nged with
astonishing suddenness.

"I see! I see!" he said excitedly. "All right! Have you got space suits
in your ship? We have them. So we'll go out and pelt the stars with
garbage. I think we'd better get at it right now, too. In under two
hours we'll be a fine target for more bombs, and it would be good to
start ahead of time."

Mike made a gesture and went floating out of the kitchen, air-swimming
to go get space suits from the ship. The grin on his small face
threatened to cut his throat. Joe asked, "Sanford's in command. How'll
he like this idea?"

Brent hesitated. "I'm afraid," he said regretfully, "he won't like it.
If you solve a problem he gave up, it will tear his present adjustment
to bits. He's gone psychotic. I think, though, that he'll allow it to be
tried while he swears at us for fools. He's most likely to react that
way if you suggest it."

"Then," agreed Joe, "I suggest it. Chief----"

The Chief raised a large brown hand.

"I got the program, Joe," he said. "We'll all get set."

And Joe went floating unhappily through passage-tubes to the control
room. He heard Sanford's voice, sardonic and mocking, as he reached the
communications room door.

"What do you expect?" Sanford was saying derisively. "We're clay
pigeons. We're a perfect target. We've just so much ammunition now. You
say you may send us more in three weeks instead of a month. I admire
your persistence, but it's really no use! This is all a very stupid
business...."

He felt Joe's presence. He turned, and then sharply struck the
communicator switch with the heel of his hand. The image on the
television screen died. The voice cut off. He said blandly: "Well?"

"I want," said Joe, "to take a garbage-disposal party out on the outside
of the Platform. I came to ask for authority."

Sanford looked at him in mocking surprise.

"To be sure it seems as intelligent as anything else the human race has
ever done," he observed. "But why does it appeal to you as something you
want to do?"

"I think," Joe told him, "that we can make a defense against bombs from
Earth with our empty tin cans."

Sanford raised his eyebrows.

"If you happen to have a four-leaf clover with you," he said in fine
irony, "I'm told they're good, too."

His eyes were bright and scornful. His manner was feverishly derisive.
Joe would have done well to let it go at that. But he was nettled.

"We set off the last bombs," he said doggedly, "by shooting our land