The voice said caustically: "_Unfortunately, we've nothing to do
anything with._" It paused. "_You, of course, can use the
landing-rockets you still possess. If you fire them immediately, you
will pass our scheduled meeting-place some hundreds of miles ahead of
us. You will go on out to space. You may set up an orbit forty-five
hundred or even five thousand miles out, and wait there for rescue._"

Joe said briefly: "We've air for only four days. That's no good. It'll
be a month before the next ship can be finished and take off. There are
four rockets coming up, you say?"

"_Yes._" The voice changed. It spoke away from the microphone. "_What's
that?_" Then it returned to Joe. "_The four rockets were sent up at the
same instant from four separate launching sites. Probably as many
submarines at the corners of a hundred-mile square, so an accident to
one wouldn't set off the others. They'll undoubtedly converge as they
get nearer to us._"

"I think," said Joe, "that we need some luck."

"_I think_," said the caustic voice, "_that we've run out of it._"

There was a click. Joe swallowed again. The three members of his crew
were looking at him.

"Somebody's fired rockets out from Earth," said Joe carefully. "They'll
curve together where we meet the Platform, and get there just when we
do."

The Chief rumbled. Haney clamped his jaws together. Mike's expression