"For what?" "For murder." "Not this lad." "Don't be too cocky. Remember the Blue Door episode? You're the key man ... and that makes you the key target. Without you the rest would be a cinch." "I'll be careful," Crag promised. "Doubly careful," Gotch cautioned. "Don't be a sitting duck. I think maybe we'll have a report for you before long," he added enigmatically. "If the warhead doesn't get us," Crag reminded him. "And thanks for all the good news." He laughed mirthlessly. They exchanged a few more words and cut off. He turned to Prochaska, weighing his gaunt face. "You get your wish, Max. Climb into your spaceman duds and I'll take you for a stroll. As of now you're a working man." "Yippee," Prochaska clowned, "I've joined the international ranks of workers." Crag's answering grin was bleak. "You'll be sorry," he said quietly. CHAPTER 19 The earth was no longer a round full ball. It was a gibbous mass of milk-white light, humpbacked, a twisted giant in the sky whose reflected radiance swept the lunar night and dimmed even the brightest of the stars. Its beacon swept out through space, falling in Crater Arzachel with a soft creamy sheen, outlining the structures of the plain with its dim glow. Larkwell and Nagel had finished the airlock. The rocket had been tested and, despite a few minute leaks they had failed to locate, the space cabin was sufficiently airtight to serve their purpose. But the rocket had still to be lowered into the rill. Larkwell favored waiting for the coming sun. "It's only a few more days," he told Crag. "We can't wait." "We smashed this baby once by not waiting." "Well have to risk it," Crag said firmly. "Why? We're not that short of oxygen." Crag debated. Sooner or later the others would have to be told about the new threat from the sides. That morning Gotch had given him ominous news. The computers indicated it was going to be close. Very close. He looked around. They were watching him, waiting for him to give answer to Larkwell's question. He said softly: "Okay, I'll tell you why. There's a rocket homing in with the name Arzachel on its nose." "More visitors?" The plaintive query came from Nagel. Crag shook his head negatively. "We've got arms," Prochaska broke in confidently. He grinned "We'll elect you Commander of the First Arzachel Infantry Company." "This rocket isn't manned." "No?" "It's a warhead," Crag said grimly, "a nuclear warhead. If we're not underground when it hits...." He left the sentence dangling and looked around. The masked faces were blank, expressionless. It was a moment of silence, of weighing, before Larkwell spoke. "Okay," he said, "we drop her into the hole." He turned back and gazed at Red Dog. Nagel didn't move. He kept his eyes on Crag, seemingly rooted to the spot until Prochaska touched his arm. "Come on, Gordon," he said kindly. "We've got work to do." Only then did the oxygen man turn away. Crag had the feeling he was in a daze.