Outside on our dim, Earthlit cliff, the tiny lights showed where our few guards were lurking. As I stood at the window watching the incoming ship, Grantline's voice sounded:
"Call in those men! Ring the call-lights, Franck!"
The siren buzzed over the camp's interior; the warning call-lights on the roof brought in the outer guards. They came running to the admission ports, which had been repaired after Miko disabled them.
The guards came in. We dimmed our lights further. The treasure sheds were black against the cliff behind us. No need for guards there—we reasoned the brigands would not attempt to move it until our buildings were captured. But, if they should try it, we were prepared to defend it.
In the dim light we crouched. A silence was upon us save for the clanging in the workshop down the corridor. Most of us wore our Erentz suits, with helmets ready, though I am sure there was not a man of us but who prayed he might not have to go out. At many of the windows—our weakest points to withstand the rays—insulated fabric sheets were hung like curtains.
The brigand ship slowly advanced. It was soon over the opposite rim of our little crater. Its searchbeam swung about the rim and down the valley.
My thoughts ran like a turgid stream as I stood tensely watching.
Four hours ago I had sent that flash signal to Earth. If it was received, a patrol ship could come to our rescue and arrive here in another eight hours—or perhaps even less.
Ah, that "if!" If the signal was received! If the patrol ship were immediately available. If it started at once....
Eight hours at the very least. I tried to assure myself that we could hold out that long.