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MEDICAL
BIOCHEMISTRY
FOURTH EDITION
This Page Intentionally Left Blank
MEDICAL
BI0C HEMISTRY
FOURTH EDITION

N. V. BHAGAVAN
Department of Biochemistry and Biophysics
John A. Burns School of Medicine
University of Hawaii

San Diego San Francisco New York Boston London Sydney Tokyo
Sponsoring Editor Jeremy Hayhurst
Production Managers Rebecca Orbegoso and Brenda Johnson
Editorial Coordinator Nora Donaghy
Promotions Manager Stephanie Stevens
Copyeditor Janice Stern
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Composition TechBooks
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Cover photo: 9 Corbis Corporation/William Whitehurst, 2001.

This book is printed on acid-free paper. (~)

Copyright 9 2002 by HARCOURT/ACADEMIC PRESS

All Rights Reserved.

No part of this publication may be reproduced or transmitted in any form or by any
means, electronic or mechanical, including photocopy, recording, or any information
storage and retrieval system, without permission in writing from the publisher.

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Permissions Department, Harcourt Inc., 6277 Sea Harbor Drive,
Orlando, Florida 32887-6777

Academic Press
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Library of Congress Catalog Card Number: 2001090826

International Standard Book Number: 0-12-095440-0

PRINTED IN CANADA
02 03 04 05 06 FR 9 8 7 6 5 4 3 2
CONTENTS

Contributors xxv 1.4 H+ Concentration and pH 15

Preface xxvii
Acknowledgments xxix
Supplemental Readings
and References 16
Properties of Water 16
Acid-Base Chemistry and Respiratory Function
of Hemoglobin 16
CHAPTER 1 Nuclear Magnetic Resonance and Magnetic
Resonance Imaging 16
Water, Acids, Bases, and Buffers

1.1 Properties of Water 1 CHAPTER 2

Hydrogen Bonding l
Physical Properties 2 Amino Acids
Solutes, Micelles, and Hydrophobic
Interactions 2 2.1 L-(x-AminoAcids: Structure 17
Colligative Properties 3
Dissociation of Water and the pH Scale 3 2.2 Classification 17
Nonpolar Amino Acids 18
1.2 Buffers 4 Glycine 18
Henderson-Hasselbalch Equation 5 Alanine 20
Buffer Systems of Blood and Exchange of O2 Valine, Leucine, and Isoleucine 20
and CO2 6
Phenylalanine 20
Blood Buffer Calculations 9
Tryptophan 20
Nonbicarbonate Buffers in Blood 10
Methionine 21
1.3 Measurement of pH 11 Proline 21
Nuclear Magnetic Resonance and Magnetic Acidic Amino Acids 23
Resonance Imaging 11 Aspartic Acid 23
Gibbs-Donnan Equilibrium 13 Glutamic Acid 23
vi Contents

Basic Amino Acids 23 Supplemental Readings

Lysine 23 and References 49
Histidine 24
Arginine 24
Neutral Amino Acids 24 CHAPTER 4
Serine 24
Threonine 25 Three-Dimensional Structure
Cysteine 25 of Proteins
Tyrosine 25
Asparagine 25 4.1 Attractive and Repulsive Forces
Glutamine 26 in Proteins 52
Unusual Amino Acids 26 Attractive Forces 52
Amino Acids Used as Drugs 26 Repulsive Forces 52

2.3 Electrolyte and Acid-Base Properties 27 4.2 Primary Structure 53

Peptide Bond 53
2.4 Chemical Reactions of Amino Acids 31
Supplemental Readings 4.3 Secondary Structure 53
and References 33 or-Helix 54
/3-Pleated Sheet 55
/3-Turns 56
Random Coil 56
CHAPTER 3 Determination of Secondary Structure by Using
Circular Dichroism (CD) Spectroscopy 56
Protein Isolation and Determination
Other Types of Secondary Structure 56
of Amino Acid Sequence
4.4 Tertiary Structure 57
3.1 Quantitative Determination of Proteins 35
4.5 Quaternary Structure 58
3.2 Determination of Primary Structure 36
4.6 Denaturation 58
3.3 Separation of Proteins 36
Separation by Molecular Size 37 4.7 Protein Folding and Associated
Separation by Chromatography 37 Diseases 59
Affinity Tag Chromatography 39 Supplemental Readings
Separation by Electrophoresis 39 and References 64
Protein Folding and Its Defects 64
3.4 Capillary Electrophoresis 41
Alzheimer's Disease, p53, and Prions 64
Separation by Solubility 41

3.5 Amino Acid Composition 42

CHAPTER 5
3.6 Amino Acid Sequence Determination 43
Identification of the N-Terminal Residue 43 Thermodynamics, Chemical Kinetics,
Identification of the C-Terminal Residue 44 and Energy Metabolism
Selective Hydrolysis Methods 45
Peptide Sequence Confirmation 46 5.1 Methods of Altering the Rate
Fmoc Solid-Phase Peptide Synthesis 48 of Reactions 67
Contents vii

5.2 Thermodynamics 68 6.5 Kinetics of Ligand-Receptor

Interaction 104
5.3 Standard Free Energy of Hydrolysis
of ATP 73 6.6 Mechanisms of Enzyme Action 105
Coenzymes, Prosthetic Groups,
5.4 Chemical Kinetics 75 and Cofactors 106
5.5 EnergyMetabolism 77
Supplemental Readings
5.6 Obesity 82 and References 108
Biochemical Mediators of Obesity 82

Supplemental Readings CHAPTER 7

and References 84
Enzymes II" R e g u l a t i o n

CHAPTER 6 7.1 Types of Regulation 109

7.2 AIIosteric Enzyme Regulation 111
Enzymes I" G e n e r a l P r o p e r t i e s ,
Kinetics of Allosteric Proteins 111
Kinetics, and Inhibition Examples of Allosteric Proteins 112
Theoretical Models for Allosteric Effect 117
6.1 Nomenclature 85
6.2 Catalysis 86 Supplemental Readings
Specificity of Enzyme Catalysis 86 and References 119
Active Site and Enzyme-Substrate Enzyme Regulation (General) 119
Complex 86 Allosteric Properties of Aspartate
Factors Governing the Rate of Enzyme-Catalyzed Transcarbamoylase and Hemoglobin
Reactions 86 Aspartate Transcarbamoylase 119
Effect of Temperature 87 Hemoglobin 119
Effect of pH 87
Effect of Concentration of Enzyme and
Substrate 88 CHAPTER 8
Michaelis-Menten Treatment of the Kinetic
Properties of an Enzyme 88 Enzymes III: Clinical Applications
Linear Plots for Michaelis-Menten
Expression 91 8.1 Diagnosis and Prognosis of Disease 121
Factors Affecting Presence and Removal of
6.3 Kinetics of Enzymes Catalyzing Intracellular Enzymes from Plasma 122
Two-Substrate Reactions 92 Measurement of Enzyme Activity 124

6.4 Inhibition 92 8.2 Serum Markers in the Diagnosis

Reversible Inhibition 92 of Tissue Damage 126
Competitive Substrates in Treatment of Myocardium 126
Some Intoxications 96
Pancreas 127
Irreversible Inhibition 98
Liver 127
Inactivation and Reactivation of Cytochrome
Oxidase 99 8.3 Enzymes as Analytical Reagents 128
Proteinase Inhibitors and Their Clinical
Significance 102 8.4 Enzymes as Therapeutic Agents 130
viii Contents

Supplemental Readings Molecular Mimicry 171

and References 132 Disorders of Red Blood Cell Membrane
Skeleton 171

CHAPTER9

Simple Carbohydrates
Heteropolysaccharides II"
9.1 Classification 133 Proteoglycans and Peptidoglycans
Monosaccharides 133
Some Physiologically Important Monosaccharide 11.1 Protein Fibers and Proteoglycans 173
Derivatives 139 Collagen 173
Sugar Alcohols 139 Collagen Types 173
Sugar Acids 140 Structure and Function 174
Amino Sugars 141 Turnover of Collagen and Tissue Repair 178
Sugar Phosphates 142 Elastin 179
Deoxy Sugars 142 Structure and Function 179
Glycosides 143 Turnover of Elastin 181
Disaccharides 144 Proteoglycans 182
Polysaccharides 147 Types, Structures, and Functions of
Glycosaminoglycans 182
Supplemental Readings Turnover of Proteoglycans and Role
and References 151 of Lysosomes 186
Mucopolysaccharidoses 187

11.2 Peptidoglycans 188

Lysis of Peptidoglycans by Lysozymes 193
Heteropolysaccharides I- Glycoproteins
11.3 Lectins 194
and Glycolipids
Supplemental Readings
10.1 Glycoproteins 153 and References 195
10.2 Cell Membrane Constituents 156
10.3 Cell-Surface Glycoproteins 161
Red Blood Cell Membrane and Membrane
Skeleton Proteins 163 Gastrointestinal Digestion
Blood Group Antigens 166 and Absorption
10.4 Serum Glycoproteins 168 12.1 Anatomy and Physiology of
10.5 Molecular Mimicry of Oligosaccharides the GITract 197
and Host Susceptibility 170 Mouth and Esophagus 197
Stomach 198
Supplemental Readings Small Intestine 199
and References 170 Formation, Secretion, and Composition
Extracellular Matrix 170 of Bile 199
Blood Group Antigens 170 Exocfine Pancreatic Secretion 201
Contents ix

Composition of Pancreatic Juice 202 Source and Entry of Glucose into Cells 225
Large Intestine 202 Reactions of Glycolysis 226
Phosphorylation of Glucose 226
12.2 Gastrointestinal Hormones 202 Isomerization of Glucose-6-Phosphate to
Gastrin 203 Fructose-6-Phosphate 229
Peptic Ulcer Disease 207 Phosphorylation of Fructose-6-Phosphate to
Cholecystokinin 208 Fructose-l,6-Bisphosphate 229
Secretin 208 Cleavage of Fructose-l,6-Bisphosphate into Two
Gastric Inhibitory Peptide 208 Triose Phosphates 229
Isomerization of Dihydroxyacetone Phosphate to
Glyceraldehyde 3-Phosphate 229
12.3 Digestion and Absorption of Major Food
Substances 208 Dehydrogenation of Glyceraldehyde
3-Phosphate 230
Carbohydrates 208
Phosphorylation of ADP from
Digestion of Starch 209
1,3-Bisphosphoglycerate 231
Brush-Border Surface Hydrolysis 211
Isomerization of 3-Phosphoglycerate to
Transport of Monosaccharides into 2-Phosphoglycerate 231
the Enterocyte 211
Dehydration of 2-Phosphoglycerate to
Na+,K+-ATPase 212 Phosphoenolpyruvate 232
Disorders of Carbohydrate Digestion Phosphorylation of ADP from
and Absorption 212 Phosphoenolpyruvate 232
Proteins 214 Reduction of Pyruvate to Lactate 233
Digestion 214 Alternative Substrates of Glycolysis 234
Absorption of Amino Acids and Oligopeptides 215 Role of Anaerobic Glycolysis in Various Tissues
Disorders of Protein Digestion and Absorption 216 and Cells 235
Lipids 216 Glycolytic Enzyme Deficiencies
Intraluminal Phase 216 in Erythrocytes 235
Intracellular (Mucosal) Phase 218
Secretion 218 13.2 Pyruvate Metabolism 235
Disorders of Lipid Digestion and Absorption 218 Lactic Acidemia and Lactic Acidosis 236
General Malabsorptive Problems 218 D-Lactic Acidosis 236
Oxidation of Pyruvate to Acetyl-CoA 236
12.4 Absorption of Water and Electrolytes 222 Regulation of Pyruvate Dehydrogenase Activity 239
Disorders of Fluid and Electrolyte Abnormalities of Pyruvate Dehydrogenase
Absorption 222 Complex 240

12.5 Thermic Effectof Food 224 13.3 TricarboxylicAcid (TCA)Cycle 241

Reactions of TCA Cycle 241
Supplemental Readings Condensation of Acetyl-CoA with Oxaloacetate to
and References 224 Form Citrate 241
Isomerization of Citrate to Isocitrate 241
Oxidative Decarboxylation of lsocitrate to
13 ~-Ketoglutarate 243
Oxidative Decarboxylation of ot-Ketoglutarate to
Carbohydrate Metabolism I: Glycolysis Succinyl-CoA 243
and TCA Cycle Conversion of Succinyl-CoA to Succinate Coupled to
Formation of GTP 243
13.1 Glycolysis 225 Dehydrogenation of Succinate to Fumarate 244
X Contents

Hydration of Fumarate to Malate 244 Base Substitution Mutations 268

Dehydrogenation of Malate to Oxaloacetate 244 Transfer RNA (tRNA) Mutations 269
Stereochemical Aspects of the TCA Cycle 244 mtDNA Deletions and Duplications 270
Amphibolic Aspects of the TCA Cycle 244
Regulation of the TCA Cycle 245 14.7 Other Reducing-Equivalent Transport and
Energetics of the TCA Cycle 245
Oxygen-Consuming Systems 270
Supplemental Readings
Supplemental Readings and References 274
and References 245

15
Electron Transport and Oxidative Carbohydrate Metabolism II"
Phosphorylation Gluconeogenesis, Glycogen Synthesis
and Breakdown, and Alternative
14.1 Mitochondrial Structure Pathways
and Properties 248
Submitochondrial Particles 251 15.1 Gluconeogenesis 275
Components of the Electron Transport Chain 251 Metabolic Role 275
Electron Transport Complexes 251 Gluconeogenic Pathway 276
Complex I 251 Gluconeogenic Precursors 278
Complex H 253 Regulation of Gluconeogenesis 279
Complex III 254 Carboxylation of Pyruvate to
Complex IV 255 Oxaloacetate 279
Organization of the Electron Transport Conversion of Oxaloacetate to
Chain 256 Phosphoenolpyruvate 280
Conversion of Fructose-l,6-Bisphosphate to
14.2 Oxidative Phosphorylation 257 Fructose-6-Phosphate 280
Mechanisms of Oxidative Phosphorylation 257 Conversion of Glucose-6-Phosphate
Uncoupling Agents of Oxidative to Glucose 281
Phosphorylation 261 Abnormalities of Gluconeogenesis 282

14.3 Mitochondrial Energy States 263 15.2 Glycogen Metabolism 283

Energy-Linked Functions of Mitochondria Other Glycogen Synthesis 283
Than ATP Synthesis 263 Glycogen Breakdown 285
Transport of Cytoplasmic NADH to Regulation of Glycogen
Mitochondria 264 Metabolism 286
Muscle 286
14.4 The Mitochondrial Genome 266
Control of Glycogen Synthase 286
Mitochondrial Biogenesis 267
Control of Glycogen Phosphorylase 288
Expression of mtDNA 267
Integrated Regulation of Muscle Glycogen
Metabolism 289
14.5 Nuclear Control of Respiratory Chain
Liver 290
Expression 267
Control of Glycogen Synthase 290
14.6 Mitochondrial Diseases 268 Control of Glycogen Phosphorylase 290
Contents xi

Integrated Regulation of Liver Glycogen Supplemental Readings

Metabolism 290 and References 329
Glycogen Storage Diseases 291 General 329
Glycoproteins 329
15.3 Alternative Pathways of Glucose GPI-Anchored Proteins 329
Metabolism and Hexose Glycosphingolipids 329
Interconversions 291 Glycosaminoglycans and
Glucuronic Acid Pathway 291 Proteoglycans 329
Fructose and Sorbitol Metabolism 296 Peptidoglycans, Antibiotics, and Resistance 330
Galactose Metabolism 297
Metabolism of Amino Sugars 298
Pentose Phosphate Pathway 298
Oxidative Phase 300
Nonoxidative Phase 300
Protein and Amino Acid Metabolism
Pentose Phosphate Pathway in
Red Blood Cells 301
17.1 Essential and Nonessential
Glucose-6-Phosphate Dehydrogenase
Deficiency 302
Amino Acids 331
Phagocytosis and the Pentose Phosphate Nitrogen Balance 332
Pathway 304 Quality and Quantity of Dietary Protein
Requirement 332
Supplemental Readings Protein Energy Malnutrition 333
and References 305 Transport of Amino Acids into Cells 333
General Reactions of Amino Acids 335
Deamination 335
Dehydrogenation of L-Glutamate 336
Transamination 337
Carbohydrate Metabolism III: Role of Specific Tissues in Amino Acid
Metabolism 338
Glycoproteins, Glycolipids, GPI
Anchors, Proteoglycans, and
17.2 Metabolism of Ammonia 340
Peptidoglycans Urea Synthesis 340
Formation of Carbamoyl Phosphate 341
16.1 Biosynthesis of Glycoproteins 311
Formation of Citrulline 342
N-Glycan Asn-Linked Glycoproteins 312
Formation of Argininosuccinate 342
Phosphorylation of Oligosaccharide Chains on
Lysosomal Enzymes 315 Formation of Arginine and Fumarate 342

Inhibitors of Glycoprotein Biosynthesis 315 Formation of Urea and Ornithine 343

O-Glycan Ser(Thr)-Linked Energetics of Ureagenesis 343

Oligosaccharides 317 Hyperammonemias 343
Biosynthesis of GPI-Anchored
Proteins 318 17.3 Metabolism of Some Individual Amino
Biosynthesis of Glycosphingolipids 320 Acids 345
Biosynthesis of Glycosaminoglycans 322 Arginine 345
Metabolism and Synthesis of Nitric Oxide 345
16.2 Biosynthesis of Peptidoglycans 324 lsoforms (Also Known as Isozymes) of Nitric Oxide
Penicillins and Cephalosporins 327 Synthase 346
xii Contents

Signal Transduction of NO 346 18.2 Metabolism of Ketone Bodies 374

Glycine 347 Physiological and Pathological Aspects of
Disorders of Glycine Catabolism 348 Metabolism of Ketone Bodies 376
Creatine and Related Compounds 348
Use of Creatine as a Dietary Supplement 349 18.3 Metabolism of Ethanol 377
Serine 349
18.4 Synthesis of Long-Chain Saturated
Proline 349
Fatty Acids 379
Histidine 351
Functional Organization of Fatty Acid
Branched-Chain Amino Acids 352
Synthase 383
Sulfur-Containing Amino Acids 353
Sources of NADPH for Fatty Acid Synthesis 384
Methionine 353
Source and Transport of Acetyl-CoA 384
Cysteine 354
Regulation of Fatty Acid Synthase 384
Abnormalities Involving Sulfur-Containing
Fatty Acid Elongation 385
Amino Acids 354
Homocysteine 354
18.5 Metabolism of Unsaturated
Phenylalanine and Tyrosine 356
Fatty Acids 386
Phenylketonuria (PKU) 358
Structure and Nomenclature of Unsaturated
Melanin 360
Fatty Acids 386
Abnormalities of Tyrosine Metabolism 360 Functions of Unsaturated Fatty Acids 386
Tryptophan 361
18.6 Nonessential Fatty Acids 386
Supplemental Readings
and References 363 18,7 trans-Fatty Acids 388

18.8 Essential Fatty Acids 388

Deficiency of Essential Fatty Acids 389

18.9 Metabolism of Eicosanoids 389

Lipids I: Fatty Acids and Eicosanoids Biological Properties of Prostanoids 395
Leukotrienes 396

18.1 Oxidation of Fatty Acids 366

Supplemental Readings
Activation of Fatty Acids 366
and References 398
Transport of Acyl-CoA to Mitochondrial
Matrix 367
/3-Oxidation 368
Energetics of/3-Oxidation 371 19
Regulation of Fatty Acid Oxidation 372
Peroxisomal Fatty Acid Oxidation 372 Lipids lI- Phospholipids,
Other Pathways of Fatty Acid Oxidation 373 Glycosphingolipids, and Cholesterol
Propionyl-CoA Oxidation 373
or-Oxidation 373 19.1 Phospholipids 401
m-Oxidation 374 Phosphatidylcholines 401
Oxidation of Mono- and Polyunsaturated Fatty Other Glycerophospholipids 402
Acids 374 Phosphosphingolipids 406
Contents xiii

19.2 Phospholipids and Glycosphingolipids in 20.3 Lipoprotein-Associated Disorders 440

Clinical Medicine 406 Hyperlipidemias 440
Pulmonary Surfactant Metabolism and Hypertriacylglycerolemias 440
Respiratory Distress Syndrome 406 Hypercholesterolemias 441
Biochemical Determinants of Fetal Lung Hypolipidemias 442
Maturity 408 Atherosclerosis and Coronary Heart Disease 444
Catabolism and Storage Disorders of Lipid-Lowering Methods 448
Sphingolipids 409
Alterations in Cell Surface Supplemental Readings
Glycosphingolipids 414
and References 450
19.3 Cholesterol 414
Conversion of Acetyl-CoA to HMG-CoA 415
Conversion of HMG-CoA to
Mevalonate 416
Conversion of Mevalonate to Isoprenyl Muscle and Nonmuscle Contractile
Pyrophosphate 419 Systems
Condensation of Isoprenyl Pyrophosphate to
Form Squalene 420 21.1 Muscle Systems 454
Conversion of Squalene to Lanosterol 420 Structure and Development of
Conversion of Lanosterol to Cholesterol 421 Skeletal Muscle 454
Utilization of Cholesterol 421 Myofibrils 457
Thin Myofilaments 458
19.4 Bile Acids 423 Thick Myofilaments 460
Regulation of Bile Acid Synthesis 424 Organization and Properties of
Disposition of Bile Acids in the Intestines and Muscle Fibers 462
Their Enterohepatic Circulation 425 Contractile Properties 462
Bile Acid Metabolism and Clinical pH Dependence of Myosin ATPase
Medicine 426 Activity 462
Metabolic Profile 463
Supplemental Readings Multigene Families Encode Muscle
and References 427 Proteins 463

21.2 Mechanism of Muscle Contraction:

Overview 464
20 Mechanism of Contraction:
Excitation/Contraction Coupling 464
Lipids III: Plasma Lipoproteins Mechanism of Contraction: Activation of
Contraction 466
20.1 Structure and Composition 429 Mechanism of Contraction: Cross-Bridge
Cycling 466
20.2 Metabolism 433
Chylomicrons 434 21.3 EnergySupply in Muscle 468
Very-Low-Density Lipoproteins 435 Phosphocreatine Shuttle 471
Low-Density Lipoproteins 437 Regulation of Smooth and Cardiac
High-Density Lipoproteins 438 Muscle 472
xiv Contents

21.4 Inherited Diseases of Muscle 476 22.4 Stored Fuels 496

Degenerative Syndromes 478 Appetite, Hunger, and Control of Food
Dynamic Syndromes 478 Intake 497

21.5 Nonmuscle Systems 478 22.5 Carbohydrate Homeostasis 497

Actin 478 Carbohydrate as a Food 497
Cilia 480 Disposition of High Glucose Intake 498
Glucose Tolerance 499
21.6 Drugs Affecting Microtubules 483 Glucose Homeostasis during Fasting 499
Immotile Cilia Syndrome 483 Utilization of Hepatic Glycogen 500
Kinesins 484 Utilization of Skeletal Muscle Glycogen 501
Gluconeogenesis 502
Supplemental Readings Regulation of Gluconeogenesis 502
and References 484
22.6 Lipid Homeostasis 504
Lipid Digestion and Absorption 504
Disposition of Absorbed Triacylglycerol 504
Production of Triacylglycerol from
Metabolic Homeostasis Carbohydrate 505
Release of Lipid from Adipose Tissue Stores 505
22.1 Metabolic Homeostasis 485 Tissue Utilization of Fatty Acids 506
Ketone Body Production and Utilization 506
22.2 Metabolic Roles of Organs 487
Liver 487
22.7 Protein Synthesis and Nitrogen
Adipose Tissue 487
Homeostasis 508
Skeletal Muscle 488
Protein Synthesis and Proteins as Energy
Brain 488 Source 508
Heart 489 Nitrogen Balance 508
Kidneys 489 Ammonia Toxicity 509
Gastrointestinal System 489 Nitrogen Transfer between Compounds and
Blood and Other Body Fluids 489 Tissues 509
Albumin 490 Methods for Directly Transferring
Lipoproteins 490 Nitrogen 509
Reactions in Which Ammonia Is
22.3 Endocrine Pancreas and Pancreatic Released 509
Hormones 490 Reactions That "Fix" Ammonia 509
Insulin 490 Disposition of Dietary Intake of Protein 509
Structure and Synthesis 490 Protein Catabolism during Starvation 510
Secretion 492
Biological Actions of lnsulin 494 22.8 Abnormalities of Metabolic
Insulin Receptor 494 Homeostasis 511
Glucagon 495 Diabetes Mellitus 511
Somatostatin 496 Etiologic Classification of Diabetes Mellitus 512
Pancreatic Polypeptide 496 Obesity 515
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Out of curiosity, he asked. "When are you going to opaque?"
"Huh?" The Venusian looked startled for a second; then his blubber-
drowned little eyes became shrewd. "Oh, about Orbit Saturn, I
guess."

Nolan suppressed a sudden frown. He asked carefully, "Say, how do

you do it on these new-type ships anyhow? All the ones I've been on,
you had to have the panels filter-shuttered before they lifted gravs."
"Paint," the mate said curtly. "Okay, here we are."
He stood aside, pointed to a door with a glowing golden star
embossed on it. Nolan nodded and entered, but his thoughts were
racing.
Paint the panels! It would take the whole crew, and they'd never get
it off. If they opaqued with paint the ship would be blind for weeks.
The filter shutters—great strips of polarized colloid—were the only
solution to the problem of keeping out the worst of the sun's dread
radiations, but admitting enough light to guide the ship. But they had
to be put on externally, before the ship took off. Mars? This ship,
ports transparent as they were, would never dare approach the sun's
blinding energies closer than Jupiter!
No wonder they didn't want me, Nolan thought grimly. They're not
going within a hundred million miles of Mars!
The thought froze in Nolan's mind as he entered the captain's cabin.
First he saw the captain, a tall, demon-black Martio-Terrestrial,
standing before his own desk. Then his eyes flicked past, toward the
florid-faced man who sat behind the desk, fumbling with a cigarette
lighter.
And then, for the first time in three years, he was face to face with
Alan Woller.
Nolan might have showed a flicker of emotion in his face. Heaven
knows, the blast of iron hatred that surged up through his body was
powerful enough. But Woller was lighting a cigarette. The second
that it took him to finish it and look up was time enough for Nolan to
freeze.
"Vincennes is my name," the captain was saying. "What's yours?"
"Matthews. I'm sorry to have forced my way onto your ship, but I had
to get to Mars."
Woller looked up then, and a sudden trace of consternation flashed
into his eyes. It died away, but a doubt remained.
He stared intently at Nolan, then said: "Why?"
Nolan smiled easily. "A lot of reasons—all of them personal. Who are
you?"
Woller stood up. "I own this ship," he said coldly. "I didn't ask you
aboard. Now that you're here, you'll answer my question or get off."
The time for a showdown had arrived. Well, Nolan thought, it had to
come some time. He was strangely relaxed.
He shrugged. "You've got a point there," he admitted. "Well—"
He frowned and raised his hand as though to scratch his head,
changed the motion in mid-air. And with the speed of a hopped-up
narcophene smoker, the thin-snouted pyro was in his fist, slowly
traversing a lethal arc that covered both men.
His voice was taut as he spoke. "It's your ship, Woller, but I'm taking
it over. Woller—Alan Woller—look at me. Do you know who I am?"
Woller stared deep into the icy eyes confronting him. The doubt
flared again in his own. His jaw dropped slack. His brows lifted and
he whispered, "Nolan!"
Nolan didn't bother to nod. He said grimly, "Your hands—hold them
where they are. You, too, Vincennes. I've come a long way for this
and I don't mind killing. You taught me that, Woller. A man's life is
nothing. Mine was nothing to you, when it endangered the dirty little
treacheries you were working."
The life seemed to have gone out of Woller and left only a hulking,
pallid carcass, propped up by the internal pressure of its own fear.
There was murky horror crawling in his eyes.

Steve Nolan looked at him and his thin lips curled into a snarling grin.
But those were only his lips. Strangely, there was no triumph in his
heart, none of the fierce pleasure he'd dreamed of all those dreary
years. There was only dull disgust, and the hint of a long-dead hope
for rest again. Rest, and the common things of life on the Earth
which was forbidden to him.
Woller could die before him now, and he would be avenged. But
Woller alive could say the words that would wipe out the banishment,
would return him to the green star that was home. Woller could be
made to confess—
"I ought to blast you now," he said in a soft, chill tone that was like a
whip to Woller, jerking him upright. "I ought to, and I will if I must.
But you can live if you want to."
Woller was licking his lips, his face a mask, only his panic-stricken
eyes alive.
"You can live," Nolan repeated. "A full statement about the Junta
frame, in writing. Write it out and thumbprint it, and we'll telestat it
to the nearest TPL station. Then you can have the lifeboat, Woller,
and as much of a start as TPL gives you. Are you willing to pay that
much for your life, Woller?"
Woller's lips were stiff but he forced the words through. "Go to hell."
Nolan nodded, and the deadly weariness settled down over him
again. "I see your point, of course," he said slowly. "Tri-planet doesn't
come out here much and a man is reasonably safe from them. But
you, Woller—power's your life blood. And a man on the run can't
have much power. I know."
His finger curled on the trigger of the pyro and Woller, staring avidly,
desperately, whitened at the mouth. His lips moved as though about
to form words—
Nolan's trigger-sharp senses caught a hint of movement behind him.
Fool! he thought desperately. The door! He tried to hurl his body
aside, out of the way of the door that opened behind him. But he
couldn't do that and keep the pyro leveled on the two men at the
desk. He saw Woller, exultant hatred leaping into his purpled face,
plunging for a drawer of the desk; saw the door opening and
someone stepping through. Then, just as he was leveling the gun on
Woller again, he saw the flashing swing of the other man in the
room. Forgotten Vincennes—with a heavy nightstone paperweight
held bludgeon-like in his hand, leaping in at him. He had no chance
even to try to turn. The weight was coming down on the side of his
head. All he could do was try to roll with it.
But the momentum was immense and the heavy weight struck him
down to the floor, drove him headlong into unconsciousness....

Somebody was kicking him. Nolan groaned once, then compressed

his lips as he remembered where he was.
He opened his eyes and rolled over. The blubbery Venusian second
was standing over him, face sullen but eyes glinting with perverse
pleasure. He raised his heavy spaceman's boot again—
"Hold it," said Woller from the desk. They were still in the cabin.
Woller got up, came over, looking down at Nolan. His bearing was
confident again; he exuded an aura of brutal power.
"You should have killed me, Nolan," he said. "You only get the one
chance, you see."
Nolan silently pushed himself erect. His ribs were agonized where the
second had booted them, and a blinding throb in the skull reminded
him of the captain's blow. He was conscious that his armpit holster
hung light. The pyro was gone.
Vincennes had left. Only Woller and the Venusian second were in the
cabin with him. "My only doubt," Woller was saying, "is whether to
blast you now or save you for a little later, when I'll have more time."
"Sure," said Nolan tonelessly. "If you want my vote, it's for now. Get
it over with."
Woller nodded. "That would be much pleasanter for you. I think I'll
save you." He nodded slowly. Then, to the mate, "Take him below!"
Back down the corridor, the mocking stars still bright through the
crystal underfoot. Back and down, till they came to the gray room,
where the pulsing, whining generators spun their web of anti-
gravitational power.
"We don't have a brig," the mate apologized. "But I think this will
hold you in."
Eyes warily on Nolan, he circled him and opened a round metal door.
It was an unused storeroom, bare except for rows of vacant metal
shelves.
"In you go," said the Venusian, and Nolan complied. The door
slammed behind him and was bolted.
There was a whine in the air, he noticed. The singing of the grav-
generators. It was not unpleasant ... at least, not unbearable, he
corrected himself. But how it persisted! It was constant as the
keening of a jammed frequency-modulator, high as the wail of a
banshee.
He let his aching body slip to the floor, lay there without even trying
to think. He raised his head for a searching second, but there was
nothing to see. Bare walls, bare shelves.
He was helpless. His chance might come when the second let him
out. Till then, he would sleep.
When had he slept last? Save for the few minutes of
unconsciousness, it was easily thirty hours. He pillowed his head on
his arm....
He moved his head uncomfortably, burrowed his ear deeper into his
biceps. That damned keening! He shifted restlessly, stopped his
exposed ear with his other hand. That movement racked the beaten
ribs, but the shrilling, soft and remorseless, kept on. It was enough
to drive a man mad! It was—
He sat bolt upright, eyes flaring angrily. That was what Woller had
planned!
It was torture—subtle, undramatic, simple. But pure, horrid torture.
Nolan's face was gray with strain. It was incredible that a sound, a
noise, could become a threat. He'd heard the same sound a million
times before, though never at such close range, or from such titanic
generators. But now—
He began trying to fill his mind with other things, but there was no
room for thought in a brain that was brimming with naked sound.
Snatches of school-days poetry, long columns of multiplication tables
—They jumbled in his brain. The lines ran together and muddled,
were drowned out by the wail of the generators. He gave up and sat
there, forcing himself to be still, while the sound hovered in the
atmosphere all around him, his jaw muscles taut enough to bite
through steel, a great pulse pounding in his temples....
Flesh could stand only so much. After a while—he didn't know when
—he was mercifully unconscious.

A volcano erupted under him and awoke. His whole body was a mass
of flame now, head throbbing like the jets of a twenty-ton freight
skid, chest and ribs as sore as though they were flayed. A sickening
weight held him crushed against the metal floor.
The roaring from without was the sound of the rockets, loud enough
to drown out the whine that had nearly killed him. The ship was
landing. And at once there was a gentle jar, then a dizzying vertigo as
the grav-web was cut off abruptly. The rockets died down and were
silent.
Everything was silent. The change was fantastic, a dream. Nolan,
lying there, thought the silence was the finest thing he had ever
heard.
It didn't last. There were footsteps outside, and the Venusian second
mate entered. "On your feet," he said curtly. "The boss is ready for
you."
Nolan stood up cautiously. His feet were shaky, but he could use
them. He stepped over the rounded sill and followed the Venusian's
directions. There were men in the corridor, some of them in heat
suits. Nolan wondered where they were. Neptune was on the other
side of the sun—could they be as far in as Uranus? How long had he
been unconscious!
"Get moving," repeated the second, and Nolan moved.
The blessed stillness! He was grinning to himself as he walked along
the corridor, listening for the lethal whine that wasn't there any more.
When they got to where Woller, space-suited and bloated, was
directing a crew of men in the moving of a bulky object, Woller noted
the grin. He was not pleased.
"Enjoying yourself, Nolan?" he asked, unsmiling. "That will have to
stop."
A grin stayed on Nolan's face, but it was not the same one. It was a
savage threat. Woller looked at it, and looked hastily away.
"Stand him over in the corner," he said to the Venusian second. "I'll
attend to him right away. Business first."
The second jerked a thumb at the corner formed by the airlock door
and the wall of the corridor. Nolan looked in the direction indicated,
and a sudden tic in his brows showed a thought that had come to
him. The red signal light winked out as he watched; the inner door
had closed.
He stared through the transparency at what was beyond. Darkness
was all he could see—darkness, and the light-dotted outline of
buildings in the distance. Just beyond the lock was something that
looked like a skid, with men's figures around it. His forehead
puckered, and his eyes returned to the signal light, now dark—
The Venusian second watched Nolan limp slowly over to the indicated
position. His eyes narrowed. "Hey, what's the matter?" he asked
surlily.
Nolan shook his head. "Something in my shoe," he said. He halted
and balanced himself on one foot, poking into the offending footgear.
"A button, I guess," he said as drew out, concealed, something that
he knew quite well was not a button.
He breathed a silent prayer, and it was answered. The Venusian
grunted and turned away. Nolan walked quickly over to the wall, by
the lock light, turned and stood surveying the scene without interest.
His hands apparently were linked idly behind him—but behind his
back they were moving swiftly, dexterously. A clink of glass sounded,
and Nolan winced as a sharp sliver cut his thumb. Then he stood
motionless, waiting.
The men were shock-wrapping a long, casket-like object. To judge by
the care they were using, the contents were delicate and the
handling would be rough, Nolan noted absently. Explosives, perhaps?
The last loop of elastic webbing went around it, and the Venusian
second pulled it taut. "All right," he grunted. "Take it away."
"Lock!" bawled Woller as the men picked up the bundle. That was
Nolan's signal.
As slowly as he could manage he stepped idly away from the lock,
away from the signal light, hugging the wall.
A deckhand, not troubling to look at the warning light across the
corridor—Nolan mentally thanked his gods—touched the release that
opened the lock door. And—
Ravenous flame lashed out from the wall.

IV

Nolan was in motion before the incandescent gases had died. The
half-dozen men who had been in the corridor were either down on
the floor or blindly reeling about. Even without a proton-reflector
behind it to focus its fierce energies, a pyro charge exploded on
unarmored men can do a lot of damage.
Nolan blessed the hunch that had warned of trouble, the
remembrance of an old spacer's trick that had led him to hide a pyro
charge in his shoe, back there in the stateroom. Still it had been luck,
pure and simple, that gave him the chance to open the signal light
socket, take out the lume and put the pyro pellet between the
contacts. When he'd got out of range and the automatic warning as
the lock opened had touched it off—
Catastrophe. He'd known when to close his eyes, where to stand for
safety. The others hadn't. And so the others were blind.
He grabbed a pyro from a writhing wretch on the floor—there was
horror in him as he saw the seared face that had once been that of
the Venusian second. He picked a heat suit out of the cubby, and was
into it and in the lock before the blinded men who had escaped the
full flare could recover themselves.
The lock doors took an eternity to work, but at last he was out in the
cold, black open. A hasty glance at the landscape told him nothing.
Uranus or Pluto—it had to be one of them. That was all.
A man was just coming out of the skid, perhaps twenty feet away.
Nolan clicked on his radio, waited for the inevitable question—but it
didn't come. The man's transparent faceplate merely turned
incuriously to Nolan for a second, then bent to examination of the
fastenings of the skid's lock. Nolan turned calmly and strode off along
the side of the ship. When he rounded the stern he broke into a run,
heading straight out across charred earth to a chain of hummocks
that promised shelter.
How long would pursuit be delayed? Late or soon, it would come.
Nolan realized that he had no plan. But he had life, and freedom.
He topped the first of the hummocks, scrambled down into the
trough behind it. He was relatively safe there, as he cautiously
elevated his head to examine the ship and what lay behind it.
Already—it had been scant minutes since the carnage in the lock
corridor—the search for him had begun. He saw a perfectly round
spot of brilliance fall on the side of the ship, then dance away.
Through the ice-clear Plutonian night he could make out the figure of
a man with a hand light scanning the belly of the ship, looking to see
if Nolan had hidden himself there. They would quickly learn the
answer to that—and know what he had done.
Beyond the ship were a few dim lights, distorted by a crystal dome. It
was another city—or not quite a city, but a domed settlement out
here in the wilderness.
Without warning a sun blossomed on the side of the ship. Nolan
stood frozen for a split second, then dropped, cursing. They'd seen
him, somehow, had turned the ship's powerful landing beam on him.
But how?
A soundless bolt of lightning that splashed against a higher hill
behind him drove speculation out of his mind. Nolan frowned. The
ship was armed—he hadn't known that. Installation of pyros in
interplanetary craft was the most forbidden thing of the starways. But
there was no time for wonder.
As another blast sheared off the crest of a hill, Nolan, keeping low,
scuttled away behind the shelter of the hummocks. His only safety
was in flight. Armor he had none. The frozen gases that comprised
the hummocks would never stop the dread thrust of a properly-aimed
pyro.
He fled a hundred yards, then waited. Silence. He risked a quick look,
saw nothing, retired behind the shelter of the hill to consider. They'd
suspended fire—did they think him dead? Did they know he had
escaped?
Or was there a hidden danger in this? It might be a ruse. They could
be waiting for him to move, to show himself....
Nolan shivered, and absently turned up the heat control of his suit.
He felt suddenly hopeless. One man against—what? His thoughts,
unbidden, reverted to the girl he had left in Avalon, and to the sordid
fear that she might be what she seemed. Nolan's cheek muscles drew
tight, and his face hardened. Woller, partly protected by his heat suit,
undoubtedly had lived through the instant inferno when the pyro
charge went off. That was one more thing against him—the girl.
Nolan sighed.
And a faint reverberation on the soles of his feet brought him stark
upright, staring frantically over the sheltering mound of ice. A skid
was racing down on him.
Before he could move its light flared out, spotted him.
And a tiny voice within his helmet said, "Don't move, Nolan. You can't
get away now. You'll die if you try. Next time you play hide-and-seek
with me, Nolan—don't leave your helmet radio on!"

If Woller had burned with rage before, now he was frozen. He was a
blind man there before Nolan, his eyes swathed in thick white
bandages. But the hulking Earthman with the pyro who stood by his
side, and lean black Captain Vincennes at the controls, were eyes
enough for him.
"But I wish I could see you myself," Woller said softly, his fingers
drumming idly against the wide fabric arm of his cushioned
passenger's chair. "The ship's surgeon says it may be weeks before I
see again. If I could afford to keep you alive that long—" He sighed
regretfully. "No, I can't afford it," he concluded. "There are more
important things, though nothing—" his voice shook but kept its chill
calm—"that would give me more pleasure than to see you die."
"We could save him, Woller," Vincennes said. "Pickle him in a sleep-
box like—"
"Be still, Vincennes!" Woller's voice was sharp. "I'll ask for advice
when I want it!"
A sleep-box—Nolan remembered suddenly what they were. Small
coffins, large enough for a man, equipped with an atomic-powered
generator that kept the occupant in a sort of half-death, not
breathing or able to move, but capable of existing almost indefinitely
without food.
Nolan wondered absently what they were doing with sleep-boxes,
then gave it up. It didn't matter. He cursed the carelessness that had
led him to leave the radio on in his suit. It had been simple for the
Dragonfly's radio-man to tune in on its carrier wave, get a radio fix on
his position.
The skid swerved abruptly in a sloppy turn, and the surly earth man
at the controls halted it and looked around. "Okay," he grunted.
"Here we are."
Woller nodded. "Take me out," he ordered. "Nolan, too."
Nolan peered out the window. Absorbed in self-recrimination, he
hadn't paid attention to their trip. He was surprised to find gleaming
metal all around the skid. They were in a heat lock—they had come
to the domed settlement.
The Martian Vincennes went first. As soon as the pressure gauge
showed he was safely outside the Earthman gestured to Nolan. He
wedged himself wearily into the air chamber, closed the door. He was
ready for a break when the outer portal opened ... but there was no
break. Not with Vincennes and his ready pyro there.
Woller, stumbling and cursing, followed, and the Earthman. Vincennes
opened the main lock and they went into the dome.
There were two great ships inside, dimly lighted by a string of pale
lumes overhead. Nolan looked at the mass of them, at the rodlike
projections clustered around the nose, and knew them for what they
were. Warships!
Scaffolding was still around them. They were not yet ready for
launching, not ready for whatever mission of treason Woller had
planned them for. But by the look of them the day was close. And
Nolan was—awaiting execution.
One look at Woller's iron countenance under the tape showed that.
Vincennes' hand, tight-knuckled around the butt of his gun, was
ample confirmation.
But the moment had not yet come. Woller said, "Are they waiting?"
Vincennes' glance sped to a lighted door at the far side of the hangar.
"Looks that way," he said. "Shall I attend to Nolan first? He's tricky—"
Woller laughed softly. "He's used up all his tricks. We'll take him with
us, alive. He might come in handy. He's been out of sight for three
years now. I'm just a bit curious where he's been. Perhaps it's
somewhere we should know about."
He groped for Vincennes' arm, found it. "Let's go," he said. "We can't
keep the chief waiting."

Nolan was first through the door. He was in a small room where four
or five ordinary-looking people were siting around at ease. One was
in uniform, the others the perfect example of quite successful
businessmen.
"Is he here yet?" whispered Woller. The Martian looked around the
room before he answered.
"Not yet. Cafferty—Lieutenant Brie—Searle—Vremczyk. That's all."
The dumpling-shaped soldier in the gray-green of Pluto's militia
stared at Woller. "What the devil's the matter with your face?" he
spluttered.
Woller answered before Vincennes could. "I had an accident, Brie,"
he snapped. "Keep your fat nose out of it."
The dumpling turned purple. But he said nothing, and Nolan realized
Woller's importance in this gathering. This gathering of—what?
Nolan looked around quickly, and the answer raced to his brain. An
officer of Pluto's defense forces—two or three well-dressed men,
apparently wealthy, with something about them that shrieked
"politico"—and Woller, once overlord of the System's greatest news-
dissemination agency, still a man of vast influence. It looked like the
back room of a political convention—or the gathering of a cabal.
The Junta!
It had to be the Junta.
What they were saying began to make sense. A tall man in dove gray
was speaking.
"We're not satisfied, candidly," he was saying. "Woller, you've had
more money than our resources can afford. Everything you've asked
for you got. And what have you to show for it? Three ships—not one
of them fit to fly."
Woller laughed contemptuously. "Candidly, Cafferty," he mimicked, "I
don't care how you feel. My money's gone right along with yours.
Warships cost money."
"So do thousand-acre Martian estates," shot the little lieutenant.
"How much of your money is in these ships—and how much of ours
is in your pockets?"
Woller turned his blind eyes toward the lieutenant and stood
motionless for a second. Then, softly, "Once again, Brie—keep your
fat face shut. You are not indispensable."
The pudgy soldier glared and opened his mouth to speak—but an
interruption halted the quarrel. The door opened without warning,
and another man entered.
What he looked like Nolan could not guess. He wore a heat suit with
the helmet down. The polar-plastic faceplate was set for one-way
vision. Even his voice was muffled and distorted as he spoke.
"Are we all here?" he asked. The others seemed to note nothing odd
about his incognito—did he always disguise himself, Nolan wondered?
"Where's Orlando?"
Brie answered. "He was on Mars, on the other side of the sun. He's
on his way."
The mirror-faced helmet bobbed as its owner nodded. Then it turned
toward Nolan. "What's this?" he asked, advancing.
Vincennes gestured with the pyro. "His name is Nolan," he said. "He
tried to get rough with Mr. Woller. He's dangerous."
"Dangerous!" The blurred voice was angry. "Then why is he here? We
have enough danger as it is. Give me that pyro!"
This was it, Nolan knew, and he tensed his body for the leap he had
to attempt, though he knew it was useless. The man in the heat suit
reached for Vincennes' pyro. In the moment while the gun was
passing from hand to hand there might be a chance....
There were shouts from outside, and the sound of running feet. The
man in the heat suit whirled. "Bolt that door!" he shouted. "Bolt it!
Now!"
Brie, dazed for a second, sprang to obey. Then he turned, his plump,
pale face damp with sudden sweat. "What is this, Chief?" he asked.
"Are we—is there trouble?"
Chief! thought Nolan. So this hooded stranger was the leader of the
conspiracy. Masked, disguised like the bandit chief of a flamboyant
operetta.
The Chief was laughing. "Lots of trouble," he answered. The dull
shouting from outside continued, rising to a crescendo as whoever
was without pounded against the door and found it locked. Then
abruptly it subsided. The huge telescreen on the desk buzzed sharply.
The solid little man seated beside it automatically clicked the switch
that turned it on.
"Turn it off!" bellowed the man in the heat suit. But it was already
working. The prismatic flare on the screen showed no vision impulses
were coming in, showed that whoever was calling was using a sound
transmitter only—a portable set like those in a heat suit. A voice said
sharply:
"Attention, Junta! The man who claims to be the Chief is a
masquerader. Kill him! This is the Chief speaking now!"

V
Doubt sprang into the eyes of every man present. It lasted only a
second—for the masquerader's action proved the charge against him.
He grappled the pyro from dazed Vincennes, sprang back, fired a
warning blast that smashed the telescreen.
"Don't move, anybody!" he ordered. "Nolan—take their guns!"
Nolan threw questions to the winds, sped to obey. He found a
business-like little heat pencil in the inner pockets of the chunky man,
a pearl-handled burlesque of the service pyro in the gaudy gemmed
holster Lieutenant Brie dangled from his belt. Nothing else—and his
search was thorough.
"All set," he reported.
"Good enough. Searle—are there heat suits in this room?"
The chunky man looked stricken. He nodded. "In that locker," he said
dizzily, pointing to the wall.
"Get them out, Nolan. Give one to every man and put one on
yourself. Those outside will take their chances."
Nolan raced to comply. The stillness outside the door was menacing.
While he was dragging the suits out, throwing them at the men,
while they were putting them on, the man called Searle was staring
at the masquerader with dawning comprehension.
"What are you going to do?" he whispered. "Are you—"
The man in the heat suit laughed sharply. "Get your suit on," he said.
"You know what I'm going to do. All set?" Every man was garbed,
helmets down. "Ten seconds to seal them. One, two, three—"
He counted slowly and Nolan watched him with fascination. At five
the gauntleted left hand came up to the butt of the pyro, worked the
tiny chambering lever half a dozen times. Nolan gasped in spite of
himself. There were seven lethal pyro charges in the chamber of that
gun—enough to blast down a mountain!
The count was finished. Through Nolan's helmet radio, automatically
turned on, the man's calm voice ordered, "All right, Nolan. Open the
door and let them in!"
Nolan moved. As his hand was on the lock, just as it turned and the
door swung loosely inward—
Blam! the impostor swung and fired the massive charge in his pyro at
the thin wall that kept air and life in the dome!
They were running over icy ground. At most there was a minute or so
of advantage—less, if the men they'd left in the room had other
weapons concealed somewhere. And still Nolan didn't know who his
savior was.
"All right, now," he panted over the helmet phone. "Give. Who are
you?"
The answer was a chuckle, mixed with gasping as the smaller man
strove to match his speed. "Tell you later," he panted.
"Hold it!" Nolan broke in, suddenly recalling the oversight that had
been so disastrous before. "Don't tell me. Show me—and turn off
your radio. They've got tracers."

There was a snort of sudden comprehension from the phone, then

silence. Nolan looked to see the figure spurt into the lead, gesture
ahead. They were rounding the dome. The bulk of the Dragonfly
appeared, with a big cargo skid drawn up beside it. The gesticulating
arm of the other man pointed directly at it.
Nolan glanced around. There was no one following—yet.
The men hadn't had weapons, then—and those who had been
outside would not be pursuing anybody. He tried to thrust from his
mind the recollection of what had happened when the sucking rush
of escaping air had thrown wide open the door he had unlocked, and
the tug of naked vacuum gripped the men behind it. A dozen of them
there had been, hulking brutes from the flight sheds of a system's
blowsiest ports, and one man in a heat suit, faceplate mirrored like
that of the man Nolan ran beside. It is not pleasant to see a strong
man try to shriek in agony, and fail because the air has bubbled from
his lungs.
The outer door of the skid was open, and the impostor trotted in.
When Nolan was beside him he leaned on the lock control. Ever so
slowly, the outer door closed; slowly the inner opened.
They burst into a chamber where a man was just rising from a
telescreen, face contorted with consternation and hate, hand bringing
up a pyro from a drawer in the chart table.
The pseudo-chief's gun spoke first, and the head and shoulders of
the other disappeared in a burst of flame and sickening smoke. There
was no time for delicacy. Ruthlessly shoving the seared corpse away,
the stranger dove for the controls, touched the jet keys.
The ungainly skid shuddered, then drove forward. The stranger
opened all jets to the limits of their power. Creaking and groaning,
the skid responded. The dial of the speed indicator showed mounting
acceleration, far beyond what the ship was designed for.
Nolan, clinging with one arm to a floor-bolted chair, threw back his
helmet and yelled: "I'm ready any time! What's the story? Who the
devil are you?"
The impostor waved a hand impatiently. His muffled voice came:
"Take a look in there. There may be more aboard!"
Nolan grimaced and nodded. He picked his way over the jolting floor,
blaster out, to the threshold. His groping hand encountered the lume
switch, flooded the cargo hatch with light. It was almost empty. A
few crates, the long casket-like object he had seen in the ship.
Nothing behind which a man could hide.
Nolan turned to see the masquerader unzipping the folds of his heat
suit with one hand while he guided the careening skid with the other.
He brought out a tiny black box, opened it to show a key and a lever.
He thumbed the lever open, braced the box between his knees,
began tapping the key rhythmically. A curious shrill staccato came
from the box. Dee dideedeedit didideedit deedeedit deedeedee didee
didididit—
After a second he stopped, waited. Then faintly an answer came back
from the box. Deedeedee dideedidit—
And silence. Satisfied, the man closed the box, slowed the skid to a
point where its guidance no longer required complete attention. They
had reached the ring of ice hummocks that surrounded Woller's
dome. The skid bounded over the first rise, zoomed through that
trough and the next; then the man kicked the rudder jets. It spun
along the trough to where the hummocks were highest; then he cut
the jets.
He turned to Nolan, threw back his helmet.
"My God," gasped Nolan. "Pete!"

Petersen grinned. "You called it, boy," he admitted. "Don't I get

around though?"
Nolan closed his eyes and tightened his grip on the back of his chair.
"The story," he said. "Quick."
Petersen shrugged. "How can I tell it quick? It's long.... Maybe if I tell
you one thing you can fill in the details."
"What's the one thing?"
"I work for TPL."
TPL—Tri-planet Law! That explained—
Nolan exhaled slowly. "I begin to see," he said. "I always did think
you knew too much for a guy that made his living at cards."
Petersen laughed. "My biggest trouble," he said wryly. "I can't win at
cards. Whatever I do. It's been quite a drawback to my career. You
can see how people would get suspicious of a professional gambler
who always loses. I had to keep on the move."
Nolan's brain was beginning to work again. "But listen," he said.
"How come you didn't turn me in when you picked me up—right after
I escaped? If you worked for the Law—"
Petersen's face grew serious. "Boy," he said, "you gave us a lot of
trouble. You and your escapes. We weren't planning to keep you in
jail, Steve. Any fool could see you were being framed—fixed court,
semi-pro witnesses. But TPL couldn't step in, out in the open. We
didn't know enough for a showdown. So you were going to be
summoned to Mars for further questioning. When we found out all
you knew you were to be taken care of some way or other. Given a
new identity, kept undercover until we were ready to move."
"And I jumped the gun."
Petersen nodded. "I was in the neighborhood, heading for Earth. The
TPL man on the ship called Earth Base; they called me. The ship had
you spotted, but they decided not to pick you up. Base figured that if
you thought you were being hunted you'd keep yourself under cover
and we wouldn't have to bother. And if I picked you up I could pump
you myself."
Nolan grinned. "How did you do?"
"Fine. You talked more than a ventriloquist with a two-tongued
dummy.... Then you turn up on Pluto, just when things are getting
hot."
"After three years of hiding in third-grade ratholes for fear of the
law." There was no bitterness in Nolan's voice. Just a calm statement
of an unpleasant fact.
Petersen's voice was level, too, but his eyes were alert as he watched
Nolan. "That couldn't be helped, Steve. You know what was at stake."
Abruptly the grin returned. "The whole damned System, that's all,"
Nolan said a little proudly. "Well ... go ahead with your story."
Petersen shrugged. He looked a little relieved as he spoke. "You know
most of it. Oh—one part you don't know. Woller's daughter—her
name's Ailse—knew about what he was doing. She just found out
about it. We had a maid working in her home in Aylette—she didn't
generally stay with Woller; they didn't get along."
Nolan's brows lifted. "Oh?"
"Yep. Ailse was worried silly. She even talked to the maid—not much,
just enough that we could figure out what was happening. It seemed
she was going to confront Woller with what she knew, try to talk him
out of treason."
"A real good idea," Nolan remarked. "Knowing Woller—"
"That's how we knew where this base was. She told the maid. Oh,
you do know where you are, don't you? On Pluto. The wildest section
there is, north of Annihilation Range."
"How about this cockeyed disguise of yours? Who is this Chief you
were supposed to be?"

Petersen frowned. "Don't know, exactly," he admitted. "There are

three men it could be—they're all connected with the Junta, we're
pretty sure. They're all on Saturn, and we got word that they were
rendezvousing here. We knew the boss kept his identity hidden by
wearing this get-up, so I was detailed to cut in."
Nolan nodded. Then, his thoughts reverting, he said. "Where's the—
where's Ailse now?"
Petersen looked unhappy. "Uh—I don't know. After you left we sent
for her, just to see what she knew that might help. The maid went
after her—and couldn't find her. She'd gone out of town, wasn't
expected back for some time. We couldn't wait. All the leaders of the
Junta meeting here—it was too big a chance."
Nolan said, "Well, what are we doing about it? They're all there, and
they're warned. And we're out here, parked on the edge of nowhere,
waiting for them to get up a scout party and grab us."
Petersen turned to look out the window in the direction of the dome.
He scanned the skies carefully, then pursed his lips.
"Well, no, Steve," he said, pointing. "Take a look."
Arrowing lines of fire were swooping down from far into the
blackness. Three trails of white flame showed where three ships were
plummeting to the surface. Nolan turned to Petersen with a startled
question in his eyes.
"Watch," Petersen advised. "This'll be worth seeing!"
Down and down they drove, faster than meteor ever fell. A mile
above the ground the jets behind died, and yellow flame burst ahead
of them, flaring quickly to white. They slowed, poised, and then, in
perfect unison, spun off to one side. They came around in a great
circle and dived at the ground again. And repeated the operation,
over and over.
And abruptly Nolan saw what was happening. He was witnessing the
systematic annihilation of the domed settlement! Immense bursts of
fire from ship-sized pyros were blazing into the ground. The
hummocks prevented a dear view, but Nolan could see from the
reflected glare on the mountainsides behind that the destruction was
frightful.
"I called them," Petersen said softly. "You saw me call them. That
black box—it's a telesonde."
Nolan didn't turn, fascinated by the sight. "What's a telesonde?" he
asked absently.
"A radio that carries neither voice nor vision. Only one note short or
long depending on how long the key is held down. Your great-great-
grandfather knew about it. It was the first method of wireless
communication. Now it's so completely forgotten that when TPL
researchers dug it up it was adopted as the most secret method of
communication available."
Nolan nodded his head. The ships came around again, and down.
This time the forward jets were delayed. When they flared out they
persisted, while the ships dropped gently out of sight. They were
landing.
The destruction of the dome was complete.
Nolan turned away. "Quite a sight," he said slowly. "They deserved to
die, of course...."
"Steve."
Nolan's eyes narrowed suddenly. He looked at Petersen. "Yes?"

Petersen, for once, seemed almost at a loss for words. He licked his
lips before he spoke. "Steve—there are one or two other things. Did
you know that Ailse wasn't Woller's daughter by blood?"
Nolan looked at him unbelievingly. "Not his daughter?"
Petersen shook his head. "Woller married a widow. A wealthy one,
with a daughter. They didn't get along too well. The woman died.
Some people thought it might be suicide."
The quick joy flooded up in Nolan. Petersen saw it and his face grew
somber. "That's one of the things, Steve," he said. "The other one—
Hell, this is hard to say."
Nolan stood up and the joy was gone from his face. "Damn you,
Pete," he said emotionlessly. "Don't break things gently to me."
Petersen shrugged. "Ailse wasn't anywhere we could find her—and
we know a lot of places to look in. The ship left to come here. She
was at Woller's home till just before then. Woller sent men to bring
something from his apartment to the ship. I thought it was papers at
the time—but it could have been a girl. So—where does that leave
Ailse?"
Where? Nolan stood rocklike as the thought trickled through the
automatic barrier his mind had set up. Where did it leave Ailse?
A charred fragment of what had once been beauty. A castoff target
for TPL's searching pyros.
"I'll say it again, Steve. You know what was at stake. If the Junta had
time—Well, we didn't know what kind of weapons they had there.
That was one reason why I was sent ahead in that crazy disguise. If I
had had time to scout around it might have been possible to do
things less bloodily. I didn't have time. We couldn't take chances."
There was no anger in Nolan, no room for it. He sat there, waiting for
Petersen to start the jets and send them back to the dome. He knew
how he would scour the ashes, hoping against hope. And he knew
what he would find.
It would have been better, he thought, almost to have died under
Woller's pyro, or the TPL ships'. If he'd stayed behind—if Woller had
put him in the sleep-box as Vincennes had suggested, and he had
shared obliteration with her....
The sleep-box! The casket!

It took Petersen a full second to recover from his surprise when the
frozen face of Nolan suddenly glowed with hope, when he leaped up
and dashed into the cargo hatch. It took him minutes to follow him.
Minutes spent in making the difficult decision of whether or not he
should prevent a man from taking his own life.
The decision was wasted, he found. Behind the scattered boxes of
pyro shells, wedged into a corner of the hold, Nolan knelt beside a
long, narrow casket. Fiber shock-wrapping was scattered about.
Nolan's fumbling fingers were working the latch of the casket, lifting
the lid....
The shout that left his lips was deafening in the small hold. Petersen
looked closer, tiptoed up—
And all the way back to the waiting ships of the TPL Petersen was
grinning to himself. Though his hands guided the ship skillfully as
ever, though his gaze was outward at the flowing terrain beneath, he
saw but one thing.
The tableau as he had approached the casket and seen Nolan, face
indescribably tender, shutting off the sleep currents, reaching for the
ampoule of stimulant that would revive the unconscious dark-haired
girl within.
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