Chapter V

In a natural amphitheater, walled in at one side by the cliff of the ravine and sheltered from the methane wind by the parapets of the Tsom fortress, stood the gigantic Neptunian bomb. Its impervium walls glowed with a faint, cold light. Regularly, down its sides from ten points, uneven streaks marked the course of Timmy's sensitizing fluid. Their exact placement was coincidentally fortunate. Each served to counteract the other, though the inward pressure they exerted must have been tremendous indeed.

The Leader was laughing in a repulsively reptilian way as he ascended his rostrum. Timmy and Damokles followed. "Observe," said the Leader, "the ingenious controls by which I guide the rocket-blasts from this remote station." He pointed to his control board, motioned Timmy and Johnny to stay away from it, and chuckled as they obeyed. Then, for a full hour, he delivered an impassioned and almost insane address to his followers.

As near as Timmy could judge, the Leader's address was a skilful bit of vituperation against the injustices done Neptune. But it was effective. A frenzied circle of lizard-men howled as he finished speaking. "And now," said the Leader, "we send our little present on his way."

He reached for the control board. The bomb shot heavenward.

Yes, it shot heavenward.

But the Leader _hadn't touched_ the controls.

Timmy's fingers anticipated him. A flick on his own secret control board had shot the bomb silently out toward the void. The Leader's finger froze in mid-air. His jaw dropped. He followed the bomb in its flight, and every muscle tightened, when it stopped dead at a point half a mile above Neptune. There the bomb hovered, unmoving. Its orbit, if an orbit you could call it, held it exactly above the center of the Tsom fortress. The Leader's finger jammed down on his control button.

Flames blasted from the bomb's jets. It whirled crazily on its own axis ... but was otherwise immovable.

"Interesting, isn't it?" said Timmy mockingly.

* * * * *

The Leader looked at him. "You've done this?" His tone was most incredulous. He darted toward Timmy.

"Don't move," ordered the Earthman. He flicked a button and the great bomb dropped silently. The Leader stopped. There was utter silence as every creature in the amphitheater realized what was happening.

"Well," said the Leader at last, "it's an impasse, isn't it."

"No ... it's check ... and check-mate."

"Yes," chuckled Johnny Damokles, "she are old Greeks' gambit."

* * * * *

The Leader darted back to his control board. Again and again he shot every ounce of power into the bomb's blasts. Nothing happened. It spun about at that same tantalizing half-mile above their heads.

"Most ingenius," said the Leader. "You falsified those papers on how your principle worked?"

"Believe that if you want," said Timmy with a shrug. "And now ... I'm taking over."

The Leader bowed.

But Johnny Damokles stepped into the picture.

"I take over first," he said. "I gots present for dam' blast Shelton Thurner." He leaned over the front of the rostrum and caught the big Neptunian spy by the coat collar. Timmy, guarding against any treacherous assault, kept his eyes on the Leader and the bomb.

"Holla, Meester Shelton Thurner," greeted the Greek, "You ask Johnny Damokles dam' fool question. You want sky-hook? Good! I gots sky-hook." From a capacious pocket of his space britches he drew a hook and a dangling length of chain. He tightened the collar and jabbed the hook through it. "Goombye, Meester No-goods!" he chortled. He jerked the rest of the chain from his pocket. A few scraps of treated impervium were hitched to its end. Light hit them. They shot aloft, dragging Thurner behind them like the tail of a crazy kite, and dangled high above the plain.

"How you like sky-hooks?" yelled the Greek.

Timmy laughed.

"I regret," said the Leader in a suavely courteous tone, "the loss of an aide. But tell me, how did you evolve this ingenious plan? Am I over-inquisitive?"

"The plan ... belongs to Johnny Damokles."

"Sure Mikes!" blurted the Greek. "She are old Greeks' story. You tell her, Timmy. My talk all mixed with sky-hooks!"

Timmy fingered his control board. "Long ago," he said, "a Greek king acquired excessive power through force. As a symbol of that force ... a sword dangled always above his head. By a hair. The king's name ... like that of my friend ... was Damocles. They call the story, _The Sword of Damocles_."

Above their heads hovered that menacing ball of _dynotron_, enough to blast all life from Neptune. The Neptunian leader watched it.

"I believe ... that I understand." He turned away, then swung back again. "One must accept facts intelligently. Visiphone your Terrestian diplomats. Neptune will accept any reasonable terms."

Overhead, the sword of Johnny Damokles glowed faintly.

"The Greeks," Johnny Damokles said softly to nobody in particular, "have a word for it. _Freedom!_" He smiled. "Let'sa call home, Tims. I'm cold!"