unit. Ablack passage stretched ahead of him and he plunged into dark shelter,jerking the door shut after him.
A light snapped on when the door closed and he saw that he was in asmall, stoutly reinforced storeroom, with bales of supplies andequipment packed against the walls.
He threw the heavy bolt that locked the door and sagged against a wall,his breath coming in deep shuddering gasps. There was no sound fromoutside. Gradually his labored breathing subsided and he stared withdull, unseeing eyes ahead of him.
And in that moment Ward Harrison came face-to-face with what he haddone. In a single gleaming flash of understanding, he realized that hehad bought his life with his honor.
A shuddering sob passed through his body.
He remembered with scalding self-hatred the things he had said toHalliday--a man who had endured the horror of this isolated base forthree years. He had called a man cowardly who had more courage in hissmallest finger than Ward had in his entire body.
Halliday had stuck here, doing his job, making no complaints or excuses,always aware of the horrible, soul-numbing danger he was facing.
* * * * *
Ward cursed and buried his face in his trembling hands. With bittershame he recalled his jeering remarks to Halliday about his nervoushabit of removing his glasses.
_God!_ Three years on this hellish base and the only sign a nervoushabit of fiddling with his glasses. Stark raving madness would have beenthe effect on any other person Ward could imagine.
At that instant he despised himself more than he had ever despised anyhuman being in his life.
And he knew that the worst punishment that would ever be meted to him,would be the mere act of living and being able to think--to remember.
With feverish eyes he glared about the room. A small leaden cask was setapart from the other equipment and it was marked with three xxx's, theindication of high explosive contents.
Ward dropped to his knees and pried open the lid of the small cask. Itwas filled with neat rows of U-235 pellets, hardly an inch in diameter.He picked up one in each hand and then stood up and walked to the door.
He was beyond thought or reason. He knew he was going to his death andhe felt nothing but a numb sense of anticipation. He knew that in dyinghe would not expiate the crime of cowardice he had committed. Nothingwould ever erase the stigma of that shame. A thousand deaths could notdo that.
He did not actually think these things. His mind was wrapped in a fog ofblind instinct. There was something he must do--do immediately. That wasas far as his mind would go.
The kitchen and front room of the small building were empty and the doorleading to the outside was open. The wild raging storm of the monsoonblew in the door, whipping papers into the air, resounding against thewalls with a booming roar.
Ward strode across the room, bracing himself against the blast of thewind. He stepped through the doorway and the full force of the windalmost bent him backward, but he moved on, fighting his way forward.
After six feet, the building was lost in the grayness. He was againalone in a wild howling world of horror and death.
Then he heard the rasping noise of the _things_ directly ahead of him,and an instant later he was able dimly to make out their weaving shapesin the swirling mists of the storm.
They were coming toward him.
* * * * *
With a grim exultation pounding in his temples, Ward hurled a pellet ofU-235 directly into their midst. The thunderous reverberations of theexplosion rocked the ground under his feet. A terrific blast of air thatdwarfed the raging turbulence of the monsoon roared about his head.
He staggered back, almost falling.
When he could see again, he made out a great hole in the ranks of the_things_ moving toward him.
His laugh was a wild cry in the fury of the night.
"Damn you!" he shouted.
His arm whipped back and the second pellet crashed into the serriedranks of the deadly rasping creatures.
Something grasped his ankle as the second pellet exploded. He fellbackward, striking the ground hard. A hand grabbed his and then,miraculously, incredibly, Halliday was pulling him to his feet, jerkinghim toward the building.
They stumbled through the door together. Ward fell to the floor asHalliday wheeled and slammed the door, throwing the automatic bolts withthe same motion.
Halliday knelt beside Ward.
"Good work," he said huskily. "They were holding me. I don't know whatthey were planning. Those bombs blew them into little pieces. Luckily Igot through the blast all right." He gripped Ward's arm suddenly. "Youcame through too, son."
"No," Ward said dully. "I didn't. I ran out on you. I'm a fool, a yellowfool."
"A coward wouldn't have come back," Halliday said quietly. "We're goingto lick this job together, from now on. We've found a weapon to useagainst the Raspers. I never thought of high explosives."
He grinned suddenly and the tightness was leaving his mouth. "It doesn'tseem so terrible when you've got something to fight back with."
Ward looked up at Halliday and a faint smile touched his own lips."Some_one_ to fight with, means a lot, too," he said. He suddenlygrinned. "You've lost your glasses."
"I won't miss them," Halliday said. "I didn't need them. I wore them togive me something to do, that's all. But we're going to have plenty todo, now."
Ward swallowed with difficulty. He knew that in his wild, thoughtlessact of heroism he hadn't redeemed himself. Redemption would come from alifetime of playing the game the way men like Halliday did. But thechance was there for him, and he was glad that he could startimmediately.
"Whatever you say," he said. He grinned, and added, "--boss."
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