He sat upon the metal bunk, head heavy upon his hands. It was all over now. He had pled and sworn to no avail. His execution order had been filed. After the customary forty revs of grace, he would die. They would not even let him radio the Tele-news. Give up, his weary mind cried. At least death was better than Pluto. But he was so near home, his job completed. A priceless story would die with him. He felt fear no longer and his unreasoning rage had passed. There was only a great sadness, that he had come this far—to meet defeat. And at the hands of those whom he had sought.
The man before his cell moved away. The guard was probably changing.
Another patrolman approached, stared intently into the cage. "So you're Rusty Carter," he said. Rusty said nothing. No verbal torment could touch him. "I knew Carter once. He was a fine fellow then."
Rusty looked up. He had never seen the man before.
"Yeah," the guard continued, "Carter saved my reputation once—when I was caught in a bribery charge ten years ago, when I was on the ground force in New York."
Rusty searched his mind. He remembered a civil bribery scandal the Tele-news had uncovered many years ago. Several of the accused had been released by his activities. But the man before him struck no chord of recognition.
He was smiling. "You never knew me," he said, "but I knew you. I helped send you a medal when we were cleared, by your efforts. It's too bad you went wrong. Is there anything you want, in your last moments?"
Rusty almost burst with joy. Was there anything he wanted! "Can you get a message through to Earth?"
"If this is a trick, you won't live to see it done. I suppose I could—I know the radio operator."