Freedman didn't answer.

"I suppose on account of Jerry, huh?" Folley said. "You were talking to Jerry just before he died, they said."

Freedman found his voice.

"I tried to warn him."

Folley nodded slightly.

"If you had been with him, you'd have known the tunnel head was blocked. You had that gift, the sense of feeling pressure changes. You would have saved Jerry."

Freedman didn't answer. He had left the Warrior Patrol and come back to his old job again. He had to carry on for Jerry Graham.

"Well," Folley said suddenly, "I know what you want, and I don't need you. You quit once. That's enough. Go back and get all the glory you can out of army life. We'll get along."

He stood up and turned his back to Freedman.

Freedman picked up the release papers and put them into his pocket slowly. His hands shook.

"Pete," he said, "I was a fool. It took Jerry's death to make me see it. I came back to say I was sorry. Jerry Graham was like a brother to me. I want the old job back. I want to open the tunnel and keep it open."

Pete Folley faced him slowly. He looked very tired. His face was pale and dark pockets stood out under his eyes.

"I'm giving up," he said desperately. "I can't fight alone. Ten of my best men have been killed in a week. As fast as we open the tunnel, an enemy ship darts in and commits suicide to blow it closed again. I haven't got the men or the guts to keep on fighting. It's up to the Warrior Patrol to protect the tunnel. Your place is with them."

Freedman wanted to help Folley then. Wanted to prove his worth all over again.

"Pete, you and I started the tunnel. We always have kept it open. If we work together now, I think we can do it again. You, I and—Jerry."

There was a brief flash of hope in Folley's eyes. Then it faded and he looked glum.

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