Bitterly, Bronson nodded. Kingston was well staffed. He could without difficulty set a number of his stations to the job of sending back upon Earth Two the few fires that Bronson could start. He was one man fighting a world well-armed--a gnat batting its head against a wall of polished chromium steel. Bronson stopped punching the button with a gesture of sheer futility. And from the vantage point above Earth Two, his viewer showed a spreading holocaust that threatened to cover the entire globe from pole to pole. It would be but a matter of time before a gout of flame and horror erased him and removed all resistance to Kingston's plans. Switching the scene to Earth Three, Bronson saw that the pitifully few dots of flame had been removed. Which was right? A world playing with death in myriad or a world so conservative that it had not advanced to the point where it could turn the tables? Bronson shook his head hopelessly. The incandescent, flaming curtain almost obscured Earth Two now. The sky was alight and the rumblings and roarings shook the rocks. Torrents of wind howled back and forth and carried minute bits of the flame with them, feeding on the very air that carried them. They landed and they started their own fires in a million smaller craters. Bronson shook his head. There was not much point in making even one last gesture. He hit the control panel with his fist and slumped in his chair. He took one last look at Earth Two and felt futility once more at the spreading of the atomic horror. And then Bronson sat bolt upright. A last gesture! Before he had rushed in where angels fear to tread! He looked at the equipment and shook his head. But equipment made well can withstand a terrific overload for a brief time. Even the most delicate of component parts require measurable time between application of a tremendous overload and ultimate failure. His left hand spun the dials and his right hand tuned the transmitter. He hoped for a break--and he knew also that this was IT in capital letters. If it worked he was the dead winner. If it failed he was doomed to remain on Earth Two to watch the arrival of atomic death. But he had no other choice. Facing death either way he'd best go out making a try. * * * * * Kingston grunted sourly at the visi-plate and pointed out a faint arc at one edge. "What's that?" he asked. "Do we need a new tube at this crucial moment?" "No." "Then what is it?" Maddox turned the dials a bit and the arc came out of the frame clearly enough to display a disc. Faint, unreadable, but none the less a definite pattern. Maddox looked at it carefully and then retreated the plane of view to many thousands of miles into deep space. Right out to the limit of his range he went. And there were three discs, all of a size. One was, of course, the flaming Earth Two. "We're approaching!" yelled Kingston. "Those other discs are Earth One and Three." "But--"