His whole body was trembling as he made the final turn and was breathlessly rewarded with the sight of a higher frequency wave pulsing smoothly across the tube. The door fell silently open. The clock said a minute to the zero hour!
He raced across the roof, full in the flare of a swirling beacon. Of course he did not see the crawling, bleeding body in the darkness near the radio-room's door, did not hear the hoarse, feeble cry:
"Oh, God, not Frederix!"
He blasted his ship out through the automatic lock at full speed. Seconds later his radio receiver burst into life:
"Calling KBM, Kaa. This is Cravens at Certagarni. Meevo and Frederix killed all the men; sent the squadron to attack Kaa. Station will blow into Hell within a minute. Oh, God, get them—Captain Meevo and Lieutenant Hunter Frederix—traitors! The Cen—"
The weak, quavering voice died away.
The night turned to crimson flame. Boom! A vast concussion shook the earth, the sky. Frederix fought the bucking controls. Behind, the spacestation's defenses were debris spouting into the upper air, and livid, leaping fire cast macabre patterns upon the distant vaults of Certagarni.
He sat in the cushioned seat, stunned by the immensity of the deed and by the startling denunciation he had heard as Cravens, with whom he had conversed so much, Cravens who had made the trio of Andres, Frederix and himself rich indeed in the folklore of the stars—Cravens had named him traitor!
Dave had even taken his transmitter to overhaul the day before. Consequently he could not contact Kaa or Del and protest his innocence, warn them of the awful fullness of the Vron plot, of the Armada. He would probably be shot down should he stumble upon the aerial battle which would soon be waged over Botrodus since Cravens had warned Kaa, the key station there.