barracks, the warehouses and into the open
airlocks of ships, while dying men tried frantically to close those
locks. They wouldn't close though, and the spacemen died puzzled as to
why not.

In galactic warfare, with the emphasis on speed, maneuverability, range
and power of space cannon, et cetera, everyone had forgotten an archaic
weapon--gas. Aron hadn't.

After the horror of this discovery, the Intelligence officer had taken a
flier to Aron's station.

He was feeling justifiably sorry for himself and his empire's thwarted
plans for conquest, now completely impossible since the United Empire
had been notified of the impending attack, and since the most strategic
part of that attack, the Kligor task force, had been destroyed.

His military mind refused to admit that one man, the Traitor, Aron,
could have caused this tragic defeat. He was willing, however, to vent
his desire for revenge on this one man.

Aron was unmoved by his threats and denunciations. The Intelligence man
was going to kill him, certainly, but the officer wanted to make him
suffer first, to make him squirm.

When one man has defeated and completely made fools of a galactic
empire, killing is too simple.

"We weren't stupid enough to try to coerce you with pure logic," the
agent was saying to Aron. "We knew you must have a large amount of
patriotism to even take such a thankless job as this Kligor post."

"There had to be something else, some stronger reason to make you reject
your empire."

Aron watched him warily. He could tell by the malevolent gleam of the
Intelligence man's eye and the sneer that he was playing a trump, that
he had a choice bit of information he thought would hurt Aron. All Aron
could do was listen.

"You came here happily married and full of patriotic zeal," the armed
man said. "That way you were no prospect for us.

"We changed those conditions by a very simple act.

"We killed your wife."

[Illustration]

The officer watched him like a hungry animal, waiting for the reaction.

The reaction was a pitying smile and the following words.

"Why don't you sit down. I know you are going to kill me, there's
nothing I can do about it and, actually, I don't object. But I would
like to say several things first and you might as well be comfortable
while I'm talking.

"I want to speak my piece mostly to clarify my ideas before death, but
also so that you, who will continue to live, will be able to think about
them i