"No, we don't. It had to be assumed they were. We were not in a position to make allowances. You must realize, Cressey, we were dealing with something totally unprecedented, a completely unknown force. Common sense is enough to tell you the Outspacer had to be considered inimical to us, until proven otherwise."

"They weren't given much of a chance to prove it."

"That may be. The point is irrelevant at the moment. We are committed to a line of action, and we must follow it through. On their part, the Outspacers are doing the same."

Cressey was silent for a moment, and Mackley continued in a softer voice. "Look here, son. I don't have to tell you all this. I could just as easily shoot you full of starry-eyed patriotism and send you out to save the world from the Bug-Eyed Monsters, but the military isn't doing things that way any more. There is a possibility that we've made a mistake, I'll admit that, but we're stuck with the consequences of the original action. We're defending our planet with everything we've got. The Hornets are the only weapon that has proven even remotely effective."

"I'll have to think it over, Captain."

"Of course," said Mackley. "It's not an easy decision to make. Come back again, any time you like, and we'll talk it over some more."

And Cressey had gone back.

Acceleration pressure abated, and Cressey's face resumed its normal shape. The red haze in front of his eyes cleared, and he could see out through his canopy again. The thick blanket of stars remained motionless, though he knew he was moving with tremendous speed toward the Outspace ship.

In front of him behind the instrument panel, he could hear the insect-like buzzing as his course computer was fed information from his Base Satellite. With both the outer D-Post and the Satellite tracking the enemy, fairly precise positioning was possible. Unfortunately, because of the enormous distances involved, not precise enough to pinpoint the Stingers themselves. You had to be closer to do that, and the way to get closer was in a Hornet.

For a few minutes now, Cressey had only to watch his own scope for the first pip, and consider his insane position. It was his third mission. Of nearly a thousand Hornetmen, forty-three had more than one mission. If he got out of this one, he had two more before compulsory retirement. He was not sure he could go two 

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