Her face was tinged with sudden color. "I don't hate you," she said, and turned away, staring toward the moon that had just touched the top of the Larr Range. "I think you made a mistake. That mistake cost my father's life. Since then, you've done a loyal job. I can't tell you what we're going to do, but I know that with your help we can do it." He waited, saying nothing. "The ships of Vestena attack tonight," she said in a shaking voice. "We--you and I are going to stop them." "Attack the whole army? Why didn't you notify the Warrior Fleet at the tunnel head? They could have been ready." He wheeled away from her, but she caught up and put her hand on his arm. "They can do nothing," she said. "The Vestena fleet sent a decoy army. The Warrior Fleet of Parma is thousands of miles out in space, pursuing a dummy army--an army of empty, robot-controlled ships that left Vestena hours ago. "Now the true fleet is somewhere near the tunnel head, poised for a quick dash through." "How do I know you're telling the truth?" Her eyes were steady on his. "_You've never doubted a word I've spoken._" Odd, he thought, but I never have. Why? Then he knew why. He was looking into Jerry Graham's eyes. The eyes of a man he had trusted above everyone else. This was his daughter. There could be no doubt. "I've got to warn the command at the city," he said. She shook her head. "There is no time. They can do nothing. The important thing is to stop the Vestena fleet from getting through the tunnel." She started to run toward the Z1000. Over her shoulder she called to him. "I have a plan. You must help. I can't operate the Cutter." * * * * * They were in the tunnel, and Freedman was confident once more. At the controls of the Z1000, he felt at ease. At his side, Sheila Graham was asking hurried questions. "What speed can the blades carry?" He told her. "And the hull. How thick is it?" He chuckled without humor. "If you hit it with a city block at a thousand miles an hour, it might break." She was figuring with a pen-stick on the smooth surface of the control board. "How far are we into the tunnel?" He consulted the mileage chart. "Half way. It's...." "Good," she said. "Turn on the blades. Use all the power you have." There was an undercurrent of fear in her voice. He was sure that she struggled with herself at this moment to keep from breaking down. When she spoke again, the howl of the rotating blades drowned all other sound. Without stone or metal to work on, the blades were screaming at top speed, cooled only by the oil. The Z1000 was a strange, rumbling giant, stumbling ahead in the darkness. "Blair," Sheila Graham said quietly, "Are you afraid to die?" He felt cold beads of perspiration stand out on his forehead. The cabin was growing very hot. Deep down he had known all along but now, as he faced it consciously, he had to fight for control. His hands were clammy on the wheel.