"No—unless it is to apply what we know about fighting Martians to the present situation. We didn't consider this possibility."
As Maynard turned to re-enter the Orionad, eighteen of Hamilton's raiding horde returned in a screaming landing. Hamilton came out, white-faced, and said, dully: "It was sheer hell—both ways. We got 'em—but they hit us with the book. Sixty percent lost!"
"How do you feel?" asked Maynard.
"I don't know."
"Take your command out again and hit Sector F-67."
Hamilton looked up in surprise, and then anger crossed his face. He saluted and said: "Yes sir!"
As he turned to go, Maynard called softly: "Hamilton! We're fighting Martians now—they've made a pact!"
Hamilton turned, looked at Maynard, and muttered something that Guy could not hear over the roar of battle. Then he returned, and faced Guy.
"The stinking, rotten devils—!" His face cleared, and he left.