. It would have been comforting to be dramatic in
this war against stupidity and malice and blindness. Especially since
this particular battle seemed to be lost. One could send back an
eloquent, defiant message to Earth saying that the four of them did not
regret their journey into space, though they were doomed to be killed by
the enemies of their country. It could have been a very pretty gesture.
But Joe happened to have a job to do. Pretty gestures were not a part of
it. He had no idea how to do it. So he said rather sickishly:

"The Platform told me we could fire our landing-rockets as additional
take-off rockets and get out of the way. Of course we've got missiles of
our own on board, but we can't launch or control them. Absolutely the
only thing we can choose to do or not do is fire those rockets. I'm open
to suggestions if anybody can think of a way to make them useful."

There was silence. Joe's reasoning was good enough. When one can't do
what he wants, one tries to make what he can do produce the results he
wants. But it didn't look too promising here. They could fire the
rockets now, or later, or--

An idea came out of the blue. It wasn't a good idea, but it was the only
one possible under the circumstances. There was just one distinctly
remote possibility. He told the others what it was. Mike's eyes flamed.
The Chief nodded profoundly. Haney said with some skepticism, "It's all
we've got. We've got to use it."

"I need some calculations. Spread. Best time of firing. That sort of
thing. But I'm worried about calling back in the clear. A beam to the
Platform will bounce and might be picked up by the enemy."

The Chief grinned suddenly. "I've got a trick for that, Joe. There's a
tribesman of mine in the Shed. Get Charley Red Fox to the phone, guy,
and we'll talk privately!"

The small spaceship floated on upward. It pointed steadfastly in the
direction of its motion. The glaring sunshine which at its take-off had
shone squarely in its bow-ports, now poured down slantingly from behind.
The steel plates of the ship gleamed brightly. Below it lay the sunlit
Earth. Above and about it on every hand were a multitude of stars. Even
the moon was visible as the thinnest of crescents against the night of
space.

The ship climbed steeply. It was meeting the Platform after only half a
circuit of Earth, while the Platform had climbed upward for three full
revolutions. Earth was now 3,000 miles below and appeared as t