The old man's eyes narrowed. "What do you mean by that?" Matt's forehead creased into a worried frown. "I don't know. I think they're trying to complete the Rocket for a flight." "But that's crazy!" Moe exploded. "They don't have the supplies, they don't have the calculator power, they haven't got power for anything. We've seen to that. Gasoline generators for their spotlights--nothing else." "I know, I know--it doesn't make sense." Matt shot a glance at Loevy, crouched at a nearby fire, and he lowered his voice. "And there was something Loevy said--about something more valuable than the ship itself--Look, Moe, we don't know how far the Ship had gone before the crash. Maybe all the calculations were completed." Moe stared at the fire for a long moment. A tall, lanky man stumbled up the trail by flashlight, sending down a shower of pebbles. He stopped before the fire. "All quiet, Moe. They closed up shop after the delegation left." Moe nodded to the man. "Tell Mike to alert his men, Tommy. Get everybody looking alive." "What's up? Something about to break?" The old man scowled. "I don't know. But I want everyone awake. Got it?" The guard nodded, and vanished down the trail again. Moe turned to Matthews, a queer look in his eyes. "What do you think, Matt?" "I think our time is running out," said Matthews. "Maybe you worry too much." "Maybe." Moe's eyes blazed. "They _can't_ try to launch it," he snarled. "It's got to be smashed--smashed so hard they'll never dare try to make another one--" His hand clenched on his rifle until the knuckles were white. Matt leaned forward eagerly. "Let me go down there, Moe. We've got dynamite. I could find a way to climb the fence, maybe, and start the works off. Once something went bang from the inside and broke their control of the place, we could mop them up." Moe's hand relaxed. "You'd never make it alive." "Somebody's got to try. There isn't much time, I'm sure of it--" "All right. Try it. But before you go, you've got a visitor. I think you'd better talk to her." * * * * * The girl was waiting in his tent, sitting alone in the darkness. She looked up into the flashlight beam, and there were wet streaks of dust on her cheeks. "Matt? Is that you?" She stumbled to her feet. "Oh, Matt--" "Mary!" The big man stared at his wife, his eyes wide. "Mary, what are you doing _here_? How did you get here, why did you come?" He took her in his arms, held her tight as she pressed her face against his chest, sobbing. Then suddenly he straightened up, held her out at arm's length, staring into her large brown eyes. "Mary--the farm--" She closed her eyes, tears streaming down her cheeks, and shook her head miserably. "Gone. City people from San Diego--they came one night, they took it--" A numbness ran down his spine as he stared at her. "But Dad and Johnny--"