Red said, "Gimme them oars, Sheng-ti. You look like you're pooped. Me and Ramey can take her in from here. You said 'force', keed? Well, now, that all depends. If we was back in the good old Twentieth A. D. I'd say it wasn't worth a hoot in hell. Hitler's blitzers would make hash out of it in something like ten seconds of the first round. But for this day and age, it ain't bad. About six divisions of talking apes, and maybe twice that many natives. But the hell with that. How about you? What have you been doing? And did you get the Bow? And where's Sheila?"
"I'll explain everything," said Ramey, "when we meet the others. Let's dock this jaloppy first."
"And that," concluded Ramey some time later, "is how things stood when we fled Lanka. Ravana still has the Bow, but it has not yet been charged. Sheila is under lock and key in the innermost chambers of the palace. Vibhishana is fighting to maintain a foothold within the citadel itself. How his fight is coming along we have no way of knowing, but it's a damned sure thing he can't hold out forever. We must come to his assistance, and do it before either his force is wiped out or Ravana fuels the Bow. Or—"
He shrugged expressively. Sugriva finished for him,
"Or Earth," he said soberly, "will be a vassal state to the Videlian overlord for the gods only know how many centuries. Yes, Ramey Winters, we must move—and move fast."
"You have mapped out a campaign?"
"Tentatively. Our native friends are throwing boats together for us ... boats, rafts, skiffs, anything navigable. Under cover of tomorrow's midnight we had hoped to have enough of these to land a small scouting force. A suicide squadron whose sole purpose would be to effect a landing, open a land salient. If they can hold their ground for twenty-four hours, we should be able to reinforce with another three or four divisions."
Barrett glanced at his friend anxiously.
"Well, Ramey? What do you think of it?"