Peal came in, looking more haggard than Blane. The scientist shook his head wearily. "The count is up in the bomb bay. I've been trying to sound some of the chemists out about ways to test, but I don't think we can do it. We don't know what to do or to look for. But I'm convinced now that something is going on inside those casings. It must be some new isotope being created from the uranium by the action of cosmic radiation. Those energies are high enough to cause transmutation. Whatever isotope it is, it must be a neutron emitter, and it's stirring up the uranium, just as increasing the mass does. The temperature around the casings is rising." "Still no idea of how much margin we have?" "Not exactly. But I can get some idea from watching how the temperature rises. Maybe a few days, maybe a couple of months." Peal dropped to a couch, rubbing his eyes. "It's getting too hot in there to work without a protective screen, so we can only make short tests. But Manners and I will take turns." * * * * * Headquarters was not greatly impressed by the rise in temperature that had been noted, though the reply was longer in coming this time. It simply suggested he stand by for later orders. That night, a large meteorite fell in Arkansas. It was metallic, and big enough so that several hundred pounds managed to survive the burning friction of Earth's atmosphere. A large area saw the bright streak across the sky and traced it to where it fell. There its impact had knocked over trees, destroyed a house and the inhabitants, and killed a cow. There was a large hole in the ground where it had hit, and still a trace of metallic fragments around the cup. Blane picked up the news accounts almost at once on the radio in his office. He switched the circuits around to connect all the speakers in the station and threw the master switch, giving everyone a chance to hear. It took almost no time for the first reports to come babbling in hysterically, claiming an atomic missile had been sent down from the _Tsiolkovsky_. The official signal from Headquarters flashed out at Blane, and he listened. They were declaring a general alert, but it wasn't red and there was still a delay. Once it went red, it would mean putting one of the plans already prepared into operation, demanding that he send his few men down into the bomb bay to set the automatic chutes into operation. Then missiles would rain down on Russian cities and bases. Peal and Manners came in. Manners would have to carry out the orders. Blane glanced at him, and saw doubt and worry etched across the forehead. Could any man start the holocaust going? Or, believing that the _Sulky_ would be throwing bombs, as Manners must still believe, could any man refuse such an order?