ard Harrison came face-to-face with what he had
done. In a single gleaming flash of understanding, he realized that he
had bought his life with his honor.

A shuddering sob passed through his body.

He remembered with scalding self-hatred the things he had said to
Halliday--a man who had endured the horror of this isolated base for
three years. He had called a man cowardly who had more courage in his
smallest 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 bitter
shame he recalled his jeering remarks to Halliday about his nervous
habit of removing his glasses.

_God!_ Three years on this hellish base and the only sign a nervous
habit of fiddling with his glasses. Stark raving madness would have been
the effect on any other person Ward could imagine.

At that instant he despised himself more than he had ever despised any
human 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 set
apart from the other equipment and it was marked with three xxx's, the
indication of high explosive contents.

Ward dropped to his knees and pried open the lid of the small cask. It
was 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 and
he felt nothing but a numb sense of anticipation. He knew that in dying
he would not expiate the crime of cowardice he had committed. Nothing
would ever erase the stigma of that shame. A thousand deaths could not
do that.

He did not actually think these things. His mind was wrapped in a fog of
blind instinct. There was something he must do--do immediately. That was
as far as his mind would go.

The kitchen and front room of the small building were empty and the door
leading to the outside was open. The wild raging storm of the monsoon
blew in the door, whipping papers into the air, resounding against the
walls with a booming roar.

Ward strode across the room, bracing himself against the blast of the
wind. He stepped through the