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the items I hold up for you. Get a repeater on my suit’s radiation snooper. I may be too busy to watch it.”
    â€œRight,” said Ramsey.
    Garcia already was pulling on another suit. Bonnett was moving aft toward the door into machine stores.
    Sparrow ducked for the door, clambered clumsily into the tunnel. Immediately, the radiation-snooper repeater on Ramsey’s board picked up the count.
    â€œIt’s hot in there,” said Ramsey. “I read it 5000 milli-R here.”
    â€œI see it,” said Sparrow. “Tune to my helmet scanner.”
    Ramsey tuned another screen on his board to the scanner on Sparrow’s helmet. The screen showed a gloved hand: Sparrow’s. The hand moved out of range and revealed a portion of the dead man’s uniform.
    â€œNote,” said Sparrow. “He left a note. Get a voice record of this as I read it and then photograph it. It’s dated April 16, time 0845.”
    Our embarkation day, thought Ramsey. At that time we were in the marine tunnel.
    Sparrow’s voice continued: “‘To Captain H. A. Sparrow from Lieutenant Arthur H. Foss, SYO-2204829. Subject: Extra Security inspection subtug Fenian Ram this date.’”
    The captain cleared his throat, continued: “‘Pursuant to new Security policy, I was making a special investigation of your atomic components following the regular check by the pile crew. This was to be a quick tunnel crawl for a look at the end plate and manuals. I did not wear an
ABG suit because of the anticipated short time of the check and to maintain secrecy.’”
    Garcia had moved up to the tunnel mouth, hovering over it in his ABG suit like some other-world monster. “You want me in there, Skipper?” he asked.
    â€œWait out there, Joe,” said Sparrow. He went on reading: “‘My snooper’s switch was accidentally turned off as I crawled through the tunnel and I received no warning that it was hot.’” (Sparrow’s voice quickened.) “‘I found that one of your hafnium damper rods had been taken from the pile in the secondary bank and hidden in the tunnel. I was directly on top of it before I noticed it. There was no mistaking what it was. I turned on my snooper and immediately saw that I’d had a lethal overdose.’”
    Sparrow paused. “May the Lord be merciful to him,” he said. He continued with the note: “‘It was obvious that the damper rod had been selected for a timed overload, but the timing was not immediately apparent. It could have been set to blow at the base. Therefore, I made haste to slip the rod back onto the pile-room manuals and replaced it. I also repaired the alarm-system wiring where it had been cut to hide the sabotage.’”
    Sparrow stopped and Ramsey saw the note (through the scanner) change position as the Skipper shifted. “Joe, did you notice any peculiar reaction from the alarm system?” asked Sparrow.
    â€œNot a thing,” said Garcia.
    Sparrow grunted, continued with the note: “‘When the damper had been replaced, I looked for the communicator box at the pile end. It had been smashed. I then crawled back, thinking I’d get the medics to ease my dying. The tunnel hatch had been dogged from the outside and I was
trapped. I tried to attract attention by calling through the vent, but there was no response. My own portable communicator would not work inside the shielding of the reactor wall.’”
    Sparrow’s voice stopped. “That explains it,” he said.
    Ramsey bent over his panel mike. “Explains what?”
    â€œThis tunnel vent opens from the inside. It should’ve been closed. But if it’d been closed we wouldn’t have noticed—” He fell silent.
    Ramsey’s thoughts went to the actions of that Security officer: alone in the tunnel with the certain knowledge he was dying and nothing could save him. Spending his last minutes