sonant interior of
the Shed. Joe's own special security man hurried to him, his face tense.

"What about that?"

"Hold everything," said Joe grimly. "That's taken care of."

It was. That was Mike's gang--miniature humans popping out of hiding to
offer battle with missiles carefully prepared beforehand against their
alleged associates in sabotage. One of the associates had drawn a gun
and fired. But Mike's gang had help. Out of small air locks devised to
make the Platform's skin accessible to its crew on every side--provided
they wore space suits--dark-skinned men appeared.

The security man's walkie-talkie under his shoulder made a buzzing
sound. He reached for it.

"Forget it!" snapped Joe. "That's not for you! You've got your orders!
Stay here!"

There was a sudden growling uproar where men were crowding to get out of
the Shed. Thick, billowing smoke appeared. There was a crashing
explosion. The men eddied and milled crazily.

The motor of the stalled truck caught. It moved toward the door, which
opened, swinging up and high. Two trucks came roaring in. They raced for
the Platform. And as they raced inside, their camouflaged loads
clattered off and men showed instead. The guards by the doorway began to
shoot.

"That's what we've got to stop!" snapped Joe.

He began to run, his pistol out. There was suddenly a small
army--gathered by his orders--which materialized in the dim space under
the Platform. It raced to guard against this evidently well-planned
invasion.

The harsh, tearing rattle of a machine gun sounded from somewhere high
up. Joe knew what it was. Mike's whole scheme had been intended to force
all sabotage efforts to take place at a single instant. Part of the
preparation was authority for Haney to drag in two machine guns from an
outer watching-post and mount them to cover the interior of the Shed
when the general attack began.

Those machine guns were shooting at the trucks. Splinters sprang up from
the wood-block floor. Then, abruptly, one of the trucks vanished in a
monstrous, actinic flash of blue-white flame and a roar so horrible that
it was not sound but pure concussion. The other truck keeled over and
crashed from the blast, but did not explode. Men jumped from it. There
must have been screamed orders, but Joe could hear nothing at all. He
only saw men waving their arms, and others seized things from the
toppled load and rushed toward him, and he began to shoot as he ran to
meet them