Jan Eliel said quietly, "We know how you feel, Curt Wing. But there wasn't anything else we could do. Wait!" He held up his hand as Wing threatened to interrupt him.
"We were like the fellow in the old story who stood at the gates of hell. He was damned if he opened the door and damned if he didn't."
"We had two alternatives—an unknown enemy and a known enemy, and we needed time, so we chose to capitulate to Mercury. We recognized the blue flower for what it was—and we needed you. Until you switched from building atomics to piloting them, you had made the greatest advance in the force field."
"We have time now—precious little since it will be only two weeks before the Mercurian fleet arrives with Mercury's Zhan Nekel. Earth still is ours. If you can solve the force field, we need not lose. We can turn it upon the Mercurians. They have fought with deceit and in this we must deceive them."
Jan Eliel sat up stiffly in his chair. "Will you desert us, Curt Wing?"
Wing's relaxed figure was their answer. The boyish grin which wiped the harsh planes of his face into softness was his promise. But Dead-Eye added emphasis, dragging his powder gun from his belt and waving it.
"Elizabeth and me'll help!" he declared.
The electric clock whirred softly—like a breathless metronone keeping time with Curt Wing's pencil. The metal desk was littered with crumpled and half-crumpled sheets of paper. Wing's black hair was rumpled and awry, his face dirtier by a ragged growth of beard, and when he lifted his aching eyes to the clock, they were blood-shot and watery with strain.
Behind him, the door sighed softly as it closed. Aware of a presence, but too weary to turn around Wing asked: