billions of people in the balance, you mean he'd--"
"Leave it up to us."
"With only twenty J-88s? With a planetful of people in the balance. Sir, do you think Taylor's a lunatic or something?"
Steele groped for an answer that would take the cold logic out of Zukow's questions. The exec had to be wrong. There must be an answer.
"Zukow," he heard himself saying at last, "there were only three of our craft out today--all behind the Big Boy, and I've ordered them in--damped, and clammed up. I've grounded the rest. And if we don't get anything from communications within the next couple of hours, like a Notification of Error and Correction--"
"You must be out of your head, Colonel." Zukow stood up, towered over the big desk. Veins in his wide forehead stood out redly, accentuating the growing color in his stiffened face. "In a couple of hours we go into eclipse! Not for long, but while we are, we won't be _able_ to pick up anything. Suppose _then_ the notification comes? While we're working out some crazy plan still thinking Taylor was trying to pull a cute one? Do you think we can take a gamble like that? Do you think we have the _right_ to take a gamble like that?"
"As it is," Steele replied slowly, "our people are to be slaves. For all we know, forever."
"A little dramatic, aren't you?"
"Would you call it a situation to be taken lightly?"
The other straightened, said nothing.
"Major, Taylor was taking a shot in the dark. We're a fantastically slim hope--but we're the _only_ one he's got!"
"And I think that right now you are a greater enemy to Earth than all her Invaders!"
"'Liberty or death,' Major, that's what Taylor was saying to us when he knowingly put his signature to a fluke error!"
"Oh for God's sake Colonel, come off it! It sounds just jim-dandy but you haven't even got a plan! Infinity to zero, those are your odds! And if I thought you were seriously considering _not_ going in. I'd--"
"Yes, Major, you'd what?"
The door opened. It was Grady. There was a communication folder in his hand. Silently, Steele took the folder. There was an expectant look on Zukow's flushed face as his superior read the brief message. Then Steele looked up.
"No," he said. "It's not a Notification of Error and Correction. Simply a follow-up directive ordering all recalled craft to navigate the final ten thousand miles of their Earth-approaches in intervals of not less than twenty minutes each. Seems the Invaders have their entire headquarters and supply set-up in a mother-ship circling Earth--and they aren't taking any chances."
"Under these conditions, then--"
"As far as we are concerned, Major, the conditions are the same!"
For a moment Zukow stood immobile, his dark eyes snapping down to lock with Steele's. But the colonel's did not flinch. And then the Major 

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