One thing at a time, Jonnie told himself. Do each thing properly. Each one as it comes up and each one in its turn. He had read that in a book from the man-library. He had been looking for cures for radiation and he found some. And he'd also found a book about how to handle confusion. It came from too many things at once. And that was certainly happening now! The drone, the possibility of a Psychlo counterattack, the outcome of the compound battle still in question. No reports yet of the attacks on other minesites. One could easily get confused, make a mistake, even panic. Stay calm. One thing at a time.

Dancer had been racing flat-out southward. That was not the right thing to do. He could founder her. He began to alternate a trot with a run. She was breathing better. The light was failing. Something as silly as a tripped horse could wreck everything. Trot, run, trot, run. Twenty miles. They would make it.

He had a mine radio in his pocket, small by Psychlo standards. At ten miles he began to call Glencannon, Thor's pilot. Jonnie spoke into the mike as he rode.

At about eleven miles, Glencannon's voice came back. “Is that you, MacTyler?" The voice sounded a bit weak.

“Can you see a running horse from where you are?” said Jonnie.

There was a long pause. Then, “Yes, you're about three miles northeast of me. You got Terl?"

“Yes, but he's all tied up at the moment.”

There was a silence and then a short, barking laugh. Some of the tension had gone out of Glencannon's voice when he spoke next: “What was he after up there?”

Long story. No time now. Just be calm. Jonnie said aloud, “The girls are safe. Thor is hurt but all right.”

A sigh of relief at the other end.

“Can you still pilot a plane?” said Jonnie.

Pause. “My ribs are a bit caved in and I have a twisted ankle. That's what's taking so long getting back to the compound. But yes, MacTyler, of course I can still pilot a plane.”

“Keep traveling toward the compound. Have a light ready to flash. I’ll send a mine car for you. They'll need air cover.”

“I have a light. I’m sorry about the air cover.”

“It was my fault,” said Jonnie. “Good luck.”

Dancer alternately trotted and ran. Keep calm. Things were not hopeless. They had a fighting chance. There were bright spots. They had agreed not to blow up the whole compound. The historian wanted the library, Angus wanted the machine shops. They evidently hadn't sent any radioactive bullets into the domes. Except for the drone and its escort they still apparently had air control.

At five and a half miles he began calling Robert the Fox at the compound, hoping somebody was monitoring the mine radio. The schoolmaster answered; Jonnie was surprised for there were several classified as noncombatants: the parson, the old women, the historian, and the schoolmaster. Jonnie shortly heard a relieved Robert the Fox.

“The girls are safe,” said Jonnie. There was a pause at the other end as Robert the Fox apparently passed the word along. When the mike opened next from that end, Jonnie heard some cheering in the background. The news was evidently popular.

“We're holding out here,” said Robert the Fox. “I have to talk to you about something when you get here, but not on this open line.”

Dancer skirted a clump of trees. It was getting pretty dark.

“Those apes can't talk English,” said Jonnie.

“No matter, still can't talk about it. When will you be here?”

“About fifteen minutes,” said Jonnie.

“Come in through the ravine to the north. There's a lot of heavy return fire near the compound.”

“Right,” said Jonnie. “Are the planes okay?”

“We pulled them back to better cover in the ravine. We don't have pilots.”

“I know. Listen now. Have somebody put the following items in one plane: warm clothing, a robe, mittens for me; something to eat; some plain, nonradioactive limpet mines; an assault rifle; an air mask with plenty of air bottles– I’ll be flying at one hundred fifty thousand feet.”

There was a silence at the other end and Jonnie prompted: “Got that?”

“Yes,” said Robert the Fox. “It will be done.” He certainly didn't sound very eager.

“Send out a couple of mine cars,” said Jonnie. He gave the locations. “Better send a man or two to help bring in Terl."

"Terl?" said Robert the Fox.

“It’s the naked truth,” said Jonnie. “Get that plane ready. I’ll be taking off just as soon as I arrive.”

A silence. Then, “Will do.” He went off the air.

About five minutes later, a mine car passed him going north in the twilight. It was the parson, one of the old women, and a Scot with his arm in a sling. The parson raised his hand in a benediction– no, it was a salute! They were off to get Thor and the girls and Terl. A great length of hoist chain was flying out behind the mine car. Jonnie glanced back. The old woman was carrying a blast rifle.

The sound of the fire exchange was getting loud. The spray of the fire system was shooting two hundred feet in the air. Under it winked the blue-green of blast rifles. The stuttering orange flashes of assault weapons were plainer in the floodlights that were on all over the compound.

Jonnie sped Dancer down into the opening of the ravine and pulled to a halt beside the two remaining planes. Streaks of blast rifle shots laced the sky above their heads. The horse was blowing heavily, covered with lather, but not foundered. One thing at a time, Jonnie told himself. You can catch the drone.

Robert the Fox had his old cape thrown over his antiradiation battle dress. His grizzled hair was singed on one side. His face was composed but there was a hint of concern. He grabbed Jonnie's wrist and gave it a hearty shake of welcome.

Jonnie looked at the singed hair. “How are casualties?”

“Light,” said Robert the Fox. “Surprisingly light. They don't want to show themselves to us. It impeded their aim. And it's like fighting in a rainstorm. Look, you're not wearing antiradiation-'

“That water is washing radiation away as fast as you fire it in,” said Jonnie. “I have something to do. There's no breathe-gas in that drone. I don't need radiation cover.”

"Jonnie, can't that drone wait until the minesites have been flattened? It will take the drone up to eighteen hours to get where it's going overseas. We tracked it on the search equipment of this plane. Which is to say, we tracked the escort. The drone has wave cancellers.”

Jonnie opened the plane door. It was all ready. There was bread and meat on the seat. An old woman popped up beside him and handed him a cup of steaming herb tea that smelled suspiciously of whiskey. When he looked at her, questioning her presence in this battle zone, she said, “They can't eat bullets!” and laughed a cackling laugh.

Robert's hand was detaining him. “We still have radio silence successfully in.” They had agreed to give the remote minesite attack pilots twelve hours of radio silence to let them finish off the outlying areas with total surprise if possible. “That's more than they need. We can shorten it and they can converge on that drone-'

“It’s headed for Scotland,” said Jonnie.

“That's its first stop.”

“I know.”

Jonnie finished off the hot drink and started to climb into the plane.

The detaining hand again. “There's something I’ve got to tell you.” When Jonnie had stopped to listen, he continued, “We may not have hit Psychlo."

“I know,” said Jonnie.

“That means that we may need all the planes and equipment we can get here. They're in hangars under us. We don't have men enough to take the place by assault and we mustn't destroy it.”