As usual? Not exactly. The feeling was in the air, an expanding excitement growing every day. Terra had waited a long time. The attack on Proxima Centaurus had to come--and the sooner the better. The ancient Centauran Empire hemmed in Terra, bottled the human race up in its one system. A vast, suffocating net draped across the heavens, cutting Terra off from the bright diamonds beyond.... And it had to end. The SRB machines whirred, the visible combination disappearing. For a time no ratio showed. Reinhart tensed, his body rigid. He waited. The new ratio appeared. Reinhart gasped. 7-6. Toward Terra! Within five minutes the emergency mobilization alert had been flashed to all Government departments. The Council and President Duffe had been called to immediate session. Everything was happening fast. But there was no doubt. 7-6. In Terra's favor. Reinhart hurried frantically to get his papers in order, in time for the Council session. At histo-research the message plate was quickly pulled from the confidential slot and rushed across the central lab to the chief official. "Look at this!" Fredman dropped the plate on his superior's desk. "Look at it!" Harper picked up the plate, scanning it rapidly. "Sounds like the real thing. I didn't think we'd live to see it." Fredman left the room, hurrying down the hall. He entered the time bubble office. "Where's the bubble?" he demanded, looking around. One of the technicians looked slowly up. "Back about two hundred years. We're coming up with interesting data on the War of 1914. According to material the bubble has already brought up--" "Cut it. We're through with routine work. Get the bubble back to the present. From now on all equipment has to be free for Military work." "But--the bubble is regulated automatically." "You can bring it back manually." "It's risky." The technician hedged. "If the emergency requires it, I suppose we could take a chance and cut the automatic." "The emergency requires _everything_," Fredman said feelingly. "But the odds might change back," Margaret Duffe, President of the Council, said nervously. "Any minute they can revert." "This is our chance!" Reinhart snapped, his temper rising. "What the hell's the matter with you? We've waited years for this." The Council buzzed with excitement. Margaret Duffe hesitated uncertainly, her blue eyes clouded with worry. "I realize the opportunity is here. At least, statistically. But the new odds have just appeared. How do we know they'll last? They stand on the basis of a single weapon." "You're wrong. You don't grasp the situation." Reinhart held himself in check with great effort. "Sherikov's weapon tipped the ratio in our favor. But the odds have been moving in our direction for months. It was only a question of time. The new balance was inevitable, sooner or later. It's not just Sherikov. He's only one factor in this. It's all nine planets of the Sol System--not a single man."