Chapter VI

The meeting Blane had called in the rec hall had been brief. Men and women had stared incredulously at him as he told them the facts--all the facts this time. There hadn't even been a vote, since none was needed. Now they were scurrying about, hastily following the orders he had given. Manners was destroying the tapes, the weather men were collecting the reports of future weather that should have been filed within the next few days, and others were gathering what bits of scientific material and notes they could. Edwards had somehow joined them and was already out in the little ferry, heading for the big lunar ship that was fueled and almost completed.

Devlin sat in the hub still. He was conscious now, but the blood on his head ruined what would otherwise have been a fine military posture. He made his slight bow, smiling bitterly in recognition of his helplessness.

"I'm oddly grateful to you, Blane," he said. "But I don't expect you to believe me. And I find I regret what will happen to you and the men here when this catches up with you. What are your plans for me?"

Blane hadn't thought of that. He watched through the port as the ugly, clumsy lunar ship moved toward the ship, to a distance where the ferry could be used to carry them all out to it.

"You can pilot a ship, I remember. Take Edwards' ship and go back to the Island," he decided at last.

Devlin smiled. "I thought of that, too. But with your permission, I'd rather come with you. I'm curious. And I give you my word I shall not interfere in any way. Your case is hopeless, of course--but so is mine."

Blane shrugged. "Come along, then."

Loading everyone into the lunar ship was a horrible period of chaos. It had never been meant to hold such a cargo of goods and people. But somehow room was found, and Edwards began moving out and away from the _Goddard_--the station that was now empty, except for the warheads that were growing hotter with each hour.

"I've called the Island," he said to Blane. "If the message got to anyone except some lumphead, I think they'll be waiting for us."

Blane nodded, but he found little reaction to any news now. He had made his plans in some split moment between striking Devlin and reaching the office. There was nothing now to add to them. There was only a grim determination and the hope that all spacemen must share it--the determination that somehow, men had to stay out here and find an honest destiny in space.

* * * * *

Three hours later, when their long ellipse brought them within sight of the _Tsiolkovsky_, he saw that there were ships around the station. There were no more than half a dozen now, but he could see others approaching. It was impossible for all to leave at once, but the men there had elected to join him, and they had found enough sympathy among the staff of the Island to gain control long enough to accomplish their decision.

The awkward lunar ship came to a reluctant stop less than half a mile from the station, and Blane began picking those who were to go with him aboard the little ferry that was in tow. Manners and Peal and two others. He was looking for a sixth when Devlin moved into the group. Blane started to order him aside, and then shrugged.

They were almost as crowded in the taxi that Edwards piloted as they had been on the lunar ship. But there was no thought of that. The others were taking their cue from Blane, and Blane was simply waiting, frozen in his determination until events could shape his moves.

* * * * *

The landing net snapped around them, and they settled into the silicone ring, and then began moving into the huge hub of the _Sulky_.

At least a dozen people were waiting there--too many, Blane realized. He hadn't bothered to consider the size of the group he must meet. But he disregarded that.

Sonya Vartanian moved forward to greet him with the double kiss and handshake. Her eyes were unreadable, but her voice was warm. "Welcome, gentlemen. I am delighted that you remembered our offer of aid in time of trouble. You have our assurance that--"

Blane cut her off with a hasty gesture. He wanted no speeches from her. It had to be done at once, or forgotten, as he had planned it. His mind had no second line of action. He began to speak authoritatively;

"In the name of the free territory of space, I seize this ship and all that is on it," he continued coldly, "I sever all ties any may have with Earth herewith. I ban all military operations from space. I declare that no nation may own property in space, but may only trade according to the just laws and practices that shall be henceforth established for space. I--"

He was wound up to the point where he could not stop, though there was nothing more to say at the moment.

But a sudden sound choked off his words. It was a shout from those who had come to meet the crew from the _Goddard_. It was a long, surprised crescendo that slowly became a cheer.

* * * * *

Sonya leaned forward, grasping his hands. "Thank God," she cried in his ear. "Oh thank God. I was so afraid you wouldn't see it."

He blinked, beginning to feel foolish. "You mean that you agree? Without resistance?"

"We've been trying to find some way to make it happen for two years--ever since our commander refused to permit our decaying missiles to be used against your station," she told him. "But we never really believed it could happen."

Blane knew that he had never believed it, either.

He pulled her closer, beginning to smile again. "In the name of the free territory of space!" he said, and kissed her.