 What does Ben seem to fear, more than anything else?
With never a moment to rest, the pursuit through space felt like a game of hounds and hares ... or was it follow the leader? Most of the big room lay obscured behind a shimmering veil of tobacco smoke and the sweet, heavy fumes of Martian Devil's Egg. But he'd become a kind of invisible Siamese twin, as much a part of Ben as sight in his eyes. Again, its face would be a pop-eyed mask of surprise as Ben's fist thudded into its jaw. Ben, quietly and moderately, wanted to celebrate. And a month ago, he'd signed aboard the Odyssey —the first ship, it was rumored, equipped to venture as far as the asteroids and perhaps beyond. Until this instant, Ben had suppressed his anger. Now, suddenly and without warning, it welled up into savage fury. Under interplanetary law, that would mean ten years in prison and a dishonorable discharge. They don't want new men over thirty-four for officers on rockets or even for third-class jet-men on beat-up freighters—they don't want convicted killers. So , Ben reflected, you can take a beer-and-pretzels tale seriously. After all, was it right for a single second, a single insignificant second, to destroy a man's life and his dream? So now he sat searching for a perhaps nonexistent red-bearded giant, and hoping and doubting and fearing, all at once.
 Losing his position and the chance to fly spaceships.
 The law, and atoning for his crime.  Losing his position and the chance to fly spaceships.  The dead man, and the way he persists in his mind.  Maggie and her husband, and the position they've put him in.