be doomed.

But he overheard himself saying bitterly:

"I wish I'd known this was coming, Diane. I ... wouldn't have resolved to
be strictly official, only, until we got back to base."

Her eyes widened. She looked startled. Then she softened.

"If ... you mean that ... I wish so too."

"It looks like they've got us," he admitted unhappily. "If they can take
our rockets away from us--" Then his voice stopped. He said, "Hold
everything!" and pressed the navigation-room button. He snapped: "Radar
to navigation. It appears to take the Plumies several seconds to take
over a rocket. They have to aim something--a pressor or tractor beam,
most likely--and pick off each rocket separately. Nearly forty seconds
was consumed in taking over all twelve of our rockets. At shorter range,
with less time available, a rocket might get through!"

The skipper swore briefly. Then:

"_Mr. Taine! When the Plumies are near enough, our rockets may strike
before they can be taken over! You follow?_"

Baird heard Taine's shrill-voiced acknowledgment--in the form of
practically chattered orders to his rocket-tube crews. Baird listened,
checking the orders against what the situation was as the radars saw it.
Taine's voice was almost unhuman; so filled with frantic rage that it
cracked as he spoke. But the problem at hand was the fulfillment of all
his psychopathic urges. He commanded the starboard-side rocket-battery to
await special orders. Meanwhile the port-side battery would fire two
rockets on widely divergent courses, curving to join at the Plumie ship.
They'd be seized. They were to be detonated and another port-side rocket
fired instantly, followed by a second hidden in the rocket-trail the
first would leave behind. Then the starboard side--

"I'm afraid Taine's our only chance," said Baird reluctantly. "If he
wins, we'll have time to ... talk as people do who like each other. If it
doesn't work--"

Diane said quietly:

"Anyhow ... I'm glad you ... wanted me to know. I ... wanted you to know,
too."

She smiled at him, yearningly.

* * * * *

_There was the crump-crump_ of two rockets going out together. Then the
radar told what happened. The Plumie ship was no more than six miles
away, dancing somehow deftly in the light of a yellow sun, with all the
cosmos spread out as shining pin points of colored light behind it. The
radar reported the dash and the death of the two rockets, after their
st