It would be so easy to dart to his own office; but the unprotected space between him and it was a barrier more solid than a rock cliff. If Herb should emerge as he was making the exposed crossing, he would be a perfect target. His movements were sluggish. He had to locate Herb in order to know in which direction safety lay. But to be safe in the office, with the door barricaded.... * * * * * Herb saw the drops of blood drying slowly along the floor of the corridor. The Oligarch had entered the messhall. Herb approached cautiously. Standing just outside, not exposing himself, he could see a clot of blood beyond the main door. Probably the Oligarch had hesitated there, undecided--or resting. He held the gun more tightly. His heart beat rapidly, and his mouth was dry. But he was not afraid. There was an iciness far down inside of him. He stepped across the threshold, and just as suddenly, leaped back. He heard the stumble of the Oligarch's fleeing feet, heard the office door open and slam. Herb waited, listening: a feint? No. There was no sound. Again he stepped into the messhall. It was empty. "Herb!" Norma called. "Herb! Are you all right?" She was running down the corridor toward him. "Get back!" Herb called, but she came on, and then she was beside him. "He's in the office. I'm going after him. You stay here." "No. Leave him there. Prop the door. Keep him in. Take the ship...." "I'm going in after him," Herb said. "I've got to. It's more than him, more than killing or getting killed. I've got to." "It's so senseless," she said. "If we could get control of the ship...." He shook his head. "You stay here!" He walked across the messhall. He stepped out into the narrow corridor. "Get away!" the Oligarch cried frantically. His voice was no longer vigorous, and it sounded pathetic and child-like through the door. Herb, going toward it, said, "I'm coming in!" He tried the door. Locked. He fired twice at the lock. He stepped back and kicked. The door swung inward. The Oligarch did not fire. Herb, pressed against the wall, could not see into the room. "I'm coming in, damn you!" "Don't," the Oligarch cried weakly. "Please, don't. Don't _now_!" Herb heard a gun clatter to the floor. "Don't," the Oligarch moaned. "I've thrown it away. I'm helpless." Herb balanced on the balls of his feet. Then, taking a deep breath, he stepped into the doorway, his body framed beautifully between the two jambs. He held his gun at ready and then lowered it. The Oligarch was slumped over his desk. Herb heard Norma come up behind him. "He's dying," she said. Reaction set in, and Herb's knees almost collapsed. His body was trembling and drenched with perspiration. The Oligarch coughed. * * * * * The Oligarch said something in his own language. "What?" Herb asked. "Make him tell us. How we can keep them from setting off the explosion!" Norma said.