ack to Earth. Now, let's go. But watch your step."

* * * * *

They worked. Eighteen hours a day they worked. From the steel-like
ground they scooped a dozen tons of the dirty black uranium ore and sent
it hurtling back to the _Bertha_.

But in spite of all their efforts, the more modern equipment of the
_Kastil_ overtook them in a day. The blackness on their left was riddled
with the flare of digging torches and the slender fire-trails of the
jets soaring between the pit and the _Kastil_.

And now and again, Randell's drawling voice broke into Scott's ears.
"You're slowing up, _Bertha_. Seventy tons for us today. Are you poor
little men getting tired?" He clucked sympathetically, then burst into a
yell of laughter. "We'll have the ore cleaned off this rock before you
get half loaded."

But Scott and the men of the _Bertha_ worked silently, with savage
haste, forgetting sleep and food to keep the tonnage flowing to their
ship. They had almost forgotten the cats....

But not for long.

Staggering with fatigue, Scott swayed into Central Control, and sagged
into a seat. He had been too long in a space suit. A dull pounding beat
behind his eyes. "I came as soon as you called the pit, Captain
Elderburg. You sounded pretty urgent."

"It's urgent," Elderburg said. "We're beaten."

Scott stiffened. Fatigue fell from him as he gazed closely at the
Captain, saw for the first time the bitter dullness of Elderburg's eyes.

"You better come with me," the Old Man said heavily. He rose stiffly,
led the way from the room.

In silence they shuffled down the corridor toward the engine room. A tic
worked at the corner of the Captain's mouth, but he did not seem to
notice it. "Durval held the cats off with ultra-sonics. He purified
about ten tons of the stuff and stored it."

They threaded their way along a chill black catwalk to the center of the
ship. In the engine room, men slumped sullenly among the big atomics. As
Scott and Elderburg passed a group of the black gang, mutely dangling
wrenches, there was a sudden stir.

"That's him!" One of the men had leaped up. The wrench whipped back over
his shoulder. He leaped raging toward Scott. "There's the rotten...."

"Easy, Billy." He was dragged back, disarmed.

"How'd the _Kastil_ know...."

The Captain tugged Scott's arm. "Don't bother with them. Come on."

Scott nodded numbly, followed, his head aching and a nameless wave of
apprehension