Mos and Dlettre. Drak could think of no reason for leveling one more than another. After a moment's thought, he pushed a button on his desk.

"Yeah?" asked a voice over the loudspeaker.

"Which one, Ingif?"

"Kys, of course," said the cracked voice of his old hardware store assistant. "Fellow over there owes us money and won't pay up."

"Thanks, Ingif." Drak turned to the corporal. "Go to it, soldier!"

"Yes, sir!"

The corporal hurried out.

General Drak turned back to the reports on his desk, trying again to puzzle out what had happened at Allani. Repulsed Us? Us Repulsed? How should it read?

"Oh, well," Drak said resignedly. "In the long run, I don't suppose it really makes much difference."

Miles away, in no man's land, stood a bunker of reinforced concrete and steel. Within the bunker were two men. They sat on opposite sides of a plain wooden table and their faces were stern and impassive. Beside each man was a pad and pencil. Upon each pad were marks.

Upon the table between them was a coin.

"Your toss," said the man on the right.

The man on the left picked up the coin. "Call it."

"Heads."

It came up heads.

"Damn," said the flipper, passing the coin across the table and standing up.

The other man smiled faintly, but said nothing.

Kelly reached for the kissoff switch, then hesitated. "Look, Igor," he said, "do we have to come out now, without charts? It gets risky, you know. How can we tell what's out there in normal space?"

"It is a risk we have to take," Beliakoff said stonily.

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