[Transcriber's Note: This etext was produced from
Thrilling Wonder Stories Winter 1954.
Extensive research did not uncover any evidence that
the U.S. copyright on this publication was renewed.]
General Thomas Groves gazed glumly up at the battle maps on the wall.The thin black line, the iron ring around Ganymede, was still there.He waited a moment, vaguely hoping, but the line did not go away. Atlast he turned and made his way out of the chart wing, past the rows ofdesks.
At the door Major Siller stopped him. "What's wrong, sir? No change inthe war?"
"No change."
"What'll we do?"
"Come to terms. Their terms. We can't let it drag on another month.Everybody knows that. They know that."
"Licked by a little outfit like Ganymede."
"If only we had more time. But we don't. The ships must be out indeep-space again, right away. If we have to capitulate to get them out,then let's do it. Ganymede!" He spat. "If we could only break them. Butby that time—"
"By that time the colonies won't exist."
"We have to get our cradles back in our own hands," Groves said grimly."Even if it takes capitulation to do it."
"No other way will do?"
"You find another way." Groves pushed past Siller, out into thecorridor. "And if you find it, let me know."
The war had been going on for two Terran months, with no sign of abreak. The System Senate's difficult position came from the fact thatGanymede was the jump-off point between the System and its precariousnetwork of colonies at Proxima Centauri. All ships leaving the Systemfor deep-space were launched from the immense space cradles onGanymede. There were no other cradles. Ganymede had been agreed on asthe jump-off point, and the cradles had been constructed there.
The Ganymedeans became rich, hauling freight and supplies in theirtubby little ships. Over a period of time more and more Gany ships tookto the sky, freighters and cruisers and patrol ships.
One day this odd fleet landed among the space cradles, killed andimprisoned the Terran and Martian guards, and proclaimed that Ganymedeand the cradles were their property. If the Senate wanted to use thecradles they paid, and paid plenty. Twenty per cent of all freightedgoods turned over to the Gany Emperor, left on the moon. And fullSenate representation.
If the Senate fleet tried to take back the cradles by force thecradles would be destroyed. The Ganymedeans had already mined them withH bombs. The Gany fleet surrounded the moon, a little ring of hardsteel. If the Senate fleet tried to break through, seize the moon, itwould be the end of the cradles. What could the System do?
And at Proxima, the colonies were starving.
"You're certain we can't launch ships into deep-space from regularfields," a Martian Senator asked.
"Only Class-One ships have any chance to reach the colonies," CommanderJames Carmichel said wearily. "A Class-One ship is ten times the sizeof a regular intra-system ship. A Class-One ship needs a cradle milesdeep. Miles wide. You can't launch a ship that size from a meadow."
There was silence. The great Senate chambers were full, crowded tocapacity with representatives from all the nine planets.
"The Proxima colonies won't last another twenty days," Doctor Bassettestified. "That means we must get a ship on the way sometime nextweek. Otherwise, when we do get there we won't find anyone alive."
"When will the new Luna cradles be ready?"
"A month," Carmichel answered.
"No sooner?"
"No."
"Then apparently we'll have to accept Ga