All three had studied charts of nebular configurations so long and so intensely that recognition of a full-sphere identity was automatic and instantaneous. Lola, head buried in scanner, had already checked in with the Port Inspector. "It _is_ Clamer!" she shrieked aloud. "I _told_ you it was time for our luck to change, if we pulled hard enough! They are being invaded by Ozobes and they did call for help and they didn't think we could possibly get here this fast and we don't need to be inspected because we're compatible or we couldn't have landed on Groobe!" For five long minutes Garlock held the starship motionless while he studied the entire situation. Then he drove a probe through the mental shield of the general in charge of the whole defense operation. "Battle-Cruiser _Pleiades_, Captain Garlock commanding, reporting for duty in response to your S.O.S. received on Groobe." The general, furiously busy as he was, dropped all other business. "But you're _human_! You can't fight!" "Watch us. You don't know, apparently, that the Ozobe bases are on the far side of your moon. They're bringing their fighters in most of the way in transports." "Why, they can't be! They're coming in from all directions from deep space!" "That's what they want you to think. They're built to stand many hours of zero pressure and almost absolute zero cold. Question: if we destroy all their transport, say in three hours, can you handle all the fighters who will be in the air or in nearby space at that time?" "Very easily. They've hardly started yet. I appoint you Admiral-pro-tem Garlock, in command of Space Operations, and will refer to you any other space-fighters who may come. I thank you, sir. Good luck." The general returned his attention to his boiling office. His mind was seething with questions as to what these not-human beings were, how or if they knew so much, and so on; but he forced them out of his mind and went, fast and efficient, back to work. James shot the _Pleiades_ up to within a thousand miles or so of the moon. "How long does it take to learn this bombing business, Jim?" Lola asked. "About fifteen seconds. All you have to do is _want_ to. Do you, really?" "I really do. If I don't do something to help these people," it did not occur to her that she had already done a tremendous job, "I'll never forgive myself." James showed her; and, much to her surprise, she found it very easy to do. * * *