Then in the top of the spacefield, almost out of vision, Grunfeld saw the source of the pulsing glow: two sharp-ended ovals flickering brightly all colors against the pale starfields, like two dead fish phosphorescing. "The torps got to 'em," Croker said, pushed forward beside Grunfeld to the right. * * * * * "I did find out at the end," Jackson said quietly from the left, his voice at last free of the trance-tone. "The Enemy ships weren't ships at all. They were (there's no other word for it) space animals. We've always thought life was a prerogative of planets, that space was inorganic. But you can walk miles through the desert or sail leagues through the sea before you notice life and I guess space is the same. Anyway the Enemy was (what else can I call 'em?) space-whales. Inertialess space-whales from the discontinuum. Space-whales that ate hydrogen (that's the only way I know to say it) and spat light to move and fight. The ones I talked to, our brothers, were just their parasites." "That's crazy," Grunfeld said. "All of it. A child's picture." "Sure it is," Jackson agreed. From beyond Jackson, Ness, punching buttons, said, "Quiet." The radio came on thin and wailing with static: "Titania Station calling fleet. We have jeep and can orbit in to you. The two Enemy are dead--the last in the System. Titania Station calling fleet. We have jeep fueled and set to go--" Fleet? thought Grunfeld. He turned back to the board. The first and last blue telltales still glowed for _Caliban_ and _Starveling_. Breathe a prayer, he thought, for _Moth_ and _Snug_. Something else shone on the board, something Grunfeld knew had to be wrong. Three little words: SHIP ON MANUAL. The black rim of Uranus ahead suddenly brightened along its length, which was very slightly bowed, like a section of a giant new moon. A bead formed toward the center, brightened, and then all at once the jail-yard sun had risen and was glaring coldly through its pinhole into their eyes. They looked away from it. Grunfeld turned around. The austere light showed the captain still in his pressure suit, only the head fallen out forward, hiding the skull features. Studying the monitor box of the captain's suit, Grunfeld saw it was set to inject the captain with power stimulants as soon as the Gravs began to slacken from their max. He realized who had done the impossible job of piloting them out of Uranus. But the button on the monitor, that should have glowed blue, was as dark as those of _Moth_ and _Snug_. Grunfeld thought, now he can rest. End of the Project Gutenberg EBook of The Snowbank Orbit, by Fritz Leiber