"Closer. Evidently, they've been there some time. Waiting for more ships to tighten up their blockade. They've mined all major orbits and are just completing the network of ships. You couldn't sneak a mouse through." "Any chance to run the blockade?" Grouth shook his head glumly. "Too late for that." "Shall we tell the others?" asked Tiny. "No use of their wasting their labor now--" "Not just yet," said Wilding. "Finish the loading. We may be able to bluff our way out." "They'll be coming in after us soon," warned Concor. "Then it'll be a choice of surrender or being blasted out with atomic torpedoes." Wilding sighed unhappily. "We'll surrender ... if it comes to that. But they won't try anything like that until they've tried to bargain with us for the hostages. Stall them along. When the ship is loaded, seal it up and take-off. We'll meet them in space and try to run a bluff with the hostages...." "It won't work," prophesied Grouth gloomily. "You can't make a deal with the Security Patrol." Privately Wilding agreed. But he said, "We can try." The final processes of loading and stowing seemed to drag endlessly. At last it was accomplished and word given to close up the ship. * * * * * It was a grim and silent company in the control awaiting the blast-off. Grouth, Concor and Tiny were morose, already disheartened by the knowledge of defeat. Amyth and Elshar stood close to Wilding, both smiling enigmatically. He found their presence irritating, but said nothing. Only Tichron seemed untouched by the atmosphere of failure. He studied Wilding curiously, and even attempted to joke. "Not that it matters now," he said. "But I've wondered why you were willing to include me on your expedition. Don't you know that I'm a chronic trouble-maker?" Wilding smiled thinly. "Of course I knew that. But I wanted someone like you in my new world. Every healthy society needs some kind of trouble-maker. It stimulates growth." Atomic motors roared into life, and the ship rose steadily up and out from the asteroid. As it moved toward the patrol cruisers, Wilding ordered the speed held to low levels, lest its seeming flight provoke action from trigger-nervous gunners aboard the patrol ships. Tension grew as the range shortened. A spreading, soundless flash of light flowered against the vaulted darkness of space. An atomic shell fired by the nearest cruiser. Just a warning, this time. "Make contact," Wilding commanded. "We'll have to talk to them now." The view-screen swirled with color as Grouth worked at the keyboard. Squirming colors cleared and a three dimensional image appeared. A man in the silver gray uniform of Security Police. It was like speaking with him face to face. "The first shot was a warning," he said gravely. "Just hold your present course and do not attempt to change your speed."