Blane felt his fist move from his hip before he realized what he planned. It was an awkward blow, as all activity in nearly zero gravity must be, but it connected. Devlin was lifted from his weak contact with the floor and his head banged savagely against the roof. He drifted back toward the deck, unconscious. Blane caught himself and dashed for the elevator. There was still time to broadcast the facts to the station and to stop the men from entering the bomb bay. After that, he no longer cared what happened to him. VI The meeting Blane had called in the rec hall had been brief. Men and women had stared incredulously at him as he told them the facts--all the facts this time. There hadn't even been a vote, since none was needed. Now they were scurrying about, hastily following the orders he had given. Manners was destroying the tapes, the weather men were collecting the reports of future weather that should have been filed within the next few days, and others were gathering what bits of scientific material and notes they could. Edwards had somehow joined them and was already out in the little ferry, heading for the big lunar ship that was fueled and almost completed. Devlin sat in the hub still. He was conscious now, but the blood on his head ruined what would otherwise have been a fine military posture. He made his slight bow, smiling bitterly in recognition of his helplessness. "I'm oddly grateful to you, Blane," he said. "But I don't expect you to believe me. And I find I regret what will happen to you and the men here when this catches up with you. What are your plans for me?" Blane hadn't thought of that. He watched through the port as the ugly, clumsy lunar ship moved toward the ship, to a distance where the ferry could be used to carry them all out to it. "You can pilot a ship, I remember. Take Edwards' ship and go back to the Island," he decided at last. Devlin smiled. "I thought of that, too. But with your permission, I'd rather come with you. I'm curious. And I give you my word I shall not interfere in any way. Your case is hopeless, of course--but so is mine." Blane shrugged. "Come along, then." Loading everyone into the lunar ship was a horrible period of chaos. It had never been meant to hold such a cargo of goods and people. But somehow room was found, and Edwards began moving out and away from the _Goddard_--the station that was now empty, except for the warheads that were growing hotter with each hour. "I've called the Island," he said to Blane. "If the message got to anyone except some lumphead, I think they'll be waiting for us."