hing that had never been anticipated and so had not been
counter-planned. Before anyone on Tralee realized that anything had
happened, everything had happened--the _Isis_ aground, the guard-ship
demolished, the grid taken over, and a fleeing cargo-ship apparently
destroyed in the upper atmosphere. And a harsh voice now rasped out of
loudspeakers everywhere, uttering threats, cursing Mekin--few could
believe their ears--and rousing hopes which Bors knew regretfully were
bound to be disappointed.

The rasping broadcast cut off in the middle of a syllable. Somebody had
come to believe that he really heard what he thought he heard. Now there
would be reaction. At the sunrise-line on Tralee only a handful of
people were awake. They were dumbfounded. Where people breakfasted, the
intentionally savage voice made food seem unimportant. Where it was
midday, waves of violent emotion swept over the land.

"Call the defense forces," Bors commanded the grid office, by
transmitter. "They'll be Mekinese--Mekinese-officered, anyhow. We don't
want them to get ideas of attacking us, so identify us as the pirate
ship _Isis_ and order all police and garrison troops to stay exactly
where they are. Say we've got all our fusion-bombs armed to go off in
case of an artillery-fire hit."

This was the most valid of all possible threats against the most
probable form of attack. Fusion-bombs could be used against enemies in
space, or for the annihilation of a population, but they could not be
used in police operations against a subject people. To coerce people one
must avoid destroying them. So while a ship the size of the _Isis_
could--and did--carry enough confined hellfire in its missile warheads
to destroy an area hundreds of miles across, the occupation troops of
Mekin could not use such weapons. They needed blast-rifles for minor
threats and artillery for selective destruction. In any case no sane man
would try to destroy the _Isis_ aground after an announcement that its
bombs were armed, and that they were fused to explode.

"Now repeat the demand for stores," ordered Bors. "We might as well
stock up. Speed is essential. We can't use stores they've time to
booby-trap or poison. Give them twenty minutes to start the stuff
arriving. Demand fuel, extra rocket-fuel especially. Remind them about
our bombs."

He waited. Speakers beside him could inform him of any action anywhere
outside or inside the ship. The landing-party in the spaceport b