"No," said Joe shortly. "He'd fight again. Go inside. That's an order,
Chief."

The Chief grunted and obeyed. Joe went to the nearest airlock and
entered the great steel hull.

Sanford floated in emptiness, two yards from the Space Platform he would
have turned into a derelict. He did not move farther away. He did not
fall toward it. There was nobody to listen to him. He cried out in
blood-curdling fury because other men were smarter than he was. Other
men had solved problems he could not solve. Other men were his
superiors. He screamed his rage.

Presently the Platform revolved slowly beneath him. It was turned, of
course, by the monster gyros which in turn were controlled by the pilot
gyros Joe and Haney and the Chief and Mike had repaired when saboteurs
smashed them.

The Platform rotated sedately. A great gap appeared in it. The door of
the supply ship lock moved until Sanford, floating helplessly, was
opposite its mouth.

A rod with a rounded object at its end appeared past the docked supply
ship. It reached out and touched Sanford's helmet. It was the magnetic
grapple which drew space ships into their dock.

It drew Sanford, squirming and streaming, into the great lock. The outer
doors closed. Before air was admitted to the inside, Sanford went
suddenly still.