After a while Karrin yawned. The cabin seemed stuffy. He looked up from his book and his eyes happened to fall on the oxygen gauge. He felt a momentary chill. As there had been no time to recharge, it was very fortunate that there had been no need: Rhiannon wasn't coming along. "Almost empty," he breathed. "I'll barely make it." He put the book aside, turned over, and went to sleep. Hours later, when the oxy-alarm clanged empty, he roused, sweat-soaked and gasping, to the realization that Rhiannon, in a manner of speaking, had come along after all.... * * * * * Lt. Dhene of the Rebels glanced out his office window, eyes resting puzzledly on the space-boat that sat silently where it had been brought down by the landing field's tractor-beams. He frowned, then continued writing his report: "What would seem to have happened is this: Karrin, with a depleted store of oxygen and unaware of the animal's presence, undertook to flee here to escape the Patrol (see Rep. 151 and recordings of Patrol broadcasts M16, 17, N2), and in midpassage discovered the dog which must have somehow contrived to remain out of sight until that time. By then it was too late, for the tanks were empty and the oxygen in the body of the boat was not sufficient to last the trip. He could not turn back, and that he knew we would not risk sending a boat to pick him up is evinced by the fact that he did not call upon us to do so. "I believe it likely that Karrin debated killing the dog as well as himself, but decided vengefully that the animal--indirectly the cause of his destruction--should suffer the agony of asphyxiation. Therefore he shot only himself (see enclosed microshots, showing interior of boat with corpse exactly as found after boat, due to erratic behavior, was beamed onto field as safety measure). The dog, however--" Lieutenant Dhene looked up and grinned at the stern-wagging Atoms, working noisily over a _garn_ steak beside the desk. "--the dog, being very small and somewhat addicted to inactivity, survived the trip and led us a merry chase before his final capture. I request that we be allowed to adopt him as a mascot--" Dhene chewed at his pencil, then laid it on the desk and clapped his hands. "Here, boy," he growled, "you've given me a crazy kind of report to write up. Come here and give us a hand!--come on, speak! What's the story?" Sergeant Atoms eyed him for a moment, growled softly, and returned to the steak.