But Standish, lips set hard, was moving the controls with silent determination. Up the Phantom shot, boring forward like a hound to the hunt, carrying the crude little ship with it. Standish threw over the accelerator to the farthest notch and switched on both boosters. He motioned Ga-Marr into the control seat.

"Head directly for Earth. I'm going back and see if I can get a little more speed out of those motors."

Hour after hour the big ship plunged, rocketing madly across the star-filled heavens. Time and space were dropping behind them like falling grains of sand. Standish, returning from the motor chamber, saw the planets of Pluto and Uranus rise up far ahead. Then Earth came into sight, a pin-point almost at the limit of his vision.

The Earthman glanced at the chronometer on the instrument panel. It would be approximately midnight when they reached the North American continent, judging by their present speed. Unless the Sirians at their Frisco base were watching closely, they might be able to pass unobserved.

Earth grew. Now the Phantom was zooming down through the stratosphere. Over New California they swept, checking trajectory by reversing motors.

Over Omaha, Standish looked through the floor plate. Were the front-line breastworks still here? Or had his people been forced to retreat farther toward the Atlantic seaboard?

"I see lights," Ga-Marr said abruptly. "There seem to be fortifications below us."

With a sigh of relief Standish guided the Phantom downward. He was at home again.

XI

Officers and soldiers formed a cheering circle as he climbed out of the hatch, followed by Ga-Marr. Old companions rushed forward to shake the Earthman's hand and bombard him with questions. Smiling, Standish pushed his way through the throng to the building marked GHQ. An orderly ushered him inside, and a moment later he was facing Attack-Engineer McClellan whose eyes were wide with amazement.

"Listen," Standish began without preamble, "I want to see a detailed map and an aerial photograph of the Sirian's Frisco base. Have you got one?"

McClellan bit into his cigar and nodded. He opened a cabinet and laid out two large sheets.

"The pilot who made these barely got out with his life," he said. "I don't suppose 

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