ary brushed a weary hand over his forehead. The Earth, the universe
itself, were suddenly dead, meaningless gobs of matter.

"Yes," he said tonelessly. "Five years ago she promised to wait for my
return. She kept her word. I found her again--only to lose her."

Grim said quietly: "I too once loved a girl. I joined the last
rebellion under Amos Peabody. The Mercutians threatened to seize the
wives, sisters, sweethearts of the revolters if they persisted. Many
of the men surrendered. I was one of those who refused. When the
revolt was over, smothered in flame from their giant sun-tubes, I
found that they had made good their threats. My girl was gone,
vanished. Two Mercutians had taken her away. She was never found
again."

He paused in brooding silence. "They are up to their old tricks
again." His eyes were steely blue now. Hilary pressed his hand in
silence. They were welded together by a common loss.

Wat Tyler broke in upon them. "If you fellows want to hang around
here, I'll be on my way. That Mercutian hyena will be back here with a
dozen others just like him in less than no time."

* * * * *

Hilary snapped out of his sorrow. He could not help Joan by having
himself captured or killed, nor was it fair to Grim and Wat. They had
placed themselves unquestioningly under his leadership. Something else
too was growing into burning life in his mind. This was his Earth, his
and Grim's and Wat's, and of millions of other normal human beings.
The Mercutians were interlopers, brutal conquerors. He would devote
his now otherwise meaningless life to driving them off the planet,
wiping them out of the solar system. A tall order, yes, but not for
nothing had he fought almost single-handed against those other
monstrosities on other worlds: Martians, Ganymedans, Saturnians. The
Mercutians were no stronger than they. Besides, there was Joan.

"Men," he said crisply, once more the clear-headed commander of his
space expedition, "I intend to fight these Mercutian invaders until
Earth is free once more, or--I am dead. I have no illusions about the
magnitude of the job, of its practical hopelessness. But that does not
mean that you two have to throw away your lives also. I am a marked
man, without any identification tag. You on the other hand, can get
away from here, mingle indistinguishably with the hordes of people in
Great New York. You would be safe. Our ways part here, if you desire
it so." He