“You can work this out with Glencannon. You'll have a pilot in half an hour or so. You can bash it in from the air.” He made to get into the plane and again Robert's hand was on his sleeve.

“We had a funny thing happen, just before sunset,” said Robert. “A tank surrendered!”

Jonnie stepped back onto the ground. He might as well spend this time getting into the warm clothing needed at high altitudes and he proceeded to do so. “Go on.”

Robert took a deep breath, but before he went on a runner came up to tell him the historian had delivered a new load of ammunition from the Academy. Robert told him to see it was passed out. The blast fire needles continued to lash overhead in the now quite dark night.

“The tank is a 'Bash Our Way to Glory.' It 's down there at the other end of the ravine. Oh, don't be alarmed. It 's in our hands. It came out of the garage port and came right straight toward us. We hit it with bazookas and they didn't even dent it. But it didn't fire back. It went right straight down to the end of the ravine there and threw out an intercom through an atmosphere lock and said it wanted to talk to the 'Hockner Leader.' It wanted a guarantee of safety in return for cooperation.”

Jonnie was getting into the warm boots. “Well, go on.”

“It’s a kind of weird scene,” continued Robert. “When they got a safety guarantee they came out of the tank. They said they were the Chamco brothers. We got interrogation going. They said they knew Terl had sold out. It seems there was a mine manager named Char, a friend of theirs, who turned up missing at the firing. Well, this Char told the Chamco brothers that there'd been a murder. That Terl had murdered the head of the planet so he could appoint a new Planet Head named Ker. And that Ker, this afternoon, had denied them ammunition for the tank. The Chamcos claim Terl and Ker have sold out to some race called the 'Hockners of Duraleb' and even launched the drone to wipe out the other minesites."

“I suppose it's mostly correct,” said Jonnie. “Except the parts about the Hockners and the drone. The Psychlos have a lot of enemies, but according to their histories they defeated the Hockners a couple of hundred years ago. Listen, Sir Robert, in all due respect, I’ve got to be going!”

“There's more,” said Robert the Fox. “They haven't got tank and plane fuel in there, and we've cut down four sorties of theirs to get to the fuel and ammunition dump way over there. But they have plenty of blast rifle ammunition. We don't have men enough for an assault-”

“What else?” said Jonnie. “Sounds like good news, not bad.”

“Well, it's not all good news. It seems there's sixteen levels of compound under us. Each level stretches for acres. Quarters, shops, garages, hangars, offices, workrooms, libraries, supply warehouses-”

“I didn't know it was that much, but that's not bad news either.”

“Wait. If that thing were to be hit with radiation this whole assault force would be blown to bits. We're fighting on a loaded bomb. We must save those planes and equipment if we have to defend Earth. And we need them for reconstruction if we really did blow up Psychlo."

“You'll have air support shortly,” said Jonnie. “You can withdraw-”

“Well, the Chamco brothers say they know what will happen in there. That we'll flood the place with air! They said they know how 'us Hockners' took the Duraleb system back. They say there aren't enough breathe-gas masks and vials but the recirculating system has plenty. These Chamco brothers are design and maintenance engineers. They promised to help us if we paid them. They say the whole planet has been on half-pay and no bonuses. And they don't want to be killed in an 'air flood' as they called it.”

Jonnie had on the warm clothing and was finishing a sandwich of oat bread and dried venison. “Sir Robert, as soon as you get air support you can plan something-”

“The Chamco brothers told us the breathe-gas recirculating system was exterior to the base and air-cooled, and they were tricked into admitting all one had to do was shoot up the intake pipes from the cooling system and the pumps would fill the whole compound with air.”

“You got it all solved,” said Jonnie.

“Yes, but we need the intakes shot up at long range from the air.”

“That shouldn't take long. As soon as

Glencannon gets here-'

“Well, I think you ought to do it,” said Robert. “It’s not very dangerous and if you fire from about a half-mile off-'

“I can do that as I take off.”

“But you should come back down here to verify-”

Suddenly Jonnie knew what Robert was up to. Robert the Fox was going to wait until all planes could converge on that drone. And that was taking a chance. The planes to other minesites might be in trouble themselves. “Sir Robert, are you trying to keep me from making a single-handed attack on that drone?”

The veteran spread his hands. "Jonnie, laddie, you've done too much already to get yourself killed now!” His eyes were pleading.

Jonnie swung up into the plane.

“Then I’m coming with you!” said Robert the Fox.

“You're going to stay right here and direct this assault!”

A mine car ricocheted into the end of the ravine and came to a halt. The driver grabbed an assault rifle and ran up to the lines to get back into the battle. Glencannon stepped down and limped over to them. “Damn!” said Robert the Fox.

“What's the matter?” said Glencannon, a bit taken aback with the greeting. "I’m all right. If somebody will tape up my ribs and put something around this ankle, I can fly.”

Robert the Fox put an arm around Glencannon's shoulder. “It was something else,” he said. “I’m glad you got back alive. We've got a job for you. A lot of them, in fact. The snipers on the old Chinko quarters-”

“Goodbye, Sir Robert,” Jonnie said and closed the door.

“Good luck,” said Robert sadly. He knew Jonnie would suicide-crash the drone if everything else failed. He didn't expect to see him again. Then he turned and began to issue orders to two waiting runners. He had a little trouble seeing them.

Jonnie sent the plane soaring out of the ravine, too fast to be spotted and hit, and was on his way to attempt something the combined military powers of Earth had failed to do. And on his way to do it all alone.

Waiting until the drone was– what, five hours?– from Scotland was cutting it a bit close. If attacks on it did succeed they might blow gas canisters, and a freak wind could wipe out Scotland and Sweden as well. There was much to be said for attack in force. But even that guaranteed no success. And no one had ever tried a head-on smash at the drone with a Psychlo battle plane traveling at maximum with all guns blazing at the moment of collision. As a last resort, that would destroy almost anything. He hadn't said anything about it to Sir Robert. Surely the old man hadn't guessed it.