t hold
more than half of it. And how about that one ship which remains
untouched?"

"Jettison enough supplies from the lower holds to make room for this
lot. As for that one ship, let it go. We will be overloaded as it is,
and it is of the utmost importance that we get back to Nevia as soon as
possible."

This, if Gharlane could have heard it, would have answered his question.
All Arisia knew that it was _necessary_ for the camera-ship to survive.
The Nevians were interested only in iron; but the Eddorian, being a
perfectionist, would not have been satisfied with anything less than the
complete destruction of every vessel of Triplanetary's fleet.

The Nevian space-ship moved away, sluggishly now because of its
prodigious load. In their quarters in the fourth section the three
Terrestrials, who had watched with strained attention the downfall and
absorption of the planetoid, stared at each other with drawn faces. Clio
broke the silence.

"Oh, Conway, this is ghastly! It's ... it's just simply too damned
perfectly horrible!" she gasped, then recovered a measure of her
customary spirit as she stared in surprise at Costigan's face. For it
was thoughtful, his eyes were bright and keen--no trace of fear or
disorganization was visible in any line of his hard young face.

"It's not so good," he admitted frankly. "I wish I wasn't such a dumb
cluck--if Lyman Cleveland or Fred Rodebush were here they could help a
lot, but I don't know enough about any of their stuff to flag a
hand-car. I can't even interpret that funny flash--if it really was a
flash--that we saw."

"Why bother about one little flash, after all that really did happen?"
asked Clio, curiously.

"You think Roger launched something? He couldn't have--I didn't see a
thing," Bradley argued.

"I don't know what to think. I've never seen anything material sent out
so fast that I couldn't trace it with an ultra-wave--but on the other
hand, Roger's got a lot of stuff that I never saw anywhere else.
However, I don't see that it has anything to do with the fix we're in
right now--but at that, we might be worse off. We're still breathing
air, you notice, and if they don't blanket my wave I can still talk."

He put both hands into his pockets and spoke.

"Samms? Costigan. Put me on a recorder, quick--I probably haven't got
much time," and for ten minutes he talked, concisely and as rapidly as
he could utter words, reporting clearly and exactly everything that had