I pushed the proper buttons but nothing happened. I pushed again and then turned on the scanners. The one aft of the probe was half covered with a twisted mass of metal tubing that had once been our probe. We must have smashed it when we rammed. Quickly I shifted to the auxiliary probe, but the crumpled mass had jammed the hatch. It wouldn't open. "No probes, sir," I announced. "Damn," Chase said. "Well, we'll have to do without them. Hold tight, we're going down." We flicked into threespace just in time to see a volcano of fire erupt from "Amphitrite's" side and the metallic flick of the Rebel scout slipping back into Cth. "What's your situation, 'Amphitrite'?" our signal asked. "Not good," the faint answer came back. "They've got us in the power room and our accumulators aren't going to stand this load very long. That last salvo went through our screens, but our armor stopped it. But if the screens go down--" Our batteries flared at the Rebel as he again came into sight. He didn't wait, but flicked right back into Cth without firing a shot. Pollard was on the ball. "Brave lad, that Reb," Chase said. There was a sneer in his voice. For the moment it was stalemate. The Reb wasn't going to come into close range with a warship of equal power to his own adding her metal to the "Amphitrite's," but he could play cat and mouse with us, drawing our fire until we had used up our torpedoes, and then come in to finish the supply ship. Or he could harass us with long range fire. Or he could go away. [Illustration] It was certain he wouldn't do the last, and he'd be a fool if he did the second. "Amphitrite" could set up a mine screen that would take care of any long range stuff,--and we could dodge it. His probe was still working and he had undoubtedly seen ours crushed against our hull. If he hadn't he was blind--and that wasn't a Rebel characteristic. We could hyper, of course, but we were blind up there in Cth. His best was to keep needling us, and take the chance that we'd run out of torps. "What's our munition?" Chase asked almost as an echo to my thought. I switched over to Pollard. "Thirty mark sevens," Pollard said, "and a little small arms." "One good salvo," Chase said, thoughtfully. The Rebel flashed in and out again, and we let go a burst. "Twenty, now," I said. Chase didn't hear me. He was busy talking to Allyn on damage control. "You can't cut it, hey?--All right--disengage the converter on the auxiliary probe and break out that roll of duralloy cable in the stores--Pollard! don't fire over one torp at a time when that lad shows up. Load the other launchers with blanks. Make him think we're shooting. We have to keep him hopping. Now listen to me--Yes, Allyn, I mean you. Fasten that converter onto the cable and stand by. We're going to make a probe." Chase turned to me. "You were Exec with Royce," he said. "You should know how to fight a ship." "What are you planning to do?" I asked.