He did not know how long he stood there or how long he watched. Minutes--or even hours, perhaps. He knew only that there was an uncontrollable thing of rage and disbelief and helpless frustration seething bitterly inside him that would not abate, and with it was a crazy jumble of thoughts that made no sense at all. He heard a man behind him then. It was B-Haaq. "A pity you've learned your lesson so late," he heard the Majtech say, "_Mine slave!_" III Jon Kane's compact quarters seemed more restricted than ever; the curved bulkheads closed in upon him, and he was an animal in a trap. Waiting, he thought, for the slaughter. He knew it would be that. He would not have a chance when his trial resumed. There would be no way of tricking B-Haaq into admitting the thing he'd done, and no matter how the charge were uttered, it would be the charge of a prisoner, and would fall on less than unsympathetic ears. And of course with the spacetender so many blasted atoms adrift in Infinity, there could be no proof. Why did B-Haaq hate him so? This was more than an officer simply doing his duty as he saw it--this was singular, personal hatred! But why? He glanced for the tenth time in thirty minutes at his wristime; the sleeping-period was half over, and he knew he would probably be awake for the remaining half. And the remaining half was so slow in going. If only there were something he could _do_. If he could only build another unit and install it himself! If-- Fully clothed, he sat up in his bunk. Hesitated only a moment, then crossed the small cubicle to its single narrow hatch. The simple time-lock that secured it was all that held him prisoner--a traditional matter of form, since any skillful mastertech could, with a length of slender wire, applied in the right places.... The plan took shape in his mind in the few moments it took him to render the sensitive mechanism useless; it had been rigged for alarm, but the alarm never sounded. In a moment he was on the catwalk. He strode swiftly and silently, the fine length of wire still in one hand. He almost passed the seldom used hatch when he came to it, so cleanly was it hinged into its bulkhead. But he knew what was beyond it, and the knowledge seemed to hasten his skillful fingers. Within moments, the hatch opened soundlessly, and he was inside the chamber. The Flagship's armory.