netized soles clanked to a deft contact with the
wall. He said calmly: "That guy Sanford has cracked up. He's potty. If
this were jail he'd be stir-crazy. He's yelling into the communicator
now that we'll all be dead in a matter of days, and the rocket missiles
we brought up won't help. He's nasty about it, too!"

Haney called from the cargo space of the ship in the lock: "All empty
here! We're unloaded."

There were sounds as he closed the cargo doors. Haney, followed by the
Chief, came into view, floating as Mike had done. But he didn't land as
skillfully. He touched the wall on his hands and knees and bounced away
and tried helplessly to swim to a hand-hold. It would have been funny
except that Joe was in no mood for humor.

Mike whipped off his belt and flipped the end of it to Haney. He caught
it and was drawn gently to the wall. Haney's shoes clicked to a hold.
The Chief landed more expertly.

"We need wings here," he said ruefully. "You reported, Joe?"

Joe nodded. He turned to Brent, the crew member who'd been unloading. He
knew him too, from their two-way video conversations.

"Sanford does act oddly," he said uncomfortably. "When he met me in the
lock he said our coming was useless. He talked about the futility of
everything while I reported. He sounds like he sneers at every possible
action as useless."

"Most likely it is," Brent said mildly. "Here, anyhow. It does look as
if we're going to be knocked off. But Sanford's taking it badly. The
rest of us have let him act as he pleased because it didn't seem to
matter. It probably doesn't, except that he's annoying."

Mike said truculently, "We won't be knocked off! We've got rockets of
our own up here now! We can fight back if there's another attack!"

Brent shrugged. His face was young enough, but deeply lined. He said as
mildly as before: "Your landing rockets set off four bombs on the way
from Earth. You brought us six more rocket missiles. How many bombs can
we knock down with them?"

Joe blinked. It was a shock to realize the facts of life in an
artificial satellite. If it could be reached by bombs from Earth, the
bombs could be reached by guided missiles from the satellite. But it
would take one guided missile to knock down one bomb--with luck.

"I see," said Joe slowly. "We can handle just six more bombs from
Earth."

"Six in the next month," agreed Brent wrily. "It'll be that long before
we get more. Somebody sent up four bombs today. Supp