"The flight beam failed; the supply ship exploded."

"And killed them all." She said it flatly, without feeling—but Tchassen doubted that she would have mourned the loss of her husband in any case.

"I'll have to get word through to the coast. We'll need a rescue helio and—"

"I know how to use the emergency transmitter," Tynia volunteered. "There may be other survivors, Captain Tchassen; they'll need your help."

"I don't want to leave you alone, Tynia." It was the first time he spoke her given name, though the informality was commonplace among the junior officers on the post. "The prisoners are out of the compound. We may have trouble."

"Not yet, Captain; they're still unarmed. I'll be all right." She nodded toward the crater. "We have to make sure there's no one else alive down there."

He left her reluctantly. She went toward the emergency communications room, buried in a metal-walled pillbox which had been intentionally located far from the center of the station. Tchassen walked across the scarred earth in the direction of the crater. None of the important buildings had survived. Concussion had torn up the fence around the prison compound, but the cell block, half a mile from the explosion and built of concrete and steel, was still standing. The watch tower, beyond the prison building, stood askew on bent metal pillars, but it was otherwise undamaged.

The Captain knew that at least two guards were on watch duty at all hours; they might still be alive. He crossed the crater and pulled himself up the battered stairs to the top of the tower. The door was jammed. Using a broken piece of railing as a lever, he pried it open. He found the two guards unconscious, slumped across their observation console.

He gave them shock capsules, but the men regained consciousness slowly. While he waited, Tchassen read their identity disks. The Corporal, Gorin Drein, was a three-year draftee, serving a six month tour of duty on Earth. He was a fair-haired, blue-eyed boy, probably no more than twenty years old. Sergeant Briggan was an army career man, in his fifties and only a few years away from retirement. Yet the only physical indication of his age was the touch of gray in his bristling mane of dark hair.

When their erratic breathing steadied and they opened their eyes, the Captain explained what had happened. Both men were still groggy; the shock pills 

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