Mel Cramer leaned back suddenly in his seat. "Could a beat-up old light colonel have a few words, seeing as how this project is slipping rapidly from your league into mine?" Walter Stanton gazed at him quizzically. "Of course, Mel. Go ahead." "You guys are all full of bull." Cramer leaned forward, counting on his fingers. "In the first place, you wouldn't have a chance if they've got a missile that can get here. In the second place, you wouldn't do any good if you did stay. In the third place, if they tell you to get out, you'll get out. Period. Is that clear?" Walter Stanton felt his blood rise. "Just a second. The Air Force _advises_ us; the UN _tells_ us. Let's keep that straight." "Buddy," said Mel, "if I know War, it isn't going to be that way very long...." The intercom system burst into life. The flat, nasal voice of Lieutenant Goldstein, the sharp young Air Force radar officer, crackled through the room. "Colonel Cramer, Mr. Stanton. Would you come to Control? I've picked up a missile. I think it's headed for us...." * * * * * With the dim orange light of the PPI radar scope gleaming on his sharp features, Goldstein looked like some interested youngster staring into a campfire. "It's on a tangential orbit now, just breaking into the exosphere--I'll be able to give you its free flight velocity in a minute." "Was it three stage or two?" Cramer asked. "Two, sir, apparently." "So far," Mel Cramer said. "If it accelerates again, we'll know for sure." From the huge transparent board behind them the plotter, Airman Lang, spoke. "I make it 700 knots relative to Platform speed, sir." "Give or take a few hundred," murmured Goldstein.... "Oops ... I think she's started another burn-out period...." "She's accelerating, sir," said Lang. "But fast...." They watched the tiny pip while Goldstein worked with his cranks and dials. "Spatial velocity will be about 1300 knots relative, sir." "Well," said Cramer. "At least I could catch it on a second pass ... if I missed." He coughed nervously. "How much time have we got?" The circuit to Ground Control burst into life. "Space One, Space One, this is Ground Control. We have a missile on our scope from relay Four. Altitude four hundred miles, relative velocity 1370, Latitude--" Mel Cramer picked up the mike. "OK, OK, ground control. We have it." He smiled bitterly and added: "I assume you're intercepting with a missile." There was a long silence, then: "Mel, this is General Staves. You know damn well we can't intercept. We just picked it up, and we're too late." Mel sounded cheerful enough, but Walter Stanton blanched as he saw the hand shaking on the mike. "OK, General. We'll see what we can do. What's the status of Cargo One?" "She's still taking fuel. We may be able to evacuate you if you can get this first one." Walter Stanton took the mike. "General, this is Stanton. If he gets this one, we don't intend to evacuate."