"Those thousand ships out there are all that lie between Parma and destruction," he said slowly. "Yet, if it weren't for the tunnel, you know, they would have to travel too damned far to get at us. They can fight their war two ways. Plan a series of battles with the Warrior Patrol, or blow up the tunnel and seal Parma behind that ungodly range of Asteroids. Either way, Parma would choke in a few months. The tunnel _is_ important." Freedman nodded. It troubled him, all this reference to the tunnel. First Folley, then the girl, and now, even Lieutenant Breecher of the Warrior Patrol. "Strictly routine stuff, though," he said, almost in self-defense. "A hundred men, a few patrol ships, and an occasional trip with the Cutter to clear out debris. That's the tunnel patrol, year after year." The Lieutenant let well enough alone. The Warrior Patrol had swept past now. The dull, war-painted heads on the rockets were business-like and ready. The Lieutenant nosed his own ship into the tail of the formation and opened his jets. They swept back toward Parma. "There, I've shown you the boys and their ships," he said. "Tomorrow you'll fly with them." The ugly static of the relay-screen broke in. "_Calling Warrior Patrol--Calling Warrior Patrol._" "That's Leader Van Nordast," Lieutenant Breecher said in a low voice. "Something's up." Van Nordast's face was on the screen. He looked powerful, compact, business-like. "The Warrior Patrol will not come to base tonight. It will protect the outer entrance to the asteroid tunnel. "A hundred extra ships are being sent at once. They will join the Patrol near the Tunnel Patrol ship, and base there until further orders come from this office. "Post guards and _watch that tunnel_. By tomorrow, news will be up to date and I will give you further instructions." The image on the screen sighed. "You may as well know tonight. Vestena didn't wait for us to make plans. It tried to destroy the tunnel today. Sabotage, with a few suicide ships. "A few men were killed but the attempt failed. That is all. Proceed to base." The screen was empty again, and Blair Freedman was cussing and wondering if maybe Jerry Graham had been right. He could fight now. He had the best equipment in the planetary system. _A few men were killed...._ He remembered Van Nordast's words. Grim words that probably applied to the boys he had known since childhood. Maybe Jerry was one of them. Jerry Graham with his gray-black hair, wrinkled kindly face and gentle eyes peering from behind his specs. The Lieutenant hadn't spoken since the message flashed off. Now he said: "Well, you're going to get your baptism of fire sooner than I expected." "Yes," Freedman said. "Yes, that's right." He was wondering if it made any difference. If Jerry was dead, he'd have to kill a couple thousand soldiers to revenge that one kindly man. * * * * *