The skeeterboat dove out of the valve trailing its cable. Strike glanced back through the rear port to see the second shark-like shape close behind. Even banged up as he was, Cob would let no one take the second boat but himself. Strike's smile was broad. Good man to have around, that Coburn Whitley. Ahead lay the tiny world that had been selected for annihilation. It was a black blot on the star-spangled darkness of space. A thirty mile sphere, it floated serenely along its orbit ... an innocuous chunk of matter that _here_ was just that ... and elsewhere would be the most fearful bomb ever guided by the hand of man. Strike looked back at the glowing shape of Old Aphrodisiac. She lured him like a familiar scene, a friendly voice. In all this alien vastness, only his beloved ship was safety. He looked around for Cob's skeeter. It was barely visible now, some twenty miles away as it fanned out to take up its position at the south pole of the planetoid. The tiny world drew near, and Strike veered to find his own station. Jockeying the skeeterboat carefully, he found the proper spot marked by the beacons that fanned out from the _Cleopatra's_ prow and stern. Cob signalled from the opposite pole that he, too, was ready. This, as they said in the flicks, was _it_. He called Ivy on the radiophone. "All right, Strike," her voice came back, "We'll all go through together. Ten seconds." "Check." "Remember to be ready to blast away from that chunk of rock, you two. As soon as it hits prime-space it will have plenty of gravity." "Right, Ivy," Cob's voice came metallically. "Six seconds.... "Five seconds.... "Four seconds ... three ... two ... NOW!" Strike was dazzled by the sudden shift of lighting. The planetoid was aglow with the dancing, swirling witchfire! The skeeterboat sank toward the bright surface with a sickening lurch. Strike shoved the throttle forward and looked fearfully for a flare of fire at the south pole. There was none. Cob had gotten clear, too. The power cable snapped, but it didn't matter now. Its work was done. The _Cleopatra_ lay ahead now, the fire gone from her hull. Behind her blazed the familiar beacon of Achernar. Off to the right Sirius A and B dominated the sky. And near at hand below, the turbulent, smoky red surface of 40 Eridani C smouldered against the familiar backdrop of the Milky Way. Already the contraterrene planetoid was plunging toward that sullen sphere. There wasn't much time to get clear. Strike flung his skeeter through the open hatch close on the exhaust of Cob's boat. Valves hissed shut and Lover-Girl flashed away--homeward. * * * * * One week later, and just off Sirius B, Old Aphrodisiac met the Eridan fleet again, but with a difference.... This time the black ships made no move to stop her. Their actions were incoherent, insane. They milled about in a swirling cluster, colliding with their fellows or careening off into the void.