"Okay," Jim decided, after we had cruised the coast line, "we'd better get back to Osmand. If Garok's fled, our mission is completed." We withheld reporting through to Shadrak. The sky was unusually black tonight. Overhead, there were no stars. We raised the flames in Osmand some fifty miles out. Jim let out an angry yell. "Garok's attacking again," he cried. "Those are new fires." Rockets wide open we raced down toward Osmand. There were new fires. Jim circled toward the plain where our ship was located. We saw a cone of flame leap out of the thick night. Garok was bombing the space ship. We tore at the invaders like mad swordfish. We knocked them apart, then went in for a landing. One bomb had landed within twenty feet of the ship. We got out of the patrol car, sprinted for the big ship. Jim used a torch, assured himself the craft was undamaged. And when we went inside, Garok himself was the bird who climbed into our patrol car. Pistol bullets cut by our ears as both of us tried to rectify that damage. Garok didn't know beans about a rocket car. But a dumb, conceited punk like him could wreck it, so we ignored the soldiers who'd climbed out of Garok's plane after that noiseless glide of his and raced for the patrol car. Garok yelled something at us and accidentally touched off the ray guns. His own plane literally went into gas, and his men went down, or turned into more gas. Then the patrol car streaked skyward, bowling us over. Twin tongues of angry flame marked his course, higher--higher, blast wide open. "The fool," Jim cried. "He'll burn the car up, if he gains any more altitude. The thin atmosphere will fix him--" "Maybe he didn't start it on purpose, and can't do anything about it," I suggested. Jim's face was visible in the glow of the fires. "Maybe you're right," he agreed. And as if in confirmation, there was a dull red blob high above. The blob widened, sent out a shower of sparks and vanished. "And that," Jim commented, "is the last of Garok." Evidently Garok's wild scheme to take patrol car and then perhaps our space ship, was with his last survivors, for we heard no more planes. A police car arrived. Tarquin had sent them. "The governor advises you to leave Osmand at once," was the officer's message. "Anger is growing against you two." "Okay by me," I said. "We clean up a mess for you and get the rap. You don't believe us, so what? We'd better save our own skins." "I'm going to make one last appeal to Tarquin," Jim announced. "It's our duty. You stay here with the ship." "Listen you," I sounded off, "if you go back into Osmand, I go with you. But how?" "In the police car." To the surprised officer Jim said: "If Governor Tarquin guarantees no hope to remove anyone, we'll leave. But first, I bear him a final message. Will you take us?"