lips parted in an invitation to be smashed. "That gun," Snyder nodded to the holstered blaster. "It could do a neat job if you like intestines and blood." The Patrolman's hand moved to the blaster's cold butt. His brain told him it could never be proved as murder. He could report an attempted escape and plant the evidence. He half withdrew the gun; shivered and let it slide back. Sweat stood out on his face. There were things that wouldn't let him kill. The kid and his star dream and the unsigned license requests. The little Jovian with his idiotic sense of justice. And there was Bates and his native priest. He could see the picture, snow and glaciers--two men in a motor sled, as alone as a ship in space. _And here was Snyder and he couldn't kill him._ Maybe they would let him fit the noose about the killer's neck. Maybe he could beg them to let him spring the trap. He could be close then and watch the body dangle. But he would be cheated. It was second best so that Johnny and Bates, gray-haired satanic Bates, could be first. The decision left him weak. Snyder watched the re-holstering of the gun and his eyes narrowed. "What's wrong? Haven't ya got the guts?" "You'll get yours." "I think you're yellow." The tiredness dissolved as Logan whirled about and showed his teeth. "Don't push me, rat. There's a damn thin line between the worth of killing you myself and letting you hang." * * * * * The fat man nodded and so did the mimic. They both seemed pleased. "I'm glad it's a thin line. Do you want to know why?" "Not interested." Logan kept his eyes on the murderer while he fished Synthetic Sleep capsules from the panel locker. He needed something to dispel the sluggishness of his brain. "You should be," Snyder taunted. "I love death. In life there's nothing, but there's glory in death." His tiny eyes blazed. "You're not free, Logan. No one is until they've balanced a knife over a being's heart and heard the breath rattle. You listen to the beat of the blood, knowing you can stop it in a second, or make it go slower and slower until it drains away." Logan sat frozen; incredulous.