'Two...' said the bomb. 'One... '

'Hi, bomb! It's Nettie!'

'Hi, Nettie...'

'Are you all right, bomb?'

There was silence. For a moment, Dan thought they'd lost it.

'Bomb? Are you there, bomb?' Nettie called into the phone. But still the bomb didn't reply.

'Bomb!' Dan had grabbed the phone.

'Oh! Of course! Let the man do it!' said Nettie.

'Bomb? Are you there?' Dan wasn't listening to Nettie. 'Speak to me!'

'I was speaking to Nettie,' said the bomb in a sulky voice.

'Oh,' said Dan and handed the phone back to Nettie. 'Sorry,' he whispered.

'This is Nettie,' said Nettie into the phone. Again the bomb remained silent. 'Bomb?' she repeated.

Again silence.

'Bomb!' a note of urgency had crept into Nettie's voice. 'Speak to me!'

Then the bomb spoke... very quietly... 'I'm a Mega-Scuttler...' it said.

'Is that your name?' asked Nettie.

'Yes,' said the bomb. 'I'm a bomb.'

'I know you are,' replied Nettie.

'I like hearing your voice, Nettie,' said the bomb.

'I like hearing yours, bomb,' replied Nettie.

'You're not... just saying that?'

'No, I'm not. For an electronic voice you have a very soft one. It's nice.' For a moment Nettie thought the bomb was crying; 'Won't you start counting down again for me?'

'If you'd really like me to,' said the bomb.

'Yes,' said Nettie.

'Very well,' said the bomb. 'I'll count - just for you, Nettie. But this is the last time. One thousand... Nine hundred and ninety-nine...'

Nettie had been so intent upon her purpose of stopping the bomb that she hadn't realized how terrified she'd been, but the next moment she found out, her knees gave way, and she fell into Dan's arms that were suddenly there to catch her.

Bolfass stood on the Captain's Bridge of the Starship Titanic and could not believe his eyes, as he watched the Blerontinian mercenaries beat a retreat into their boarding craft.

'What on Yassacca's going on?' he exclaimed. 'Blerontinians don't just give up like that - they usually fight to our last man!' But, for good measure, he ordered another salvo of space-fire and the blackness around the mercenaries' craft exploded again with light and noise. In less time than it takes for a snork to poop on a plate, the rag-tag flotilla had turned about, and with a blast of white-hot rocketry the loss adjustors' spacefleet disappeared into the stars beyond the beautiful green planet of Yassacca.