e of the sea beating at the cliff. Mr. Yardo keeps making small
corrections; there is a wind out there trying to blow us away. It is
cloudy here: I can see neither moons nor stars.

Mr. Yardo checks the radio. Nothing yet.

I stare downwards and fancy I can see a metallic gleam.

Then there is a wordless shout from Mr. Yardo; a bright dot hurtles
across the screen and at the same time I see a streak of blue flame
tearing diagonally downwards a hundred feet away.

The hopper shudders to a flat concussion in the air, we are all thrown
off balance, and when I claw my way back to the screen the moving dot
is gone.

So is _Gilgamesh_.

B says numbly, "But it wasn't a meteor. It can't have been."

"It doesn't matter what it was," I say. "It was some sort of missile,
I think. They must be even nearer to war than we thought."

We wait. What for, I don't know. Another missile, perhaps. No more
come.

At last Mr. Yardo stirs. His voice sounds creaky.

"I guess," he says, then clears his throat, and tries again. "I guess
we have to go back up."

B says, "Lizzie, who was it? Do you know?"

Of course I do. "Do you think M'Clare was going to risk one of us on
that job? The volunteering was a fake. He went himself."

B whispers, "You're just guessing."

"Maybe," says Mr. Yardo, "but I happened to see through that face
plate of his. It was the professor all right."

He has his hand on the controls when my brain starts working again. I
utter a strangled noise and dive for the hatch into the cargo hold. B
tries to grab me but I get it open and switch on the light.

Fifty-fifty chance--I've lost.

_No_, this is the one we came in and the people who put in the new
cargo did not clear out my fish-boat, they just clamped it neatly to
the wall.

I dive in and start to pass up the package. B shakes her head.

"No, Lizzie. We can't. Don't you remember? If we got caught, it would
give everything away. Besides ... there isn't any chance--"

"Take a look at the screen," I tell her.

Sharp exclamation from Mr. Yardo. B turns to look, then takes the
package and helps me back.

* * * * *

Mr. Yardo maneuvers out over the sea till the thing is in the middle
of the screen; then drops to a hundred feet. It is sticking out of the
water at a fantastic angle and the waves are hardly moving it. The
nose of a ship.

"The antigrav," whispers B. "The Andite hasn't blown yet."

"Ten minutes," says