"Donna!" he shouted hoarsely. "Let up!" "I don't dare," she gasped over the intercom. "I lost them, but they were starting after us!" "Let up!" repeated Phillips. "They're dead ahead of that wild shot of ours. Let me get to the controls!" He dropped abruptly to the deck as the acceleration vanished. One leap carried him to the radio controls. The metallic gleam had swelled into a huge spaceship. The cruiser was angling slightly away from the point from which he seemed to be viewing it. How soon, he wondered, would they detect the presence of his torpedo? Or would they neglect this direction, being intent upon the destruction of those who were attempting to frustrate their mad dash for Mars? Phillips stood before the screen, clenching his fists. There was, after all, nothing for him to do but watch. The gleaming hull expanded with a swelling rush. Details of construction, hitherto invisible, leaped out at him. A crack finally appeared as a section began to slide back. This time, however, there was no blinding flare of small rockets. The blacking out of the screen coincided with Donna's scream. "_It hit!_" In the silence that followed, he thought he heard a sob. "Oh, Phillips," she said, recovering, "we did it. They're--" "Hang on," said Phillips. "I'll climb into a spacesuit and come forward." He switched off the intercom and dragged a suit from the rack. It took him a good fifteen minutes to get the helmet screwed on properly and to check everything else. He realized that he was very tired. He opened the exit hatch, seized the top of the ladder in his gauntlets as the air exploded out of the turret, and climbed back to the main deck. Clumping forward through the airless corridor, he stopped to look into the compartment where he had left Brecken. He quickly slid the door shut again. He found that Donna had sealed off the corridor just short of the control room by closing a double emergency door that must have been designed to form an airlock in just such a situation. He hammered upon it, and she slid it open from the control desk. It closed again behind him, and he entered the control room through the usual door. The girl helped him to remove the suit and motioned him toward the screen. * * * * * Phillips regarded the scene without enthusiasm. The sight of the dead man had reminded him of what the compartments of that other vessel must look like by now. Its parts were beginning to scatter slowly. He looked at Donna, and found her regarding him soberly. "What will they do with us now?" she asked. She looked exhausted. He extended an arm, and she leaned against him. "You heard what Varret said," he told her. "Yes, but will he keep his word? They might be ... ashamed of us, now that it's done. Even if they're not, I can't bear the thought of going back to Earth and having them stare at me!"