SEQUEL BY BEN SMITH ILLUSTRATED BY BERWIN Jubil had had his chance. But he'd washed out of the Academy while his friends went on to greatness--and to death. He'd missed the boat at every turn. But now there were no turns left, with raw space around him and death waiting on a lonely asteroid.... [Transcriber's Note: This etext was produced from Rocket Stories, July 1953. Extensive research did not uncover any evidence that the U.S. copyright on this publication was renewed.] Jubil drifted slowly, alone except for the phosphorescent star shine that filtered through the face-plate of his suit. He was resting, conserving the oxygen that hissed steadily and quietly through the valve near his neck. It was time for peace; there had been too much violence already. Once, as his body continued its involuntary and aimless turning, Jubil saw the dark hull of the _Mercury II_, the outer access door firmly closed now and the stern beginning to fluoresce with the secondary radiation that betokened the firing of the drives. Still, Jubil could feel no anger at Radik. When the crew had conspired to mutiny, when Radik, Olgan and the rest had decided to take over the operation of the _Mercury II_, at that time had been the need for honest anger. Jubil had hesitated weakly instead, had chosen to be a bystander and had suffered the fate of the average non-participant; he had been outcast from the closed circle of both friend and enemy. Kane, once Captain of the _Mercury II_, was now dead and his _dis_-charred body drifting somewhere in the spatial wilderness. "Have you changed your thinking, Jubil?" It was Radik's voice in the helmet phones and Jubil could almost see the heavy face with its fringe of space-black beard. Jubil rested, listening to the cosmic interference in his R-link equipment. "Jubil! Jubil Marken! Have you changed your mind?" "Radik--" Jubil formed the words slowly, using his lips only and breathing shallowly. "Piracy suits you, Radik. You are one of the ruthless...." Jubil could hear Radik's throaty chuckle. "A dead man of honor is still dead, Jubil." The communication circuit went silent except for the buzz of voices in the background. Jubil drifted on, conscious of the fact that he was moving but so full of the lethargy of the moment that he neglected it. What would it be like, this bit of time that was left? It had been an hour since Jubil had been forcibly ejected from the access door of the _Mercury II_; the flask at his back carried oxygen for four. Three hours of life--while around his slowly turning body was the agelessness of endless space. Jubil smiled, just a little, conscious of the fact that he felt no fear. The die was cast now; he had made his decision finally, and he did not regret it.