“First,” he said, “the difficulty of killing an enemy ship and substituting this one unnoticed. It’s a trick we can only try once.”

“That’s a problem of maneuvers—it’s got to be worked out between yourself and the squadron detailed to act with you.”

“Very well,” Jason nodded, accepting the point. “Next difficulty—the jackoes have radio; I’ve heard them often enough chattering to each other. Now I’m to join their formation and ride this ship back home with them. Some Jacko might possibly think it odd if one of their pals stayed speechless for maybe so long as a week.”

“As to that,” Dickenson said, “here’s Admiral Hayes, who’s responsible for the technical side of this project. Hayes, this is Lieutenant Jason. He’s being considered as a possible pilot for the ship. Show him our answer to the problem of radio conversations between our man and the Jacko squadron.”

“It hasn’t taken you long to spot the snags,” Hayes commented. “Come up on top and I’ll show you our answer to that one.”

Hayes leapt the twenty feet up onto a platform which extended above the ship. Jason followed.

“That projection there,” the former explained, “that’s the root of the radio antenna. Now see that dirty long groove across the hull? What would you say had been the cause of that?”

“A solid projectile from one of our guns grazed across the hull, made this diagonal groove, and clipped off the radio mast at the root. I see what you’re getting at,” Jason nodded.

“Any objections?” Hayes asked, smiling.

“A few small ones,” Jason told him. “Perhaps their ships have two independent radio systems—perhaps they have other nonelectronic means of communicating—perhaps their radio is effective after a fashion even with the antenna clipped off. All the same sir, I think these are small chances, well worth taking.”

They jumped back down on to the floor.

“Well, Jason,” Dickenson asked, “what d’you think of our project now?”