"You've not won, Planeteers!” he choked. “You're too late. I notified the Leader days ago by audio that I had the radite, and the League fleet rocketed then to conquer the Alliance! Already they're driving the Alliance navies sunward!
"And what is more,” he gloated in a dying whisper, “Haskell Trask himself and a picked strong force have landed on Earth's moon and seized Philip Blaine and his weapon! The radite is useless to you now!"
A last flicker of life throbbed in Cheerly's little eyes, a last gleam of triumph.
"I was always too clever for you Planeteers!” he choked. And then his broken body relaxed as death came.
Thorn looked up at the others, his brown face grave inside his helmet. “If what he said is true—"
"I'll find out with the Gargol's audio!” Sual Av cried, and sprang toward the control-room.
When the Venusian came back, his face was pale, his green eyes stricken. He spoke unsteadily.
"It's true, John! I heard the audiocalls. The Alliance navies have retreated sunward past the orbit of Venus, attacked by the League's tremendous fleet. The inner worlds are in wild panic, and Haskell Trask is directing the League operations from the advanced base he's established on Earth's moon!"
Thorn's body sagged inside his space-suit. For the first time, ultimate despair claimed him.
"Then this radite that might have saved the Alliance is useless,” he said hoarsely. “With Trask holding the moon — Blaine's weapon in his possession — the Alliance is doomed!"