diff options
| -rw-r--r-- | .gitattributes | 4 | ||||
| -rw-r--r-- | LICENSE.txt | 11 | ||||
| -rw-r--r-- | README.md | 2 | ||||
| -rw-r--r-- | old/69584-0.txt | 11871 | ||||
| -rw-r--r-- | old/69584-0.zip | bin | 238559 -> 0 bytes | |||
| -rw-r--r-- | old/69584-h.zip | bin | 4172179 -> 0 bytes | |||
| -rw-r--r-- | old/69584-h/69584-h.htm | 12274 | ||||
| -rw-r--r-- | old/69584-h/images/cover.jpg | bin | 1596335 -> 0 bytes | |||
| -rw-r--r-- | old/69584-h/images/illus1.jpg | bin | 94352 -> 0 bytes | |||
| -rw-r--r-- | old/69584-h/images/illus10.jpg | bin | 48363 -> 0 bytes | |||
| -rw-r--r-- | old/69584-h/images/illus11.jpg | bin | 93965 -> 0 bytes | |||
| -rw-r--r-- | old/69584-h/images/illus12.jpg | bin | 89507 -> 0 bytes | |||
| -rw-r--r-- | old/69584-h/images/illus13.jpg | bin | 42325 -> 0 bytes | |||
| -rw-r--r-- | old/69584-h/images/illus14.jpg | bin | 152221 -> 0 bytes | |||
| -rw-r--r-- | old/69584-h/images/illus15.jpg | bin | 90356 -> 0 bytes | |||
| -rw-r--r-- | old/69584-h/images/illus16.jpg | bin | 85038 -> 0 bytes | |||
| -rw-r--r-- | old/69584-h/images/illus17.jpg | bin | 108987 -> 0 bytes | |||
| -rw-r--r-- | old/69584-h/images/illus18.jpg | bin | 95748 -> 0 bytes | |||
| -rw-r--r-- | old/69584-h/images/illus19.jpg | bin | 73972 -> 0 bytes | |||
| -rw-r--r-- | old/69584-h/images/illus2.jpg | bin | 107130 -> 0 bytes | |||
| -rw-r--r-- | old/69584-h/images/illus20.jpg | bin | 171020 -> 0 bytes | |||
| -rw-r--r-- | old/69584-h/images/illus21.jpg | bin | 64498 -> 0 bytes | |||
| -rw-r--r-- | old/69584-h/images/illus22.jpg | bin | 102462 -> 0 bytes | |||
| -rw-r--r-- | old/69584-h/images/illus3.jpg | bin | 98769 -> 0 bytes | |||
| -rw-r--r-- | old/69584-h/images/illus4.jpg | bin | 76567 -> 0 bytes | |||
| -rw-r--r-- | old/69584-h/images/illus5.jpg | bin | 93446 -> 0 bytes | |||
| -rw-r--r-- | old/69584-h/images/illus6.jpg | bin | 85914 -> 0 bytes | |||
| -rw-r--r-- | old/69584-h/images/illus7.jpg | bin | 103595 -> 0 bytes | |||
| -rw-r--r-- | old/69584-h/images/illus8.jpg | bin | 77305 -> 0 bytes | |||
| -rw-r--r-- | old/69584-h/images/illus9.jpg | bin | 98760 -> 0 bytes | |||
| -rw-r--r-- | old/69584-h/images/illusc1.jpg | bin | 110381 -> 0 bytes | |||
| -rw-r--r-- | old/69584-h/images/illusc2.jpg | bin | 58696 -> 0 bytes | |||
| -rw-r--r-- | old/69584-h/images/illusc3.jpg | bin | 59785 -> 0 bytes | |||
| -rw-r--r-- | old/69584-h/images/illusc4.jpg | bin | 58147 -> 0 bytes |
34 files changed, 17 insertions, 24145 deletions
diff --git a/.gitattributes b/.gitattributes new file mode 100644 index 0000000..d7b82bc --- /dev/null +++ b/.gitattributes @@ -0,0 +1,4 @@ +*.txt text eol=lf +*.htm text eol=lf +*.html text eol=lf +*.md text eol=lf diff --git a/LICENSE.txt b/LICENSE.txt new file mode 100644 index 0000000..6312041 --- /dev/null +++ b/LICENSE.txt @@ -0,0 +1,11 @@ +This eBook, including all associated images, markup, improvements, +metadata, and any other content or labor, has been confirmed to be +in the PUBLIC DOMAIN IN THE UNITED STATES. + +Procedures for determining public domain status are described in +the "Copyright How-To" at https://www.gutenberg.org. + +No investigation has been made concerning possible copyrights in +jurisdictions other than the United States. Anyone seeking to utilize +this eBook outside of the United States should confirm copyright +status under the laws that apply to them. diff --git a/README.md b/README.md new file mode 100644 index 0000000..8df04d2 --- /dev/null +++ b/README.md @@ -0,0 +1,2 @@ +Project Gutenberg (https://www.gutenberg.org) public repository for +eBook #69584 (https://www.gutenberg.org/ebooks/69584) diff --git a/old/69584-0.txt b/old/69584-0.txt deleted file mode 100644 index 901c2cc..0000000 --- a/old/69584-0.txt +++ /dev/null @@ -1,11871 +0,0 @@ -The Project Gutenberg eBook of Gray lensman, by E. E. Smith - -This eBook is for the use of anyone anywhere in the United States and -most other parts of the world at no cost and with almost no restrictions -whatsoever. You may copy it, give it away or re-use it under the terms -of the Project Gutenberg License included with this eBook or online at -www.gutenberg.org. If you are not located in the United States, you -will have to check the laws of the country where you are located before -using this eBook. - -Title: Gray lensman - -Author: E. E. Smith - -Release Date: December 20, 2022 [eBook #69584] - -Language: English - -Produced by: Greg Weeks, Mary Meehan and the Online Distributed - Proofreading Team at http://www.pgdp.net - -*** START OF THE PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK GRAY LENSMAN *** - - - - - - GRAY LENSMAN - - By E. E. SMITH, Ph. D. - - [Transcriber's Note: This etext was produced from - Astounding Science Fiction - October, November, December 1939, January 1940. - Extensive research did not uncover any evidence that - the U.S. copyright on this publication was renewed.] - - - - - _PROLOGUE_ - - -This is not, strictly speaking, a biography. It is not, it cannot -be, comprehensive enough to be called that. Nor, since of necessity -it must be limited, both in length and in scope, can it be called a -history. It is, perhaps, best described as a record--the record of the -activities of Galactic Co-ordinator Kimball Kinnison, Gray Lensman, of -Tellus, during the Boskonian War. - -Nevertheless this record, what there is of it, is in essence -biographical; and the biographer of such a man as Kinnison has a -peculiar task. In one way it is easy, in two others it is difficult in -the extreme. - -"Nuts!" he is wont to exclaim in answer to a direct question as to some -particular event or situation. "Why in all the nine hells of Valeria -are you still wasting time writing about _me_?" But eventually I get -the data I need, and thus it is comparatively easy to make this work -completely authentic, as far as the Gray Lensman himself is concerned. - -It may be objected that I have recorded as facts certain minutiae -which, considering what happened to the planet of the Eich and in the -light of other happenings elsewhere, cannot be known so exactly by -any living entity. This objection is untenable; as profound research -upon every debatable point has shown conclusively that something very -similar to, if not in fact identical with, each such detail must have -occurred. - -Of the two great difficulties, one lies in the selection of material. -The story of Kimball Kinnison easily could--and really should--fill -a dozen encyclopedic spools; it is a Galactic shame and an almost -impossible undertaking to compress it into one two-hour tape. The other -sticking point is the diversity of my audience. For in the First Galaxy -alone there are millions of planets, peopled by races as divergent in -mentality and in physique as they are far apart in space. Some races -will read this chronicle from printed pages; some will see it; some -will hear it; some will both see it and hear it; some, unable either -to see or to hear, will receive it telepathically. Still others, -in other Galaxies, will undoubtedly acquire it in fashions starkly -incomprehensible to me, its compiler. - -Numberless races of intelligent beings already know Kinnison well, -since his fame has spread north, south, east, west, zenith and nadir, -to the six points of the three-dimensional galactic-inductor compasses -of two galaxies. On the other hand, many know him not at all. Many -have never even heard of Tellus, nor of Sol, our parent sun; even -though it was upon that proud planet of this, our Solarian System, that -the Galactic Patrol came into being. Indeed, it is inevitable that -this biography will in days to come be of interest to races which, -inhabiting planets not yet reached by the Cosmic Survey, have not even -heard of the Galactic Patrol, to say nothing of knowing its origin and -its history. - -In view of the above inescapable facts, and after a great deal of -thought and care, I have decided to write this Prologue, which will -summarize very simply that which is already most widely known; namely, -the happenings up to and including the first phase of the Boskonian -War. Even that condensation, however, leaves me all too little space -in which to do justice to the part that Kimball Kinnison played in -enabling the civilization of the Galactic Council to triumph over the -monstrous culture of Boskone. - -With the understanding, then, that the more informed mentality may skip -from here to Chapter I, I proceed. - - * * * * * - -Should I begin with Arisia? That forbidding, forbidden planet -whose inhabitants, having achieved sheerly unimaginable heights of -philosophical and mental power, withdrew almost completely into -themselves, leaving traces only in Galaxy-wide folk tales and legends -of supermen and gods? Probably not. I should, it seems to me, begin -with Earth's almost prehistoric bandits and gangsters, gentry who -flourished in the days when space flight was mentioned only in -fantastic fiction. - -Know, then, that for ages law enforcement lagged behind law violation -because the minions of the law were limited in their spheres of action, -while criminals were not. Thus, in the days following the invention of -the automobile, State troopers could not cross State lines. Later, when -what were then known as the "G-men" combined with the various State -constabularies to form the National Police, they could not follow the -stratosphere planes of the lawbreakers across national boundaries. - -Still later, when interplanetary flight became commonplace, the -Planetary Guards were at the same old disadvantage. They had no -authority off their own worlds, while the public enemies flitted -unhampered from planet to planet. And finally, with the development of -the inertialess drive and the consequent traffic between hundreds of -thousands of solar systems, crime became so rampant as to threaten the -very foundations of civilization. - -Then the Galactic Patrol came into being. At first it was a -pitiful-enough organization. It was handicapped from within by the -usual small, but utterly disastrous percentage of grafters and -criminals; from without by the fact that there was then no emblem or -credential which could not be counterfeited. No one could tell with -certainty that the man in uniform was a Patrolman and not an outlaw in -disguise. - -The second difficulty was overcome first. One old-time Patrolman had -heard of the Arisians. He visited their planet and--this should be a -saga by itself--persuaded those Masters of Mentality that they should -help right against wrong, at least to the extent of furnishing a -positive means of identification. They did, and still do--The Lens. - -Each being about to graduate as a Lensman is sent to Arisia; where, -although the candidate does not then know it, a Lens--a lenticular -jewel composed of thousands of tiny crystalloids--is built to match his -individual life force. While no mind other than that of an Arisian can -understand its functioning, thinking of the Lens as being synchronized -with, or in exact resonance with the life principle--personality, ego, -call it what you will--of its owner will give a rough idea of it. It is -not really alive, as we understand the term. It is, however, endowed -with a sort of pseudolife, by virtue of which it gives off its strong, -characteristically changing, polychromatic light as long as it is in -circuit with the living mentality for which it was designed. It is -inimitable, unforgettable. Anyone who has ever seen a Lens, or even a -picture of one, will never forget it; nor will he ever be deceived by -any possible counterfeit or imitation of it. - -The Lens cannot be removed by anyone except its wearer without actual -dismemberment of that wearer; it shines as long as its rightful owner -wears it, and in the instant of its owner's death, it ceases forever -to shine. And not only does a Lens refuse to shine if any impostor -attempts to wear it--any Lens not in circuit with its owner kills in -a space of minutes any other who touches it, so strongly does its -pseudolife interfere with any life to which it is not attuned. - -Also by virtue of that pseudolife the Lens acts as a telepath through -which its owner may communicate with any other intelligence, high or -low; even though the other entity may possess no organs either of sight -or of hearing, as we know these senses. The Lens has also many other -highly important uses, which lack of space forbids even mentioning here. - - * * * * * - -Having the Lens, it was an easy matter for the Patrol to purify -itself of its few unworthy members. Standards of entrance were raised -higher and higher; and, as it became evident that it was to a man -incorruptible, it was granted more and ever more authority. - -Now its power is practically unlimited; the Lensman can follow the -lawbreaker, wherever he may go. He can commandeer any material or -assistance, whenever and wherever required. The Lens is so respected -throughout the Galactic Union that any wearer of it may at any time be -called upon to act as judge, jury, and executioner. Wherever he goes, -throughout the Universe of Civilization, he not only carries the law -with him--he _is_ the law. - -How are these Lensmen chosen? An Earthman myself, and proud of the fact -that Tellus was the cradle of Galactic Civilization, I will describe -only how Tellurian Lensmen are selected. Upon other planets the methods -and means vary widely; but the results are the same: Wherever he may -be found or however monstrous he may appear, a Lensman is always a -_Lensman_. - -Each year one million boys are picked, by competitive examination, -from all the eighteen-year-olds of Earth. During the first year of -training, before any of them set foot inside Wentworth Hall, that -number shrinks to less than fifty thousand. Then, for four years more, -they are put through the most poignantly searching, the most pitilessly -rigid process of elimination possible to develop, during the course of -which every man who can be made to reveal any sign of unworthiness or -of weakness is dropped. Of each class, only about a hundred win through -to the Lens; but each of those few has proven repeatedly, to the cold -verge of death itself, that he is in every sense fit to wear it. - -Of those who drop out alive, most are dismissed from the Patrol. There -are many splendid men, however, who for some reason not involving moral -turpitude are not quite what a Lensman must be. These men make up -the organization, from grease monkeys up to the highest commissioned -officers below the rank of Lensman. This fact explains what is already -so widely known: that the Galactic Patrol is the finest body of -intelligent beings yet to serve under one banner. - -But even Lensmen are not all alike; some are more richly endowed than -others. Most Lensmen work more or less under direction; that is, they -have headquarters and, at the completion of one investigation or -project, are assigned to another by the port admiral. Occasionally, -however, a Lensman shows himself to be of such outstanding ability, -even for a Lensman, that he is given his Release. Technically, he -is now an "Unattached Lensman"; in popular parlance he is a "Gray -Lensman," from the color of the leather he wears. - - * * * * * - -The Release! The goal toward which all Lensmen strive, but which so -relatively few attain, even after years of work! The Gray Lensman -is as nearly absolutely free an agent as it is possible for any -flesh-and-blood being to be. He is responsible to no one and to nothing -save his own conscience. He is no longer of Earth, nor of the Solarian -System, but of the Universe as a whole. He is no longer a cog in the -immense machine of the Galactic Patrol; wherever he may go throughout -the reaches of unbounded space, he is the Galactic Patrol: - -He goes anywhere he pleases and does anything he pleases, for as -long as he pleases. He takes what he wants, when he wants it, with -or without giving reasons or anything except a thumb-printed credit -slip in return--if he chooses to do so. He reports when, where, and -to whom he pleases--or not, as he pleases. He has no headquarters, no -address; he can be reached only through his Lens. He no longer gets -even a formal salary; he takes that, too, as he goes, whatever he finds -needful. - -To the man on the street that would seem to be a condition of perfect -bliss. It is not. All Lensmen strive mightily for the Release, even -though they realize dimly what it will mean--but only an Unattached -Lensman really understands what a frightful, what a man-killing load -the Release brings with it. However, Gray Lensmen being what they must -be, it is a load which they are glad and proud to bear. - -Hence, to say that Kimball Kinnison ranked Number One in his graduating -class is to say a great deal--but even more revealing of his quality -is to add that he was the first to perceive that what was known as -Boskonia was not merely an organization of outlaws and pirates, but -was in fact a Galaxy-wide culture diametrically opposed in fundamental -philosophy to that of Galactic Civilization. The most illuminating -thing I can say of him in a few words, however, is this: - -Of all the millions of entities who through the years had worn the -symbol of the Lens, Kinnison was the first to perceive that the -Arisians had endowed the Lens with powers theretofore undreamed of, -powers which no brain without special training could either evoke or -control. Thus, he was the first Lensman to return to Arisia for that -advanced training; and during that instruction he learned why no other -Lensman had been so trained before. It was such an ordeal that only a -mind of power sufficient to perceive of itself the real need of such -treatment could endure it without becoming starkly insane. - -Shortly after Kinnison won his Lens, he was called to Prime Base by -Port Admiral Haynes, the Patrol's chief of staff. There, in a room -sealed against spy rays, an appalling situation was bared. Space -piracy, always rife enough, had become an organized force; and, under -the leadership of a half-mythical entity about whom nothing was known -save the name "Boskone," had risen to such heights of power as to -threaten seriously the Galactic Patrol itself. Indeed, in one respect, -Boskonia was ahead of the Patrol, its scientists having developed a -source of power vastly greater than any known to Galactic Civilization. -It had fighting ships of a new and extraordinary type, from which even -convoyed shipping was no longer safe. Being faster than the Patrol's -fast cruisers, and more heavily armed than its heaviest battleships, -they had been doing practically as they pleased in space. - -For one particular purpose, the engineers of the Patrol had designed -and built one ship--the _Brittania_. She was the fastest thing in -space, but for offensive armament she had only one weapon, the "Q-gun." -This depended upon chemical explosives, which, in warfare at least, had -been obsolete for centuries. Nevertheless, Kinnison was put in command -of the _Brittania_ and was told to take her out, capture a pirate war -vessel of late model, learn her secrets of power, and transmit the -information to Prime Base with the least possible delay. - -He was successful in finding and in defeating such a vessel. Peter van -Buskirk led the storming party of Valerians--men of remote Earth-human -ancestry, but of extraordinary size, strength and agility because -of the enormous gravitation of generations of life on the planet -Valeria--in wiping out those of the pirate crew not killed in the -combat between the two vessels. - -The _Brittania's_ scientists secured the required data, but were -unable to report immediately to Prime Base, as the pirates were -blanketing all available channels of communication. Boskonian ships -were gathering for the kill, and the crippled Patrol ship could neither -run nor fight. Therefore each man was given a spool of tape bearing a -complete record of everything that had occurred; and, after setting up -a director-by-chance to make the empty ship pursue an unpredictable -course in space, and after rigging bombs to explode her at the first -touch of a ray, the Patrolmen paired off by lot and took to the -lifeboats. - -The erratic course of the cruiser brought her near the lifeboat in -which Kinnison and Van Buskirk were, and there the pirates attempted -to stop her. The ensuing explosion was so violent that flying wreckage -disabled practically the entire personnel of one of the attacking -ships, which did not have time to go free--inertialess--before the -crash. The two Patrolmen captured the pirate vessel and drove her -toward Earth. They reached the solar system of Velantia before the -Boskonians blocked them off, thus compelling them again to take to -their lifeboat. They landed upon the planet Delgon, where they were -rescued from a horde of Catlats by Worsel, a highly intelligent winged -reptile, a native of the neighboring planet of Velantia. - -By means of improvements upon Velantian thought-screens the three -destroyed most of the Overlords of Delgon, a sadistic race of monsters -who had been preying upon the other people of the system by sheer power -of mind. Worsel then accompanied the two Patrolmen to Velantia, where -all the resources of the planet were devoted to the preparation of -defense against the expected attack of the Boskonians. Several other of -the _Brittania's_ lifeboats reached Velantia, guided by Worsel's mind -working through Kinnison's mind and Lens. - -Kinnison intercepted a message from Helmuth, who "spoke for Boskone," -and traced his communicator beam, thus getting his first line upon -Boskonia's Grand Base. The pirates attacked Velantia, and six of -their vessels were captured. In these six ships, manned by Velantian -crews and blanketing ether and subether against the pirates' own -communicators, the Patrolmen again set out toward Earth and the Prime -Base of the Galactic Patrol. - -Then Kinnison's Bergenholm broke down. The Bergenholm, the generator of -the force that neutralizes inertia--the _sine qua non_ of interstellar -speed. For, while any mass in the free condition can assume an almost -unlimited velocity, inert matter cannot equal even that of light--the -veriest crawl, as space speeds go. Also, there is no magic, no getting -of something for nothing, in the operation of a Bergenholm. It takes -power, plenty of power, to run one, and whenever one goes out, the ship -dependent upon it is, to all intents and purposes, anchored in space. - -Therefore the Patrolmen were forced to land upon Trenco--which, as -almost everyone knows, is the planet upon which is produced thionite, -perhaps the deadliest of all habit-forming drugs--for repairs. - -Meanwhile Helmuth, the Boskonian, had deduced that it was a Lensman -who had been giving him so much trouble. He had already connected the -Lens with Arisia; therefore he set out for Arisia to find out for -himself just what it was that made the Lens such a powerful thing. -He discovered that he was no match at all for an Arisian. He was -given terrific mental punishment, but was allowed to return to his -Grand Base alive and sane; being informed that he was spared because -his destruction would not be good for the budding Civilization to -which Boskonian culture was opposed. He was told further that the -Arisians had given Civilization the Lens; that by its intelligent use, -Civilization should be able to conquer Boskone's alien, abhorrent -culture; that if it could not learn to use the Lens, it was not yet -ready to become a Civilization, and Boskonia would be allowed to -flourish for a time. - -After various adventures upon Trenco--a peculiar planet -indeed--Kinnison secured a new Bergenholm and went on. This time -he managed to reach Tellus, and, after a spectacular battle in the -stratosphere with a blockading fleet of the enemy, got down to Prime -Base with his precious data. There he first revealed his conviction -that the Boskonians were not ordinary pirates, but in fact composed -a culture almost, if not quite, as strong as Civilization itself; and -asked that certain scientists of the Patrol should try to develop a -detector nullifier. He predicted a stalemate, and intimated that such a -nullifier might well prove to be the deciding factor in the entire war. - -By building ultrapowerful battleships, called "maulers," the Patrol -gained a temporary advantage, but the stalemate soon ensued. Kinnison -thought out a plan of action, in the pursuit of which he scouted a -pirate base upon Aldebaran I. The personnel of this base, however, -instead of being human or near-human beings, were Wheelmen, beings -possessed of a sense of perception unknown to man. The Lensman was -discovered before he could accomplish anything, and in the fight which -followed he was very seriously wounded. - -However, he managed to get back to his speedster and sent a thought -to Port Admiral Haynes, who forthwith sent ships to his aid. In the -hospital, Chief Surgeon Lacy put him together without the use of -artificial members; and, during a long and quarrelsome convalescence, -Nurse Clarrissa MacDougall held him together. - -As soon as he could leave the hospital he went to Arisia in the hope -that he might be permitted to take advanced training--an unheard-of -idea. Much to his surprise, he learned that he had been expected to -return for exactly such training. Getting it almost killed him, but he -emerged from the ordeal infinitely stronger of mind than any man had -ever been before; and possessed of a new sense of perception as well--a -sense somewhat analogous to sight, but of vastly greater power, depth, -and scope, and not dependent upon light, a sense only vaguely forecast -by ancient experiments with clairvoyance. - -After trying out his new mental equipment by solving a murder mystery -upon Radelix, he succeeded in entering an enemy base upon Boyssia II. -There he took over the mind of the communications officer and waited -for the opportunity of getting the second, all-important line upon -Boskonia's Grand Base. An enemy ship of this base captured a hospital -ship of the Patrol and brought it in. Nurse MacDougall, head nurse of -the captured ship, working under Kinnison's instructions, stirred up -trouble which soon became mutiny. Helmuth, from Grand Base, took a -hand, thus enabling Kinnison to get his second line. - -The hospital ship, undetectable by virtue of the Lensman's nullifier, -escaped from Boyssia II and headed for Earth at full blast. Kinnison, -convinced that Helmuth was really Boskone himself, found that the -intersection of his two lines--and therefore the pirates' Grand -Base--lay in a star cluster AG 257-4736, well outside the Galaxy. -Pausing only long enough to destroy the Wheelmen of Aldebaran I, the -project in which his first attempt had failed so dismally, he set -out to investigate Helmuth's headquarters. He found a stronghold -impregnable to any massed attack the Patrol could throw against it, -manned by beings each wearing a thought-screen. His sense of perception -was suddenly cut off--the pirates had thrown a thought-screen around -the entire planet. He then returned to Prime Base, deciding en route -that boring from within was the only possible way in which that -stupendous fortress could be taken. - -In consultation with Port Admiral Haynes, the zero hour was set, -at which time the massed Grand Fleet of Patrol was to begin raying -Helmuth's base with every projector that could be brought to bear. - -Pursuant to his plan, Kinnison again visited Trenco, where the Patrol -forces extracted for him fifty kilograms of thionite, the noxious drug -which, in microgram inhalations, makes the addict experience all the -sensations of doing whatever it is that he wishes most ardently to do. -The larger the dose, the more intense the sensations; the slightest -overdose resulting in an ecstatic death. Thence to Helmuth's planet; -where, finding a dog whose brain was unshielded, he let himself into -the central dome. Here, just before the zero minute, he released his -thionite into the air stream, thus wiping out all the pirate personnel -except Helmuth, who, in his inner sanctum, could not be affected. - -The Grand Fleet of the Patrol attacked, but Helmuth would not leave his -retreat, even to try to save his Base. Therefore Kinnison would have -to go in after him. Poised in the air of Helmuth's inner sphere there -was an enigmatic, sparkling ball of force which the Lensman could not -understand, and of which he was in consequence extremely suspicious. - -But the storming of that quadruply-defended inner stronghold was -precisely the task for which Kinnison's new and ultracumbersome armor -had been designed; and in the Gray Lensman went. - - - - - I. - - -Among the world-girdling fortifications of a planet distant indeed -from star cluster AG 257-4736 there squatted sullenly a fortress quite -similar to Helmuth's own. Indeed, in some respects it was even superior -to the base of him who spoke for Boskone. It was larger and stronger. -Instead of one dome, it had many. It was dark and cold withal, for its -occupants had practically nothing in common with humanity save the -possession of high intelligence. - -In the central sphere of one of the domes there sparkled several of -the peculiarly radiant globes whose counterpart had given Kinnison so -seriously to think, and near them there crouched or huddled or lay at -ease a many-tentacled creature indescribable to man. It was not exactly -like an octopus. Though spiny, it did not resemble at all closely a -sea-cucumber. Nor, although it was scaly and toothy and wingy, was it, -save in the vaguest possible way, similar to a lizard, a sea serpent, -or a vulture. Such a description by negatives is, of course, pitifully -inadequate; but, unfortunately, it is the best that can be done. - -The entire attention of this being was focused within one of the -globes, the obscure mechanism of which was relaying to his sense of -perception from Helmuth's globe and mind a clear picture of everything -which was happening within Grand Base. The corpse-littered dome was -clear to his sight; he knew that the Patrol was attacking from without; -knew that that ubiquitous Lensman, who had already unmanned the -citadel, was about to attack from within. - -"You have erred seriously," the entity was thinking coldly, -emotionlessly, into the globe, "in not deducing until after it was too -late to save your base that the Lensman had perfected a nullifier of -subethereal detection. Your contention that I am equally culpable is, I -think, untenable. It was your problem, not mine; I had, and still have, -other things to concern me. Your base is of course lost; whether or not -you yourself survive will depend entirely upon the adequacy of your -protective devices." - -"But, Eichlan, you yourself pronounced them adequate!" - -There followed an interval of silence, as though those conferring -were separated by such a gulf of space that even thought, with its -immeasurable velocity of propagation, required finite time to traverse -it. - -"Pardon me--I said that they _seemed_ adequate." - -[Illustration: _Through inter-Galactic space Helmuth's thought drove._ - -"_You said the defenses were adequate!_" - -"_I said they seemed adequate_," _said the Eichlan coldly._] - -"If I survive--or, rather, after I have destroyed this Lensman--what -are your orders?" Another interval. - -"Go to the nearest communicator and concentrate our forces; half of -them to engage this Patrol fleet, the remainder to wipe out all the -life of Sol III. I have not tried to give those orders direct, since -all the beams are keyed to your board and, even if I could reach them, -no commander in that Galaxy knows that I speak for Boskone. After you -have done that, report to me here." - -"Instructions received and understood. Helmuth, ending message." - -"Set your controls as instructed. I will observe and record. Prepare -yourself, the Lensman comes. Eichlan, speaking for Boskone, ending -message." - -The Lensman rushed. Even before he crashed the pirate's screens his own -defensive zone flamed white in the beam of semiportable projectors, and -through that blaze came tearing the metallic slugs of a high-caliber -machine rifle. But the Lensman's screens were almost those of a -battleship, his armor relatively as strong; he had at his command -projectors scarcely inferior to those opposing his advance. Therefore, -with every faculty of his newly enlarged mind concentrated upon that -thought-screened, armored head behind the bellowing gun and the flaring -projectors, Kinnison held his line and forged ahead. - - * * * * * - -Attentive as he was to Helmuth's thought-screens, the Patrolman was -ready when it weakened slightly and a thought began to seep through, -directed at that peculiar ball of force. He blanketed it savagely, -before it could even begin to take form, and attacked the screen so -viciously that the Boskonian had either to restore full coverage -instantly or else die there and then. - -Kinnison feared that force-ball no longer. He still did not know what -it was; but he had learned that, whatever its nature might be, it was -operated or controlled by thought. Therefore it was and would remain -harmless. If the pirate chief softened his screen enough to emit a -thought he would never think again. - -Doggedly the Lensman drove in, closer and closer. Magnetic clamps -locked and held. Two steel-clad, warring figures rolled into the line -of fire of the ravening automatic rifle. Kinnison's armor, designed and -tested to withstand even heavier stuff, held; wherefore he came through -that storm of metal unscathed. Helmuth's, however, even though stronger -far than the ordinary personal armor of space, failed; and thus the -Boskonian died. - -Blasting himself upright, the Patrolman shot across the inner dome to -the control panel and paused, momentarily baffled. He could not throw -the switches controlling the defensive screens of the gigantic outer -dome! His armor, designed for the ultimate of defensive strength, could -not and did not bear any of the small and delicate external mechanisms -so characteristic of the ordinary spacesuit. To leave his personal tank -at that time and in that environment was unthinkable; yet he was fast -running out of time. A scant fifteen seconds was all that remained -before zero, the moment at which the hellish output of every watt -generable by the massed fleet of the Galactic Patrol would be hurled -against those screens in their furiously raging destructive might. To -release the screens after that zero moment would mean his own death, -instantaneous and inevitable. - -Nevertheless, he could open those circuits--the conservation of -Boskonian property meant nothing to him. He flipped on his own -projector and flashed its beam briefly across the banked panels in -front of him. Insulation burst into flame, fairly exploding in its -haste to disintegrate; copper and silver ran in brilliant streams or -puffed away in clouds of sparkling vapor: high-tension arcs ripped, -crashed, and cracked among the writhing, dripping, flaring bus-bar. -The shorts burned themselves clear or blew their fuses, every circuit -opened, every Boskonian defense came down; and then, and only then, -could Kinnison get into communication with his friends. - -"Haynes!" he thought crisply into his Lens. "Kinnison calling!" - -"Haynes acknowledging!" a thought instantly snapped back. "Congrat--" - -"Hold it! We're not done yet! Have every ship in the Fleet go free at -once. Have them all, except yours, put out full-coverage screens, so -that they can't look at or think into this Base." - -A moment passed. "Done!" - -"Don't come in any closer--I'm on my way out there to you. Have your -ship block every band except your personal frequency, which you and I -are now on, and caution all Lensmen aboard with you to stay off that -channel until further notice. Now as to you, personally, I don't like -to seem to be giving orders to the Admiral of the Fleet, but it may -be quite essential that you concentrate upon me, and think of nothing -else, for the next few minutes." - -"Right! I don't mind taking orders from _you_." - -"QX. Now we can take things a bit easier." Kinnison had so arranged -matters that no one except himself could think into that stronghold, -and he himself would not. He would not think into that tantalizing -enigma, nor toward it, nor even of it, until he was completely ready to -do so. And how many persons, I wonder, really realize just how much of -a feat that was? Realize the sort of mental training that required? - -"How many gamma-zeta tracers can you put out, chief?" Kinnison asked -then, more conversationally. - -A brief consultation; then, "Ten in regular use. By tuning in all our -spares we can put out sixty." - -"At two diameters' distance forty-eight fields will surround this -planet at one-hundred-percent overlap. Please have that many set that -way. Of the other twelve, set three to go well outside the first -sphere--say at four diameters out--covering the line from this planet -to Lundmark's Nebula. Set the last nine to be thrown out as far as you -can read them accurately to only the first decimal on your screens, -centering on the same line. Not much overlap is necessary on these -backing fields--bare contact is enough. Release nothing, of course, -until I get there. And while the boys are setting things up, you might -go inert--it's safe enough now--so that I can match your intrinsic -velocity and come aboard." - - * * * * * - -There followed the maneuvering necessary for one inert body to approach -another in space, then Kinnison's incredible housing of steel was -hauled into the airlock by means of space lines attached to magnetic -clamps. The outer door of the lock closed behind him, the inner one -opened, and the Lensman entered the flagship. - -First to the armory, where he clambered stiffly out of his small -battleship and gave orders concerning its storage. Then to the control -room, stretching and bending hugely as he went, in vast relief at his -freedom from the narrow and irksome confinement which he had endured so -long. - -Of all the men in that control room, only two knew Kinnison personally. -All knew of him, however, and as the tall gray-clad figure entered -there was a loud, quick cheer. - -"Hi, fellows--thanks." Kinnison waved a salute to the room as a -whole. "Hi, Port Admiral! Hi, Commandant!" He saluted Haynes and von -Hohendorff as perfunctorily, and greeted them as casually, as though he -had last seen them an hour, instead of ten weeks, before; as though the -intervening time had been spent in the veriest idleness, instead of in -the fashion in which it actually had been spent. - -Old von Hohendorff greeted his erstwhile pupil cordially enough, but: -"Out with it!" Haynes demanded. "What did you do? How did you do it? -What does all this confounded rigmarole mean? Tell us all about it--all -you can, I mean," he added, hastily. - -"There's no need of secrecy now, I think," and in flashing thoughts the -Gray Lensman went on to describe everything that had happened. - -"So you see," he concluded, "I don't really _know_ anything. It's all -surmise, suspicion, and deduction. It may be that nothing at all will -happen: in which case these precautions, while they will have been -wasted effort, will have done us no harm. In case something _does_ -happen, however--and I'll bet all the tea in China that something -will--we'll be ready for it." - -"But if what you are beginning to suspect is really true, it means that -Boskonia is inter-Galactic in scope--wider spread even than the Patrol!" - -"Probably, but not necessarily--it may mean only that they have bases -further outside. And remember that I'm arguing on a mighty slim thread -of evidence. That screen was hard and tight, and I couldn't touch the -external beam--if there was one--at all. I got just part of a thought, -here and there. However, the thought was 'that' galaxy; not just -'galaxy,' or 'this' or 'the' galaxy--and why think that way if the guy -was already in this galaxy?" - -[Illustration: _"But that's not the end, sir," said Kinnison. "They -said not 'the' galaxy, or even 'this' galaxy--the thought was 'that' -galaxy!"_] - -"But nobody has ever--But skip it for now--the boys are ready for you. -Take over!" - -"QX. First we'll go free again. Don't think much, if any, of the -stuff can come out here, but no use taking chances. Cut your screens. -Now, all you gamma-zeta men, throw out your fields, and if any of you -get a puncture, or even a flash, measure its position. You recording -observers, step your scanners up to fifty thousand. QX?" - -"QX!" the observers and recorders reported, almost as one, and the Gray -Lensman sat down at a plate. - - * * * * * - -His mind, free at last to make the investigation from which it had been -so long and so sternly barred, flew down into and through the dome, to -and into that cryptic globe so tantalizingly poised in the air of the -Center. - -The reaction was practically instantaneous; so rapid that any ordinary -mind could have perceived nothing at all; so rapid that even Kinnison's -consciousness recorded only a confusedly blurred impression. But he -did see something: in that fleeting millionth of a second he sensed a -powerful, malignant mental force; a force backing multiplex scanners -and subethereal stress-fields interlocked in peculiarly unidentifiable -patterns. - -For that ball was, as Kinnison had more than suspected, a potent agency -indeed. It was, as he had thought that it must be, a communicator; but -it was far more than that. Ordinarily harmless enough, it could be so -set as to become an infernal machine at the vibrations of any thought -not in a certain coded sequence; and Helmuth had so set it. - -Therefore at the touch of the Patrolman's thought it exploded: -liberating instantaneously the unimaginable forces with which -it was charged. More, it sent out waves which, attuned to -detonating receivers, touched off strategically placed stores of -duodecaplylatomate. "Duodec," that concentrated essence of atomic -violence than which science has even yet failed to develop a more -devastating! - -"Hell's--jingling--bells!" Port Admiral Haynes grunted in stunned -amazement, then subsided into silence, eyes riveted upon his plate; -for to the human eye dome, fortress, and planet had disappeared in one -cataclysmically incandescent sphere of flame. - -But the observers of the Galactic Patrol did not depend upon eyesight -alone. Their scanners had been working at ultrafast speed; and, as -soon as it became clear that none of the ships of the Fleet had been -endangered, Kinnison asked that certain of the spools be run into a -visitank at normal tempo. - -There, slowed to a speed at which the eye could clearly discern -sequences of events, the two old Lensmen and the young one studied with -care the three-dimensional pictures of what had happened; pictures -taken from points of projection close to and even within the doomed -structure itself. - -Deliberately, the ball of force opened up, followed an inappreciable -instant later by the secondary centers of detonation; all expanding -magically into spherical volumes of blindingly brilliant annihilation. -There were as yet no flying fragments: no inert fragment _can_ fly -from duodec in the first few instants of its detonation. For the -detonation of duodec is propagated at the velocity of light, so that -the entire mass disintegrates in a period of time to be measured only -in fractional trillionths of a second. Its detonation pressure and -temperature have never been measured save indirectly, since nothing -will hold it except a Q-type helix of pure force. And even those -helices, which perforce must be practically open at both ends, have -to be designed and powered to withstand pressures and temperatures -obtaining only in the cores of suns. - -Imagine, if you can, what would happen if some fifty thousand metric -tons of material from the innermost core of Sirius B were to be taken -to Grand Base, separated into twenty-five packages, each package placed -at a strategic point, and all restraint instantaneously removed. What -would have happened then, was what actually _was_ happening! - -As has been said, for moments nothing moved except the ever-expanding -spheres of destruction. Nothing _could_ move--the inertia of matter -itself held it in place until it was too late--everything close to -those centers of action simply flared into turgid incandescence and -added its contribution to the already hellish whole. - -As the spheres expanded, their temperatures and pressures decreased -and the action became somewhat less violent. Matter no longer simply -disappeared. Instead, plates and girders, even gigantic structural -members, bent, buckled, and crumbled. Walls blew outward and upward. -Huge chunks of metal and of masonry, many with fused and dripping -edges, began to fly in all directions. - -And not only, or principally, upward was directed the force of those -inconceivable explosions. Downward the effect was, if possible, even -more catastrophic, since conditions there approximated closely the -oft-argued meeting between the irresistible force and the immovable -object. The planet was to all intents and purposes immovable, the -duodec to the same degree irresistible. The result was that the entire -planet was momentarily blown apart. A vast chasm was blasted deep into -its interior, and, gravity temporarily overcome, stupendous cracks and -fissures began to yawn. Then, as the pressure decreased, the core-stuff -of the planet became molten and began to wreak its volcanic havoc. - -Gravity, once more master of the situation, took hold. The cracks and -chasms closed, extruding uncounted cubic miles of fiery lava and metal. -The entire world shivered and shuddered in a Gargantuan cosmic ague. - - * * * * * - -The explosion blew itself out. The hot gases and vapors cooled. The -steam condensed. The volcanic dust disappeared. There lay the planet; -but changed--hideously and awfully changed. Where Grand Base had been -there remained nothing whatever to indicate that anything wrought by -man had ever been there. Mountains were leveled, valleys were filled. -Continents and oceans had shifted, and were still shifting; visibly. -Earthquakes, volcanoes, and other seismic disturbances, instead of -decreasing, were increasing in violence, minute by minute. - -Helmuth's planet was, and would for years remain, a barren and -uninhabitable world. - -"Well!" Haynes, who had been holding his breath unconsciously, -released it in an almost explosive sigh. "That is inescapably and -incontrovertibly _that_. I was going to use that base, but it looks as -though we'll have to get along without it." - -Without comment Kinnison turned to the gamma-zeta observers. "Any -traces?" he asked. - -It developed that three of the fields had shown activity. Not merely -traces or flashes, but solid punctures showing the presence of a hard, -tight beam. And those three punctures were in the same line; a line -running straight out into inter-Galactic space. - -Kinnison took careful readings on the line, then stood motionless. -Feet wide apart, hands jammed into pockets, head slightly bent, eyes -distant, he stood there unmoving; thinking with all the power of his -brain. - -"I want to ask three questions," the old Commandant of Cadets -interrupted his cogitations finally. "Was Helmuth Boskone, or not? Have -we got them licked, or not? What do we do next, besides the mopping up -of those eighteen super-maulers?" - -"To all three the answer is 'I don't know'." Kinnison's face was stern -and hard. "You know as much about the whole thing as I do--I haven't -held back a thing that I even suspect. I did not tell you that Helmuth -was Boskone; I said that everyone in any position to judge, including -myself, was as sure that he was as one could be about anything that -could not be proved. I firmly believed that he was. The presence of -this communicator line, and the other stuff I have told you about, has -destroyed that belief in my mind. However, we do not actually _know_ -any more than we did before. It is no more certain now that Helmuth -was _not_ Boskone than it was before that he _was_ Boskone. The second -question ties in with the first, and so does the third--but I see that -the mopping up has started." - -While von Hohendorff and Kinnison had been talking, Haynes had issued -orders and the Grand Fleet, divided roughly and with difficulty into -eighteen parts, went raggedly outward to surround the eighteen outlying -fortresses. But, and surprisingly enough to the Patrol forces, the -reduction of those hulking monsters was to prove no easy task. - -The Boskonians had witnessed the destruction of Helmuth's Grand Base. -Their master plates were dead. Try as they would, they could get in -touch with no one with authority to give them orders, with no one to -whom they could report their present plight. Nor could they escape: the -slowest mauler in the Patrol Fleet could have caught any one of them in -space of minutes. - -To surrender was not even thought of--better far to die a clean -death in the blazing holocaust of space battle than to be thrown -ignominiously into the lethal chambers of the Patrol. There was not, -there could not be, any question of pardon or of sentence to any mere -imprisonment, for the strife between Civilization and Boskonia in -no respect resembled the wars between two fundamentally similar and -friendly nations which small, green Terra knew so frequently of old. -It was a Galaxy-wide struggle for survival between two diametrically -opposed, mutually exclusive, and absolutely incompatible cultures; -a duel to the death in which quarter was neither asked nor given; a -conflict which, except for the single instance which Kinnison himself -had engineered, was, and of stern necessity had to be, one of ruthless, -complete, and utter extinction. - - * * * * * - -Die, then, the pirates knew they must; and, although adherents to a -scheme of existence monstrous indeed to our way of thinking, they -were in no sense cowards. Not like cornered rats did they conduct -themselves, but fought like what they were; courageous beings -hopelessly outnumbered and outpowered, unable either to escape or to -choose the field of operations, grimly resolved that in their passing -they would take full toll of the minions of that detested and despised -Galactic Civilization. Therefore, in suicidal glee, Boskonian engineers -rigged up a fantastically potent weapon of offense, tuned in their -defensive screens and hung poised in space, awaiting calmly the massed -attack so sure to come. - -Up flashed the heavy cruisers of the Patrol, serenely confident. -Although of little offensive strength, these vessels mounted tractors -and pressors of prodigious power, as well as defensive screens -which--theoretically--no projector-driven beam of force could puncture. -They had engaged mauler after mauler of Boskonia's mightiest, and never -yet had one of those screens gone down. Theirs the task of immobilizing -the opponent; since, as is of course well known, it is under any -ordinary conditions impossible to wreak any hurt upon an object which -is both inertialess and at liberty to move in space. It simply darts -away from the touch of the harmful agent, whether it be immaterial beam -or material substance. - -Formerly the attachment of two or three tractors was all that was -necessary to insure immobility, and thus vulnerability; but with the -Velantian development of a shear-plane to cut tractor beams, a new -technique became necessary. This was englobement, in which a dozen -or more vessels surrounded the proposed victim in space and held it -motionless at the center of a sphere by means of pressors, which could -not be cut or evaded. Serene, then, and confident, the heavy cruisers -rushed out to englobe the Boskonian fortress. - -Flash! Flash! Flash! Three points of light, as unbearably brilliant -as atomic vortices, sprang into being upon the fortress' side. Three -needle rays of inconceivable energy lashed out, hurtling through the -cruisers' outer screens as though they had been so much inactive -webbing. Through the second and through the first. Through the wall -shield, even that ultrapowerful field scarcely flashing as it went -down. Through the armor, violating the prime tenet then held and -which has just been referred to, that no object free in space can be -damaged--in this case, so unthinkably vehement was the thrust, the -few atoms of substances in the space surrounding the doomed cruisers -afforded resistance enough. Through the ship itself, a ravening -cylinder of annihilation. - -For perhaps a second--certainly no longer--those incredible, those -undreamed-of beams persisted before winking out into blackness; but -that second had been long enough. Three riddled hulks lay dead in -space, and as the three original projectors went black three more -flared out. Then three more. Nine of the mightiest of Civilization's -ships of war were riddled before the others could hurl themselves -backward out of range! - - * * * * * - -Most of the officers of the flagship were stunned into temporary -inactivity by that shocking development, but two reacted almost -instantly. - -"Thorndyke!" the Admiral snapped. "What did they do, and how?" - -And Kinnison, not speaking at all, leaped to a certain panel, to read -for himself the analysis of those incredible beams of force. - -"They made superneedle rays out of their main projectors," Master -Technician Laverne Thorndyke reported, crisply. "They must have shorted -everything they've got onto them to burn them out that fast." - -"Those beams were hot--plenty hot," Kinnison corroborated the findings. -"These recorders go to five billion and have a factor of safety of ten. -Even that wasn't anywhere nearly enough--everything in the recorder -circuits blew." - -"But how could they handle them--" von Hohendorff began to ask. - -"They didn't. They pointed them and died," Thorndyke explained, -grimly. "They traded one projector and its crew for one cruiser and -_its_ crew--a good trade from their viewpoint." - -"There will be no more such trades," Haynes declared. - -Nor were there. The Patrol had maulers enough to englobe the enemy -craft at a distance greater even than the effective range of those -suicidal beams, and it did so. - -Shielding screens cut off the Boskonians' intake of cosmic power and -the relentless beaming of the bulldog maulers began. For hour after -hour it continued, the cordon ever tightening as the victims' power -lessened. And finally even the Gargantuan accumulators of the immense -fortresses were drained. Their screens went down under the hellish fury -of the maulers' incessant attack, and in a space of minutes thereafter -the structures and their contents ceased to exist save as atomic -detritus. - -The Grand Fleet of the Galactic Patrol remade its formation after a -fashion and set off toward the Galaxy at touring blast. - -And in the control room of the flagship three Lensmen brought a very -serious conference to a close. - -"You saw what happened to Helmuth's planet," Kinnison's voice was -oddly hard, "and I gave you all I could get of the thought about the -destruction of all life upon Sol III. A big-enough duodec bomb in -the bottom of an ocean would do it. I don't really _know_ anything -except that we hadn't better let them catch us asleep at the switch -again--we've got to be up on our toes every second." - -And the Gray Lensman, face set and stern, strode off to his quarters. - - - - - II. - - -During practically all of the long trip back to Earth, Kinnison kept -pretty much to his cabin, thinking deeply, blackly, and, he admitted -ruefully to himself, to very little purpose. And at Prime Base, through -week after week of its feverish activity, he continued to think. -Finally, however, he was snatched out of his dark abstraction by no -less a personage than Surgeon General Lacy. - -"Snap out of it, lad," that worthy advised, smilingly. "When you -concentrate on one thing too long, you know, the vortices of thought -occupy narrower and narrow loci, until finally the effective volume -becomes infinitesimal. Or, mathematically, the then range of -cogitation, integrated between the limits of plus and minus infinity, -approaches zero as a limit--" - -"Huh? What are you talking about?" the Lensman demanded. - -"Poor mathematics, perhaps, but sound psychology," Lacy grinned. "It -got your undivided attention, didn't it? That was what I was after. In -plain English, if you keep on thinking around in circles you'll soon be -biting yourself in the small of the back. Come on, you and I are going -places." - -"Where?" - -"To the Grand Ball in honor of the Grand Fleet, my boy--old Dr. Lacy -prescribes it for you as a complete and radical change of atmosphere. -Let's go!" - -The city's largest ballroom was a blaze of light and color. A thousand -polychromic lamps flooded their radiance downward through draped -bunting upon an even more colorful throng. Two thousand items of -feminine loveliness were there, in raiment whose fabrics were the boast -of hundreds of planets, whose hues and shades put the spectrum itself -to shame. There were over two thousand men, clad in plain or beribboned -or bemedaled full civilian dress, or in the variously panoplied dress -uniforms of the many Services. - -"You're dancing with Miss Forrester first, Kinnison," the surgeon -introduced them informally, and the Lensman found himself gliding -away with a stunning blonde, ravishingly and revealingly dressed in a -dazzlingly blue wisp of Manarkan glamorette--fashion's _dernier cri_. - -To the uninformed, Kinnison's garb of plain gray leather might have -seemed incongruous indeed in that brilliantly and fastidiously dressed -assemblage. But to those people, as to us of today, the drab, starkly -utilitarian uniform of the Unattached Lensman transcended far any -other, however resplendent, worn by men: and literally hundreds of eyes -followed the strikingly handsome couple as they slid rhythmically out -upon the polished floor. But a measure of the tall beauty's customary -poise had deserted her. She was slimly taut in the circle of the -Lensman's arm, her eyes were downcast, and suddenly she missed a step. - -"'Scuse me for stepping on your feet," he apologized. "A fellow gets -out of practice, flitting around in a speedster so much." - -"Thanks for taking the blame, but it's my fault entirely--I know it as -well as you do," she replied, flushing uncomfortably. "I _do_ know how -to dance, too, but--Well, you're a Gray Lensman, you know." - -"Huh?" he ejaculated, in honest surprise, and she looked up at him -for the first time. "What has that fact got to do with the price of -Venerian orchids in Chicago--or with my clumsy walking all over your -slippers?" - - * * * * * - -"Everything in the world," she assured him. Nevertheless, her stiff -young body relaxed and she fell into the graceful, accurate dancing -which she really knew so well how to do. "You see, I don't suppose that -any of us has ever seen a Gray Lensman before, except in pictures, and -actually to be dancing with one is so thrilling that it is really a -shock--I have to get used to it gradually, so to speak. Why, I don't -even know how to talk to you! One couldn't possibly call you plain -mister, as one would any ord--" - -"It'll be QX if you just call me 'say'!" he informed her. "Maybe you'd -rather not dance with a dub? What say we go get us a sandwich and a -bottle of fayalin or something?" - -"No--never!" she exclaimed. "I didn't mean it that way at all. I'm -going to have this full dance with you, and enjoy every second of it. -And later I am going to pack this dance card--which I hope you will -sign for me--away in lavender, so it will go down in history that in my -youth I really did dance with Gray Lensman Kinnison. I see that I have -recovered enough so that I can talk and dance at the same time. Do you -mind if I ask you some silly questions about space?" - -"Go ahead. They won't be silly, if I'm any judge. Elementary, perhaps, -but not silly." - -"I hope so, but I think you're being charitable again. Like most of -the girls here, I suppose, I have never been out in deep space at all. -Besides a few hops to the Moon, I have taken only two flits, and they -were both only interplanetary. One to Mars and one to Venus. I never -could see how you deep-space men can really understand what you're -doing--either the frightful speeds at which you travel, the distance -you cover, or the way your communicators work. In fact, a professor -told us that no human mind can understand figures of those magnitudes -at all. But you must understand them, I should think ... oh, perhaps--" - -"Or maybe the guy isn't human?" Kinnison laughed deeply, infectiously. -"No, your professor was right. We can't understand the figures, but we -don't have to--all we have to do is to work with them. And, now that it -has just percolated through my skull who you really are, that you are -_Gladys_ Forrester, it is quite clear that you are in that same boat." - -"Me? How?" she exclaimed. - -"The human mind cannot really understand a million of anything. Yet -your father, an immensely wealthy man, gave you clear title to a -million credits in cash, to train you in finance in the only way that -really produces results--the hard way of actual experience. You lost a -lot of it at first, of course; but at last accounts you had got it all -back, and some besides, in spite of all the smart guys trying to take -it away from you. The fact that your brain cannot envisage a million -credits has not interfered with your manipulation of that amount, has -it?" - -"No, but that's entirely different!" she protested. - -"Not in any essential feature," he countered. "I can explain it best, -perhaps, by analogy. You can't visualize, mentally, the size of North -America, either, yet that fact does not bother you in the least while -you are driving around on it in an automobile. What do you drive? On -the ground, I mean, not in the air?" - -"A De Khotinsky sporter." - -"Um. Top speed a hundred and forty miles per hour, and I suppose you -cruise between ninety and a hundred. We'll have to pretend that you -drive a Crownover sedan, or some other big, slow jalopy, so that you -will tour at about sixty and have an absolute top of ninety. Also, -you have a radio. On the broadcast bands you can hear a program from -three or four thousand miles away; or, on short wave, from anywhere on -Tellus--" - -"I can get tight-beam short-wave programs from the Moon," the girl -broke in. "I've heard them lots of times." - -"Yes," Kinnison assented dryly, "at such times as there didn't happen -to be any interference." - -"Static _is_ pretty bad, lots of times," the heiress agreed. - - * * * * * - -"Well, change 'miles' to 'parsecs' and you've got the picture of -deep-space speeds and operations," Kinnison informed her. "Our speed -varies, of course, with the density of matter in space; but on the -average--say one atom of substance per ten cubic centimeters in -space--we tour at about sixty parsecs an hour, and full blast is about -ninety. And our ultra-wave communicators, working below the level of -the ether, in the subether--" - -"Whatever that is," she interrupted. - -"That's as good a description or definition of it as any," he grinned -at her. "We don't know what even the ether is, or whether or not -it exists as an objective reality; to say nothing of what we so -nonchalantly call the subether. We do not understand gravity, although -we can make it to order. No scientist yet has been able to say how it -is propagated, or even whether or not it is propagated. No one has been -able to devise any kind of an apparatus or meter or method by which -its nature, period, or velocity can be determined. Neither do we know -anything about time or space. In fact, fundamentally, we don't really -_know_ much of anything at all," he concluded. - -"Says you. But that makes me feel better, anyway," she confided, -snuggling a little closer. "Go on about the communicators." - -"Ultra-waves are faster than ordinary radio waves, which of course -travel through the ether with the velocity of light, in just about -the same ratio as that of the speed of our ships to the speed of slow -automobiles--that is, the ratio of a parsec to a mile. Roughly nineteen -billion to one. Range, of course, is proportional to the square of the -speed." - -"Nineteen billion!" she exclaimed. "And you just said that nobody could -understand even a million!" - -"That's the point exactly," he went on, undisturbed. "You don't have to -understand or to visualize it. All you have to do is to remember that -deep-space vessels and communicators can cover distance in parsecs at -practically the same rate that Tellurian automobiles can cover miles. -So, when some space-flea talks to you about parsecs, just think of -miles in terms of an automobile and a radio and you won't be far off." - -"I never heard it explained that way before--it does make it ever so -much simpler. Will you sign this, please?" - -"Just one more point." The music had ceased and he was signing her -card, preparatory to escorting her back to her place. "Like your -supposedly tight-beam Luna-Tellus hookups, our long range, equally -tight-beam communicators are very sensitive to interference, either -natural or artificial. So, while under perfect conditions we can -communicate clear across the Galaxy, there are times--particularly when -the pirates are scrambling the channels--that we can't drive a beam -from here to Alpha Centauri. Thanks a lot for the dance." - - * * * * * - -The other girls did not quite come to blows as to which of them -was to get him next; and shortly--he never did know exactly how -it came about--he found himself dancing with a luscious, cuddly -little brunette, clad--partially clad, at least--in a high-slitted, -flame-colored sheath of some new fabric which the Lensman had never -seen before. It looked like solidified, tightly woven electricity! - -"Oh, Mr. Kinnison!" his new partner cooed, ecstatically. "I think that -all spacemen, and you Lensmen particularly, are just too perfectly darn -_heroic_ for anything! Why, I think that space is just _terrible_! I -simply can't _cope_ with it at _all_!" - -"Ever been out, miss?" he grinned. He had never known many social -butterflies, and temporarily he had forgotten that such girls as this -one really existed. - -"Why, of _course_!" The young woman kept on being exclamatory. - -"Clear out to the Moon, perhaps?" he hazarded. - -"Don't be ridic! _Ever_ so much farther than _that_! Why, I went clear -to _Mars_! And it gave me the screaming _meamies_, no less. I thought I -would _collapse_!" - -That dance ended ultimately, and other dances with other girls -followed; but Kinnison could not throw himself into the gaiety -surrounding him. During his cadet days he had enjoyed such revels to -the full, but now the whole thing left him cold. His mind insisted -upon reverting to its problem. Finally, in the throng of young people -on the floor, he saw a girl with a mass of red-bronze hair and a -supple, superbly molded figure. He did not need to await her turning -to recognize his erstwhile nurse and later assistant, whom he had last -seen just this side of far-distant Boyssia II. - -"Mac!" To her mind alone he sent out a thought through his Lens. "For -the love of Klono, lend a hand--rescue me! How many dances have you got -ahead?" - -"None at all--I'm not dating ahead." She jumped as though someone had -jabbed her with a needle, then paused in panic; eyes wide, breath -coming fast, breast pounding. She had felt Lensed thoughts before, but -this was something else, something entirely different. Every cell of -her brain was open to that Lensman's mind--and what _was_ she seeing! -She blanketed her thoughts desperately, tried with all her might not to -think at all! - -[Illustration: _She froze suddenly, a gasp of horror half suppressed. -She was seeing things--sensing things beyond comprehension_--] - -"QX, Mac," the thought went quietly on within her mind, quite as though -nothing unusual were occurring. "No intrusion meant. You didn't think -it; I already knew that if you started dating ahead you'd be tied up -until day after tomorrow. Can I have the next one?" - -"Sure, Kim." - -"Thanks--the Lens is off for the rest of the evening." - -She sighed in relief as he snapped the telepathic line as though he -were hanging up the receiver of a telephone. - -"I'd like to dance with you all, kids," he addressed a large group of -buds surrounding him and eying him hungrily, "but I've got this next -one. See you later, perhaps," and he was gone. - -"Sorry, fellows," he remarked casually, as he made his way through the -circle of men around the gorgeous redhead. "Sorry, but this dance is -mine, isn't it, Miss MacDougall?" - -She nodded, flashing the radiant smile which had so aroused his ire -during his hospitalization. "I heard you invoke your spaceman's god, -but I was beginning to be afraid that you had forgotten this dance." - -"And she said she wasn't dating ahead--the diplomat!" murmured an -ambassador, aside. - -"Don't be a dope," a captain of Marines muttered in reply. "She meant -with _us_. That's a Gray Lensman!" - - * * * * * - -Although the nurse, as has been said, was anything but small, she -appeared almost petite against the Lensman's mighty frame as they took -off. Silently the two circled the great hall once; lustrous, goldenly -green gown--of Earthly nylon, this one, and less revealing than -most--swishing in perfect cadence against deftly and softly stepping -high-laced boots. - -"This is better, Mac," Kinnison sighed, finally, "but I lack just seven -thousand kilocycles of being in tune with this. Don't know what's -the matter, but it's clogging my jets. I must be getting to be a -space-louse." - -"A space-louse--you? Uh-uh!" She shook her head. "You know very well -what the matter is. You're just too much of a man to mention it." - -"Huh?" he demanded. - -"Uh-huh," she asserted, positively if obliquely. "Of course you're not -in tune with this crowd. How could you be? I don't fit into it any more -myself, and what I'm doing isn't even a muffled flare compared to your -job. Not one in ten of these fluffs here tonight has ever been beyond -the stratosphere; not one in a hundred has ever been out as far as -Jupiter, or has ever had a serious thought in her head except about -clothes or men; not one of them all has any more idea of what a Lensman -really is than I have of hyperspace or of non-Euclidean geometry!" - -"Kitty, kitty!" he laughed. "Sheathe the little claws, before you -scratch somebody!" - -"That isn't cattishness; it's the barefaced truth. Or perhaps," she -amended, honestly, "it's both true and cattish, but it's certainly -true. And that isn't half of it. No one in the Universe except yourself -really _knows_ what you are doing, and I'm pretty sure that only two -others even suspect. And Dr. Lacy is not one of them," she concluded, -surprisingly. - -Though shocked, Kinnison did not miss a step. "You _don't_ fit into -this matrix, any more than I do," he agreed, quietly. "S'pose you and I -could do a little flit somewhere?" - -"Surely, Kim," and, breaking out of the crowd, they strolled out into -the grounds. Not a word was said until they were seated upon a broad, -low bench beneath the spreading foliage of a tree. - -Then: "What did you come here for tonight, Mac--the real reason?" he -demanded, abruptly. - -"I ... me ... you ... I mean--Oh, skip it!" the girl stammered, a -wave of scarlet flooding her face and down even to her superb, bare -shoulders. Then she steadied herself and went on: "You see, I agree -with you--as you say, I check you to nineteen decimals. Even Dr. Lacy, -with all his knowledge, can be slightly screwy at times, I think." - -"Oh, so that's it!" It was not, it was only a very minor part of her -reason; but the nurse would have bitten her tongue off rather than -admit that she had come to that dance solely and only because Kimball -Kinnison was to be there. "You knew, then, that this was old Lacy's -idea?" - -"Of course. You would never have come, else. He thinks that you may -begin wobbling on the beam pretty soon unless you put out a few braking -jets." - -"And you?" - -"Not in a million, Kim. Lacy is as cockeyed as Trenco's ether, and I as -good as told him so. He may wobble a bit, but _you_ won't. You've got a -job to do, and you're doing it. You'll finish it, too, in spite of all -the vermin infesting all the galaxies of the macro-cosmic Universe!" -she finished, passionately. - -"Klono's brazen whiskers, Mac!" He turned suddenly and stared intently -down into her wide, gold-flecked, tawny eyes. She stared back for a -moment, then looked away. - -"Don't look at me like that!" she almost screamed. "I can't stand -it--you make me feel stark naked! I know that your Lens is off--I'd -simply die if it wasn't--but I think that you're a mind-reader, even -without it!" - - * * * * * - -She did know that that powerful telepath was off and would remain -off, and she was glad indeed of that fact; for her mind was seething -with thoughts which that Lensman must not know, then or ever. And for -his part, the Lensman knew what she did not even suspect; that had he -chosen to exert the powers at his command she would have been naked, -mentally and physically, to his perception; but he did not exert those -powers--then. The amenities of human relationship demanded that some -fastnesses of reserve remain inviolate, but he had to know what this -woman knew. If necessary, he would take the knowledge away from her by -force, so completely that she would never know that she had ever known -it. Therefore: - -"Just what do you know, Mac, and how did you find it out?" he demanded; -quietly, but with a stern finality of inflection that made a quick -chill run up and down the nurse's back. - -"I know a lot, Kim." The girl shivered slightly, even though the -evening was warm and balmy. "I learned it from your own mind. When you -called me, back there on the floor, you didn't send just a single, -sharp thought, just as though you were speaking to me, as you always -did before. Instead, it seemed as though I was actually inside your -own mind--the whole of it. I have heard Lensman speak of a wide-open -two-way, but I never had even the faintest inkling of what it would be -like--no one could who has never experienced it. Of course I didn't--I -couldn't--understand a millionth of what I saw, or seemed to see. -It was too vast, too incredibly immense. I never dreamed any mortal -_could_ have a mind like that, Kim! But it was ghastly, too. It gave -me the creepy jitters. It sent me down completely out of control for -a second. And you didn't even know it--I know you didn't! I didn't -want to look, really, but I couldn't help seeing, and I'm glad I -did--I wouldn't have missed it for the world!" she finished, almost -incoherently. - -"Hm-m-m. That changes the picture entirely." Much to her surprise, the -man's voice was calm and thoughtful; not at all incensed. Not even -disturbed. "So I spilled the beans myself, on a wide-open two-way, -and didn't even realize it. I knew that you were back-firing about -something, but thought it was because I might think you guilty of petty -vanity. And I called _you_ a dumbbell once!" he marveled. - -"Twice," she corrected him, "and the second time I was never so glad to -be called names in my whole life." - -"Now I _know_ that I was getting to be a space-louse." - -"Uh-uh, Kim," she denied again, gently. "And you aren't a brat or a lug -or a clunker, either, even though I have thought at times that you were -all of those things. But, now that I've actually got all this stuff, -what can you--what can we--do about it?" - -"Perhaps ... probably ... I think, since I gave it to you myself, I'll -let you keep it," Kinnison decided, slowly. - -"Keep it!" she exclaimed. "Of course, I'll keep it! Why, it's in my -mind--I'll _have_ to keep it--nobody can take _knowledge_ away from -anyone!" - -"Oh, sure--of course," he murmured, absently. There were a lot of -things that Mac didn't know, and probably no good end would be served -my enlightening her further. "You see, there's a lot of stuff in my -mind that I don't know much about myself, yet. Since I gave you an -open channel, there must have been a good reason for it, even though, -consciously, I don't know myself what it was." He thought intensely -for moments, then went on: "Undoubtedly the subconscious. Probably it -recognized the necessity of discussing the whole situation with someone -having a fresh viewpoint, someone whose ideas can help me develop a -fresh angle of attack. Haynes and I think too much alike for him to be -of much help." - -"You trust _me_ that much?" the girl asked, dumfounded. - -"Certainly," he replied without hesitation. "I know enough about you to -know that you can keep your mouth shut." - - * * * * * - -Thus unromantically did Kimball Kinnison, Gray Lensman, acknowledge the -first glimmerings of the dawning perception of a vast fact--that this -nurse and he were two between whom there never would nor could exist -any iota of doubt or of question. - -Then they sat and talked. Not idly, as is the fashion of lovers, of the -minutiae of their own romantic affairs, did these two converse, but -cosmically, of the entire Universe and of the already existent conflict -between the culture of Civilization and Boskonia. - -They sat there, romantically enough to all outward seeming; their -privacy assured by Kinnison's Lens and by his ever-watchful sense of -perception. Time after time, completely unconsciously, that sense -reached out to other couples who approached, to touch and to affect -their minds so insidiously that they did not know that they were being -steered away from the tree in whose black moon-shadow sat the Lensman -and the nurse. - -Finally the long conversation came to an end and Kinnison assisted his -companion to her feet. His frame was straighter, his eyes held a new -and brighter light. - -"By the way, Kim," she asked idly as they strolled back toward the -ballroom, "who is this Klono, by whom you were swearing a while ago? -Another spaceman's god, like Noshabkeming, of the Valerians?" - -"Something like him, only more so," he laughed. "A combination of -Noshabkeming, some of the gods of the ancient Greeks and Romans, all -three of the Fates, and quite a few other things as well. I think, -originally, from Corvina, but fairly widespread through certain -sections of the Galaxy now. He's got so much stuff--teeth and -horns, claws and whiskers, tail and everything--that he's much more -satisfactory to swear by than any other space-god I know of." - -"But why do men have to swear at all, Kim?" she queried, curiously. -"It's so silly." - -"For the same reason that women cry," he countered. "A man swears to -keep from crying, a woman cries to keep from swearing. Both are sound -psychology. Safety valves--means of blowing off excess pressure that -would otherwise blow fuses or burn out tubes." - - - - - III. - - -In the library of the Port Admiral's richly comfortable home, a room -as heavily guarded against all forms of intrusion as was his private -office, two old but active Lensmen sat and grinned at each other like -the two conspirators which in fact they were. One took a squat, red -bottle of fayalin from a cabinet and filled two small glasses. The -glasses clinked, rim to rim. - -"Here's to love!" Haynes gave the toast. - -"Ain't it grand!" Surgeon General Lacy responded. - -"Down the hatch!" they chanted in unison, and action followed word. - -"You aren't asking if everything stayed on the beam." This from Lacy. - -"No need. I had a spy ray on the whole performance." - -"You would--you're the type. However, I would have, too, if I -had a panel full of them in _my_ office. Well, say it, you old -space-hellion!" Lacy grinned again, albeit a trifle wryly. - -"Nothing to say, sawbones. You did a grand job, and you've got nothing -to blow a jet about." - -"No? How would you like to have a red-headed spitfire who's scarcely -dry behind the ears yet tell you to your teeth that you've got -softening of the brain? That you had the mental capacity of a gnat, the -intellect of a Zabriskan fontema? And to have to take it, without even -heaving the insubordinate young jade into the can for about twenty-five -well-earned black spots?" - -"Oh, come, now, you're just blasting. It wasn't that bad." - -"Perhaps not quite--but it was bad enough." - -"She'll grow up, some day, and realize that you were foxing her six -ways from the origin." - -"Probably. In the meantime, it's all part of the bigger job. Thank God -I'm not young any more. They suffer so." - -"Check. _How_ they suffer!" - -"But you saw the ending and I didn't. How did it turn out?" Lacy asked. - -"Partly good, partly bad." Haynes slowly poured two more drinks and -thoughtfully swirled the crimson, pungently aromatic liquid around and -around in his glass before he spoke again. "Hooked--but she knows it, -and I'm afraid she'll do something about it." - -"She's a smart girl--I told you she was. She doesn't fox herself about -anything. Hm-m-m. And separation is indicated, it would seem." - -"Check. Can you send out a hospital ship somewhere, so as to get rid of -her for two or three weeks?" - -"Can do. Three weeks be enough? We can't send him anywhere, you know." - -"Plenty. He'll be gone in two." Then, as Lacy glanced at him -questioningly, Haynes continued: "Ready for a shock? He's going to -Lundmark's Nebula." - -"But he _can't_! That would take years! Nobody has ever got back from -there yet, and there's this new job of his. Besides, this separation is -only supposed to last until you can spare him for a while!" - -"If it takes very long he's coming back. The idea has always been, you -know, that intergalactic matter may be so thin--one atom per liter -or so--that such a flit won't take one tenth the time supposed. We -recognize the danger. He's going well heeled." - -"How well?" - -"The best that we can give him." - -"I hate to clog their jets this way, but it's got to be done. We'll -give her a raise when I send her out--make her sector chief. Huh?" - -"Did I hear any such words lately as 'spitfire,' 'hussy,' and 'jade,' -or did I dream them?" Haynes asked, quizzically. - -"She's all of them, and more--but she's one of the best nurses and one -of the finest women this side of Hades, too!" - -"QX, Lacy, give her her raise. Of course she's good, or she wouldn't -be in on this deal at all. In fact, they're about as fine a couple of -youngsters as old Tellus has produced." - -"They are that. Man, _what_ a pair of skeletons!" - - * * * * * - -And in the Nurses' Quarters a young woman with a wealth of -red-bronze-auburn hair and tawny eyes was staring at her own reflection -in a mirror. - -"You half-wit, you ninny, you lug!" she stormed, bitterly if almost -inaudibly, at that reflection. "You lame-brained moron, you red-headed, -idiotic imbecile, you microcephalic dumbbell, you _clunker_! Of all the -men in this whole cockeyed galaxy, you _would_ have to make a dive at -Kimball Kinnison, the one man who never has realized that you are even -alive. At a Gray Lensman--" Her expression changed and she whispered -softly: "A ... Gray ... Lensman. He _can't_ love any woman as long as -he's carrying that load. They can't let themselves be human--quite; -perhaps loving him will be enough--" - -She straightened up, shrugged, and smiled; but even that pitiful -travesty of a smile could not long endure. Shortly it was buried in -waves of pain and the girl threw herself down upon her bed. - -"Oh Kim, Kim!" she sobbed. "I wish ... why can't you--Oh, why did I -ever have to be born!" - - * * * * * - -Three weeks later, far out in space, Kimball Kinnison was thinking -thoughts entirely foreign to his usual pattern. He was in his bunk, -smoking dreamily, staring unseeing at the metallic ceiling. He was not -thinking of Boskone. - -When he had thought of Mac, back there at that dance, he had, for the -first time in his life, failed to narrow down his beam to the exact -thought being sent. Why? The explanation he had given the girl was -totally inadequate. For that matter, why had he been so glad to see her -there? And why, at every odd moment, did visions of her keep coming -into his mind--her form and features, her eyes, her lips, her startling -hair? - -She was beautiful, of course, but not nearly such a seven-sector -callout as that thionite dream he had met on Aldebaran II--and his only -thought of _her_ was an occasional faint regret that he had not half -wrung her lovely neck. Why, she wasn't really as good-looking as, and -didn't have half the _je ne sais quoi_ of, that blond heiress--what was -her name?--oh, yes, Forrester-- - -There was only one answer, and it jarred him to the core--he would not -admit it, even to himself. He couldn't love anybody--it just simply was -not in the cards. He had a job to do. The Patrol had spent a million -credits making a Lensman out of him, and it was up to him to give them -some kind of a run for their money. No Lensman had any business with a -wife, especially a Gray Lensman. He couldn't sit down anywhere, and she -couldn't flit with him. Besides, nine out of every ten Gray Lensmen got -killed before they finished their jobs, and the one that did happen to -live long enough to retire to a desk was almost always half machinery -and artificial parts-- - -No, not in seven thousand years. No woman deserved to have her life -made into such a hell on earth as that would be--years of agony, of -heartbreaking suspense, climaxed by untimely widowhood; or, at best, -the wasting of the richest part of her life upon a husband who was half -steel, rubber, and phenoline plastic. Red in particular was much too -splendid a person to be let in for anything like that-- - -But hold on--jet back! What made him think that he rated any such girl? -That there was even a possibility--especially in view of the way he -had behaved while under her care in Base Hospital--that she would ever -feel like being anything more to him than a strictly impersonal nurse? -Probably not. He had Klono's own brazen gall to think that she would -marry him, under any conditions, even if he made a full-power dive at -her. - -Just the same, she might. Look at what women did fall in love with, -sometimes. So he would never make any kind of a dive at her; no, not -even a pass. She was too sweet, too fine, too vital a woman to be -tied to any space-louse; she deserved happiness, not heartbreak. She -deserved the best there was in life, not the worst; the whole love of -a whole man for a whole lifetime, not the fractions which were all -that he could offer any woman. As long as he could think a straight -thought he wouldn't make any motions toward spoiling her life. In fact, -he hadn't better see Reddy again. He wouldn't go near any planet she -was on, and if he saw her out in space he'd go somewhere else at ten -gravities. - -With a bitter imprecation Kinnison sprang out of his bunk, hurled his -half-smoked cigarette at an ash tray, and strode toward the control -room. - - * * * * * - -The ship he rode was of the Patrol's best. Superbly powered for flight, -defense, and offense, she was withal a complete space-laboratory and -observatory; and her personnel, over and above her regular crew, was -as varied as her equipment. She carried ten Lensmen--a circumstance -unique in the annals of space, even for such a trouble-shooting battle -wagon as the _Dauntless_ was; a scientific staff which was practically -a cross section of the Tree of Knowledge. She carried Lieutenant -Peter van Buskirk and his company of Valerian wild cats; Worsel of -Velantia and threescore of his reptilian kinsmen; Tregonsee, the blocky -Rigellian Lensman, and a dozen or so of his fellows; Master Technician -LaVerne Thorndyke and his crew. She carried three Master Pilots, Prime -Base's best--Henderson, Schermerhorn, and Watson. - -The _Dauntless_ was an immense vessel. She had to be, in order to -carry, in addition to the men and the things requisitioned by Kinnison, -the personnel and the equipment which Port Admiral Haynes had insisted -upon sending with him. - -"But great Klono, chief, think of what a hole you're making in Prime -Base if we don't get back!" Kinnison had protested. - -"You're coming back, Kinnison," the Port Admiral had replied gravely. -"That is why I am sending these men and this stuff along--to be as sure -as I possibly can that you _do_ get back." - -Now they were out in intergalactic space, and the Gray Lensman, lying -flat upon his back with his eyes closed, sent his sense of perception -out beyond the confining iron walls and let it roam the void. This -was better than a visiplate; with no material barriers or limitations -he was feasting upon a spectacle scarcely to be pictured in the most -untrammeled imaginings of man. There were no planets, no suns, no -stars, no meteorites, no particles of cosmic débris. All nearby space -was empty, with an indescribable perfection of emptiness at the very -thought of which the mind quailed in uncomprehending horror. And, -accentuating that emptiness, at such mind-searing distances as to be -dwarfed into buttons, and yet, because of their intrinsic massiveness, -starkly apparent in their three-dimensional relationships, there hung -poised and motionlessly stately the component galaxies of a universe. - -Behind the flying vessel the First Galaxy was a tiny, brightly shining -lens, so far away that such minutiae as individual solar systems were -invisible, so distant that even the gigantic masses of its accompanying -globular star clusters were merged indistinguishably into its sharply -lenticular shape. In front of her, to right and to left of her, above -and beneath her were other galaxies, never explored by man or by any -other beings subscribing to the code of Galactic Civilization. Some, -edge on, were thin, waferlike. Others appeared as full disks, showing -faintly or boldly the prodigious, mathematically inexplicable spiral -arms by virtue of whose obscure functioning they had come into being. -Between these two extremes there was every possible variant in angular -displacement. - -Utterly incomprehensible although the speed of the space-flyer was, -yet those galaxies remained relatively motionless, hour after hour. -What distances! What magnificence! What grandeur! What awful, what -poignantly solemn calm! - -Despite the fact that Kinnison had gone out there expecting to behold -that very scene, he felt awed to insignificance by the overwhelming, -the cosmic immensity of the spectacle. What business had he, a -sub-electronic midge from an ultra-microscopic planet, venturing -out into macro-cosmic space, a demesne comprehensible only to the -omniscient and omnipotent Creator? - - * * * * * - -He got up, shaking off the futile mood. This wouldn't get him to the -first check station, and he had a job to do. And, after all, wasn't -man as big as space? Could he have come out here, otherwise? He was. -Yes, man was bigger even than space. Man, by his very envisionment of -macro-cosmic space, had already mastered it. - -Besides, the Boskonians, whoever they might be, had certainly mastered -it; he was now certain that they were operating upon an intergalactic -scale. Even after leaving Tellus he had hoped and had really expected -that his line would lead to a stronghold in some star cluster belonging -to his own Galaxy, so distant from it, or perhaps so small, as to have -escaped the notice of the chartmakers; but such was not the case. No -possible error in either the determination or the following of that -line placed it anywhere near any such cluster. It led straight to and -only to Lundmark's Nebula; and that Galaxy was, therefore, his present -destination. - -Man was certainly as good as the pirates; probably better, on the basis -of past performance. Of all the races of the Galaxy, man had always -taken the initiative, had always been the leader and commander. And, -with the exception of the Arisians, man had the best brain in the -Galaxy. - -The thought of that eminently philosophical race gave Kinnison pause. -His Arisian sponsor had told him that by virtue of the Lens the Patrol -should be able to make Civilization secure throughout the Galaxy. Just -what did that mean--that it could not go outside? Or did even the -Arisians suspect that Boskonia was in fact intergalactic? Probably. The -mentor had said that, given any one definite fact, a really competent -mind could envisage the entire Universe; even though he had added -carefully that his own mind was not a really competent one. - -But this, too, was idle speculation, and it was time to receive and to -correlate some more reports. Therefore, one by one, he got in touch -with scientists and observers. - -The density of matter in space, which had been lessening steadily, -was now approximately constant at one atom per four hundred cubic -centimeters. Their speed was therefore about a hundred thousand parsecs -per hour; and, even allowing for the slowing up at both ends due to the -density of the medium, the trip should not take over ten days. - -The power situation, which had been his gravest care, since it was -almost the only factor not amenable to theoretical solution, was even -better than anyone had dared hope; the cosmic energy available in space -had actually been increasing as the matter content decreased--a fact -which seemed to bear out the contention than energy was continually -being converted into matter in such regions. It was taking much less -excitation of the intake screens to produce a given flow of power than -any figure ever observed in the denser media within the Galaxy. - -Thus, the atomic motors which served as exciters had a maximum power -of four hundred pounds an hour; that is, each exciter could transform -that amount of matter into pure energy and employ the output usefully -in energizing the intake screen to which it was connected. Each -screen, operating normally on a hundred-thousand-to-one ratio, would -then furnish its receptor on the ship with energy equivalent to the -annihilation of four million pounds per hour of material substance. Out -there, however, it was being observed that the intake-exciter ratio, -instead of being less than a hundred thousand to one, was actually -almost a million to one. - - * * * * * - -It would serve no useful purpose here to go further into the details -of any more of the reports, or to dwell at any great length upon the -remainder of the journey to the Second Galaxy. Suffice it to say that -Kinnison and his highly trained crew observed, classified, recorded, -and conferred; and that they approached their destination with every -possible precaution. Detectors full out, observers were at every plate, -the ship was as immune to detection as Hotchkiss' nullifiers could -make it. - -Up to the Second Galaxy the _Dauntless_ flashed, and into it. Was -this island universe essentially like the First Galaxy as to planets -and peoples? If so, had they been won over or wiped out by the horrid -culture of Boskonia or was the struggle still going on? - -"If we assume, as we must, that the line we followed was the trace -of Boskone's beam," argued the sagacious Worsel, "the probability is -very great that the enemy is in virtual control of this entire Galaxy. -Otherwise--if they were in a minority or were struggling seriously for -dominion--they could neither have spared the forces which invaded our -Galaxy, nor would they have been in condition to rebuild their vessels -as they did to match the new armaments developed by the Patrol." - -"Very probably true," agreed Kinnison, and that was the consensus of -opinion. "Therefore we want to do our scouting very quietly. But in -some ways that makes it all the better. If they are in control, they -won't be unduly suspicious." - -And thus it proved. A planet-bearing sun was soon located, and while -the _Dauntless_ was still light-years distant from it, several ships -were detected. At least, the Boskonians were not using nullifiers! - -Spy rays were sent out. Tregonsee, the Rigellian Lensman, exerted to -the full his powers of perception, and Kinnison hurled downward to the -planet's surface a mental viewpoint and communications center. That -the planet was Boskonian was soon learned, but that was all. It was -scarcely fortified: no trace could be found of a beam communicating -with Boskone. - -Solar system after solar system was found and studied, with like -result. But finally, out in space, one of the screens showed activity; -a beam was in operation between a vessel then upon the plates and -some other station. Kinnison tapped it quickly; and, while observers -were determining its direction, hardness, and power, a thought flowed -smoothly into the Lensman's brain. - -"--proceed at once to relieve vessel P4K730. Eichlan, speaking for -Boskone, ending message." - -"Follow that ship, Hen!" Kinnison directed, crisply. "Not too close, -but don't lose him!" He then relayed to the others the orders which had -been intercepted. - -"The same formula, huh?" Van Buskirk roared, and "Just another -lieutenant, that sounds like, not Boskone himself." Thorndyke added. - -"Perhaps so, perhaps no." The Gray Lensman was merely thoughtful. "It -doesn't prove a thing except that Helmuth was not Boskone, which was -already fairly certain. If we can prove that there is such a being as -Boskone, and that he is not in this Galaxy--well, in that case, we'll -go somewhere else," he concluded, with grim finality. - - * * * * * - -The chase was comparatively short, leading toward a yellowish star -around which swung eight average-sized planets. Toward one of these -flew the unsuspecting pirate, followed by the Patrol vessel, and it -soon became apparent that there was a battle going on. One spot upon -the planet's surface, either a city or a tremendous military base, was -domed over by a screen which was one blinding glare of radiance. And -for miles in every direction ships of space were waging spectacularly -devastating warfare. - -Kinnison shot a thought down into the fortress, and with the least -possible introduction or preamble, got into touch with one of its high -officers. He was not surprised to learn that those people were more or -less human in appearance, since the planet was quite similar to Tellus -in age, climate, atmosphere, and mass. - -"Yes, we are fighting Boskonia," the answering thought came coldly -clear. "We need help, and badly. Can you--" - -"We're detected!" Kinnison's attention was seized by a yell from the -board. "They're all coming at us at once!" - -Whether the scientists of Boskone developed the detector-nullifier -before or after Helmuth's failure to deduce the Lensman's use of such -an instrument is a nice question, and one upon which a great deal has -been said. While interesting, the point is really immaterial here; the -facts remaining the same--that the pirates not only had it at the time -of the Patrol's first visit to the Second Galaxy, but had used it to -such good advantage that the denizens of that recalcitrant planet had -been forced, in the sheer desperation of self-preservation, to work -out a scrambler for that nullification and to surround their world -with its radiations. They could not restore perfect detection, but the -conditions for complete nullification were so critical that it was a -comparatively simple matter to upset it sufficiently so that an image -of a sort was revealed. And, at that close range, any sort of an image -was enough. - -The _Dauntless_, approaching the planet, entered the zone of scrambling -and stood revealed plainly enough upon the plates of enemy vessels. -They attacked instantly and viciously; within a second after the -lookout had shouted his warning the outer screens of the Patrol ship -were blazing incandescent under the furious assaults of a dozen -Boskonian beams. - - - - - IV. - - -For a moment all eyes were fixed apprehensively upon meters and -recorders, but there was no immediate cause for alarm. The builders of -the _Dauntless_ had builded well; her outer screen, the lightest of -her series of four, was carrying the attackers' load with no sign of -distress. - -"Strap down, everybody," the expedition's commander ordered then. -"Inert her, Hen. Match velocity with that base," and as Master Pilot -Henry Henderson cut his Bergenholm, the vessel lurched wildly aside as -its intrinsic velocity was restored. - -Henderson's fingers swept over his board as rapidly and as surely as -those of an organist over the banked keys of his console; producing, -not chords and arpeggios of harmony, but roaring blasts of precisely -controlled power. Each keylike switch controlled one jet. Lightly and -fleetingly touched, it produced a gentle urge; at sharp, full contact -it yielded a mighty, solid shove; depressed still farther, so as to -lock into any one of a dozen notches, it brought into being a torrent -of propulsive force of any desired magnitude, which ceased only when -its key-release was touched. - -And Henderson was a virtuoso. Smoothly, effortlessly, but in a space -of seconds the great vessel rolled over, spiraled, and swung until her -landing jets were in line and exerting five gravities of thrust. Then, -equally smoothly, almost imperceptibly, the line of force was varied -until the flame-enshrouded dome was stationary below them. Nobody, not -even the two other Master Pilots, and least of all Henderson himself, -paid any attention to the polished perfection, the consummate artistry, -of the performance. That was his job. He was a Master Pilot, and one of -the hallmarks of his rating was the habit of making difficult maneuvers -look easy. - -"Take 'em now, chief? Can't we, huh?" Chatway, the chief firing -officer, did not say those words. He did not need to. The attitude and -posture of the C.F.O. and his subordinates made the thought tensely -plain. - -"Not yet, Chatty," the Lensman answered the unsent thought. "We'll have -to wait until they englobe us, so that we can get them all. It's got -to be all or none. If even one of them gets away, or even has time to -analyze and report on the stuff we're going to use, it'll be just too -bad." - -He then got in touch with the officer within the beleaguered base and -renewed the conversation at the point at which it had been broken off. - -"We can help you, I think; but to do so effectively we must have clear -ether. Will you please order your ships away, out of even extreme -range?" - -"For how long? They can do us irreparable damage in one rotation of the -planet." - -"One-twentieth of that time, at most--if we cannot do it in that time -we cannot do it at all. Nor will they direct many beams at you, if any. -They will be working on us." - -Then, as the defending ships darted away, Kinnison turned to his C. F. -O. "QX, Chatty. Open up with your secondaries. Fire at will!" - -Then from projectors of a power theretofore carried only by maulers, -there raved out against the nearest Boskonian vessels beams of a -vehemence compared to which the enemies' own seemed weak, futile. And -those were the secondaries! - -As has been intimated, the _Dauntless_ was an unusual ship. She was -enormous. She was bigger even than a mauler in actual bulk and mass; -and from needle-beaked prow to jet-studded stern she was literally -packed with power--power for any emergency conceivable to the fertile -minds of Port Admiral Haynes and his staff of designers and engineers. -Instead of two, or at most three intake-screen exciters, she had two -hundred. Her bus bars, instead of being the conventional rectangular -coppers, of a few square inches cross-sectional area, were laminated -members built up of co-axial tubing of pure silver to a diameter -of over a yard--multiple and parallel conductors, each of whose -current-carrying capacity was to be measured only in millions of -amperes. And everything else aboard that mighty engine of destruction -was upon the same Gargantuan scale. - - * * * * * - -Titanic though those thrusts were, not a pirate ship was seriously -hurt. Outer screens went down, and more than a few of the second lines -of defense also failed. But that was the Patrolmen's strategy; to let -the enemy know that they had weapons of offense somewhat superior to -their own, but not quite powerful enough to be a real menace. - -In minutes, therefore, the Boskonians rushed up and englobed the -newcomer; supposing, of course, that she was a product of the world -below, that she was manned by the race who had so long and so -successfully fought off Boskonian encroachment. - -They attacked, and under the concentrated fury of their beams, the -outer screen of the Patrol ship began to fail. Higher and higher into -the spectrum it radiated, blinding white--blue--an intolerable violet -glare; then, patchily, through the invisible ultraviolet and into -the black of extinction. The second screen resisted longer and more -stubbornly, but finally it also went down; the third automatically -taking up the burden of defense. Simultaneously, the power of -Civilization's projectors weakened, as though the _Dauntless_ were -shifting her power from offense to defense in order to stiffen her -third, and supposedly her last, shielding screen. - -"Pretty soon, now, Chatway," Kinnison observed. "Just as soon as they -can report that they have us in a bad way; that it is just a matter of -time until they blow us out of the ether. Better report now--I'll put -you on the spool." - -"We are equipped to energize simultaneously eight of the new, -replaceable-unit primary projectors," the C.F.O. stated, crisply. -"There are twenty-one vessels englobing us, and no others within -detection. With a discharge period of point six oh second and a -switching interval of point oh nine, the entire action should occupy -one point nine eight seconds." - -"Chief Communications Officer Nelson on the spool. Can the last -surviving ship of the enemy report enough in two seconds to do us -material harm?" - -"In my opinion it cannot, sir," Nelson reported, formally. "The -communications officer is neither an observer nor a technician; he -merely transmits whatever material is given him by other officers -for transmission. If he is already working a beam to his base at the -moment of our first blast, he might be able to report the destruction -of vessels, but he could not be specific as to the nature of the agent -used. Such a report could do no harm, as the fact of the destruction -of the vessels will in any event become apparent shortly. Since we -are apparently being overcome easily, however, and this is a routine -action, the probability is that this detachment is not in direct -communication with Base at any given moment. If not, he could not -establish working control in two seconds." - -"Kinnison now reporting. Having determined to the best of my ability -that engaging the enemy at this time will not enable them to send -Boskone any information regarding our primary armament, I now give the -word to--_fire_." - - * * * * * - -The underlying principle of the destructive beam produced by -overloading a regulation projector had, it is true, been discovered by -a Boskonian technician. In so far as Boskonia was concerned, however, -the secret had died with its inventor, since the pirates had at that -time no headquarters in the First Galaxy. And the Patrol had had months -of time in which to perfect it, for that work was begun before the last -of Helmuth's guardian fortress had been destroyed. - -The projector was not now fatal to its crew, since they were protected -from the lethal back-radiation, not only by shields of force, but also -by foot after impenetrable foot of lead, osmium, carbon, and paraffin. -The refractories were of neo-cargalloy, backed and permeated by M K R -fields; the radiators were constructed of the most ultimately resistant -materials known to the science of the age. But even so, the unit had -a useful life of but little over half a second, so frightful was the -overload at which it was used. Like a rifle cartridge, it was good for -only one shot. Then it was thrown away, to be replaced by a new unit. - -Those problems were relatively simple of solution. Switching those -enormous energies was the great stumbling block. The old Kimmerling -block-dispersion circuit breaker was prone to arc over under loads -much in excess of a hundred billion KW, hence could not even be -considered in this new application. However, the Patrol force finally -succeeded in working out a combination of the immersed-antenna and -the semi-permeable-condenser types, which they called the Thorndyke -heavy-duty switch. It was cumbersome, of course--any device to -interrupt voltages and amperages of the really astronomical magnitude -in question could not at that time be small--but it was positive, -fast-acting, and reliable. - -At Kinnison's word of command, eight of those indescribable primary -beams lashed out; stilettos of irresistibly penetrant energy which not -even a Q-type helix could withstand. Through screens, through wall -shields, and through metal they hurtled in a space of time almost too -brief to be measured. Then, before each beam expired, it was swung a -little, so that the victim was literally split apart or carved into -sections. Performance exceeded by far that of the hastily improvised -weapon which had so easily destroyed the heavy cruisers of the Patrol; -in fact, it checked almost exactly with the theoretical figures of the -designers. - -As the first eight beams winked out, eight more came into being, then -five more; and meanwhile the mighty secondaries were sweeping the -heavens with full-aperture cones of destruction. Metal meant no more -to those rays than did organic material; everything solid or liquid -whiffed into vapor and disappeared. The _Dauntless_ lay alone in the -sky of that new world. - -"Marvelous--wonderful!" the thought beat into Kinnison's brain as soon -as he re-established rapport with the being so far below. "We have -recalled our ships. Will you please come down to our spaceport at -once, so that we can put into execution a plan which has been long in -preparation?" - -"As soon as your ships are down," the Tellurian acquiesced. "Not -sooner, as your landing conventions are doubtless very unlike our own -and we do not wish to cause disaster. Give me the word when your field -is entirely clear." - - * * * * * - -That word came soon, and Kinnison nodded to the pilots. Once more -inertialess, the _Dauntless_ shot downward, deep into atmosphere, -before her inertia was restored. Rematching velocity this time was a -simple matter, and upon the towering, powerfully resilient pillars of -her landing-jets the inconceivable mass of the Tellurian ship of war -settled toward the ground, as lightly seeming as a wafted thistle-down. - -"Their cradles wouldn't fit us, of course, even if they were big -enough--which they aren't, by half," Schermerhorn commented. "Where do -they want us to put her?" - -"'Anywhere,' they say," the Lensman answered, "but we don't want to -take that too literally--without a solid dock she'll make an awful -hole, wherever we set her down. Won't hurt her any. She's designed for -it. We couldn't expect to find cradles to fit her anywhere except on -Tellus. I'd say to lay her down on her belly over there in that corner, -out of the way, as close to that big hangar as you can work without -blasting it out with your jets." - -As Kinnison had intimated, the lightness of the vessel was indeed only -seeming. Superbly and effortlessly the big boat seeped downward into -the designated corner; but when she touched the pavement she did not -stop. Still easily and without jar or jolt she settled--a full twenty -feet into the concrete, reinforcing steel and hard-packed earth of the -field before she came to a halt. - -"What a monster! Who are they? Where could they have come from?" -Kinnison caught a confusion of startled thoughts as the real size and -mass of the visitor became apparent to the natives. Then again came -the clear thought of the officer. - -"We would like very much to have you and as many as possible of your -companions come to confer with us as soon as you have tested our -atmosphere. Come in spacesuits if you must." - -The air was tested and found suitable. True, it did not match exactly -that of Tellus, or Rigel IV, or Velantia; but then, neither did that of -the _Dauntless_, since that gaseous mixture was a compromise one, and -mostly artificial to boot. - -"Worsel, Tregonsee, and I will go to this conference," Kinnison -decided. "The rest of you sit tight. I don't need to tell you to -keep on your toes, that anything is apt to happen, anywhere, without -warning. Keep your detectors full out and keep your noses clean--be -ready like the good little endeavorers you are, 'to do with all your -might what your hands find to do.' Come on, fellows," and the three -Lensmen strode, wriggled, and waddled across the field, to and into a -spacious room of the Administration Building. - -"Strangers, or, I should say friends, I introduce you to Wise, our -president," Kinnison's acquaintance said, clearly enough, although it -was plain to all three Lensmen that he was shocked at the sight of the -Earthman's companions. - -"I am informed that you understand our language--" the president began -doubtfully. - -He, too, was staring at Tregonsee and Worsel. He had been told that -Kinnison, and therefore, supposed, the rest of the visitors, were -beings fashioned more or less after his own pattern. But these two -creatures! - - * * * * * - -For they were not even remotely human in form. Tregonsee, the -Rigellian, with his leathery, multiappendaged, oil-drumlike body, his -immobile dome of a head and his four blocky pillars of legs must at -first sight have appeared fantastic indeed. And Worsel, the Velantian, -was infinitely worse. He was repulsive, a thing materialized from -sheerest nightmare--a leather-winged, crocodile-headed, crooked-armed, -thirty-foot long, pythonish, reptilian monstrosity! - -But the President of Medon saw at once that which the three outlanders -had in common. The Lenses, each glowingly aflame with its own innate -pseudo-vitality--Kinnison's clamped to his brawny wrist by a band of -iridium-osmium-tungsten alloy; Tregonsee's embedded in the glossy -black flesh of one mighty, sinuous arm; Worsel's apparently driven -deep and with cruel force into the horny, scaly hide squarely in the -middle of his forehead, between two of his weirdly stalked, repulsively -extensible eyes. - -"It is not your language we understand, but your thoughts, by virtue of -these our Lenses which you have already noticed." The president gasped -as Kinnison bulleted the information into his mind. "Go ahead.... Just -a minute!" as an unmistakable sensation swept through his being. "We've -gone _free_! The whole planet, I perceive. In that respect, at least, -you are in advance of us. As far as I know, no scientist of any of our -races has even thought of a Bergenholm big enough to free a world." - -"It was long in the designing; many years in the building of its -units," Wise replied. "We are leaving this sun in an attempt to escape -from our enemy and yours; Boskone. It is our only chance of survival. -The means have long been ready, but the opportunity which you have just -made for us is the first that we have had. This is the first time in -many, many years that not a single Boskonian vessel is in position to -observe our flight." - -"Where are you going? Surely the Boskonians will be able to find you if -they wish." - -"That is possible, but we must run that risk. We must have a respite -or perish; after a long lifetime of continuous warfare, our resources -are at the point of exhaustion. There is a part of this Galaxy in which -there are very few planets, and of those few, none are inhabited or -habitable. Since nothing is to be gained, ships seldom or never go -there. If we can reach that region undetected, the probability is that -we shall be unmolested long enough to recuperate." - -Kinnison exchanged flashing thoughts with his two fellow Lensmen, then -turned again to Wise. - -"We come from a neighboring Galaxy," he informed him, and pointed -out to his mind just which Galaxy he meant. "You are fairly close to -the edge of this one. Why not move over to ours? You have no friends -here, since you think that yours may be the only remaining independent -planet. We can assure you of friendship. We can also give you some hope -of peace--or at least semipeace--in the near future, for we are driving -Boskonia out of our Galaxy." - -"What you think of as 'semipeace' would be tranquillity incarnate to -us," the old man replied with feeling. "We have, in fact, considered -long that very move. We decided against it for two reasons: first, -because we knew nothing about conditions there, and hence might be -going from bad to worse; and second and more important, because of lack -of reliable data upon the density of matter in intergalactic space. -Lacking that, we could not estimate the time necessary for the journey, -and we could have no assurance that our sources of power, great as they -are, would be sufficient to make up the heat lost by radiation." - -"We have already given you an idea of conditions and we can give you -the data you lack." - - * * * * * - -They did so, and for a matter of minutes the Medonians conferred. -Meanwhile Kinnison went on a mental expedition to one of the power -plants. He expected to see supercolossal engines; bus bars ten feet -thick, perhaps cooled in liquid helium; and other things in proportion. -But what he actually saw made him gasp for breath and call Tregonsee's -attention. The Rigellian sent out his sense of perception with -Kinnison's, and he also was almost stunned. - -"What's the answer, Trig?" the Earthman asked, finally. "This is more -down your alley than mine. That motor's about the size of my foot, and -if it isn't eating a thousand pounds an hour I'm Klono's maiden aunt. -And the whole output is going out on two wires no bigger than number -four, jacketed together like ordinary parallel pair. Perfect insulator? -If so, how about switching?" - -"That must be it, a substance of practically infinite resistance," the -Rigellian replied absently, studying intently the peculiar mechanism. -"Must have a better conductor than silver, too, unless they can handle -voltages of ten to the fifteenth or so, and don't see how they could -break such potentials.... Guess they don't use switches ... don't see -any ... must shut down the prime sources.... No, there it is--so small -that I overlooked it completely. In that little box there! Sort of a -jam-plate type; a thin sheet of insulation with a knife on the leading -edge, working in a slot to cut the two conductors apart--kills the arc -by jamming into the tight slot at the end of the box. The conductors -must fuse together at each make and burn away a little at each break, -that's why they have renewable tips. Kim, they've really got something! -I certainly am going to stay here and do some studying." - -"Yes, and we'll have to rebuild the _Dauntless_--" - -The two Lensmen were called away from their study by Worsel--the -Medonians had decided to accept the invitation to attempt to move to -the First Galaxy. Orders were given, the course was changed and the -planet, now a veritable spaceship, shot away in the new direction. - -"Not as many legs as a speedster, of course, but at that, she's no -slouch--we're making plenty of lights," Kinnison commented, then turned -to the president. "It seems rather presumptuous for us to call you -simply 'Wise,' especially as I gather that that is not really your -formal name--" - -"That is what I am called, and that is what you are to call me," the -oldster replied: "We of Medon do not have names. Each has a number; or, -rather, a symbol composed of numbers and letters of our alphabet--a -symbol which gives his full classification. Since these things are -too clumsy for regular use, however, each of us is given a nickname, -usually an adjective, which is supposed to be more or less descriptive. -You of Earth we could not give a complete symbol, your two companions -we could not give any at all. However, you may be interested in knowing -that you three have already been named?" - -"Very much so." - -"You are to be called 'Keen.' He of Rigel IV is 'Strong,' and he of -Velantia is 'Agile.'" - -"Quite complimentary to me, but--" - -"Not bad at all, I'd say," Tregonsee broke in. "But hadn't we better be -getting on with more serious business?" - -"We should indeed," Wise agreed. "We have much to discuss with you; -particularly the weapon you used." - -"Could you get an analysis of it?" Kinnison asked, sharply. - -"No. No one beam was in operation long enough. However, a study of the -recorded data, particularly the figure for intensity--figures so high -as to be almost unbelievable--lead us to believe that the beam is the -result of an enormous overload upon a projector otherwise of more or -less conventional type. Some of us have wondered why we did not think -of the idea ourselves--" - -"So did we, when it was used on us," Kinnison grinned and went off to -explain the origin of the primary. "But before we go into details, -I noticed that your fixed-mount stuff could not work effectively -through atmosphere. We have what we call Q-type helices, with which -we incase such beams so that they work in a tube of vacuum. We will -give you the Q-formulæ and also the working hookup--including the -protective devices, because they're mighty dangerous without plenty -of force-backing--of the primaries, in exchange for some lessons in -power-plant design." - -"Such an exchange of knowledge would be helpful indeed," Wise agreed. - -"The Boskonians know nothing whatever of this beam, and we do not -want them to learn of it," Kinnison cautioned. "Therefore I have two -suggestions to make. First, that you try everything else before you -use this primary beam. Second, that you don't use it even then unless -you can wipe out, as nearly simultaneously as we did out there, every -Boskonian who may be able to report back to his base as to what really -happened. Fair enough?" - -"Eminently so. We agree without reservation--it is to our interest as -much as yours that such a secret be kept from Boskone." - -"QX. Fellow, let's go back to the ship for a couple of minutes." Then, -aboard the _Dauntless_: "Tregonsee, you and your crew want to stay with -the planet, to show the Medonians what to do and to help them along -generally, as well as to learn about their power system. Thorndyke, -you and your gang, and probably Lensman Hotchkiss, had better study -these things, too--you'll know what you want as soon as they show you -the hookup. Worsel, I'd like to have you stay with the ship. You're -in command of her until further orders. Keep her here for, say, a -week or ten days, until the planet is well out of the Galaxy. Then, -if Hotchkiss and Thorndyke haven't got all the dope they want, leave -them here to ride back with Tregonsee on the planet and drill the -_Dauntless_ for Tellus. Keep yourself more or less disengaged for a -while, and sort of keep tuned to me. I may not need an ultra-long-range -communicator, but you never can tell." - -"Why such comprehensive orders, Kim?" asked Hotchkiss. "Who ever heard -of a commander abandoning his expeditions? Aren't you sticking around?" - -"Nope--got to do a flit. Think maybe I'm getting an idea. Break out my -speedster, will you, Allerdyce?"--and the Gray Lensman was gone. - - - - - V. - - -Kinnison's speedster shot away and made an undetectable, uneventful -voyage back to the Earth. In due time, therefore, the Gray Lensman was -again closeted with Port Admiral Haynes. - -"Why the foliage?" the chief of staff asked, almost at sight, for the -Gray Lensman was wearing a more-than-half-grown beard. - -"I may need to be Chester Q. Fordyce for a while. If I don't, I can -shave it off quick. If I do, a real beard is a lot better than an -imitation," and he plunged into his subject. - -"Very fine work, son, very fine indeed," Haynes congratulated the -younger man at the conclusion of his report. "We shall begin at once, -and be ready to rush things through when the technicians bring back the -necessary data from Medon. But there's one more thing I want to ask -you. How did you come to place those spotting-screens so exactly? The -beam practically dead-centered them. You said that it was surmise and -suspicion before it happened, but I thought then and still think that -you had a much firmer foundation than any kind of a mere hunch. What -was it?" - -"Deduction, based upon an unproved, but logical, cosmogonic theory--but -you probably know more about that stuff than I do." - -"Highly improbable. I read just a smattering now and then of the doings -of the astronomers and astrophysicists. I didn't know that that was one -of your specialties, either." - -"It isn't, but I had to do a little cramming. We'll have to go back -quite a while to make it clear. You know, of course, that a long time -ago, before even interplanetary ships were developed, the belief was -general that not more than about four planetary solar systems could be -in existence at any one time in the whole Galaxy?" - -"Yes, I am familiar with that belief--a consequence of the -binary-dynamic-encounter theory in a too-limited application. The -theory itself is still good, isn't it?" - -"Eminently so--every other theory is wrecked by its failure to account -for the quantity and above all, the distribution, of angular momentum -of planetary systems. But you know what I'm going to say--that 'limited -application' proves it!" - -"No, just let's say that a bit of light is beginning to dawn. Go ahead." - -"QX. Well, when it was discovered that there were millions of times -as many planets in the Galaxy as could be accounted for by a dynamic -encounter occurring once in two times ten to the tenth years or so, -some way had to be figured out to increase, millionfold, the number -of such encounters. Manifestly, the random motion of the stars within -the Galaxy could not account for it. Neither could the vibration or -oscillation of the globular clusters through the Galaxy. The meeting -of two Galaxies--the passage of them completely through each other, -edgewise--would account for it very nicely. It would also account for -the fact that the solar systems on one side of the Galaxy tend to be -somewhat older than the ones on the apposite side. Question; find the -Galaxy. It was van der Schleiss, I believe, who found it. Lundmark's -Nebula. It is edge on to us, with a receding velocity of twelve hundred -and forty-six miles per second--the exact velocity which, corrected for -gravitational decrement, will put Lundmark's Nebula right here at the -time when, according to our best geophysicists and geochemists, old -Earth was being born. If that theory was correct, Lundmark's Nebula -should also be full of planets. Four expeditions went out to check the -theory, and none of them came back. We know why, now--Boskone got them. -We got back, because of you, and only you." - -"Holy Klono!" the old man breathed, paying no attention to the tribute. -"It checks--_how_ it checks!" - -"To nineteen decimals." - - * * * * * - -"But still it doesn't explain why you set your traps on that line." - -"Sure it does. How many Galaxies are there in the Universe, do you -suppose, that are full of planets?" - -"Why, all of them I suppose--or no, not so many perhaps--I don't -know--I don't remember of having read anything on that question." - -"No, and you probably won't. Only loose-screwed space detectives, -like me, and crackpot science-fiction writers, like Wacky Willison, -have noodles vacuous enough to harbor such thin ideas. But, according -to our admittedly highly tenuous reasoning, there are only two such -Galaxies--Lundmark's Nebula and ours." - -"Huh? Why?" demanded Haynes. - -"Because Galaxies don't collide much, if any, oftener than binaries -within a Galaxy do," Kinnison asserted. "True, they are closer -together in space, relative to their actual linear dimensions, than are -stars; but on the other hand, their relative motions are slower--that -is, a star will traverse the average interstellar distance much quicker -than a Galaxy will the intergalactic one--so that the whole thing evens -up. As nearly as Wacky and I could figure it, two Galaxies will collide -deeply enough to produce a significant number of planetary solar -systems on an average of once in just about one point eight times ten -to the tenth years. Pick up your slide rule and check me on it, if you -like." - -"I'll take your word for it," the old Lensman murmured absently. "But -any Galaxy probably has at least a couple of solar systems all the -time--but I see your point. The probability is overwhelmingly great -that Boskone would be in a Galaxy having hundreds of millions of -planets rather than in one having only a dozen or less inhabitable -worlds. But at that, they _could_ all have lots of planets. Suppose -that our wilder thinkers are right, that Galaxies are grouped into -Universes, which are spaced, roughly, about the same as the Galaxies -are. Two of _them_ could collide, couldn't they?" - -"They could, but you're getting 'way out of my range now. At this -point the detective withdraws, leaving a clear field for you and the -science-fiction imaginationeer." - -"Well, finish the thought--that I'm wackier even than he is!" Both -men laughed, and the Port Admiral went on: "It's a fascinating -speculation--it does no harm to let the fancy roam at times--but at -that, there are things of much greater importance. You think, then, -that the thionite ring enters into this matrix?" - -"Bound to. Everything ties in. The most intelligent races of this -Galaxy are oxygen-breathers, with warm, red blood: the only kind of -physique which thionite affects. The more of us who get the thionite -habit, the better for Boskone. It explains why we have never got to -the first check station in getting any of the real higher-ups in the -thionite game; instead of being an ordinary criminal ring they've got -all the brains and all the resources of Boskonia back of them. But if -they are that big--and as good as we know they are--I wonder why--" -Kinnison's voice trailed off into silence; his brain raced. - - * * * * * - -"I want to ask you a question that is none of my business," the young -Lensman went on almost immediately, in a voice strangely altered. "Just -how long ago was it that you started losing fifth-year men just before -graduation? I mean, that boys sent to Arisia to be measured for their -Lenses supposedly never got there? Or at least, they never came back -and no Lenses were ever received for them?" - -"About ten years. Twelve, I think, to be ex--" Haynes broke off in the -middle of the word and his eyes bored into those of the younger man. -"What makes you think that there were any such?" - -"Deduction again, but this time I know that I'm right. At least one -every year. Usually two or three." - -"Right, but there have always been space accidents ... or they were -caught by the pirates ... you think, then, that--" - -"I don't think. I _know_!" Kinnison declared. "They got to Arisia, _and -they died there_. All I can say is, thank God for the Arisians! We can -still trust our Lenses; they are seeing to that." - -"But why didn't they tell us?" Haynes asked, perplexed. - -"They wouldn't; that isn't their way," Kinnison stated, flatly and -with conviction. "They have given us an instrumentality, the Lens, by -virtue of which we should be able to do the job, and they are seeing -to it that that instrumentality remains untarnished. If we cannot -handle it properly, that is our lookout. We've got to fight our own -battles and bury our own dead. Now that we have smeared up the enemy's -military organization in this Galaxy by wiping out Helmuth and his -headquarters, the drug syndicate seems to be my best chance of getting -a line on the real Boskone. While you are mopping up and keeping them -from establishing another war base here, I think I'd better be getting -at it, don't you?" - -"Probably so--you know your own oysters best. Mind if I ask where -you're going to start in?" Haynes looked at Kinnison quizzically as he -spoke. "Have you deduced that, too?" - -The Gray Lensman returned the look in kind. "No. Deduction couldn't -take me quite that far," he replied in the same tone. "You are going to -tell me that, when you get around to it." - -"Me? Where do I come in?" the Port Admiral feigned surprise. - -"As follows. Helmuth probably had nothing to do with the dope running, -so its organization must still be intact. If so, they would take over -as much of the other branch as they could get hold of, and hit us -harder than ever. I haven't heard of any unusual activity around here, -so it must be somewhere else. Wherever it is, you would know about it, -since you are a member of Galactic Council; and Councillor Ellington, -in charge of Narcotics, would hardly take any very important step -without conferring with you, as port admiral and chief of staff. How -near right am I?" - - * * * * * - -"On the center of the beam, all the way--your deducer is blasting at -maximum," Haynes said, in admiration. "Radelix is the worst--they're -hitting it mighty hard. We sent a full unit over there last week. Shall -we recall them, or do you want to work independently?" - -"Let them go on; I'll be of more use working on my own, I think. I did -the boys over there a favor a while back--they would co-operate anyway, -of course, but it's a little nicer to have them sort of owe it to me. -We'll all be able to play together very nicely if the opportunity -arises." - -"I'm mighty glad you're taking this on. The Radeligians are stuck, and -we had no real reason for thinking that our men could do any better. -With this new angle of approach, however, and with you working behind -the scenes, the picture looks entirely different." - -"I'm afraid that's unjustifiably high--" - -"Not a bit of it, lad. Just a minute--I'll break out a couple of -beakers of fayalin--Luck!" - -"Thanks, chief!" - -"Down the hatch!" and again the Gray Lensman was gone. To the -spaceport, into his speedster, and away--hurtling through the void -at the maximum blast of the fastest space-flier then boasted by the -Galactic Patrol. - -During the long trip, Kinnison exercised, thought, and studied -spool after spool of tape--the Radeligian language. Thoughts of the -red-headed nurse obtruded themselves strongly at times, but he put them -aside resolutely. He was, he assured himself, off women forever--all -women. He cultivated his new beard; trimming it, with the aid of a -triplex mirror and four stereoscopic photographs, into something which, -although neat and spruce enough, was too full and bushy by half to be -a Vandyke. Also, he moved his Lens bracelet up his arm and rayed the -white skin thus exposed until his whole wrist was the same even shade -of tan. - -He did not drive his speedster to Radelix, for that racy little -fabrication would have been recognized anywhere for what she was; and -private citizens simply did not drive ships of that type. Therefore, -with every possible precaution of secrecy, he landed her in a -Patrol base four solar systems away. In that base Kimball Kinnison -disappeared; but the tall, shock-haired, bushy-bearded Chester Q. -Fordyce--cosmopolite, man of leisure, and dilettante in science--who -took the next space liner for Radelix was not precisely the same -individual who had come to that planet a few days before with that name -and those unmistakable characteristics. - -Mr. Chester Q. Fordyce, then, and not Gray Lensman Kimball Kinnison, -disembarked at Ardith, the world-capital of Radelix. He took up his -abode at the Hotel Ardith-Splendide and proceeded, with neither too -much nor too little fanfare, to be his cosmopolitan self in those -circles of society in which, wherever he might find himself, he was -wont to move. - -As a matter of course, he entertained, and was entertained by, the -Tellurian Ambassador. Equally as a matter of course, he attended divers -and sundry functions, at which he made the acquaintance of hundreds of -persons, many of them personages. That one of these should have been -Vice-Admiral Gerrond, Lensman in charge of the Patrol's Radeligian -base, was inevitable. - - * * * * * - -It was, then, a purely routine and logical development that at a -reception one evening Vice-Admiral Gerrond stopped to chat for a -moment with Mr. Fordyce; and it was purely accidental that the nearest -bystander was a few yards distant. Hence, Mr. Fordyce's conduct was -strange enough. - -"Gerrond!" he said without moving his lips and in a tone almost -inaudible, the while he was offering the Admiral an Alsakanite -cigarette. "Don't look at me particularly right now, and don't show -surprise. Study me for the next ten minutes, then put your Lens on -me and tell me whether you have ever seen me before or not." Then, -glancing at the watch upon his left wrist--a time-piece just about -as large and as ornate as a wrist watch could be and still remain in -impeccable taste--he murmured something conventional and strolled away. - -The ten minutes passed and he felt Gerrond's thought. A peculiar -sensation, this, being on the receiving end of a single beam, instead -of using his own Lens. - -"As far as I can tell, I have never seen you before. You are certainly -not one of our agents, and if you are one of Haynes' whom I have ever -worked with you have done a wonderful job of disguising. I must have -met you somewhere, sometime, else there would be no point to your -question; but beyond the evident--and admitted--fact that you are a -white Tellurian, I can't seem to place you." - -"Does this help?" This question was shot through Kinnison's own Lens. - -"Since I have known so few Tellurian Lensmen it tells me that you -must be Kinnison, but I do not recognize you at all readily. You seem -changed--older--besides, who ever heard of an Unattached Lensman doing -the work of an ordinary agent?" - -"I am both older and changed--partly natural and partly artificial. As -for the work, it's a job that no ordinary agent can handle--it takes a -lot of special equipment--" - -"You've got _that_, indubitably! I get goose-flesh yet every time I -think of that trial." - -"You think that I'm proof against recognition, then, as long as I don't -use my Lens?" Kinnison stuck to the issue. - -"Absolutely so. You're here, then, on thionite?" No other issue, -Gerrond knew, could be grave enough to account for this man's presence. -"But your wrist? I studied it. You can't have worn your Lens there for -months--those Tellurian bracelets leave white streaks an inch wide." - -"I tanned it with a pencil beam. Nice job, eh? But what I want to ask -you about is a little co-operation. As you supposed, I'm here to work -on this drug ring." - -"Surely--anything we can do. But Narcotics is handling that, not -us--but you know that, as well as I do--" the officer broke off, -puzzled. - -"I know. That's why I want you--that and because you handle the secret -service. Frankly, I'm scared to death of leaks. For that reason I'm not -saying anything to anyone except Lensmen, and I'm having no dealings -with anyone connected with Narcotics. I have as unimpeachable an -identity as Haynes could furnish--" - -"There's no question as to its adequacy, then," the Radeligian -interposed. - -"I would like to have you pass the word around among your boys and -girls that you know who I am and that I'm safe to play with. That way, -if Boskone's agents spot me, it will be for an agent of Haynes, and not -for what I really am. That's the first thing. Can do?" - -"Easily and gladly. Consider it done. Second?" - -"To have a boatload of good, tough marines on hand if I should call -you. There are some Valerians coming over later, but I may need help in -the meantime. I may want to start a fight--quite possibly even a riot." - -"They'll be ready, and they'll be big, tough, and hard. Anything else?" - - * * * * * - -"Not just now, except for one question. You know Countess Avondrin, the -woman I was dancing with a while ago. Got any dope on her?" - -"Certainly not--what do you mean?" - -"Huh? Don't you know even that she's a Boskonian agent of some kind?" - -"Man, you're crazy! She isn't an agent, she can't be. Why, she's the -daughter of a Planetary Councillor, the wife of one of our most loyal -officers." - -"She would be. That's the type they like to get hold of." - -"Prove it!" the Admiral snapped. "Prove it or retract it!" He almost -lost his poise, almost looked toward the distant corner in which the -bewhiskered gentleman was sitting so idly. - -"QX. If she isn't an agent, why is she wearing a thought-screen? You -haven't tested her, of course." - -Of course not. The amenities, as has been said, demanded that certain -reserves of privacy remain inviolate. The Tellurian went on: "You -didn't, but I did. On this job I can recognize nothing of good taste, -of courtesy, of chivalry, or even of ordinary common decency. I suspect -_everyone_ who does not wear a Lens." - -"A thought-screen!" exclaimed Gerrond. "How could she, without armor?" - -"It's a late model--brand new. Just as good and just as powerful as the -one I myself am wearing," Kinnison explained. "The mere fact that she's -wearing it gives me a lot of highly useful information." - -"What do you want me to do about her?" the Admiral asked. He was -mentally asquirm, but he was a Lensman. - -"Nothing whatever--except possibly, for our own information, to find -out how many of her friends have become thionite-sniffers lately. If -you do anything, you may warn them, although I know nothing definite -about which to caution you. I'll handle her. Don't worry too much, -though; I don't think she's anybody we really want. Afraid she's small -fry--no such luck as that I'd get hold of a big one so soon." - -"I hope she's small fry." Gerrond's thought was a grimace of distaste. -"I hate Boskonia as much as anybody does, but I don't relish the idea -of having to put that girl into the Chamber." - -"If my picture is half right she can't amount to much," Kinnison -replied. "A good lead is the best I can expect. I'll see what I can do." - -For days, then, the searching Lensman pried into minds: so insidiously -that he left no trace of his invasions. He examined men and women, -of high and of low estate. Waitresses and ambassadors, flunkies and -bankers, ermined prelates and truck drivers. He went from city to city. -Always, but with only a fraction of his brain, he played the part of -Chester Q. Fordyce; ninety-nine percent of his stupendous mind was -probing, searching and analyzing. Into what charnel pits of filth and -corruption he delved, into what fastnesses of truth and loyalty and -high courage and ideals, must be left entirely to the imagination; for -the Lensman never has spoken and never will speak of these things. - -He went back to Ardith and, late at night, approached the dwelling of -Count Avondrin. A servant arose and admitted the visitor, not knowing -then or ever that he did so. The bedroom door was locked from the -inside, but what of that? What resistance can any mechanism offer to -a master craftsman, plentifully supplied with tools, who can perceive -every component part, however deeply buried? - -The door opened. The countess was a light sleeper, but before she could -utter a single scream one powerful hand clamped her mouth, another -snapped the switch of her supposedly carefully concealed thought-screen -generator. What followed was done very quickly. - -[Illustration: _A throttling hand clamped over her mouth even as she -awoke, and in the same instant her thought-screen flicked off._] - -Mr. Fordyce strolled back to his hotel and Lensman Kinnison directed a -thought at Vice-Admiral Gerrond. - -"Better fake up some kind of an excuse for having a couple of guards or -policemen in front of Count Avondrin's town house at eight twenty-five -this morning. The countess is going to have a brainstorm." - -"What _have_ ... what will she do?" Gerrond mastered his emotions -sufficiently to keep from swearing. - -"Nothing much. Scream a bit, rush out of doors half dressed, and fight -anything and everybody that touches her. Warn the officers that she'll -kick, scratch, and bite. There are plenty of signs of a prowler having -been in her room, but if they can find him they're good--_very_ good. -She'll have all the signs and symptoms, even to the puncture, of having -been given a shot in the arm of some brand-new drug, which the doctors -won't be able to find or to identify. But there will be no question -raised of insanity or of any other permanent damage--she'll be right -as rain in a couple of months." - -"Oh, that mind-ray machine of yours again, eh? And that's all you're -going to do to her?" - -"That's all. I can let her off easy and still be just, I think. She's -helped me a lot. She'll be a good girl from now on, too; I've thrown a -scare into her that will last her the rest of her life." - -"Thanks, Gray Lensman! What else?" - -"I'd like to have you at the Tellurian Ambassador's Ball day after -tomorrow, if it's convenient." - -"I've been planning on it, since it's on the 'must' list. Shall I bring -anything or anyone special?" - -"No. I just want you on hand to give me any information you can on a -person who will probably be there to investigate what happened to the -countess." - -"I'll be there," and he was. - - * * * * * - -It was a gay and colorful throng, but neither of the two Lensmen was -in any mood for gaiety. They acted, of course. They neither sought nor -avoided each other but, somehow, they were never alone together. - -"Man or woman?" asked Gerrond. - -"I don't know. All I've got is the recognition." - -The Radeligian did not ask what that recognition was to be. He knew -that that information might prove dangerous indeed to any unauthorized -possessor. He did not want to know it; he was glad that the Tellurian -had not thrust it upon him. - -Suddenly the Vice-Admiral's attention was wrenched toward the doorway, -to see the most marvelously, the most flawlessly beautiful woman he -had ever seen. But not long did he contemplate that beauty, for the -Tellurian Lensman's thoughts were fairly seething, despite his iron -control. - -"Do you mean ... you can't mean--" Gerrond faltered. - -"Yes--definitely!" Kinnison rasped. "She looks like an angel, but take -it from me, _she isn't_. She's one of the slimiest snakes that ever -lived--she's so low that she could put on a tall silk hat and walk -under a duck. I know she's beautiful. She's a riot, a seven-sector -callout, a thionite dream. So what? She is also Dessa Desplaines, -formerly of Aldebaran II. Does that mean anything to you?" - -"Not a thing, Kinnison." - -"She's in it, clear to her neck. I had a chance to wring her neck once, -too, damn it all, and didn't. She's got a brazen crust, coming here -now, with all our Narcotics on the job--Wonder if they think they've -got Enforcement so badly whipped that they can get away with stuff as -rough as this--Sure you don't know her, or know of her?" - -"I never saw her before, or heard of her." - -"Perhaps she isn't known, out this way. Or maybe they think they're -ready for a show-down ... or don't care. Her being here ties me up hand -and foot, anyway. _She'll_ recognize me, for all the tea in China. -Gerrond! You know the Narcotics' Lensmen, don't you?" - -"Certainly." - -"Call one of them right now. Tell him that Dessa Desplaines, the -zwilnik[1] houri, is right here on the floor--What! He doesn't know -her, either! And none of our boys are Lensmen! Make it a three-way. -Lensman Winstead? Kinnison of Sol III--unattached. Sure that none of -you recognize this picture?" and he transmitted a perfect image of -the ravishing creature then moving regally across the floor. "Nobody -does? Good! Maybe that's why she's here, after all--thinks she can get -away with it. Anyway, she's your meat. Here's the chance for a real -capture. Come and get her." - -[Footnote 1: Zwilnik:--any person connected with the illicit drug -traffic. E.E.S.] - -"You will appear against her, of course?" - -"If necessary--but it won't be necessary. As soon as she sees that the -game's up, all hell will be out for noon." - - * * * * * - -As soon as the connection had been broken, Kinnison realized that the -thing could not be done that way; that he could not stay out of it. No -man alive save himself could prevent her from flashing a warning--badly -as he hated it, he had to do it. Gerrond glanced at him curiously: he -had received a few of those racing thoughts. - -"Tune in on this," Kinnison grinned wryly. "If the last meeting I had -with her is any criterion, it ought to be good. S'pose anybody around -here understands the language of Aldebaran II?" - -"Never heard it mentioned if they do." - -The Tellurian walked blithely up to the radiant visitor, held out -his hand in Earthly--and Aldebaranian--greeting, and spoke: "Madam -Desplaines would not remember Chester Q. Fordyce, of course. It is of -the piteousness that I should be so accursedly of the ordinariness; for -to see madam but the one time, as I did at the New Year's ball in High -Altamont, is to remember her forever." - -"Such a flatterer!" The woman laughed. "I trust that you will forgive -me, Mr. Fordyce, but one meets so many interesting--" Her eyes widened -in surprise, an expression which changed rapidly to one of flaming -hatred, not unmixed with fear. - -"So you do recognize me, you bedroom-eyed, Aldebaranian hell-cat," he -remarked, evenly. "I rather expected that you would." - -"Yes, you sweet, uncontaminated sissy, you overgrown super-Boy Scout, -I do," she hissed, malevolently, and made a quick motion toward her -corsage. These two, as has been intimated, were friends of old. - -Quick though she was, the man was quicker. His left hand darted out to -seize her left wrist; his right, flashing around her body, grasped her -right and held it rigidly in the small of her back. Thus they walked -away. - -"Stop!" she flared. "You're making a spectacle of me!" - -"Now isn't that something to worry about?" His lips smiled, for the -benefit of the observers, but his eyes held no glint of mirth. "These -folks will think that this is the way all Aldebaranian friends walk -together. If you think for a second that I'm going to give you a chance -to touch that sounder you're wearing you haven't got the sense of a -Zabriskan fontema. Stop wriggling!" he counseled, sharply. "Even if you -can do enough hula-hula shimmying to work it, before it contacts once -I'll crush your brain to a pulp, right here and right now!" - -Outside, in the grounds, "Oh, Lensman, let's sit down and talk this -over!" and the girl brought into play everything she had. It was a -distressing scene, but it left the Lensman cold. - -"Save your breath," he advised her finally, wearily. "To me you're just -another zwilnik, no more and no less. A female louse is still a louse; -and calling a zwilnik a louse is sheerest flattery." - -He said that; and, saying it, knew it to be the exact and crystal -truth: but not even that knowledge could mitigate in any iota the -recoiling of his every fiber from the deed which he was about to do. He -could not even pray, with immortal Merritt's _Dwayanu_: - -"_Luka--turn your wheel so I need not slay this woman!_" - -It had to be. Why in all the nine hells of Valeria did he have to be -a Lensman? Why did he have to be the one to do it? But it had to be -done, and soon; they'd be here shortly. - -"There's just one thing you can do to make me believe that you're even -partially innocent," he ground out, "that you have even one decent -thought or one decent instinct anywhere in you." - -"What is that, Lensman? I'll do it, whatever it is!" - -"Release your thought-screen and send out a call to the Big Shot." - -The girl stiffened. This big cop wasn't so dumb--he really _knew_ -something. He must die, and at once. How could she get word to-- - -Simultaneously Kinnison perceived that for which he had been waiting; -the Narcotics men were coming. - -He tore open the woman's gown, flipped the switch of her -thought-screen, and invaded her mind. But, fast as he was, he was -late--almost too late altogether. He could get neither direction line -nor location; but only, and faintly, a picture of a space-dock saloon, -of a repulsively obese man in a luxuriously furnished back room. Then -her mind went completely blank and her body slumped down, bonelessly. - -Thus Narcotics found them; the woman inert and flaccid upon the bench, -the man staring down at her in black abstraction. - - - - - VI. - - -"Suicide? Or did you--" Gerrond paused, delicately. Winstead, the -Lensman of Narcotics, said nothing, but looked on intently. - -"Neither," Kinnison replied, still studying. "I would have had to, but -she beat me to it." - -"What d'you mean, 'neither'? She's dead, isn't she? How did it happen?" - -"Not yet, and unless I'm more cockeyed even than usual, she won't be. -She isn't the type to rub herself out--ever, under any conditions. As -to 'how,' that was easy. A hollow false tooth. Simple, but new--and -clever. But why? WHY?" Kinnison was thinking to himself more than -addressing his companions. "If they had killed her, yes. As it is, it -doesn't make any kind of sense--any of it." - -"But the girl's dying!" protested Gerrond. "What're you going to _do_?" - -"I wish to Klono I knew." The Tellurian was puzzled, groping. "No -hurry doing anything about her--what was done to her has been done, -and no one this side of Hades can undo it--unless I can fit these -pieces together into some kind of a pattern I'll never know what it's -all about--none of it makes sense--" He shook himself and went on: -"One thing is plain. She won't die. If they had intended to kill her, -she would have died almost instantly. They figure she's worth saving; -in which I agree with them. At the same time, they certainly are not -planning on letting me tap her knowledge. They may be planning on -taking her away from us. Therefore, as long as she stays alive--or even -not dead, the way she is now--guard her so heavily that an army can't -get her. If she should happen to die, don't leave her body unguarded -for a second until she's been autopsied, and you know she'll _stay_ -dead. The minute she recovers, day or night, call me. Might as well -take her to the hospital now, I guess." - -The call came soon that the patient had indeed recovered. - -"She's talking, but I haven't answered her," Gerrond reported. "There's -something strange here, Kinnison." - -"There would be--bound to be. Hold everything until I get there," and -he hurried to the hospital. - -"Good morning, Dessa," he greeted her in Aldebaranian. "You are feeling -better, I hope?" - -Her reaction was surprising. "You really know me?" she almost shrieked, -and flung herself into the Lensman's arms. Not deliberately; not with -her wonted, highly effective technique of bringing into play the s.a. -equipment with which she was so overpoweringly armed. No; this was the -utterly innocent, the wholly unselfconscious abandon of a very badly -frightened young girl. "What happened?" she sobbed, frantically, "Where -am I? Why are all these strangers here?" - -Her wide, childlike, tear-filled eyes sought his; and as he probed -them, deeper and deeper into the brain behind them; his face grew set -and hard. Mentally, she now _was_ a young and innocent girl! Nowhere -in her mind, not even in the deepest recesses of her subconscious, -was there the slightest inkling that she had even existed since her -fifteenth year. It was staggering; it was unheard of; but it was -indubitably a fact. For her, now, the intervening time had lapsed -instantaneously--five or six years of her life had disappeared so -utterly as never to have been! - -"You have been very ill, Dessa," he told her gravely, "and you are -no longer a child." He led her into another room and up to a triple -mirror. "See for yourself." - -"But that isn't I?" she protested. "It can't be! Why, she's beautiful!" - -"You're all of that," the Lensman agreed, casually. "You've had a bad -shock. Your memory will return shortly, I think. Now you must go back -to bed." - -She did so, but not to sleep. Instead, she went into a trance; and so, -almost, did Kinnison. For over an hour he lay intensely asprawl in an -easy-chair, the while he engraved, day by day, a memory of missing -years into that bare storehouse of knowledge. And finally the task was -done. - -"Sleep, Dessa," he told her then. "Sleep. Waken in eight hours; whole." - -"Lensman, you're a _man_!" Gerrond realized vaguely what had been done. -"You didn't give her the truth, of course?" - -"Far from it. Only that she was married and is a widow. The rest of it -is highly fictitious--just enough like the real thing so that she can -square herself with herself, if she meets old acquaintances. Plenty of -lapses, of course, but they're covered by shock." - -"But the husband?" queried the curious Radeligian. - -"That's her business," Kinnison countered, callously. "She'll tell you, -if she ever feels like it. One thing I did do, though--they'll never -use her again. The next man that tries to hypnotize her will be lucky -if he gets away alive." - - * * * * * - -The advent of Dessa Desplaines, however, and his curious adventure with -her, had altered markedly the Lensman's situation. No one else in the -throng had worn a screen, but there might have been agents--anyway, the -observed facts would enable the higher-ups to link Fordyce up with what -had happened--they would know, of course, that the real Fordyce hadn't -done it--he could be Fordyce no longer. - -Wherefore the real Chester Q. Fordyce took over and a strange -Unattached Lensman appeared. A Posenian, supposedly, since against -the air of Radelix he wore that planet's unmistakable armor. No other -race of even approximately human shape could "see" through a helmet of -solid, opaque metal. - -And in this guise Kinnison continued his investigations. That place and -that man must be on this planet somewhere; the sending outfit worn by -the Desplaines woman could not possibly reach any other. He had a good -picture of the room and a fair picture--several pictures, in fact--of -the man. The room was an actuality; all he had had to do was to fill -in the details which definitely, by unmistakable internal evidence, -belonged there. The man was different. How much of the original picture -was real, and how much of it was the girl's impression? - -She was, he knew, physically fastidious almost to an extreme. He knew -that no possible hypnotism could nullify completely the basic, the -fundamental characteristics of the subconscious. The intrinsic ego -could not be changed. Was the man really such a monster, or was the -picture in the girl's mind partially or largely the product of her -physical revulsion? - -For hours he had sat at a recording machine, covering yard after yard -of tape with every possible picture of the man he wanted. Pictures -ranging from a man almost of normal build up to a thing duplicating in -every detail the woman's mental image. - -Now he ran the tape again, time after time. The two extremes, he -concluded, were highly improbable. Somewhere in between--the man _was_ -fat, he guessed. Fat, and had a mean pair of eyes. And, no matter how -Kinnison changed the man's physical shape he had found it impossible to -eradicate a personality that was definitely bad. - -"The guy's a louse," Kinnison decided, finally. "Needs killing. Glad -of that--if I have to keep on fighting women much longer I'll go -completely nuts. Got enough dope to identify him now, I think." - -And again the Tellurian Lensman set out to comb the planet, city -by city. Since he was not now dealing with Lensmen, every move he -made had to be carefully planned and as carefully concealed. It was -heartbreaking; but at long last he found a bartender who had once seen -his quarry. He _was_ fat, Kinnison discovered, and he was a bad egg. -From that point on, progress was rapid. He went to the indicated city, -which was, ironically enough, the very Ardith from which he had set -out; and, from a bit of information here and a bit there, he tracked -down his man. He found the room first, and then the man. The girl -wasn't so far wrong, at that. Her aversion was somewhat worse than the -actuality, but not too much. - -Now what to do? The technique he had used so successfully upon Boyssia -II and in other bases could not succeed here; there were thousands of -people instead of dozens, and someone would certainly catch him at it. -Nor could he work at a distance. He was no Arisian, he had to be right -beside his job. He would have to turn dock-walloper. - -Therefore a dock-walloper he became. Not like one, but actually one. -He labored prodigiously, his fine hands and his entire being becoming -coarse and hardened. He ate prodigiously, and drank likewise. But, -wherever he drank, his liquor was poured from the bartender's own -bottle or from one of similarly innocuous contents; for then, as -now, bartenders did not themselves imbibe the corrosively potent -distillates in which they dealt. Nevertheless, Kinnison became -intoxicated--boisterously, flagrantly, and pugnaciously so, as did his -fellows. - -He lived scrupulously within his dock-walloper's wages. Eight credits -per week went to the company, in advance, for room and board; the -rest he spent over the fat man's bar or gambled away at the fat man's -crooked games--for Bominger, although engaged in vaster commerce -far, nevertheless, allowed no scruple to interfere with his esurient -rapacity. Money was money, whatever its amount or source or however -despicable its means of acquirement. - -The Lensman knew that the games were crooked, certainly. He could see, -however they were concealed, the crooked mechanisms of the wheels. -He could see the crooked workings of the dealers' minds as they -manipulated their crooked decks. He could read as plainly as his own -the cards his crooked opponents held. But to win or to protest would -have set him apart, hence he was always destitute before pay day. Then, -like his fellows, he spent his spare time loafing in the same saloon, -vaguely hoping for a free drink or for a stake at cards, until one of -the bouncers threw him out. - - * * * * * - -But in his every waking hour, working, gambling, or loafing, he -studied Bominger and Bominger's various enterprises. The Lensman -could not pierce the fat man's thought-screen, and he could never -catch him without it. However, he could and did learn much. He read -volume after volume of locked account books, page by page. He read -secret documents, hidden in the deepest recesses of massive vault. He -listened in on conference after conference; for a thought-screen of -course, does not interfere with either sight or sound. The Big Shot did -not own--legally--the saloon, nor the ornate, almost palatial back -room which was his office. Nor did he own the dance hall and boudoirs -upstairs, nor the narrow, cell-like rooms in which addicts of twice a -score of different noxious drugs gave themselves over libidinously to -their addictions. Nevertheless, they were his; and they were only a -part of that which was his. - -Kinnison detected, traced, and identified agent after agent. With his -sense of perception he followed passages, leading to other scenes, -utterly indescribable here. One comparatively short gallery, however, -terminated in a different setting altogether; for there, as here and -perhaps everywhere, ostentation and squalor lie almost back to back. -Nalizok's Café, the high-life hot-spot of Radelix! Downstairs was -innocuous enough; nothing rough--that is, too rough--was ever pulled -there. Most of the robbery there was open and above-board, plainly -written upon the checks. But there were upstairs rooms, and cellar -rooms, and back rooms. And there were addicts, differing only from -those others in wearing finer raiment and being of a self-styled higher -stratum. Basically they were the same. - -Men, women, girls ever were there, in the rigid muscle-lock of -thionite. Teeth hard-set, every muscle tense and staring, eyes jammed -closed, fists clenched, faces white as though carved from marble, -immobile in the frenzied emotion which characterized the ultimately -passionate fulfillment of every suppressed desire; in the release of -their every inhibition crowding perilously close to the dividing line -beyond which lay death from sheer ecstasy. That was the technique of -the thionite-sniffer--to take every microgram that he could stand, to -come to, shaken and too weak even to walk; to swear that he would never -so degrade himself again; to come back after more as soon as he had -recovered strength to do so; and finally, with an irresistible craving -for stronger and ever stronger thrills, to take a larger dose than his -rapidly-weakening body could endure, and so to cross the fatal line. - -There also were the idiotically smiling faces of the hadive smokers, -the twitching members of those who preferred the Centralian -nitrolabe-needle, the helplessly stupefied eaters of bentlam--but why -go on? Suffice it to say that in that one city block could be found -every vice and every drug enjoyed by Radeligians and the usual run -of visitors; and if perchance you were an unusual visitor, desiring -something unusual, Bominger could get it for you--at a price. - -Kinnison studied, perceived, and analyzed. Also, he reported, via Lens, -daily and copiously, to Narcotics, under Lensman's Seal. - -"But Kinnison!" Winstead protested one day. "How much longer are you -going to make us wait?" - -"Until I get what I came after or until they get onto me," Kinnison -replied, flatly. For weeks his Lens had been hidden in the side of -his shoe, in a flat sheath of highly charged metal, proof against any -except the most minutely searching spy-ray inspection; but this new -location did not in any way interfere with its functioning. - -"Any danger of that?" the Narcotics head asked, anxiously. - -"Plenty--and getting worse every day. More actors in the drama. Some -day I'll make a slip--I can't keep this up forever." - -"Let us go, then," Winstead urged. "We've got enough now to blow this -ring out of existence, all over the planet." - -"Not yet. You're making good progress, aren't you?" - -"Yes, but considering--" - -"Don't consider it yet. Your present progress is normal for your -increased force. Any more would touch off an alarm. You could take this -planet's drug personnel, yes, but that isn't what I'm after. I want big -game, not small fry. So sit tight until I give you the g.a. QX?" - -"Got to be QX if you say so, Kinnison. Be careful!" - -"I am. Won't be long now, I'm sure. Bound to break very shortly, one -way or the other. If possible, I'll give you and Gerrond warning." - - * * * * * - -Kinnison had everything lined up except the one thing he had come -after. This was, in fact, the headquarters of the drug syndicate for -the entire planet of Radelix. He knew where the stuff came in, and -when, and how. He knew who received it, and the principal distributors -of it. He knew almost all of the secret agents of the ring, and not a -few even of the small-fry peddlers. He knew where the remittances went, -and how much, and what for. But every lead had stopped at Bominger. -Apparently the fat man was the absolute head of the drug syndicate; -and that appearance didn't make sense--it _had_ to be false. Bominger -and the other planetary lieutenants--themselves only small fry if the -Lensman's ideas were only half right--_must_ get orders from, and send -reports and, in probability, payments to some Boskonian authority; of -that Kinnison felt certain, but he had not been able to get even the -slightest trace of that higher-up. - -That the communication would be established upon a thought-beam the -Tellurian was equally certain. The Boskonian would not trust any -ordinary, tappable communicator beam, and he certainly would not be -such a fool as to send any written or taped or otherwise permanently -recorded message, however coded. No, that message, when it came, would -come as thought, and to receive it the fat man would have to release -his screen. Then, and not until then, could Kinnison act. Action at -that time might not prove simple--judging from the precautions Bominger -was taking already, he would not release his screen without taking -plenty more--but until then the Lensman could do nothing. - -That screen had not yet been released, Kinnison could swear to that. -True, he had had to sleep at times, but he had slept in a very -hair-trigger, with his subconscious and his Lens set to guard that -screen and to give the alarm at its first sign of weakening. - -As the Lensman had foretold, the break came soon. Not in the middle of -the night, as he had half-thought that it would come; nor yet in the -quiet of the daylight hours. Instead, it came well before midnight, -while revelry was at its height. It did not come suddenly, but was -heralded by a long period of gradually increasing tension, of a mental -stress very apparent to the mind of the watcher. - -Agents of the drug baron came in, singly and in groups, to an -altogether unprecedented number. Some of them were their usual -viciously self-contained selves, others were slightly but definitely -ill at ease. Kinnison, seated alone at a small table, playing a game -of Radeligian solitaire, divided his attention between the big room as -a whole and the office of Bominger; in neither of which was anything -definite happening. - -Then a wave of excitement swept over the agents as five men wearing -thought-screens entered the room and, sitting down at a reserved table, -called for cards and drinks; and Kinnison thought it time to send his -warning. - -"Gerrond! Winstead! Three-way! It's going to break soon, now, -I think--tonight. Agents all over the place--five men with -thought-screens here on the floor. Nervous tension high. Lots more -agents outside, for blocks. General precaution, I think, not specific. -Not suspicious of me, at least not exactly. Afraid of spies with a -sense of perception--Rigellians or Posenians or such. Just killed an -Ordovik on general principles, over on the next block. Get your gangs -ready, but don't come too close--just close enough so that you can be -here in thirty seconds after I call you." - -"What do you mean 'not exactly suspicious'? What have you done?" - -"Nothing that I know of--any one of a million possible small slips I -may have made. Nothing serious, though, or they wouldn't have let me -hang around this long." - -"You're in danger. No armor, no DeLameter, no anything. Better come out -while you can." - -"And miss what I've spent all this time building up? Not a chance; I'll -be able to take care of myself, I think--Here comes one of the boys in -a screen, to talk to me. I'll leave my Lens open, so that you can sort -of look on." - - * * * * * - -Just then Bominger's screen went down and Kinnison invaded his mind; -taking complete possession of it. Under his domination the fat man -reported to the Boskonian, reported truly and fully. In turn, he -received orders and instructions. Had any inquisitive stranger been -around, or anyone on the planet using any kind of a mind-ray machine -since that quadruply-accursed Lensman had held that trial? (Oh, that -was what had touched them off! Kinnison was glad to know it.) No, -nothing unusual at all-- - -And just at that critical moment, when the Lensman's mind was so busy -with its task, the stranger came up to his table and stared down at him -dubiously, questioningly. - -"Well, what's on _your_ mind?" Kinnison growled. He could not spare -much of his mind just then, but it did not take much of it to play his -part as a dock-walloper. "You another of these smoking house-numbers, -snooping around to see if I'm trying to run a blazer on myself? By the -devil and his imps, if I hadn't lost so much money here already I'd -tear up this deck and go over to Croleo's and _never_ come near this -crummy joint again--his rotgut can't be any worse than yours is." - -"Don't burn out a jet, pal." The agent, apparently reassured, adopted a -conciliatory tone. - -"Who in hell ever said you was a pal of mine, you Radelig-gig-gigian -pimp?" The supposedly three quarters drunken, certainly three quarters -naked, Lensman got up, wobbled a little, and sat down again, heavily. -"Don't 'pal' me, ape--I'm partic-hic-hicular about who I pal with." - -"That's all right, big fellow; no offense intended," soothed the other. -"Come on, I'll buy you a drink." - -"Don't want no drink until after I've finished this game," Kinnison -grumbled, and took an instant to flash a thought via Lens. "All set, -boys? Thing's moving fast. If I have to take this drink--it's doped, of -course--I'll bust this bird wide open. When I yell, shake the lead out -of your pants!" - -"Of course you want a drink!" the pirate urged. "Come and get it--it's -on me, you know." - -"And who are you to be buying me, a Tellurian gentleman, a drink?" the -Lensman roared, flaring into one of the sudden, senseless rages of the -character he had cultivated so assiduously. "Did I ask you for a drink? -I'm educated, I am, and I've got money, I have. I'll buy myself a drink -when I want one." His rage mounted higher and higher, visibly. "Did I -_ever_ ask you for a drink, you--" (unprintable here for the space of -two long breaths). - -This was the blow-off. If the fellow was even half honest, there would -be a fight, which Kinnison could make as long as necessary. If he did -not start slugging after what Kinnison had just called him, he was not -what he seemed and the Lensman was surely suspected; for the Earthman -had dredged out the noisomest depths of the foulest vocabularies in -space for the terms he had just employed. - -"If you weren't drunk I'd break every bone in your laxlo-soaked -carcass." The other man's anger was sternly suppressed, but he looked -at the dock-walloper with no friendship in his eyes. "I don't ask lousy -spaceport bums to drink with me every day, and when I do, they do--or -else. Do you want to take that drink now or do you want a couple of the -boys to work you over first? Barkeep! Bring two glasses of laxlo over -here!" - -Now the time was short, indeed, but Kinnison would not--could not--act -yet. Bominger's conference was still on; the Lensman didn't know enough -yet. The fellow wasn't very suspicious, certainly, or he would have -made a pass at him before this. Bloodshed meant less than nothing to -these gentry; the stranger did not want to incur Bominger's wrath by -killing a steady customer. The fellow probably thought the whole mind -ray story was hocus-pocus, anyway--not a chance in a million of it -being true. Besides, he needed a machine, and Kinnison couldn't hide -a thing, let alone anything as big as that mind-ray machine had been, -because he didn't have clothes enough on to flag a handcar with. But -that free drink was certainly doped--Oh, they wanted to question him. -It would be a truth-dope in the laxlo, then--he certainly couldn't take -_that_ drink! - -Then came the all-important second; just as the bartender set the -glasses down Bominger's interview ended. At the signing off, Kinnison -got additional data, just as he had thought that he would; and in that -instant, before the drugmaster could restore his screen, the fat man -died--his brain literally blasted. And in that same instant Kinnison's -Lens fairly throbbed with the power of the call he sent out to his -allies. - -But not even Kinnison could hurl such a mental bolt without some -outward sign. His face stiffened, perhaps, or his eyes may have lost -their drunken, vacant stare, to take on momentarily the keen, cold -ruthlessness that was for the moment his. At any rate, the enemy agent -was now definitely suspicious. - -"Drink that, bum, and drink it quick--or burn!" he snapped, DeLameter -out and poised. - -[Illustration: _Kinnison looked up at the stranger blearily. "Drink -that, bum, and drink it quick--or burn!" the gunman snapped._] - -The Tellurian's hand reached out for the glass, but his mind also -reached out, and faster by a second, to the brains of two nearby -agents. Those worthies drew their own weapons and, with wild yells, -began firing. Seemingly indiscriminately, yet in those blasts two of -the thought-screened minions died. For a fraction of a second even the -hard-schooled mind of Kinnison's opponent was distracted, and that was -long enough for the Gray Lensman's instantaneous nervous reactions and -his mighty muscles. - - * * * * * - -A quick flick of the wrist sent the potent liquor into the Boskonian's -eyes; a lightning thrust of the knee sent the little table hurtling -against his gun-hand, flinging the weapon afar. Simultaneously, the -Lensman's hamlike fist, urged by all the strength and all the speed -of his two hundred and sixteen pounds of rawhide and whalebone, drove -forward. Not for the jaw. Not for the head or the face. Lensmen know -better than to mash bare hands, break fingers and knuckles, against -bone. For the solar plexus. The big Patrolman's fist sank forearm-deep. -The stricken zwilnik uttered one shrieking grunt, doubled up, and -collapsed; never to rise again. Kinnison leaped for the fellow's -DeLameter--too late, he was already hemmed in. - -One--two--three--four of the nearest men died without having received a -physical blow; again and again Kinnison's heavy fists and far heavier -feet crashed deep into vital spots. One thought-screened enemy dived -at him bodily in a Tomingan donganeur, to fall with a broken neck as -the Lensman opposed instantly the only possible parry--a savage chop, -edge-handed, just below the base of the skull; the while he disarmed -the surviving thought-screened stranger with an accurately-hurled -chair. The latter, feinting a swing, launched a vicious French kick. -The Lensman, expecting anything, perceived the foot coming. His big -hands shot out like striking snakes, closing and twisting savagely in -the one fleeting instant, then jerking upward and backward. A hard and -heavy dock-walloper's boot crashed thuddingly to a mark. A shriek rent -the air and that foeman, too, was done. - -Not fair fighting, no; nor cluvvy. Lensmen did not and do not fight -according to the tenets of the late Marquis of Queensberry. They use -the weapons provided by Mother Nature only when they must; but they -can, and do use them with telling effect indeed, when body-to-body -brawling becomes necessary. For they are skilled in the art--every -Lensman has a completely detailed knowledge of all the lethal tricks of -foul combat known to all the dirty fighters of ten thousand planets for -twice ten thousand years. - -And then the doors and windows crashed in, admitting those whom -no other bifurcate race has ever faced willingly in hand-to-hand -combat--full-armed Valerians, swinging their space-axes! - -The gangsters broke then, and fled in panic disorder; but escape from -Narcotics' fine-meshed net was impossible. They were cut down to a man. - -"QX, Kinnison?" came two hard, sharp thoughts. The Lensmen did not see -the Tellurian, but Lieutenant Peter van Buskirk did. That is, he saw -him, but did not look at him. - -"Hi, Kim, you little Tellurian wart!" That worthy's thought was a yell. -"Ain't we got fun?" - -"QX fellows--thanks," to Gerrond and to Winstead, and-- - -"Ho, Bus! Thanks, you big, Valerian ape!" to the gigantic -Dutch-Valerian with whom he had shared so many experiences in the past. -"A good clean-up, fellows?" - -"One hundred per cent, thanks to you. We'll put you--" - -"Don't, please. You will probably clog my jets if you do. I don't -appear in this anywhere--it's just one of your good, routine jobs of -mopping up. Clear ether, fellows, I've got to do a flit." - -"Where?" all three wanted to ask, but they didn't--the Gray Lensman was -gone. - - - - - VII. - - -Kinnison did start his flit, but he did not get far. In fact, he did -not even reach his squalid room before cold reason told him that the -job was only half done--yes, less than half. He had to give Boskone -credit for having brains, and it was not at all likely that even such -a comparatively small unit as a planetary headquarters would have only -one string to its bow. They certainly would have been forced to install -duplicate controls of some sort or other by the trouble they had had -after Helmuth's supposedly impregnable Grand Base had been destroyed. - -There were other straws pointing the same way. Where had those five -strange thought-screened men come from? Bominger hadn't known of them -apparently. If that idea was sound, the other headquarters would have a -spy ray on the whole thing. Both sides used spy rays freely, of course, -and to block them was, ordinarily, worse than to let them come. The -enemies' use of the thought-screen was different. They realized that -it made it easy for the unknown Lensman to discover their agents, but -they were forced to use it because of the deadliness of the supposed -mind-ray. Why hadn't he thought of this sooner, and had the whole area -blocked off? Too late to cry about it now, though. - -Assume the idea correct. They certainly knew now that he was a -Lensman; probably were morally certain that he was _the_ Lensman. His -instantaneous change from a drunken dock-walloper to a cold-sober, -deadly-skilled rough-and-tumble brawler--and the unexplained deaths of -half-a-dozen agents, as well as that of Bominger himself--this was bad. -Very, _very_ bad--a flare lit tip-off, if there ever was one. Their spy -rays would have combed him, millimeter by plotted cubic millimeter: -they knew exactly where his Lens was, as well as he did himself. He had -put his tail right into the wringer--wrecked the whole job right at the -start--unless he could get that other headquarters outfit, too, and get -them before they reported in detail to Boskone. - -In his room, then, he sat and thought, harder and more intensely -than he had ever thought before. No ordinary method of tracing would -do. It might be anywhere on the planet, and it certainly would have -no connection whatever with the thionite gang. It would be a small -outfit; just a few men, but under smart direction. Their purpose would -be to watch the business end of the organization, but not to touch it -save in an emergency. All that the two groups would have in common -would be recognition signals, so that the reserves could take over in -case anything happened to Bominger--as it already had. They had him, -Kinnison, cold--What to do? _What to do?_ - -The Lens. That must be the answer--it _had_ to be. The Lens--what was -it, really, anyway? Simply an aggregation of crystalloids. Not really -alive; just a pseudolife, a sort of a reflection of his own life--he -wondered--great Klono's brazen teeth and tail, could _that_ be it? An -idea had struck him, an idea so stupendous in its connotations and -ramifications that he gasped, shuddered, and almost went faint at the -shock. He started to reach for his Lens, then forced himself to relax -and shot a thought to Base. - -"Gerrond! Send me a portable spy-ray block, quick!" - -"But that would give everything away!" protested the vice-admiral. -"That's why we haven't been using them." - -"Are you telling me?" the Lensman demanded. "Shoot it along--I'll -explain while it's on the way." He went on to tell the Base commander -everything that he thought it well for him to know, concluding: "So -you see, it's a virtual certainty that I am already as wide open as -intergalactic space, and that nothing but fast and sure moves will do -us a bit of good." - -The block arrived, and as soon as the messenger had departed Kinnison -set it going. He was now the center of a sphere into which no spy-ray -beam could penetrate. He was also an object of suspicion to anyone -using a spy ray, but that fact made no difference, then. He snatched -off his shoe, took out his Lens, and tossed that ultra-precious -fabrication across the room. Then, just as though he still wore it, he -directed a thought at Winstead. - -"All serene, Lensman?" he asked, quietly. - -"Everything's on the beam," came instant reply. "Why?" - -"Just checking, is all." Kinnison did not specify exactly what it was -that he was checking! - - * * * * * - -He then did something which, so far as he knew, no Lensman had ever -before even thought of doing. Although he felt stark naked without his -Lens, he hurled a thought three quarters of the way across the Galaxy -to that dread planet Arisia; a thought narrowed down to the exact -pattern of that gigantic, fearsome Brain who had been his mentor and -his sponsor. - -"Ah, 'tis Kimball Kinnison, of Earth," that entity responded, in -precisely the same modulation it had employed once before. "You have -perceived, then, youth, that the Lens is not the supremely important -thing you have supposed it to be?" - -"I ... you ... I mean--" The flustered Lensman, taken completely aback, -was cut off by a sharp rebuke. - -"Stop! You are thinking muddily--conduct ordinarily inexcusable! Now, -youth, to redeem yourself, you will explain the phenomenon to me, -instead of asking me to explain it to you. I realize that you have -just discovered another facet of the Cosmic Truth, I know what a shock -it has been to your immature mind; hence for this once it may be -permissible for me to overlook your crime. But strive not to repeat the -offense; for I tell you again in all possible seriousness--I cannot -urge upon you too strongly the fact--that in clear and precise thinking -lies your only safeguard through that which you are attempting. -Confused, wandering thought will assuredly bring disaster inevitable -and irreparable." - -"Yes, sir," Kinnison replied meekly; a small boy reprimanded by his -teacher. "It must be this way. In the first stage of training the Lens -is a necessity; just as is the crystal ball or some other hypnotic -object in a séance. In the more advanced stage the mind is able to work -without aid. The Lens, however, may be--in fact, it must be--endowed -with uses other than that of a symbol of identification; uses about -which I as yet know nothing. Therefore, while I can work without it, I -should not do so except when it is absolutely necessary, as its help -will be imperative if I am to advance to any higher stage. It is also -clear that you were expecting my call. May I ask if I am on time?" - -"You are--your progress has been highly satisfactory. Also, I note with -approval that you are not asking for help in your admittedly difficult -present problem." - -"I know that it wouldn't do me any good--and why." Kinnison grinned -wryly. "But I'll bet that Worsel, when he comes up for his second -treatment, will know on the spot what it has taken me all this time to -find out." - -"You deduce truly. He did." - -"What? He has been back there already? And you told me--" - -"What I told you was true and is. His mind is more fully developed and -more responsive than yours; yours is of vastly greater latent capacity, -capability, and force--" and the line of communication snapped. - -Calling a conveyance, Kinnison was whisked to Base, the spy-ray -block full on all the way. There, in a private room, he put his -heavily-insulated Lens and a full spool of tape into a ray-proof -container, sealed it, and called in the Base commander. - -"Gerrond, here is a package of vital importance," he informed him. -"Among other things, it contains a record of everything I have done to -date. If I don't come back to claim it myself, please send it to Prime -Base for personal delivery to Port Admiral Haynes. Speed will be no -object, but safety very decidedly of the essence." - -"QX--we'll send it in by special messenger." - -"Thanks a lot. Now I wonder if I could use your visiphone a minute? I -want to talk to the zoo." - -"Certainly." - -"Zoological Gardens?" and the image of an elderly, white-bearded man -appeared upon the plate. "Lensman Kinnison of Tellus--Unattached. Have -you as many as three oglons, caged together?" - -"Yes. In fact, we have four of them in one cage." - -"Better yet. Will you please send them over here to Base at once? -Vice-admiral Gerrond, here, will confirm." - -"It is most unusual, sir--" the gray-beard began, but broke off at a -curt word from Gerrond. "Very well, sir," he agreed, and disconnected. - -"Oglons?" the surprised commander demanded. "_Oglons!_" - - * * * * * - -For the oglon, or Radeligian cateagle, is one of the fiercest, most -intractable beasts of prey in existence; it assays more concentrated -villainy and more sheerly vicious ferocity to the gram than any other -creature known to science. It is not a bird, but a winged mammal; and -is armed not only with the gripping, tearing talons of the eagle, but -also with the heavy, cruel, needle-sharp fangs of the wildcat. And its -mental attitude toward all other forms of life is anti-social to the -nth degree. - -"Oglons." Kinnison confirmed, shortly. "I can handle them." - -"You can, of course. But--" Gerrond stopped. This Gray Lensman was -forever doing amazing, unprecedented, incomprehensible things. But, so -far, he had produced eminently satisfactory results, and he could not -be expected to spend all his time in explanations. - -"But you think I'm screwy, huh?" - -"Oh, no, Kinnison, I wouldn't say that. I only ... well ... after -all, there isn't much real evidence that we didn't mop up one hundred -percent." - -"Much? Real evidence? There isn't any," the Tellurian assented, -cheerfully enough. "But you've got the wrong slant entirely on these -people. You are still thinking of them as gangsters, desperadoes, -renegade scum of our own civilization. They are not. They are just as -smart as we are; some of them are smarter. Perhaps I am taking too many -precautions; but, if so, there is no harm done. On the other hand, -there are two things at stake which, to me at least, are extremely -important; this whole job of mine and my life: and remember this--the -minute I leave this Base both of those things are in your hands." - -To that, of course, there could be no answer. - -While the two men had been talking and while the oglons were being -brought out, two trickling streams of men had been passing, one into -and one out of the spy ray shielded confines of Base. Some of these men -were heavily bearded, some were shaven clean, but all had two things -in common. Each one was human in type and each one in some respect or -other resembled Kimball Kinnison. - -"Now remember, Gerrond," the Gray Lensman said impressively as he was -about to leave. "They're probably right here in Ardith, but they may be -anywhere on the planet. Keep a spy ray on me wherever I go, and trace -theirs if you can. That will take some doing, as the head one is bound -to be an expert. Keep those oglons at least a mile--thirty seconds -flying time--away from me; get all the Lensmen you can on the job; -keep a cruiser and a speedster hot, but not too close. I may need one -of them, or all, or none of them, I can't tell; but I do know this--if -I need anything at all, I'll need it fast. Above all, Gerrond, by the -Lens you wear, do nothing whatever, no matter what happens around me or -to me, until I give you the word. QX?" - -"QX, Gray Lensman. Clear ether!" - -Kinnison took a ground-cab to the mouth of the narrow street upon which -was situated his dock-walloper's mean lodging. This was a desperate, -a fool-hardy trick--but in its very boldness, in its insolubly -paradoxical aspects, lay its strength. Probably Boskone could solve its -puzzles, but--he hoped--this ape, not being Boskone, couldn't. And, -paying off the cabman, he thrust his hands into his tattered pockets -and, whistling blithely if a bit raucously through his stained teeth, -he strode off down the narrow way as though he did not have a care in -the world. But he was doing the finest job of acting of his short -career; even though, for all he really knew, he might not have any -audience at all. For, inwardly, he was strung to highest tension. His -sense of perception, sharply alert, was covering the full hemisphere -around and above him; his mind was triggered to jerk any muscle of his -body into instantaneous action. - - * * * * * - -Meanwhile, in a heavily guarded room, there sat a manlike being, -faintly but definitely blue; not only as to eyes, but also as to hair, -teeth, and complexion. For two hours he had been sitting at his spy -ray plate, studying with ever-growing uneasiness the human beings so -suddenly and so surprisingly numerously having business at the Patrol's -Base. For minutes he had been studying minutely a man in a ground-cab, -and his uneasiness reached panic heights. - -"It _is_ the Lensman!" he burst out. "It's _got_ to be, Lens or no -Lens. Who else would have the cold nerve to go back there when he knows -that he has exposed himself?" - -"Well, get him, then," advised his companion. "All set, aren't you?" - -"But it _can't_ be!" the chief went on, reversing himself in -mid-flight. "A Lensman without a Lens is unthinkable, and invisible -Lens is preposterous. And this fellow has not now, and never has had, -a mind-ray machine. He hasn't got _anything_! And besides, the Lensman -we're after wouldn't think of doing a thing like this--he always -disappears the instant a job is finished, whether or not there is any -chance of his having been discovered." - -"Well, drop him and chase somebody else, then," the lieutenant advised, -unfeelingly. - -"But there's nobody nearly enough like him!" snarled the chief, in -desperation. He was torn by doubt and indecision. This whole situation -was a mess--it didn't add up right, from any possible angle. "It's -got to be him--it _can't_ be anybody else. I've checked and rechecked -him. It _is_ him, and not a double. He thinks that he's safe enough; he -doesn't suspect that we're here at all. Besides, his only good double, -Fordyce--and _he's_ not good enough to stand the inspection I just gave -him--hasn't appeared anywhere." - -"Probably inside Base yet. Maybe this is a better double. Perhaps this -_is_ the real Lensman pretending he isn't, or maybe the real Lensman -is slipping out while you're watching the man in the cab," the junior -suggested, helpfully. - -"Shut up!" the superior yelled. He started to reach for a switch, but -paused, hand in air. - -"Go ahead. That's it, call District and toss it into their laps, if -it's too hot for you to handle. I think myself that whoever did this -job is a warm number--plenty warm." - -"And get my ears bunted off with that 'your report is neither complete -nor conclusive' of his?" the chief sneered. "And get reduced for -incompetence besides? No, we've got to do it ourselves, and do it -right--but that man there isn't the Lensman--he can't be!" - -"Well, you'd better make up your mind--you haven't got all day. And nix -on that 'we' stuff. It's _you_ that's got to do it--you're the boss, -not me," the underling countered, callously. For once, he was really -glad that he was not the one in command. "And you'd better get busy and -do it, too." - -"I'll do it," the chief declared, grimly. "There's a way." - -There was a way. One only. He must be brought in alive and compelled to -divulge the truth. There was no other way. - -The blue man touched a stud and spoke. "Don't kill him--bring him -in alive. If you kill him even accidentally, I'll kill both of you, -myself." - - * * * * * - -The Gray Lensman made his carefree way down the alleylike thoroughfare, -whistling inharmoniously and very evidently at peace with the Universe. - -It takes something, friends, to walk knowingly into a trap; without -betraying emotion or stress even while a blackjack, wielded by a strong -arm, is descending toward the back of your head. Something of quality, -something of fiber. But whatever it took, Kinnison in ample measure had. - -He did not wink, flinch, or turn an eye as the billy came down. Only -as it touched his hair did he act, exerting all his marvelous muscular -control to jerk forward and downward, with the weapon and ahead of it, -to spare himself as much as possible of the terrific blow. - -[Illustration: _The Lensman, fully aware, yet did not wink, flinch, or -turn an eye as the billy came down._] - -The blackjack crunched against the base of the Lensman's skull in a -shower of coruscating constellations. He fell. He lay there, twitching -feebly. - - - - - VIII. - - -As has been said, Kinnison rode the blow of the blackjack forward and -downward, thus robbing it of some of its power. It struck him hard -enough so that the thug did not suspect the truth; he thought that he -had all but taken the Lensman's life. And, for all the speed with which -the Tellurian had yielded before the blow, he was hurt; but he was not -stunned. Therefore, although he made no resistance when the two bullies -rolled him over, lashed his feet together, tied his hands behind him, -and lifted him into a car, he was fully conscious throughout the -proceedings. - -When the cab was perhaps half an hour upon its way the Lensman -struggled back, quite realistically, to consciousness. - -"Take it easy, pal," the larger of his thought-screened captors -advised, dandling the blackjack suggestively before his eyes. "One yelp -out of you, or a signal, if you've got one of them Lenses, and I bop -you another one." - -"What the blinding blue hell's coming off here?" demanded the -dock-walloper, furiously. "Wha'd'ya think you're doing, you -lop-eared--" and he cursed the two, viciously and comprehensively. - -"Shut up or he'll knock you kicking," the smaller thug advised from the -driver's seat, and Kinnison subsided. "Not that it bothers me any, but -you're making too much noise." - -"But what's the matter?" Kinnison asked, more quietly. "What'd you slug -me for and drag me off? I ain't done nothing and I ain't got nothing." - -"I don't know nothing," the big agent replied. "The boss will tell you -all you need to know when we get to where we're going. All I know is -the boss says to bop you easylike and bring you in alive if you don't -act up. He says to tell you not to yell and not to use no Lens. If you -yell we burn you out. If you use any Lens, the boss he's got his eyes -on all the bases and space-ports and everything, and if any help starts -to come this way he'll tell us and we burn you out. Then we buzz off. -We can kill you and flit before any help can get near you, he says." - -"Your boss ain't got the brains of a fontema," Kinnison growled. He -knew that boss, wherever he was, could hear every word. "Hell's hinges, -if I was a Lensman you think I'd be walloping junk on a dock? Use your -head, cully, if you got one." - -"I wouldn't know nothing about that," the other returned, stolidly. - -"But I ain't got no Lens!" the dock-walloper stormed, in exasperation. -"Look at me--frisk me! You'll see I ain't!" - -"All that ain't none of my dish." The thug was entirely unmoved. "I -don't know nothing and I don't do nothing except what the boss tells -me, see? Now take it easy, all nice and quietlike. If you don't," and -he flicked the blackjack lightly against the Lensman's knee, "I'll -put out your landing-lights. I'll lay you like a mat, and I don't mean -maybe. See?" - -Kinnison saw, and relapsed into silence. The automobile rolled along. -And, flitting industriously about upon its delivery duties, but never -much more or less than one measured mile distant, a panel job pursued -its devious way. Oddly enough, its chauffeur was a Lensman. Here and -there, high in the heavens, were a few airplanes, gyros, and copters; -but they were going peacefully and steadily about their business--even -though most of them happened to have Lensmen as pilots. - -And, not at Base at all, but high in the stratosphere and so thoroughly -screened that a spy-ray observer could not even tell that his gaze was -being blocked, Base's swiftest cruiser, Lensman-commanded, rode poised -upon flare-baffled, softly hissing under jets. And, equally high and -as adequately protected against observation, a keen-eyed Lensman sat -at the controls of a speedster, jazzing her muffled jets and peering -eagerly through a telescopic sight. As far as the Patrol was concerned, -everything was on the trips. - -The car approached the gates of a suburban estate and stopped. It -waited. Kinnison knew that the Boskonian within was working his every -beam, alert for any sign of Patrol activity; knew that if there were -any such sign the car would be off in an instant. But there was no -activity. Kinnison sent a thought to Gerrond, who relayed micro-metric -readings of the objective to various Lensmen. Still everyone waited. -Then the gate opened of itself, the two thugs jerked their captive out -of the car to the ground, and Kinnison sent out his signal. - - * * * * * - -Base remained quiet, but everything else erupted at once. The airplanes -wheeled, cruiser and speedster plummeted downward at maximum blast. -The panel job literally fell open, as did the cage within it, and four -ravening cateagles, with the silent ferocity of their kind, rocketed -toward their goal. - -Although the oglons were not as fast as the flying ships they did not -have nearly as far to go, wherefore they got there first. The thugs -had no warning whatever. One instant everything was under control; in -the next the noiselessly arrowing destroyers struck their prey with -the mad fury that only a striking cateagle can exhibit. Barbed talons -dug viciously into eyes, faces, mouths; tearing, rending, wrenching; -fierce-driven fangs tore deeply, savagely into defenseless throats. - -Once each the thugs screamed in mad, lethal terror, but no warning was -given; for by that time every building upon that pretentious estate had -disappeared in the pyrotechnic flare of detonating duodec. The pellets -were small, of course--the gunners did not wish either to destroy the -nearby residences or to injure Kinnison--but they were powerful enough -for the purpose intended. Mansion and outbuildings disappeared, and not -even the most thoroughgoing spy-ray search revealed the presence of -anything animate or structural where those buildings had been. - -The panel job drove up and Kinnison, perceiving that the cateagles -had done their work, sent them back into their cage. The Radeligian -Lensman, after securely locking cage and truck, cut the Earthman's -bonds. - -"QX, Kinnison?" he asked. - -"QX, Barknett--thanks," and the two Lensmen, one in the panel truck and -the other in the gangsters' car, drove back to Base. There Kinnison -recovered his package. - -"This has got me all of a soapy lather, but you have called the turn -on every play yet," Winstead told the Tellurian, later. "Is this all -of the big shots, do you think, or are there some more of them around -here?" - -"Not around here, I'm pretty sure," Kinnison replied. "No, two main -lines is all they would have had, I think--this time. Next time--" - -"There won't be any next time," Winstead declared. - -"Not on this planet, no. Knowing what to expect, you fellows can handle -anything that comes up. I was thinking then of my next step." - -"Oh. But you'll get 'em, Gray Lensman!" - -"I hope so"--soberly. - -"Luck, Kinnison!" - -"Clear ether, Winstead!" and this time the Tellurian really did flit. - -As his speedster ripped through the void Kinnison did more thinking, -but he was afraid that his Arisian mentor would have considered -the product muddy, indeed. He couldn't seem to get to the first -check station. One thing was limpidly clear; this line of attack or any -very close variation of it would never work again. He'd have to think -up something new. So far, he had got away with his stuff because he had -kept one lap ahead of them, but how much longer could he manage to keep -up the pace? - -Bominger had been no mental giant, of course; but this other lad -was nobody's fool and this next higher-up, with whom he had had an -interview via Bominger, would certainly prove to be a really shrewd -number. - -"'The higher the fewer,'" he repeated to himself the old saying, -adding, "and in this case, the smarter." He had to put out some jets, -but where he was going to get the fuel he had no idea. - - * * * * * - -Again the trip to Tellus was uneventful, and the Gray Lensman, the -symbol of his rank again flashing upon his wrist, sought interview with -Haynes. - -"Send him in, certainly--send him in!" Kinnison heard the communicator -crackle, and the receptionist passed him along. He paused in surprise, -however, at the doorway of the office, for Chief Surgeon Lacy and a -Posenian were in conference with the Port Admiral. - -"Come in, Kinnison," Haynes invited. "Lacy wants to see you a minute, -too. Dr. Phillips--Lensman Kinnison, Unattached. His name is not -Phillips, of course; that is merely one we gave him in self-defense. -His real name is utterly unpronounceable." - -Phillips, the Posenian, was as tall as Kinnison, and heavier. His -figure was somewhat human in shape, but not in detail. He had four arms -instead of two, each arm had two opposed hands, and each hand had two -thumbs, one situated about where a little finger would be expected. He -had no eyes, not even vestigial ones. He had two broad, flat noses and -two toothful mouths; one of each in what would ordinarily be called the -front of his round, shining, hairless head; the other in the back. Upon -the sides of his head were large, volute, highly dirigible ears. And, -like most races having the faculty of perception instead of that of -sight, his head was relatively immobile, his neck being short, massive, -and tremendously strong. - -"You look well, very well," Lacy reported, after feeling and prodding -vigorously the members which had been in splints and casts so long. -"Have to take a picture, of course, before saying anything definite. -No, we won't, either, now. Phillips, look at his"--an interlude of -technical jargon--"and see what kind of a recovery he has made." Then, -while the Posenian was examining Kinnison's interior mechanisms, the -Chief Surgeon went on: - -"Wonderful diagnosticians and surgeons, these Posenians--can see into -the patient without taking him apart. In another few centuries every -doctor will have to have the sense of perception. Phillips is doing a -research in neurology--more particularly a study of the neural synapse -and the proliferation of neural dendrites--" - -"La--cy-y-y!" Haynes drawled the word in reproof. "I've told you a -thousand times to talk English when you're talking to me. How about it, -Kinnison?" - -"It might be more comprehensible, although we must admit that any -scientist likes to speak with precision, which he cannot do in the -ordinary language of the layman." - -"Right, boy--surprisingly and pleasingly right!" Lacy exclaimed. "Why -can't you adopt that attitude, Haynes, and learn enough words so that -you can understand what a man is talking about? But to reduce it to -monosyllabic simplicity, Phillips is studying a thing that has baffled -us for centuries--yes, for millennia. The lower forms of cells are able -to regenerate themselves; wounds heal, bones knit. Higher types, such -as nerve cells, regenerate imperfectly, if at all; and the highest -type, the brain cells, do not do so under any conditions." He turned a -reproachful gaze upon Haynes. "This is terrible. Those statements are -pitiful--inadequate--false. Worse than that--practically meaningless. -What I wanted to say, and what I'm going to say, is that--" - -"Oh, no you aren't, not in this office," his old friend interrupted. -"We got the idea perfectly. The question is, why can't human beings -repair nerves or spinal cords, or grow new ones? If such a worthless -beastie as a starfish can grow a whole new body to one leg, including -a brain, if any, why can't a really intelligent victim of simple -infantile paralysis--or a ray--recover the use of a leg that is -otherwise in perfect shape?" - -"Well, that's something like it, but I hope you can aim closer than -that at a battleship," Lacy grunted. "We'll buzz off now, Phillips, and -leave these two war horses alone." - - * * * * * - -"Here is my report in detail." Kinnison placed the package upon the -Port Admiral's desk as soon as the room was sealed behind the visitors. -"I talked to you direct about most of it--this is for the record." - -"Of course. Mighty glad you found Medon, for our sake as well as -theirs. They have things that we need, badly." - -"Where did they put them? I suggested a sun near Sol, so as to have -them handy to Prime Base." - -"Right next door--Alpha Centauri. Didn't get to do much scouting, did -you?" - -"I'll say we didn't. Boskonia owns that Galaxy; lock, stock, and -barrel. Maybe some other independent planets--bound to be, of course; -probably a lot of them--but it's too dangerous, hunting them at this -stage of the game. But at that, we did enough, for the time being. We -proved our point. Boskone, if there is any such being, is certainly in -the Second Galaxy. However, it will be a long time before we're ready -to carry the war there to him, and in the meantime we've got a lot to -do. Check?" - -"To nineteen decimals." - -"It seems to me, then, that while you are rebuilding our first-line -ships, super-powering them with Medonian insulation and conductors, -I had better keep on tracing Boskone along the line of drugs. I have -proved to my own satisfaction that they are back of almost all of that -drug business." - -"And in some ways their drugs are more dangerous to Civilization than -their battleships. More insidious and, ultimately, more fatal." - -"I'm convinced of it. And since I am perhaps as well equipped as any -of the other Lensmen to cope with that particular problem--" Kinnison -paused, questioningly. - -"That certainly is no overstatement," the Port Admiral replied, dryly. -"You're the _only_ one equipped to cope with it." - -"None of the other boys except Worsel, then? I heard that a couple--" - -"They thought that they had a call, but they didn't. All they had was a -wish. They came back." - -"Too bad--but I can see how that would be. A man has to know exactly -what he needs, and his brain must be ready to take it, or it burns -it out. It almost does, anyway--mind is a funny thing. But that isn't -getting us anywhere. Can you take time to let me talk at you a few -minutes?" - -"I certainly can. You have what is perhaps the most important -assignment in the Galaxy, and I would like to know more about it, if -it's anything you can pass on." - -"Nothing that need be sealed from any Lensman. The main object of all -of us, as you know, is to push Boskonia out of this Galaxy. From a -military standpoint they practically _are_ out. Their drug syndicate, -however, is very decidedly in, and getting in deeper all the time. -Therefore, we next push the zwilniks out. They have peddlers and such -small fry, who deal with distributors and so on. These, as it were, -form the bottom layer. Above them are the secret agents, the observers, -and the wholesale handlers; runners and importers. All these folks -are directed and controlled by one man, the boss of each planetary -organization. Thus, Bominger was the boss of all zwilnik activities on -the whole planet of Radelix. - -"In turn the planetary bosses report to, and are synchronized and -controlled by, a Regional Director, who supervises the activities of a -couple of hundred or so planetary outfits. I got a line on the one over -Bominger, you know--Prellin, the Kalonian. By the way, you knew, didn't -you, that Helmuth was a Kalonian, too?" - -"I got it from the tape. Smart people, they must be, but not my idea of -good neighbors." - -"I'll say not. Well, that's all I really _know_ of their organization. -It seems logical to suppose, though, that the structure is coherent -all the way up. If so, the Regional Directors would be under some -higher-up, possibly a Galactic Director, who in turn might be under -Boskone himself--or one of his cabinet officers, at least. Perhaps the -Galactic Director might even be a cabinet officer in their government, -whatever it is?" - -"An ambitious program you've got mapped out for yourself. How are you -figuring on swinging it?" - - * * * * * - -"That's the rub--I don't know," Kinnison confessed, ruefully. "But if -it's done at all, that's the way I've got to go about it. Any other way -would take a thousand years and more men than we'll ever have. This way -works fine, when it works at all." - -"I can see that--lop off the head and the body dies," Haynes agreed. - -"That's the way it works--especially when the head keeps detailed -records and books covering the activities of all the members of his -body. With Bominger and the others gone, and with full transcripts -of his accounts, the boys mopped up Radelix in a hurry. From now on -it will be simple to keep it clean, except of course, for the usual -bootleg trickle, and that can be reduced to a minimum. Similarly, if we -can put this Prellin away and take a good look at his ledgers, it will -be easy to clear up his two hundred planets. And so on." - -"Very clear, and quite simple--in theory." The older man was thoughtful -and frankly dubious. "In practice, difficult in the extreme." - -"But necessary," the younger insisted. - -"I suppose so," Haynes assented finally. "Useless to tell you not to -take chances--you'll have to--but for all of our sakes, if not for your -own, be as careful as you can." - -"I'll do that, chief. I think a lot of me, really. You know that story -about the guy who was all right in his place, but the place hadn't been -dug yet? Well, I don't want anybody digging my proper place for a long -time to come." - -Haynes laughed, but the concern did not leave his features. "Anything -special you want done?" he asked. - -"Yes, very special," Kinnison surprised him by answering in the -affirmative. "You know that the Medonians developed a scrambler for -a detector-nullifier. Hotchkiss and the boys developed a new line of -attack on that--against long-range stuff we're probably safe--but -they haven't been able to do a thing on electromagnetics. Well, the -Boskonians, beginning with Prellin, are going to start wondering what -has been happening. Then, if I succeed in getting Prellin, they are -bound to start doing things. One thing they will do will be to fix up -their headquarters so that they will have about five hundred percent -overlap on their electros. Perhaps they will have outposts, too, close -enough together to have the same thing there--possibly two or three -hundred even on visuals." - -"In that case, I would say that you'd stay out." - -"Not necessarily. What do electros work on?" - -"Iron, I suppose--they did when I went to school last." - -"The answer, then, is to build me a speedster that is inherently -indetectable--absolutely non-ferrous. Berylumin and other alloys for -all the structural parts--" - -"But you've got to have silicon-steel cores for your electrical -equipment!" - -"I was coming to that. Have you? I was reading in the 'Transactions' -the other day that force fields had been used in big units, and were -more efficient. Some of the smaller units, instruments and so on, might -have to have some iron, but wouldn't it be possible to so saturate -those small pieces with a dense field of detector frequencies that they -wouldn't react?" - -"I don't know. Never thought of it. Would it?" - -"I don't know, either--I'm not telling you, I'm just making -suggestions. I do know one thing, however. We've got to keep ahead of -them--think of things first and oftenest, and be ready to abandon them -for something else as soon as we have used them once." - -"Except for those primary projectors." Haynes grinned wryly. "They -can't be abandoned--even with Medonian power we haven't been able to -develop a screen that will stop them cold. We've got to keep them -secret from Boskone--and in that connection I want to compliment you -on the suggestion of having Velantian Lensmen as mind readers wherever -those projectors are even being thought of." - -"You caught spies, then? How many?" - -"Not many--three or four in each Base--but enough to have done the -damage. Now, I believe, for the first time in history, we can be _sure_ -of our entire personnel." - -"I think so. The Arisian said that the Lens was enough, if we used it -properly. That's up to us." - -"But how about visuals?" Haynes was still worrying, and to good purpose. - - * * * * * - -"Well, we have a black coating now that is ninety-nine percent -absorptive, and I don't need ports or windows. At that, though, one -percent reflection would be enough to give me away at a critical time. -How'd it be to put a couple of the boys on that job? Have them put a -decimal point after the ninety-nine and see how many nines they can -tack on behind it?" - -"That's a thought, Kinnison, and they have lots of time to work on it -while the engineers are trying to fill your specifications as to a -speedster. But you're right, dead right, in everything you have said. -We--or rather, you--have got to out-think them; and it certainly is -up to us to do everything that can be done to build the apparatus to -put your thoughts into practice. And it is not at some vague time in -the future that Boskone is going to start thinking seriously about you -and what you have done. It is now; or even more probably, a week or so -ago. In fact, if there were any way of learning the truth, I think we -should find that they have begun acting already, instead of waiting -until you abate the nuisance which is Prellin, the Kalonian. But you -haven't said a word yet about the really big job you have in mind." - -"I've been putting that off until the last." The Gray Lensman's voice -held obscure puzzlement. "The fact is that I simply can't get a tooth -into it--can't get a grip in it anywhere. I don't know enough about -math or physics. Everything comes out negative for me; not only -inertia, but also force, velocity, and even mass itself. Final results -always contain an 'i', too, the square root of minus one. I can't -get rid of it, and I don't see how it can be built into any kind of -apparatus. It may not be workable at all, but before I give up the idea -I would like to call a conference, if it's QX with you and the Council." - -"Certainly it is QX with us. You're forgetting again, aren't you, -that you're a Gray Lensman?" Haynes' voice held no reproof, he was -positively beaming with a super-fatherly pride. - -"Not exactly." Kinnison blushed, almost squirmed. "I'm just too much -of a cub to be sticking my neck out so far, that's all. The idea -may be--probably is--wilder than a Radeligian cateagle. The only -kind of a conference that could even begin to handle it would cost a -young fortune, and I don't want to spend that much money on my own -responsibility." - -"To date your ideas have worked out well enough so that the Council is -backing you one hundred percent," the older man said, dryly. "Expense -is no object." Then, his voice changing markedly, "Kim, have you any -idea at all of the financial resources of the Patrol?" - -"Very little, sir, if any, I'm afraid," Kinnison confessed. - -"Here on Tellus alone we have an expendible reserve of over ten -thousand million credits. With the restriction of government to its -proper sphere and its concentration into our organization, resulting -in the liberation of man-power into wealth-producing enterprise, -and especially with the enormous growth of inter-world commerce, -world-income increased to such a point that taxation could be reduced -to a minimum; and the lower the taxes the more flourishing business -became and the greater the income. - -"Now the tax rate is the lowest in recorded history. The total income -tax, for instance, in the highest bracket, is only three point five -nine two percent. At that, however, if it had not been for the recent -slump, due to Boskonian interference with inter-systemic commerce, we -would have had to reduce the tax rate again to avoid serious financial -difficulty due to the fact that too much of the galactic total of -circulating credit would have been concentrated in the expendable funds -of the Galactic Patrol. So don't even think of money. Whether you want -to spend a thousand credits, a million, or a thousand million; go -ahead." - -"Thanks, chief; glad you explained. I'll feel better now about spending -money that doesn't belong to me. Now if you'll give me, for about -a week, the use of the librarian in charge of science files and a -galactic beam, I'll quit bothering you." - -"I'll do that." The Port Admiral touched a button and in a few minutes -a trimly attractive blonde entered the room. "Miss Hostetter, this is -Lensman Kinnison, Unattached. Please turn over your regular duties to -an assistant and work with him until he releases you. Whatever he says, -goes; the sky's the limit." - - * * * * * - -In the Library of Science Kinnison outlined his problem briefly to his -new aide, concluding: - -"I want only about fifty, as a larger group could not co-operate -efficiently. Are your lists arranged so that you can skim off the top -fifty?" - -"Such a group can be selected, I think." The girl stood for a moment, -lower lip held lightly between white teeth. "That is not a standard -index, but each scientist has a rating upon his card. I can set the -acceptor ... no, the rejector would be better ... to throw out all the -cards above any given rating. If we take out all ratings over seven -hundred we will have only the highest of the geniuses." - -"How many, do you suppose?" - -"I have only a vague idea--a couple of hundred, perhaps. If too many, -we can run them again at a higher level, say seven ten. But there won't -be very many, since there are only two galactic ratings higher than -seven fifty. There will be duplications, too--such people as Sir Austin -Cardynge will have two or three cards in the final rejects." - -"QX--we'll want to hand-pick the fifth, anyway. Let's go!" - -Then for hours, bale after bale of cards went through the machine; -thousands of records per minute. Occasionally one card would flip out -into a rack, rejected. Finally: - -"That's all, I think. Mathematicians, physicists," the librarian -ticked off upon pink fingers. "Astronomers, philosophers, and this new -classification, which has not been named yet." - -"The H.T.T.'s." Kinnison glanced at the label, lightly lettered in -pencil, fronting the slim packet of cards. "Aren't you going to run -them through, too?" - -"No. These are the two I mentioned a minute ago--the only ones rating -over seven hundred fifty." - -"A choice pair, eh? Sort of a _crème de la crème_? Let's look 'em -over," and he extended his hand. "What do the initials stand for?" - -"I'm awfully sorry, sir, really," the girl flushed in embarrassment as -she relinquished the cards in high reluctance. "If I'd had any idea, -we wouldn't have dared--we call you, among ourselves, the 'High-Tension -Thinkers.'" - -"Us!" It was the Lensman's turn to flush. Nevertheless, he took the -packet and read sketchily the facer: "Class XIX--Unclassifiable at -present--lack of adequate methods--minds of range and scope far -beyond any available indices--Ratings above high genius (750)--yet -no instability--power beyond any heretofore known--assigned rating -tentative and definitely minimum." - -He then read the cards. - -"Worsel, Velantia, eight hundred five." - -And: - -"Kimball Kinnison, Tellus, nine hundred twenty-five!" - - - - - IX. - - -The Port Admiral was eminently correct in supposing that Boskone, -whoever or whatever he or it might be, was already taking action upon -what the Tellurian Lensman had done. For, even as Kinnison was at work -in the Library of Science, a meeting which was indirectly to affect him -no little was being called to order. - -In the immensely distant Second Galaxy was that meeting being held; -upon the then planet Jarnevon of the Eich; within that sullen fortress -already mentioned briefly. Presiding over it was the indescribable -entity known to history as Eichlan; or, more properly, Lan of the Eich. - -"Boskone is now in session," that entity announced to the eight -other like monstrosities who in some fashion indescribable to man -were stationed at the long, low, wide bench of stonelike material -which served as a table of State. "Nine days ago each of us began to -search for whatever new facts might bear upon the activities of the -as-yet-entirely-hypothetical Lensman who, Helmuth believed, was the -real force back of our recent intolerable reverses in the Tellurian -Galaxy. - -"As First of Boskone I will report as to the military situation. As you -know, our positions there became untenable with the fall of our Grand -Base and all our mobile forces were withdrawn. In order to facilitate -reorganization, co-ordinating ships were sent out. Some of these ships -went to planets held in toto by us. Not one of these vessels has been -able to report any pertinent facts whatever. Ships approaching bases -of the Patrol, or encountering Patrol ships of war in space, simply -ceased communicating. Even their automatic recorders, tuned to my desk -as commander-in-chief, ceased to function without transmitting any -intelligible data, indicating complete destruction of those ships. -A cascade system, in which one ship followed another at long range -and with analytical instruments set to determine the nature of any -beam or weapon employed, was attempted. The enemy, however, threw out -blanketing zones of tremendous power; and we lost six more vessels -without obtaining the desired data. These are the facts, all negative. -Theorizing, deduction, summation, and integration will as usual, come -later. Eichmil, Second of Boskone, will now report." - -"My facts are also entirely negative," the Second began. "As soon as -our operations upon the planet Radelix began to be really productive of -results, a contingent of Tellurian narcotic agents arrived; which may -or may not have included the Lensman--" - -"Stick to facts for the time being," Eichlan ordered, curtly. - -"Shortly thereafter a minor agent, a female instructed to wear a -thought-screen at all times, lost her usefulness by suffering a mental -disorder which incapacitated her quite seriously. Then another agent, -also a female, this time one of the third order and who had been very -useful up to that time, ceased reporting. A few days later Bominger, -the Planetary Director, failed to report, as did the Planetary -Observer; who, as you know, was entirely unknown to, and had no -connection with, the operating staff. Reports from other sources, such -as importers and shippers--these, I believe, are here admissible as -facts--indicate that our entire personnel upon Radelix has been put to -death. No unusual developments have occurred upon any other planet, nor -has any significant fact, however small, been discovered." - -"Eichnor, Third of Boskone." - -"Also negative. Our every source of information from within the bases -of the Patrol has been shut off. Every one of our representatives--some -of whom have been reporting regularly for many years--has been silent, -and every effort to reach any of them has failed." - -"Eichsnap, Fourth of Boskone." - -"Utterly negative. We have been able to find no trace whatever of the -planet Medon, or of any one of the twenty-one warships investing it at -the time of its disappearance." - -And so on, through nine reports, while the tentacles of the mighty -First of Boskone played intermittently over the keys of a complex -instrument or machine before him. - -"We will now reason, theorize, and draw conclusions," the First -announced, and each of the organisms fed his ideas and deductions into -the machine. It whirred briefly, then ejected a tape, which Eichlan -took up and scanned narrowly. - - * * * * * - -"Rejecting all conclusions having a probability of less than -ninety-five percent," he announced, "we have: First, a set of -three probabilities of a value of ninety-nine and ninety-nine -one-hundredths--virtual certainties--that some one Tellurian Lensman is -the prime mover behind what has happened; that he has acquired a mental -power heretofore unknown to his race; and that he has been in large -part responsible for the development of the Patrol's new and formidable -weapons. Second, a probability of ninety-nine percent that he and his -organization are no longer on the defensive, but have assumed the -offensive. Third, one of ninety-seven percent that it is not primarily -Tellus which is an obstacle, even though the Galactic Patrol and -Civilization did originate upon that planet, but Arisia; that Helmuth's -report was at least partially true. Fourth, one of ninety-five and -one half percent that the Lens is also concerned in the disappearance -of the planet Medon. There is a lesser probability, but still of some -ninety-four percent, that that same Lensman is involved here. - -"I will interpolate here that the vanishment of that planet is a much -more serious matter than it might appear, on the surface, to be. In -situ, it was a thing of no concern--gone, it becomes an affair of -almost vital import. To issue orders impossible of fulfillment, as -Helmuth did when he said 'Comb Trenco, inch by inch,' is easy. To comb -this Galaxy star by star for Medon would be an even more difficult and -longer task; but what can be done is being done. - -"To return to the conclusions, they point out a state of things which -I do not have to tell you is really grave. This is the first major -setback which the culture of the Boskone has encountered since it began -its rise, thousands of years ago. You are familiar with that rise; how -we of the Eich took over in turn a city, a race, a planet, a solar -system, a region, a galaxy. How we extended our sway into the Tellurian -Galaxy, as a preliminary to the extension of our authority throughout -all the populated galaxies of the macro-cosmic Universe. - -"You know our creed; to the victor the power. He who is strongest and -fittest shall survive and shall rule. This so-called Civilization -which is opposing us, which began upon Tellus but whose driving force -is that which dwells upon Arisia, is a soft, weak, puny-spirited -thing indeed to resist the mental and material power of our culture. -Myriads of beings upon each planet, each one striving for power and, -so striving, giving of that power to him above. Myriads of planets, -each, in return for our benevolently despotic control, delegating -and contributing power to the Eich. All this power, delegated to the -thousands of millions of the Eich of this planet, culminates in and is -wielded by the nine of us who comprise Boskone. - -"Power! Our forefathers thought that control of one planet was enough. -Later it was declared that mastery of a galaxy, if realized, would -sate ambition. We of Boskone, however, now know that our power shall -be limited only by the bounds of the Material Cosmic All--every world -that exists throughout space shall and must pay homage and tribute to -Boskone! What, gentlemen, is the sense of this meeting?" - -"Arisia must be visited!" There was no need of integrating this -thought; it was dominant and unanimous. - -"I would advise caution, however," the Eighth of Boskone amended -his ballot. "We are an old race, it is true, and able; we have -demonstrated our superiority over every other race of our Galaxy, much -more conclusively than the Tellurians have shown their supremacy on -theirs, I cannot help but believe, however, that in Arisia there exists -an unknown quality, an 'x' which we as yet are unable to evaluate. -It must be borne in mind that Helmuth, while not of the Eich, was, -nevertheless, an able being; yet he was handled so mercilessly there -that he could not render a complete or conclusive report of his -expedition, then or ever. With these thoughts in mind I suggest that -no actual landing be made, but that the torpedo be launched from a -distance." - -"The suggestion is eminently sound," the First approved. "As to -Helmuth, he was, for an oxygen-breather, fairly able. He was however, -mentally soft, as are all such. Do you, our foremost psychologist, -believe that any existent or conceivable mind could break yours, with -no application whatever of physical force or device, as Helmuth's -reports seemed to indicate that his was broken? I use the word 'seemed' -advisedly, for I do not believe that Helmuth reported the actual truth. -In fact, I was about to replace him with an Eich, however unpleasant -such an assignment would be to any of our race, because of that -weakness." - -"No," agreed the Eighth. "I do not believe that there exists in the -Universe a mind of sufficient power to break mine. It is a truism that -no mental influence, however powerful, can affect a strong, definitely -and positively opposed will. For that reason I voted against the -use of thought-screens by our agents. Such screens expose them to -detection and can be of no real benefit. Physical means were--must have -been--used first, and, after physical subjugation, the screens were, of -course, useless." - - * * * * * - -"I am not sure that I agree with you entirely," the Ninth put in. "We -have here cogent evidence that there have been employed mental forces -of a type or pattern with which we are entirely unfamiliar. While it is -the consensus of opinion that the importance of Helmuth's report should -be minimized, it seems to me that we have enough corroborative evidence -to indicate that this mentality may be able to operate without material -aid. If so, rigid screening should be retained, as offering the only -possible safeguard from such force." - -"Sound in theory, but in practice dubious," the psychologist countered. -"If there were any evidence whatever that the screens had done any -good I would agree with you. But have they? Screening failed to save -Helmuth or his base; and there is nothing to indicate that the screens -impeded, even momentarily, the progress of the suppositious Lensman -upon Radelix. You speak of 'rigid' screening. The term is meaningless. -Perfectly effective screening is impossible. If, as we seem to be -doing, we postulate the ability of one mind to control another -without physical, bodily contact--or is the idea at all far fetched, -considering what I myself have done to the minds of many of our -agents?--the Lensman can work through any unshielded mentality whatever -to attain his ends. As you know, Helmuth deduced, too late, that it -must have been through the mind of a dog that the Lensman invaded Grand -Base." - -"Poppycock!" snorted the Seventh. "Or, if not, we can kill the dogs--or -screen their minds, too," he sneered. - -"Admitted," the psychologist returned, unmoved. "You might conceivably -kill all the animals that run and all the birds that fly. You cannot, -however, destroy all life in any locality at all extended, clear -down to the worms in their burrows and the termites in their hidden -retreats; and the mind has not yet existed which is keen enough to draw -a line of demarcation and say 'here begins intelligent life.'" - -"This discussion is interesting, but futile," put in Eichlan, -forestalling a scornful reply. "It is more to the point, I think, to -discuss that which must be done; or, rather, who is to do it, since the -thing itself admits of only one solution--an atomic bomb of sufficient -power to destroy every trace of life upon that accursed planet. Shall -we send someone, or shall some of us ourselves go? To overestimate a -foe is at worst only an unnecessary precaution; to underestimate this -one may well be fatal. Therefore, it seems to me, that the decision in -this matter should lie with our psychologist. I will, however, if you -prefer, integrate our various conclusions." - -Recourse to the machine was unnecessary; it was agreed by all that -Eichamp, the Eighth of Boskone, should decide. - -"My decision will be evident," that worthy said, measuredly, "when I -say that I myself, for one, am going. The situation is admittedly a -serious one. Moreover, I believe, to a greater extent than do the rest -of you, that there is a certain amount of truth in Helmuth's version of -his experiences. My mind is the only one in existence of whose power -I am absolutely certain; the only one which I definitely _know_ will -not give way before any conceivable mental force, whatever its amount -or whatever its method of application. I want none with me save of the -Eich, and even those I will examine carefully before permitting them -aboard ship with me." - -"You decide as I thought," said the First. "I also shall go. My mind -will hold, I think." - -"It will hold--in your case examination is unnecessary," agreed the -psychologist. - -"And I! And I!" arose what amounted to a chorus. - -"No," came curt denial from the First. "Two are enough to operate all -machinery and weapons. To take any more of the Boskone would weaken us -here injudiciously; well you know how many are working, and in what -fashions, for seats at this table. To take any weaker mind, even of -the Eich, might conceivably be to court disaster. We two should be -safe; I because I have proven repeatedly my right to hold the title of -First of this Council, the rulers and masters of the dominant race of -the Universe; Eichamp because of his unparalleled knowledge, of all -intelligence. Our vessel is ready. We go." - - * * * * * - -As has been indicated, none of the Eich were, or ever had been, -cowards. Tyrants they were, it is true, and dictators of the harshest, -sternest, and most soulless kind; callous and merciless they were; -cold as the rocks of their frigid world and as utterly ruthless and -remorseless as the fabled Juggernaut; but they were as logical as they -were hard. He, who of them all was best fitted to do anything, did it -unquestioningly and, as a matter of course; did it with the calmly -emotionless efficiency of the machine which in actual fact he was. -Therefore, it was the First and the Eighth of Boskone who went. - -Through the star-studded purlieus of the Second Galaxy the black, -airless, lightless vessel sped; through the reaches, vaster and more -tenuous far, of intergalactic space; into the Tellurian Galaxy; up to a -solar system shunned then as now, by all uninvited intelligences--dread -and dreaded Arisia. - -Not close to the planet did even the two of Boskone venture; but -stopped at the greatest distance at which a torpedo could be directed -surely against the target. But even so the vessel of the Eich had -punctured a screen of mental force; and as Eichlan extended a tentacle -toward the firing mechanism of the missiles, watched in as much -suspense as they were capable of feeling by the planet-bound seven of -Boskone, a thought as penetrant as a needle and yet as binding as a -cable tempered steel drove into his brain. - -"Hold!" That thought commanded, and Eichlan held, as did also his -fellow Boskonian. - -Both remained rigid, unable to move any single voluntary muscle; while -the other seven of the Council looked on in uncomprehending amazement. -Their instruments remained dead--since those mechanisms were not -sensitive to thought, to them nothing at all was occurring. Those -seven leaders of the Eich knew that something was happening; something -dreadful, something untoward, something very decidedly not upon the -program they had helped to plan. They, however, could do nothing about -it; they could only watch and wait. - -"Ah, 'tis Lan and Amp of the Eich," the thought resounded within the -minds of the helpless twain. "Truly, the Elders are correct. My mind is -not yet competent, for, although I have had many facts instead of but -a single one upon which to cogitate, and no dearth of time in which to -do so, I now perceive that I have erred grievously in my visualization -of the Cosmic All. You do, however, fit nicely into the now enlarged -Scheme, and I am really grateful to you for furnishing new material -with which for many cycles of time to come, I shall continue to build. - -"Indeed, I believe that I shall permit you to return unharmed to your -own planet. You know the warning we gave Helmuth, your minion, hence -your lives are forfeit for violating knowingly the privacy of Arisia; -but wanton or unnecessary destruction is not conducive to mental -growth. You are, therefore, at liberty to depart. I repeat to you the -instructions given your underling: do not return, either in person or -by any form whatever of proxy." - -The Arisian had as yet exerted scarcely a fraction of his power; -although the bodies of the two invaders were practically paralyzed, -their minds had not been punished. Therefore the psychologist said, -coldly: - -"You are not now dealing with Helmuth, nor with any other weak, -mindless oxygen-breather, but with the _Eich_," and, by sheer effort of -will, he moved toward the controls. - -"What boots it?" the Arisian compressed upon the Eighth's brain a -searing force which sent shrieking waves of pain throughout all nearby -space. Then, taking over the psychologist's mind, he forced him to move -to the communicator panel, upon whose plate could be seen the other -seven of Boskone, gazing in wonder. - -"Set up planetary coverage," he directed, through Eichamp's organs of -speech, "so that each individual member of the entire race of the Eich -can understand what I am about to transmit." There was a brief pause, -then the deep, measured voice rolled on: - - * * * * * - -"I am Eukonidor of Arisia, speaking to you through this mass -of undead flesh which was once your chief psychologist, Eichamp, the -Eighth of that high council which you call Boskone. I had intended to -spare the lives of these two simple creatures, but I perceive that -such action would be useless. Their minds and the minds of all you who -listen to me are warped, perverted, incapable of reason. They and you -would have misinterpreted the gesture completely; would have believed -that I did not slay them only because I could not do so. Some of you -would have offended again and again, until you were so slain; you can -be convinced of such a fact only by an unmistakable demonstration of -superior force. Force is the only thing you are able to understand. -Your one aim in life is to gain material power; greed, corruption, and -crime are your chosen implements. - -"You consider yourselves hard and merciless. In a sense, and according -to your abilities you are, although your minds are too callow to -realize that there are depths of cruelty and of depravity which you -cannot even faintly envision. - -"You love and worship power. Why? To any thinking mind it should be -clear that such a lust intrinsically is, and forever must by its -very nature be, futile. For, even if any one of you could command -the entire material Universe, what good would it do him? None. What -would he have? Nothing. Not even the satisfaction of accomplishment, -for that lust is in fact insatiable--it would then turn upon itself -and feed upon itself. I tell you as a fact that there is only one -power which is at one and the same time illimitable and yet finite; -insatiable yet satisfying; one which, while eternal, yet invariably -returns to its possessor the true satisfaction of real accomplishment -in exact ratio to the effort expended upon it. That power is the power -of the mind. You, being so backward and so wrong of development, -cannot understand how this can be, but if any one of you will -concentrate upon one single fact, or a small object, such as a pebble -or the seed of a plant or other creature, for as short a period of -time as one hundred of your years, you will begin to perceive its -truth. - -"You boast that your planet is old. What of that? We of Arisia dwelt -in turn upon a thousand planets, from planetary youth to cosmic old -age, before we became independent of the chance formation of such -celestial bodies. - -"You prate that you are an ancient race. Compared to us you are -sheerly infantile. We of Arisia did not originate upon a planet formed -during the recent interpassage of these two galaxies, but upon one -which came into being in an antiquity so distant that the figure in -years would be entirely meaningless to your minds. We were of an age -to your mentalities starkly incomprehensible when your most remote -ancestors began to wriggle about in the slime of your parent world. - -"'Do the men of the Patrol know--?' I perceive the question in your -minds. They do not. None save a few of the most powerful of their -minds has the slightest inkling of the truth. To reveal any portion -of it to Civilization as a whole would blight that Civilization -irreparably. Though Seekers after Truth in the best sense, they are -essentially juvenile and their life spans are ephemeral indeed. The -mere realization that there is in existence such a race as ours would -place upon them such an inferiority complex as would make further -advancement impossible. In your case such a course of events is not -to be expected. You will close your minds to all that has happened, -declaring to yourselves that it was impossible and that therefore, it -could not have taken place and did not. Nevertheless, you will stay -away from Arisia henceforth. - -"But to resume. You consider yourselves long-lived. Know then, -insects, that your life span of a thousand of your years is but a -moment. I, myself, have already lived eleven thousand such lifetimes, -and I am but a youth--a mere Guardian, not yet to be entrusted with -really serious thinking. - -"I have spoken overlong; the reason for my prolixity being that I -do not like to see the energy of a race so misused, so corrupted to -material conquest for its own sake. I would like to set your minds -upon the Way of Truth, if perchance such a thing should be possible. I -have pointed out that Way; whether or not you follow it is for you to -decide. Indeed, I fear that most of you, in your short-sighted pride, -have already cast my message aside; refusing point-blank to change -your habits of thought. It is, however, in the hope that some few of -you will perceive the Way and will follow it by abandoning your planet -and its Eich before it is too late, that I have discoursed at such -length. - -"Whether or not you change your habits of thought, I advise you to -heed this, my warning. Arisia does not want and will not tolerate -intrusion. As a lesson, watch these two violators of our privacy -destroy themselves." - -The giant voice ceased. Eichlan's tentacles moved toward the controls. -The vast torpedo launched itself. - -But instead of hurtling toward distant Arisia it swept around in a -mighty circle and struck in direct central impact the great cruiser of -the Eich. There was an appalling crash, a space-wracking detonation, -a flare of incandescence incredible and indescribable as the energy -calculated to disrupt--almost to volatilize--a world expended itself -upon the insignificant mass of one Boskonian battleship and upon the -unresisting texture of the void. - - - - - X. - - -Considerably more than the stipulated week passed before Kinnison was -done with the librarian and with the long-range communicator beam, -but eventually he succeeded in enlisting the aid of the fifty-three -most eminent scientists and thinkers of all the planets of Galactic -Civilization. From all over the Galaxy were they selected; from -Vandemar and Centralia and Alsakan; from Chickladoria and Radelix; from -the solar systems of Rigel and Sirius and Antares. Millions of planets -were not represented at all; and of the few which were, Tellus alone -had more than one delegate. - -This was necessary, Kinnison explained carefully to each of the chosen. -Sir Austin Cardynge, the man whose phenomenal brain had developed a -new mathematics to handle the positron and the negative energy levels, -was the one who would do the work; he himself was present merely as -a co-ordinator and observer. The meeting place, even, was not upon -Tellus, but upon Medon, the newly acquired and hence entirely neutral -planet. For the Gray Lensman knew well the minds with which he would -have to deal. - -They were all the geniuses of the highest rank, but in all too many -cases their stupendous mentalities merged altogether too closely upon -insanity for any degree of comfort. Even before the conclave assembled -it became evident that jealousy was to be rife and rampant; and after -the initial meeting, at which the problem itself was propounded, it -required all of Kinnison's ability, authority, and drive, and all of -Worsel's vast diplomacy and tact, to keep those mighty brains at work. - -Time after time, some essential entity, his dignity outraged and his -touchy ego infuriated by some real or fancied insult, stalked off -in high dudgeon to return to his own planet; only to be coaxed or -bullied, or even mentally man-handled by Kinnison or Worsel, or both, -into returning to his task. - -[Illustration: _Time after time some essential scientist stalked off in -high dudgeon, with Kinnison trailing, soothing ruffled ego._] - -Nor were those insults all, or even mostly, imaginary. Quarreling and -bickering were incessant, violent flare-ups and passionate scenes of -denunciation and vituperation were of almost hourly occurrence. Each -of those minds had been accustomed to world-wide adulation, to the -unquestioned acceptance as gospel of his every idea or pronouncement, -and to have to submit his work to the scrutiny and to the unworshipful -criticisms of lesser minds--actually to have to give way, at times, -to those inferior mentalities--was a situation quite definitely -intolerable. - -But at length most of them began to work together, as they appreciated -the fact that the problem before them was one which none of them singly -had been able even partially to solve; and Kinnison let the others, the -most fanatically non-co-operative, go home. The progress began--and -none too soon. The Gray Lensman had lost twenty-five pounds of weight, -and even the iron-thewed Worsel was a wreck. He could not fly, he -declared, because his wings buckled in the middle; he could not crawl, -because his belly-plate clashed against his backbone! - -And finally the thing was done; reduced to a set of equations which -could be written upon a single sheet of paper. It is true that those -equations would have been meaningless to almost anyone then alive, -since they were based upon a system of mathematics which had been -brought into existence at that very meeting, but Kinnison had taken -care of that. - -No Medonian had been allowed in the Conference--the admittance of one -to membership would have caused a massed exodus of the high-strung, -temperamental maniacs working so furiously there--but the Tellurian -Lensman had had recorded every act, almost every thought, of every -one of those geniuses. Those records had been studied for weeks, not -only by Wise of Medon and his staff, but also by a corps of the less -brilliant, but infinitely better balanced scientists of the Patrol -proper. - -"Now you fellows can really get to work." Kinnison heaved a sigh of -profound relief as the last member of the Conference figuratively shook -the dust of Medon off his robe as he departed homeward. "I'm going to -sleep for a week. Call me, will you, when you get the model done?" - - * * * * * - -This was sheerest exaggeration, of course, for nothing could have -kept the Lensman from watching the construction of that first -apparatus. He watched the erection of a spherical shell of loosely -latticed truss-work some twenty feet in diameter. He watched the -installation, at its six cardinal points, of atomic exciters, each -capable of transforming ten thousand pounds per hour of substance into -pure energy. He knew that those exciters were driving their intake -screens at a ratio of at least twenty thousand to one; that energy -equivalent to the annihilation of at least six hundred thousand tons -per hour of material was being hurled into the center of that web from -the six small mechanisms which were in fact, super-Bergenholms. Nor -is that word adequate to describe them. They were engines at whose -power the late Dr. Bergenholm himself would have quailed; demons -whose fabrication would have been utterly impossible without Medonian -conductors and insulation. - -He watched the construction of a conveyor and a chute and looked -on intently while a hundred thousand tons of refuse--rocks, sand, -concrete, scrap iron, loose metal, débris of all kinds--were dropped -into that innocuous-appearing sphere, only to vanish as though they had -never existed. - -"But we ought to be able to see it by this time, I should think!" -Kinnison protested once. - -"Not yet, Kim," Master Technician LaVerne Thorndyke informed him. "Just -forming the vortex--microscopic yet. I haven't the faintest idea of -what is going on in there; but man, dear man, _am_ I glad that I'm here -to help make it go on!" - -"But _when_?" demanded the Lensman. "How soon will you know whether -it's going to work or not? I want to do a flit." - -"You can flit any time--now, if you like," the technician told him, -brutally. "We don't need _you_ any more--you've done your bit. It's -working now. If it wasn't, do you think we could pack all that stuff -into that little space? But we'll have it done long before you'll need -it." - -"But I want to see it work, you big lug!" Kinnison retorted, only half -playfully. - -"Come back in three-four days--maybe a week; but don't expect to see -anything but a hole." - -"That's exactly what I want to see, a hole in space," and that was -precisely what, a few days later, the Lensman did see. - -The spherical framework was unchanged, the machines were still carrying -easily their incredible working load. Material--any and all kinds of -stuff--was still disappearing; instantaneously, invisibly, quietly, -with no flash or fury to mark its passing. - -But at the center of that massive sphere there now hung poised a--a -_something_. Or was it a nothing? Mathematically, it was a sphere, or -rather a negasphere, about the size of a baseball; but the eye, while -it could see something, could not perceive it analytically. Nor could -the mind envision it in three dimensions, for it was not essentially -three-dimensional in nature. Light sank into the thing, whatever it -was, and vanished. The peering eye could see nothing whatever of shape -or of texture; the mind behind the eye reeled away before infinite -vistas of nothingness. - -Kinnison hurled his extrasensory perception into it and jerked -back, almost stunned. It was neither darkness nor blackness, he -decided, after he recovered enough poise to think coherently. It -was worse than that--worse than anything imaginable--an infinitely -vast and yet non-existent realm of the total absence of everything -whatever--_absolute negation_! - -"That's it, I guess," the Lensman said then. "Might as well stop -feeding it now." - -"We would have to stop soon, in any case," Wise replied, "for your -available waste material is becoming scarce. It will take the substance -of a fairly large planet to produce that which you require. You have, -perhaps, a planet in mind which is to be used for the purpose?" - -"Better than that. I have in mind the material of just such a planet, -but already broken up into sizes convenient for handling." - -"Oh, the asteroid belt!" Thorndyke exclaimed. "Fine! Kill two birds -with one stone, huh? Build this thing and at the same time clear out -the menaces to inert interplanetary navigation? But how about the -miners?" - -"All covered. The ones actually in development will be let alone. -They're not menaces, anyway, as they all have broadcasters. The tramp -miners we send--at Patrol expense and grubstake--to some other system -to do their mining. But there's one more point before we flit. Are you -sure that you can shift to the second stage without an accident?" - -"Positive. Build another one around it, mount new Bergs, exciters, and -screens on it, and let this one, machines and all, go in to feed the -kitty--whatever it is," the technician finished. - -"QX. Let's go, fellows!" - - * * * * * - -Two huge Tellurian freighters were at hand; and, holding the small -framework between them in a net of tractors and pressors, they set off -blithely toward Sol. They took a couple of hours for the journey--and -there was no hurry, and in the handling of this particular freight -caution was decidedly of the essence. - -Arrived at destination, the crews tackled with zest and zeal this new -game. Tractors lashed out, seizing chunks of iron-- - -"Pick out the little ones, men," cautioned Kinnison. "Nothing over -about ten feet in section-dimension will go into this frame. Better -wait for the second frame before you try to handle the big ones." - -"We can cut 'em up," Thorndyke suggested. "What've we got these -shear-planes for?" - -"QX if you like. Just so you keep the kitty fed." - -"We'll feed her!" and the game went on. - -Chunks of débris--some rock, but mostly solid meteoric -nickel-iron--shot toward the vessels and the ravening sphere, becoming -inertialess as they entered a wide-flung zone. Pressors seized them -avidly, pushing them through the interstices of the framework, holding -them against the voracious screen. As they touched the screen they -disappeared; no matter how fast they were driven the screen ate them -away, silently and unspectacularly, as fast as they could be thrown -against it. A weird spectacle indeed, to see a jagged fragment of solid -iron, having a mass of thousands of tons, drive against that screen -and disappear! For it vanished, utterly, along a geometrically perfect -spherical surface. From the opposite side the eye could see the mirror -sheen of the metal at the surface of disintegration! It was as though -the material were being shoved out of our familiar three-dimensional -space into another universe--which, as a matter of cold fact, may have -been the case. - -For not even the men who were doing the work made any pretense of -understanding what was happening to that iron. Indeed, the only -entities who did have any comprehension of the phenomenon--the -forty-odd geniuses whose mathematical wizardry had made it -possible--thought of it and discussed it, not in the limited, -three-dimensional symbols of everyday existence, but only in the -language of high mathematics; a language in which few indeed, are able -to really and readily to think. - -And while the crews became more and more expert at the new technique, -so that metal came in faster and faster--huge, hot-sliced bars of iron -ten feet square and a quarter of a mile long were being driven into -that enigmatic sphere of extinction--an outer framework a hundred and -fifty miles in diameter was being built. Nor, contrary to what might -be supposed, was a prohibitive amount of metal or of labor necessary -to fabricate that mammoth structure. Instead of six there were six -cubed--two hundred and sixteen--working stations, complete with -generators and super-Bergenholms and screen generators, each mounted -upon a massive platform; but, instead of being connected together and -supported by stupendous beams and trusses of metal, those platforms -were linked by infinitely stronger bonds of pure force. It took a lot -of ships to do the job, but the technicians of the Patrol had at call -enough floating machine shops and to spare. - -When the sphere of negation grew to be about a foot in apparent -diameter it had been found necessary to surround it with a screen -opaque to all visible light, for to look into it long or steadily then -meant insanity. Now the opaque screen was sixteen feet in diameter, -nearing dangerously the sustaining framework, and the outer frame was -ready. It was time to change. - -The Lensman held his breath, but the Medonians and the Tellurian -technicians did not turn a hair as they mounted their new stations and -tested their apparatus. - -"Ready." "Ready." "Ready." Station after station reported: -then, as Thorndyke threw in the master switch, the primary -sphere--invisible now, through distance, to the eye, but plain upon the -visiplates--disappeared; a mere morsel to those new, gigantic forces. - -"Swing into it, boys!" Thorndyke yelled into his transmitter. "We don't -have to feed her with a teaspoon any more. Let her have it!" - - * * * * * - -And "let her have it" they did. No more cutting up of the larger -meteorites; asteroids ten, fifteen, twenty miles in diameter, along -with hosts of smaller stuff, were literally hurled through the black -screen into the even lusher blackness of that which was inside it, -without complaint from the quietly humming motors. - -"Satisfied, Kim?" Master Technician Thorndyke asked. - -"Uh-_huh_!" the Lensman assented, vigorously. "Nice! Slick, in fact," -he commended. "I'll buzz off now, I guess." - -"Might as well--everything's on the green. Clear ether, spacehound!" - -"Same to you, big fella. I'll be seeing you, or sending you a thought. -There's Tellus, right over there. Funny, isn't it, doing a flit to a -place you can actually see before you start?" - -The trip to Earth was scarcely a hop, even in a supply-boat. To Prime -Base the Gray Lensman went, where he found that his new non-ferrous -speedster was done; and during the next few days he tested it out -thoroughly. It did not register at all, neither upon the regular, -long-range ultra-instruments nor upon the short-range emergency -electros. Nor could it be seen in space, even in a telescope at -point-blank range. True, it occulted an occasional star; but since -even the direct rays of a searchlight failed to reveal its shape to the -keenest eye--the Lensman chemists who had worked out that ninety-nine -point nine nine percent absolute black coating had done a wonderful -job--the chance of discovery through that occurrence was very slight. - -"QX, Kim?" the Port Admiral asked. He was accompanying the Gray Lensman -on a last tour of inspection. - -"Fine, chief. Couldn't be better--thanks a lot." - -"Sure you're non-ferrous yourself?" - -"Absolutely. Not even an iron nail in my shoes." - -"What is it, then? You look worried. Want something expensive?" - -"You hit the thumb, admiral, right on the nail. The trouble is not only -that it's expensive; I'm afraid that probably we'll never have any use -for it." - -"Better build it, anyway. Then if you want it you'll have it, and if -you don't want it we can always use it for something. What is it?" - -"A nutcracker. There are a lot of cold planets around, aren't there, -that aren't good for anything?" - -"Thousands of them--perhaps millions." - -"The Medonians put Bergenholms on their planet and flew it from -Lundmark's Nebula to here in a few weeks. Why wouldn't it be a sound -idea to have the planetographers pick out a couple of useless worlds -which, at some points in their orbits, have diametrically opposite -velocities, to within a degree or two?" - -"You've got something there, my boy. It shall be done, and at once. A -thing like that is very much worth having, just for its own sake, if we -never have any use for it. Anything else?" - -"Not a thing in the universe. Clear ether, chief!" - -"Light landings, Kinnison!" and gracefully, effortlessly, the -dead-black sliver of semi-precious metal lifted herself away from -Earth. - - * * * * * - -Through Bominger, the Radeligian Big Shot, Kinnison had had a long and -eminently satisfactory interview with Prellin, the Regional Director -of all surviving Boskonian activities. Thus he knew where the latter -was, even to the address, and knew the name of the firm which was -his alias--Ethan D. Wembleson & Sons, Inc., 4627 Boulevard Dezalies, -Cominoche, Quadrant Eight, Bronseca. That name was Kim's first shock, -for that firm was one of the largest and most conservative houses -in galactic trade; one having an unquestioned AAA1 rating in every -mercantile index. - -However, that was the way they worked, Kinnison reflected, as his -speedster reeled off the parsecs. It wasn't far to Bronseca--easy -Lens distance--he'd better call somebody there and start making -arrangements. He had heard about the planet, although he'd never been -there. Somewhat warmer than Tellus, but otherwise very Earthlike. -Millions of Tellurians lived there and liked it. - -His approach to the planet Bronseca was characterized by all possible -caution, as was his visit to Cominoche, the capital city. He found -that 4627 Boulevard Dezalies was a structure covering an entire city -block and some eighty stories high, owned and occupied exclusively by -Wembleson's. No visitors were allowed except by appointment. His first -stroll past it showed him that an immense cylinder, comprising almost -the whole interior of the building, was shielded by thought-screens. He -rode up and down in the elevators of nearby buildings--no penetration. -He visited a dozen offices in the neighborhood upon various errands, -choosing his time with care so that he would have to wait in each an -hour or so in order to see his man. - -These leisurely scrutinies of his objective failed to reveal a single -fact of value. Ethan D. Wembleson & Sons, Inc., did a tremendous -business, but every ounce of it was legitimate! That is, the files in -the outer offices covered only legitimate transactions, and the men -and women busily at work there were all legitimately employed. And the -inner offices--vastly more extensive than the outer, to judge by the -number of employees entering in the morning and leaving at the close of -business--were sealed against his prying, every second of every day. - -He tapped in turn the minds of dozens of those clerks, but drew only -blanks. As far as they were concerned, there was nothing "queer" going -on anywhere in the organization. The "Old Man"--Howard Wembleson, a -grandnephew or something of Ethan--had developed a complex lately that -his life was in danger. Scarcely left the building--not that he had any -need to, as he had always had palatial quarters there--and then only -under heavy guard. - -A good many thought-screened persons came and went, but a careful study -of them and their movements convinced the Gray Lensman that he was -wasting his time. - -"No soap," he reported to a Lensman at Bronseca's Base. "Might as well -try to stick a pin quietly into a cateagle. He's been told that he's -the next link in the chain, and he's got the jitters right. I'll bet -he's got a dozen loose observers, instead of only one. I'll save time, -I think, by tracing another line. I have thought before that my best -bet is in the asteroid dens instead of on the planets. I let them talk -me out of it--it's a dirty job and I've got to establish an identity of -my own, which will be even dirtier--but it looks as though I'll have to -go back to it." - -"But the others are warned, too," suggested the Bronsecan. "They'll -probably be just as bad. Let's blast it open and take a chance on -finding the data you want." - -"No," Kinnison said, emphatically. "Not a chance in the universe that -there's anything there that would do me a bit of good on the big hunt. -The others are probably warned, yes, but since they aren't on my direct -line to the throne, they probably aren't taking it as seriously as this -Prellin--or Wembleson--is. Or if they are, they won't keep it up as -long. They can't, and get any joy out of life at all. - -"And you can't say a word to Prellin about his screens, either," the -Tellurian went on in reply to a thought. "They're legal enough; just as -much so as spy-ray blocks. Every man has a right to privacy. Just one -question here, or just one suspicious move, is apt to blow everything -into a cocked hat. You fellows keep on working along the lines we laid -out and I'll try another line. If it works, I'll come back and we'll -open this can the way you want to. That way, we may be able to get the -low-down on about four hundred planetary organizations at one haul." - - * * * * * - -Thus it came about that Kinnison took his scarcely-used indetectable -speedster back to Prime Base; and that, in a solar system prodigiously -far removed from both Tellus and Bronseca, there appeared another tramp -meteor-miner. - -Peculiar people, these toilers in the interplanetary voids; flotsam and -jetsam; for the most part the very scum of space. Some solar systems -contain vastly greater amounts of asteroidal and meteoric débris than -did ours of Sol; others somewhat less; but all have at least some. -In the main this material is either nickel-iron or rock, but some of -these fragments carry prodigious values in platinum, osmium, and other -noble metals, and occasionally there are discovered diamonds and other -gems of tremendous size and value. Hence, in the asteroid belts of -every solar system there are to be found those universally despised, -but nevertheless bold and hardy souls who, risking life and limb from -moment to moment though they are, yet live in hope that the next lump -of cosmic detritus will prove to be a bonanza. - -Some of these men are the sheer misfits of life. Some are petty -criminals, fugitives from the justice of their own planets, but not of -sufficient importance to be upon the "wanted" lists of the Patrol. Some -are of those who for some reason or other--addiction to drugs, perhaps, -or the overwhelming urge occasionally to go on a spree--are unable or -unwilling to hold down the steady jobs of their more orthodox brethren. -Still others, and these are many, live that horridly adventurous life -because it is in their blood; like the lumberjacks who in ancient times -dwelt upon Tellus, they labor tremendously and unremittingly for weeks, -only and deliberately to "blow in" the fruits of their toil in a few -wild days and still wilder nights of hectic, sanguine, and lustful -debauchery in one or another of the spacemen's hells of which every -inhabited solar system has its quota. - -But, whatever their class, they have much in common. They all live for -the moment only, from hand to mouth. They all are intrepid spacemen. -They have to be--all others die during their first venture. They all -live dangerously, violently. They are men of red and gusty passions, -and they have, if not an actual contempt, at least a loud-voiced -scorn of the law in its every phase and manifestation. "Law ends with -atmosphere" is the galaxy-wide creed of the clan, and it is a fact that -no law save that of the ray-gun is even yet really enforced in the -badlands of the asteroid belts. - -Indeed, the meteor miners as a matter of course, take their innate -lawlessness with them into their revels in the crimson-lit resorts -already referred to. In general the nearby Planetary Police adopt -a laissez faire attitude, particularly since the asteroids are not -within their jurisdictions, but independent worlds, each with its own -world-government. If they kill a dozen or so of each other and of the -bloodsuckers who batten upon them, what of it? If everybody in those -hells could be killed at once, the Universe would be that much better -off!--and if the Galactic Patrol is compelled, by some unusually -outrageous performance, to intervene in the revelry, it comes in, -not as single policemen, but in platoons or in companies of armed, -full-armored infantry going to war! - -Such, then, were those among whom Kinnison chose to cast his lot, in a -new effort to get in touch with the Galactic Director of the drug ring. - - - - - XI. - - -Although Kinnison left Bronseca, abandoning that line of attack -completely--thereby, it might be thought, forfeiting all the work -he had theretofore done upon it--the Patrol was not idle, nor was -Prellin-Wembleson of Cominoche, the Boskonian Regional Director, -neglected. Lensman after Lensman came and went, unobtrusively, but -grimly determined. There came Tellurians, Manarkans, Borovans; Lensmen -of every human breed, any of whom might have been, as far as the -minions of Boskone knew, the one foe whom they had such good cause to -fear. - -Rigellian Lensmen came also, and Poenians, and Ordoviks; -representatives, in fact, of almost every available race possessing any -type or kind of extrasensory perception, came to test out their skill -and cunning. Even Worsel of Velantia came, hurled for days his mighty -mind against those screens, and departed. - -Whether or not business went on as usual no one could say, but the -Patrol was certain of three things. First, that while the Boskonians -might be destroying some of their records, they were moving none away, -by air, land, or tunnel; second, that there was no doubt in any zwilnik -mind that the Lensmen were there to stay until they won, in one way or -another; and third, that Prellin's life was not a happy one! - -And while his brothers of the Lens were so efficiently pinch-hitting -for him--even though they were at the same time trying to show him -up and thereby win kudos for themselves--in mentally investing the -Regional stronghold of Boskone, Kinnison was establishing an identity -as a wandering hellion of the asteroid belts. - -There would be no slips this time. He would _be_ a meteor miner -in every particular, down to the last, least detail. To this end -he selected his equipment with the most exacting care. It must be -thoroughly adequate and dependable, but neither new nor of such -outstanding quality or amount as to cause comment. - -His ship, a stubby, powerful space-tug with an oversized air -lock, was a used job--hard-used, too--some ten years old. She was -battered, pitted, and scarred; but it should be noted here, perhaps -parenthetically, that when the technicians finished their rebuilding -she was actually as stanch as a battleship. His space-armor, Spalding -drills, DeLameters, tractors and pressors, and "spee-gee"--torsion -specific-gravity apparatus--were of the same grade. All bore -unmistakable evidence of years of hard use, but all were in perfect -working condition. In short, his outfit was exactly that which -a successful meteor miner--even such a one as he was going to -become--would be expected to own. - -He cut his own hair, and his whiskers, too, with ordinary shears, as -was good technique. He learned the polyglot of the trade; the language -which, made up of words from each of hundreds of planetary tongues, -was and is the everyday speech of human or near-human meteor miners, -wherever found. By "near-human" is meant a six-place classification -of A A point A A A A--meaning erect, bifurcate, warm-blooded, -oxygen-breathing, bilaterally duo-symmetrical, and possessing eyes. -For, even in meteor-mining, like has a tendency to run with, and -especially to play with, like. Thus, warm-blooded oxygen-breathers -find neither welcome nor enjoyment in a pleasure-resort operated by -and for such a race, say, as the Trocanthers, who are cold-blooded, -quasi-reptilian beings who abhor light of all kinds and who breath a -gaseous mixture not only paralyzingly cold in temperature but also -chemically fatal to man. - -Above all, he had to learn how to drink strong liquors and how to take -drugs, for he knew that no drink that had ever been distilled, and -no drug, with the possible exception of thionite, could enslave the -mind he then had. Thionite was out, anyway. It was too scarce and too -expensive for meteor miners; they simply didn't go for it. Hadive, -heroin, opium, nitrolabe, bentlam--that was it, bentlam. He could get -it anywhere, all over the Galaxy, and it was very much in character. -Easy to take, potent in results, and not as damaging--if you didn't -become a real addict--to the system as most of the others. He would -become a bentlam-eater. - - * * * * * - -Bentlam, known also to the trade by such nicknames as "benny," -"benweed," "happy-sleep," and others, is a shredded, moistly fibrous -material of about the same consistency and texture as fine-cut chewing -tobacco. Through his friends in Narcotics the Gray Lensman obtained a -supply of "the clear quill, first chop, in the original tins" from a -prominent bootlegger, and had it assayed for potency. - -The drinking problem required no thought; he would learn to drink, and -apparently to like, anything and everything that would pour. Meteor -miners did. - -Therefore, coldly, deliberately, dispassionately, and with as complete -a detachment as though he were calibrating a burette or analyzing an -unknown solution, he set about the task. He determined his capacity -as impersonally as though his physical body were a volumetric flask; -he noted the effect of each measured increment of high-proof beverage -and of habit-forming drug as precisely as though he were studying a -chemical reaction in which he himself was not concerned save as a -purely scientific observer. - -He detested the stuff. Every fiber of his being rebelled at the -sensations evoked--the loss of co-ordination and control, the -inflation, the aggrandizement, the falsity of values, the sheer -hallucinations--nevertheless he went through with the whole program, -even to the extent of complete physical helplessness for periods of -widely varying duration. And when he had completed his researches he -was thoroughly well informed. - -He knew to a nicety, by feel, how much active principle he had -taken, no matter how strong, how weak, or how adulterated the liquor -or the drug had been. He knew to a fraction how much more he could -take; or, having taken too much, almost exactly how long he would be -incapacitated. He learned for himself what was already widely known, -that it was better to get at least moderately illuminated before taking -the drug; that bentlam rides better on top of liquor than vice versa. -He even determined roughly the rate of increase with practice of his -tolerances. Then, and only then, did he begin working as a meteorite -miner. - -Working in an asteroid belt of one solar system might have been enough, -but the Gray Lensman took no chances at all of having his new identity -traced back to its source. Therefore he worked, and caroused, in five; -approaching step-wise to the solar system of Borova which was his goal. - -Arrived at last, he gave his chunky space-boat the average velocity of -an asteroid belt just outside the orbit of the fourth planet, shoved -her down into it, turned on his Bergenholm, and went to work. His first -job was to "set up"; to install in the extra-large air lock, already -equipped with duplicate controls, his tools and equipment. He donned -space-armor, made sure that his DeLameters were sitting pretty--all -meteor miners go armed as routine, and the Lensman had altogether too -much at stake in any case to forgo his accustomed weapons--pumped the -air of the lock back into the body of the ship, and opened the outer -port. For meteor miners do not work inside their ships. It takes too -much time to bring the metal in through the air locks. It also wastes -air, and air is precious; not only in money, although that is no minor -item, but also because no small ship, stocked for a six-weeks' run, can -carry any more air than is really needed. - -Set up, he studied his electros and flicked his tractor beams out -to a passing fragment of metal, which flashed up to him, almost -instantaneously. Or, rather, the inertialess tugboat flashed across -space to the comparatively tiny, but inert, bit of metal which he was -about to investigate. With expert ease Kinnison clamped the meteorite -down and rammed into it his Spalding drill, the tool which in one -operation cuts out and polishes a cylindrical sample exactly one inch -in diameter and exactly one inch long. Kinnison took the sample, -placed it in the jaw of his spee-gee, and cut his Berg. Going inert -in an asteroid belt is dangerous business, but it is only one of a -meteor miner's hazards and it is necessary; for the torsiometer is -the quickest and simplest means of determining the specific gravity -of metal out in space, and no torsion instrument will work upon -inertialess matter. - -He read the scale even as he turned on the Berg. Seven point nine. -Iron. Worthless. Big operators could use it--the asteroid belts had -long since supplanted the mines of the worlds as sources of iron--but -it wouldn't do him a bit of good. Therefore, tossing it aside, he -speared another. Another, and another. Hour after hour, day after -day; the back-breaking, lonely labor of the meteor miner. But very -few of the bona-fide miners had the Gray Lensman's physique or his -stamina, and not one of them all had even a noteworthy fraction of his -brain. And brain counts, even in meteor-mining. Hence Kinnison found -pay-metal; quite a few really good, although not phenomenally dense, -pieces. - - * * * * * - -Then one day there happened a thing which, if it was not in actual -fact premeditated, was as mathematically improbable, almost, as the -formation of a planetary solar system; an occurrence that was to -exemplify in startling and hideous fashion the doctrine of tooth and -fang which is the only law of the asteroid belts. Two tractor beams -seized, at almost the same instant, the same meteor! Two ships, -flashing up to zone contact in the twinkling of an eye, the inoffensive -meteor squarely between them! And in the air lock of the other tug -there were two men, not one; two men already going for their guns with -the practiced ease of space-hardened veterans to whom the killing of a -man was the veriest bagatelle! - -[Illustration: _In the air lock of the other meteor miner, two men--not -one--were going for their DeLameters_--] - -They must have been hijackers, killing and robbing as a business, -Kinnison concluded, afterward. Bona-fide miners almost never work two -to a boat, and the fact that they actually beat him to the draw, and -yet were so slow in shooting, argued that they had not been taken by -surprise, as had he. Indeed, the meteor itself, the bone of contention, -might very well have been a bait. - -He could not follow his natural inclination to let go, to let them -have it. The tale would have spread far and wide, branding him as a -coward and a weakling. He would have had to kill, or been killed by, -any number of lesser bullies who would have attacked him on sight. Nor -could he have taken over their minds quickly enough to have averted -death. One, perhaps, but not two; he was no Arisian. These thoughts, -as has been intimated, occurred to him long afterward. During the -actual event there was no time to think at all. Instead, he acted; -automatically and instantaneously. - -Kinnison's hands flashed to the worn grips of his DeLameters, sliding -them from the leather and bringing them to bear at the hip with one -smoothly flowing motion that was a marvel of grace and speed. But, fast -as he was, he was almost too late. Four bolts of lightning blasted, -almost as one. The two desperadoes dropped, cold; the Lensman felt a -stab of agony sear through his shoulder and the breath whistled out of -his mouth and nose as his spacesuit collapsed. Gasping terribly for air -that was no longer there, holding onto his senses doggedly and grimly, -he made shift to close the outer door of the lock and to turn a valve. -He did not lose consciousness--quite--and as soon as he recovered -the use of his muscles he stripped off his suit and examined himself -narrowly in a mirror. - -Eyes, plenty bloodshot. Nose, bleeding copiously. Ears bleeding, but -not too badly; drums not ruptured, fortunately--he had been able to -keep the pressure fairly well equalized. Felt like some internal -bleeding, but he could see nothing really serious. He hadn't breathed -space long enough to do any permanent damage, he guessed. - -Then, baring his shoulder, he treated the wound with Zinmaster -burn-dressing. This was no trifle, but at that, it wasn't so bad. No -bone gone--it'd heal in two or three weeks. Lastly, he looked over his -suit. If he'd only had his G-P armor on--but that, of course, was out -of the question. He had a spare suit, but he'd rather--Fine, he could -replace the burned section easily enough. QX. - -He donned his other suit, re-entered the air lock, neutralized the -screens, and crossed over; where he did exactly what any other meteor -miner would have done. He divested the bloated corpses of their -spacesuits and shoved them off into space. He then ransacked the ship, -transferring from it to his own, as well as four heavy meteors, every -other item of value which he could move and which his vessel could -hold. Then inerting her, he gave her a couple of notches of drive -and cut her loose, for so a real miner would have done. It was not -compunction or scruple that would have prevented any miner from taking -the ship, as well as the supplies. Ships were registered, and otherwise -were too hot to be handled except by organized criminal rings. - -As a matter of routine he tested the meteor which had been the -innocent cause of all this strife--or had it been a bait?--and found -it worthless iron. Also as routine he kept on working. He had almost -enough metal now, even at Miners' Rest prices, for a royal binge, but -he couldn't go in until his shoulder was well. And a couple of weeks -later he got the shock of his life. - - * * * * * - -He had brought in a meteor; a mighty big one, over four feet in its -smallest diameter. He sampled it, and as soon as he cut the Berg and -flicked the sample experimentally from hand to hand, his skilled -muscles told him that that metal was astoundingly dense. Heart racing, -he locked the test-piece into the spee-gee; and that vital organ -almost stopped beating entirely as the indicator needle went up and -up and up--stopping at a full twenty-two, and the scale went only to -twenty-four! - -"Klono's brazen hoofs and diamond-tipped horns!" he ejaculated. -He whistled stridently through his teeth, then measured his find -as accurately as he could. Then, speaking aloud, "Just about -thirty thousand kilograms of something noticeably denser than pure -platinum--thirty million credits or I'm a Zabriskan fontema's maiden -aunt. What to do?" - -This find, as well it might, gave the Gray Lensman pause. It upset his -calculations. It was unthinkable to take that meteor to such a fence's -hide-out as Miners' Rest. Men had been murdered, and would be again, -for a thousandth of its value. No matter where he took it, there would -be publicity galore, and that wouldn't do. If he called a Patrol ship -to take the white elephant off his hands he might be seen; and he had -put in too much work on this identity to jeopardize it. He would have -to bury it, he guessed--he had maps of the System, and the fourth -planet was close by. - -He cut off a chunk of a few pounds' weight and made a nugget--a tiny -meteor--of it, then headed for the planet, a plainly visible disk some -fifteen degrees from the Sun. He had a fairly large-scale chart of the -System, with notes. Borova IV was uninhabited, except by low forms -of life, and by outposts. Cold. Atmosphere thin--good, that meant no -clouds. No oceans. No volcanic activity. Very good! He'd look it over, -and the first striking landmark he saw, from one diameter out, would be -his cache. - -He circled the planet once at the equator, observing a formation of -five mighty peaks arranged in a semicircle, cupped toward the world's -north pole. He circled it again, seeing nothing as prominent, and -nothing else resembling it at all closely. Scanning his plate narrowly, -to be sure nothing was following him, he drove downward in a screaming -dive toward the middle mountain. - -It was an extinct volcano, he discovered, with a level-floored crater -more than a hundred miles in diameter. Practically level, that is, -except for a smaller cone which reared up in the center of that vast, -desolate plain of craggy, tortured lava. Straight down into the cold -vent of the inner cone the Lensman steered his ship; and in its exact -center he dug a hole and buried his treasure. He then lifted his -tugboat fifty feet and held her there, poised on her raving underjets, -until the lava in the little crater again began sluggishly to flow, and -thus to destroy all evidence of his visit. This detail attended to, he -shot out into space and called Haynes, to whom he reported in full. - -"I'll bring the meteor in when I come--or do you want to send somebody -out here after it? It belongs to the Patrol, of course." - -"No, it doesn't, Kim--it belongs to you." - -"Huh? Isn't there a law that any discoveries made by any employees of -the Patrol belong to the Patrol?" - -"Nothing as broad as that, that I know of. Certain scientific -discoveries, by scientists assigned to an exact research, yes. But -you're forgetting again that you're an Unattached Lensman, and as -such are accountable to no one in the Universe. Even the ten percent -treasure-trove law couldn't touch you. Besides, your meteor is not in -that category, as you are its first owner, as far as we know. If you -insist I will mention it to the Council, but I know in advance that the -Patrol can claim none of it, even if we wanted to--which we definitely -do not." - -"QX, chief--thanks," and the connection was broken. - -There, that was that. He had got rid of the white elephant, yet it -wouldn't be wasted. If the zwilniks got him, the Patrol would dig it -up; if he lived long enough to retire to a desk job he wouldn't have to -take any more of the Patrol's money as long as he lived. Financially, -he was all set. - -And physically, he was all set for his first real binge as a -meteor miner. His shoulder and arm were as good as new. He had a lot -of metal; enough so that its proceeds would finance, not only his -next venture into space, but also a really royal celebration in any -spaceman's resort, even the one he had already picked out. - -For the Lensman had devoted a great deal of thought to that item. For -his purpose, the bigger the resort the better. The man he was after -would not be a small operator, nor would he deal directly with such. -Also, the big kingpins did not murder drugged miners for their ships -and outfits, as the smaller ones sometimes did. The big ones realized -that there was more long-pull profit in repeat business. - -Therefore, Kinnison set his course toward the great asteroid Euphrosyne -and its festering hell-hole, Miners' Rest. Miners' Rest, to all highly -moral citizens the disgrace not only of a solar system but of a sector; -the very name of which was--and is--a byword and a hissing to the -blue-noses of twice a hundred inhabited and civilized worlds. - - - - - XII. - - -As has been implied, Miners' Rest was the biggest, widest-open, least -restrained joint in that entire sector of the Galaxy. And through the -underground activities of his fellows of the Patrol, Kinnison knew -that of all the king-snipes of that lawless asteroid, the man called -Strongheart was the big shot. - -Therefore, the Lensman landed his battered craft at Strongheart's dock, -loaded the equipment of the hijacker's boat into a hand truck, and went -in to talk to Strongheart himself. "Supplies--Equipment--Metal--Bought -and Sold" the sign read; but to any experienced eye it was evident that -the sign was conservative indeed; that it did not cover Strongheart's -business, by half. There were dance halls, there were long and ornate -bars, there were rooms in plenty devoted to various games of so-called -chance, and most significant, there were scores of the unmistakable -cubicles in which the basest passions and lusts of man were satisfied. - -"Welcome, stranger! Glad to see you. Have a good trip?" The divekeeper -always greeted new customers effusively. "Have a drink on the house!" - -"Business before pleasure," Kinnison replied, tersely. "Pretty good, -yes. Here's some stuff I don't need any more that I aim to sell. -What'll you gimme for it?" - -The dealer inspected the suits and instruments, then bored a keen stare -into the miner's eyes; a scrutiny under which Kinnison neither flushed -nor wavered. - -"Two hundred and fifty credits for the lot," Strongheart decided. - -"Best you can do?" - -"Tops. Take it or leave it." - -"QX, they're yours. Gimme it." - -"Why, this just starts our business, don't it? Ain't you got cores? -Sure you have." - -"Yeah, but not for no"--doubly and unprintably qualified--"damn robber. -I like a louse, but you suit me altogether too damn well. Them suits -alone, just as they lay, are worth a thousand." - -"So what? For why go to insult me, a business man? Sure I can't give -what that stuff is worth--who could? You ought to know how I got to get -rid of hot goods. You killed, ain't it, the guys what owned it, so how -could I treat it except like it's hot? Now be your age--don't burn out -no jets," as the Lensman turned with a blistering, sizzling deep-space -oath. "I know they shot first, they always do, but how does that change -things? But keep your shirt on yet. I don't tell nobody nothing. For -why should I? How could I make any money on hot goods if I talk too -much with my mouth, huh? But on cores, that's something else again. -Meteors is legitimate merchandise, and I pay you as much as anybody, -maybe more." - -"QX," and Kinnison tossed over his cores. He had sold the bandits' -spacesuits and equipment deliberately, in order to minimize further -killing. - -This was his first visit to Miners' Rest, but he intended to become an -habitue of the place; and before he would be accepted as a "regular" -he knew that he would have to prove his quality. Buckoes and bullies -would be sure to try him out. This way was much better. The tale would -spread; and any gunman who had drilled two hijackers, dead-center -through the face-plates, was not one to be challenged lightly. He might -have to kill one or two, but not many, nor frequently. - -And the fellow was honest enough in his buying of the metal. His -Spaldings cut honest cores--Kinnison put micrometers on them to -be sure of that fact. He did not under-read his torsiometer, and -he weighed the meteors upon certified balances. He used Galactic -Standard average-value-density tables, and offered exactly half of the -calculated average value; which, Kinnison knew, was fair enough. By -taking his metal to a mint or rare-metals station of the Patrol, any -miner could get the precise value of any meteor, as shown by detailed -analysis. However, instead of making the long trip and waiting--and -paying--for the exact analyses, the miners usually preferred to take -the "fifty-percent-of-average-density-value" which was the customary -offer of the outside dealers. - - * * * * * - -Then, the meteors unloaded and hauled away. Kinnison dickered with -Strongheart concerning the supplies he would need during his next trip; -the hundred-and-one items which are necessary to make a tiny spaceship -a self-contained, self-sufficient, warm and inhabitable worldlet in the -immense and unfriendly vacuity of space. Here, too, the Lensman was -overcharged shamelessly; but that, too, was routine. No one would, or -could be expected to, do business in any such place as Miners' Rest in -any sane or ordinary percentage of profit. - -When Strongheart counted out to him the net proceeds of the voyage, -Kinnison scratched reflectively at his whiskery chin. - -"That ain't hardly enough, I don't think, for the real, old-fashioned, -stem-winding bender I was figuring on," he ruminated. "I been out a -long time and I was figuring on doing the thing up brown. Have to let -go of my nugget, too, I guess. Kinda hate to--been packing it around -quite a while--but here she is." He reached into his kit-bag and tossed -over the lump of really precious metal. "Let you have it for fifteen -hundred credits." - -"Fifteen hundred! An idiot you must be, or you should think I'm one, I -don't know?" Strongheart yelped, as he juggled the mass lightly from -hand to hand. "Two hundred, you mean ... well two fifty, then, but -that's an awful high bid, mister, believe me. I tell you, I couldn't -give my own mother over three hundred--I'd lose money on the goods. -You ain't tested it, what makes you think it's such a much?" - -"No, and I notice you ain't testing it, neither," Kinnison countered. -"Me and you both know metal well enough so we don't need to test no -such nugget as that. Fifteen hundred or I flit to a mint and get full -value for it. I don't have to stay here, you know, by all the nine -hells of Valeria. There's millions of other places where I can get just -as drunk and have just as good a time as I can here." - -There ensued howls of protest, but Strongheart finally yielded, as the -Lensman had known that he would. He could have forced him higher, but -fifteen hundred was enough. - -"Now, sir, just the guarantee and you're all set for a lot of fun." -Strongheart's anguish had departed miraculously upon the instant of -the deal's closing. "We take your keys, and when your money's gone -and you come back to get 'em, to sell your supplies or your ship or -whatever, we takes you, without hurting you a bit more than we have -to, and sober you up, quick as scat. A room here, whenever you want -it, included. Padded, sir, very nice and comfortable--you can't hurt -yourself, possibly. We been in business here for years, with perfect -satisfaction. Not one of our customers--and we got hundreds who never -go nowhere else--have we ever let sell any of the stuff he had laid in -for his next trip, and we never steal none of his supplies, neither. -Only two hundred credits for the whole service, sir. Cheap, sir--very, -_very_ cheap at the price." - -"Um-m-m"--Kinnison again scratched meditatively, this time at the nape -of his neck--"I'll take your guarantee, I guess, because sometimes, -when I get to going real good, I don't know just exactly when to -stop. But I won't need no padded cell. Me, I don't never get violent. -I always taper off on twenty-four units of bentlam. That gives me -twenty-four hours on the shelf, and then I'm all set for another -stretch out in the ether. You couldn't get me no benny, I don't -suppose, and if you could it wouldn't be no damn good." - -This was the critical instant, the moment the Lensman had been -approaching so long and so circuitously. Mind was already reading mind, -Kinnison did not need the speech which followed. - -"Twenty-four units!" Strongheart exclaimed. That was a heroic dose--but -the man before him was of heroic mold. "Sure of that?" - -"Sure I'm sure; and if I get cut weight or cut quality I cut the guy's -throat that peddles it to me. But I ain't out. I got a few good jolts -left. Guess I'll use my own, and when it gets gone go buy some from a -fella I know that's about half honest." - -"Don't handle it myself," this, the Lensman knew, was at least -partially true, "but I know a man who has a friend who can get it. -Good stuff, too, in the original tins; special import from Corvina II. -That'll be four hundred altogether. Gimme it and you can start your -helling around." - -"Whatja mean, four hundred?" Kinnison snorted. "Think I'm just blasting -off about having some left, huh? Here's two hundred for your guarantee, -and that's all I want out of you." - -"Wait a minute. Jet back, miner!" Strongheart had thought that the -newcomer was entirely out of his drug, and could therefore be charged -eight prices for it. "How much do you get it for, mostly, the clear -quill?" - -"One credit per unit--twenty-four for the jolt," Kinnison replied -tersely and truly. That was the prevailing price charged by retail -peddlers. "I'll pay you that, and I don't mean twenty-five, neither." - -"QX, gimme it. You don't need to be afraid of being bumped off or -rolled here, neither. We got a reputation, we have." - -"Yeah, I been told you run a high-class joint," Kinnison agreed, -amiably. "That's why I'm here. But you wanna be mighty sure that the -ape don't gyp me on the dose--looky here!" - - * * * * * - -As the Lensman spoke he shrugged his shoulders and the divekeeper -leaped backward with a shriek; for faster than sight two ugly -DeLameters had sprung into being in the miner's huge, dirty paws and -were pointing squarely at his midriff! - -"Put 'em away!" Strongheart yelled. - -"Look 'em over first," and Kinnison handed them over, butts first. -"These ain't like them buzzards' cap-pistols what I sold you. These are -my own, and they're hot and tight. You know guns, don't you? Look 'em -over, pal--real close." - -The renegade did know weapons, and he studied these two with care, -from the worn, rough-checkered grips and full-charged magazines to the -burned, scarred, deeply-pitted orifices. Definitely and unmistakably -they were weapons of terrific power; weapons, withal, which had seen -hard and frequent service; and Strongheart personally could bear -witness to the blinding speed of this miner's draw. - -"And remember this," the Lensman went on. "I never yet got so drunk -that anybody could take my guns away from me, and if I don't get a full -jolt of benny I get mighty peevish." - -The publican knew that--it was a characteristic of the drug--and he -certainly did not want that miner running amuck with those two weapons -in his highly capable hands. He would, he assured him, get his full -dose. - -And, for his part, Kinnison knew that he was reasonably safe, even in -this hell of hells. As long as he was active he could take care of -himself, in any kind of company, and he was fairly certain that he -would not be slain, during his drug-induced physical helplessness, -for the value of his ship and supplies. This one visit had yielded -Strongheart a profit of four or five times what he had left, and each -subsequent visit should yield a similar amount. - -"The first drink's on the house, always," Strongheart derailed his -guest's train of thought. "What'll it be? Tellurian ain't you--whiskey?" - -"Uh-huh. Close, though--Aldebaran II. Got any good old Aldebaranian -bolega?" - -"No, but we got some good old Tellurian whiskey, about the same thing." - -"QX--gimme a shot." He poured a stiff three fingers, downed it at a -gulp, shuddered ecstatically, and emitted a wild yell. "Yip-yip-yipee! -I'm Wild Bill Williams, the ripping, roaring, ritoo-dolorum from -Aldebaran II, and this is my night to howl. Whee ... yow ... -owrie-e-e!" Then, quieting down, "This rotgut wasn't never within a -million parsecs of Tellus, but it ain't bad--not bad at all. Got the -teeth and claws of holy old Klono himself--goes down your throat just -like swallowing a mad Radeligian cateagle. Clear ether, pal, I'll be -back shortly." - -For his first care was to tour the entire Rest, buying scrupulously one -good stiff drink, of whatever first came to hand, at each hot spot as -he came to it. - -"A good-will tour," he explained joyously to Strongheart upon his -return. "Got to do it, pal, to keep 'em from calling down the curse of -Klono on me, but I'm going to do all my serious drinking right here." - -And he did. He drank various and sundry beverages, mixing them with a -sublime disregard for consequences which surprised even the hard-boiled -booze fighters assembled there. "Anything that'll pour," he declared, -loud and often, and acted accordingly. Potent or mild; brewed, -fermented, or distilled; loaded, cut, or straight, all one. "Down the -hatch!" and down it went. Here was a two-fisted drinker whose like had -not been seen for many a day, and his fame spread throughout the Rest. - -[Illustration: _Miners' Rest was a meeting place for a dozen races of -meteor miners--and Kim, with free-flowing liquor, made friends with -them all!_] - -Being a "happy jag," the more he drank the merrier he became. He -bestowed largess hither and yon, in joyous abandon. He danced blithely -with the hostesses and tipped them extravagantly. He did not gamble, -explaining frequently and painstakingly that that wasn't none of his -dish; he wanted to have fun with his money. - -He fought, even, without anger or rancor; but gayly, laughing with -Homeric gusto the while. He missed with terrific swings that would -have felled a horse had they landed; only occasionally getting in, as -though by chance, a paralyzing punch. Thus he accumulated an entirely -unnecessary mouse under each eye and a sadly bruised nose. - -However, his good humor was, as is generally the case in such -instances, quite close to the surface, and was prone to turn into -passionate anger with less real cause even than the trivialities which -started the friendly fist-fights. During various of these outbursts of -wrath he smashed four chairs, two tables, and assorted glassware. - -But only once did he have to draw a deadly weapon--the news, as he -had known it would, had spread abroad that with a DeLameter he was -nobody to monkey with--and even then he didn't have to kill the guy. -Just winging him--a little bit of a burn through his gun-arm--had been -enough. - - * * * * * - -So it went for days. And finally, it was an immense relief that the -hilariously drunken Lensman, his money gone to the last millo, went -roistering up the street with a two-quart bottle in each hand; swigging -now from one, then from the other; inviting bibulously the while -any and all chance comers to join him in one last, fond drink. The -sidewalk was not wide enough for him, by half; indeed, he took up most -of the street. He staggered and reeled, retaining any semblance of -balance only by a miracle and by his rigorous spaceman's training. - -He threw away one empty bottle, then the other. Then, as he strode -along, so purposefully and yet so futilely, he sang. His voice was -not particularly musical, but what it lacked in quality of tone it -more than made up in volume. Kinnison had a really remarkable voice, -a bass of tremendous power, timbre, and resonance; and, pulling out -all the stops, in tones audible for two thousand yards against the -wind, he poured out his zestfully lusty reveler's soul. His song was -a deep-space chanty that would have blistered the ears of any of the -gentler spirits who had known him as Kimball Kinnison, of Earth; but -which, in Miners' Rest, was merely a humorous and sprightly ballad. - -Up the full length of the street he went. Then back, as he put it, to -"Base." Even if this final bust did make him sicker at the stomach than -a ground-gripper going free for the first time, the Lensman reflected, -he had done a mighty good job. He had put Wild Bill Williams, meteor -miner, of Aldebaran II, on the map in a big way. It wasn't a faked and -therefore fragile identity, either; it was solidly, definitely his own. - -Staggering up to his friend Strongheart he steadied himself -with two big hands upon the latter's shoulders and breathed a -forty-thousand-horsepower breath into his face. - -"I'm boiled like a Tellurian hoot-owl," he announced, still happily. -"When I'm this stewed I can't say 'partic-hic-hicu-lar-ly' without -hick-hicking, but I would partic-hic-hicularly just like one more -quart. How about me borrowing a hundred on what I'm going to bring in -next time, or selling you--" - -"You've had plenty, Bill. You've had lots of fun. How about a good -chew of sleep-happy, huh?" - -"That's a thought!" the miner exclaimed eagerly. "Lead me to it!" - - * * * * * - -A stranger came up unobtrusively and took him by one elbow. Strongheart -took the other, and between them they walked him down a narrow hall and -into a cubicle. And while he walked flabbily along Kinnison studied -intently the brain of the newcomer. _This_ was what he was after! - -The ape had had a screen; but it was such a nuisance he took it off -for a rest whenever he came here. No Lensman on Euphrosyne! They had -combed everybody, even this drunken bum here. This was one place that -no Lensman would ever come to; or, if he did, he wouldn't last long. -Kinnison had been pretty sure that Strongheart would be in cahoots with -somebody bigger than a peddler, and so it had proved. This guy knew -plenty, and the Lensman was taking the information--all of it. Six -weeks from now, eh? Just right--time to find enough metal for another -royal binge here. And during that binge he would really do things. - -Six weeks. Quite a while ... but ... QX. It would take some time yet, -anyway, probably, before the Regional Directors would, like this -fellow, get over their scares enough to relax a few of their most -irksome precautions. And, as has been intimated, Kinnison, while -impatient enough at times, could hold himself in check like a cat -watching a mouse hole whenever it was really necessary. - -Therefore, in the cell, he seated himself upon the bunk and seized -the packet from the hand of the stranger. Tearing it open, he stuffed -the contents into his mouth; and, eyes rolling and muscles twitching, -he chewed vigorously; expertly allowing the potent juice to trickle -down his gullet just fast enough to keep his head humming like a swarm -of angry bees. Then, the cud sucked dry, he slumped down upon the -mattress, physically dead to the world for the ensuing twenty-four G-P -hours. - -He awakened; weak, flimsy, and supremely wretched. He made heavy going -to the office, where Strongheart returned to him the keys of his boat. - -"Feeling low, sir." It was a statement, not a question. - -"I'll say so," the Lensman groaned. He was holding his spinning head, -trying to steady the gyrating universe. "I'd have to look up--'way, -'way up, with a number nine visiplate--to see a snake's belly in a -swamp. Make that damn cat quit stomping his feet, can't you?" - -"Too bad, but it won't last long." The voice was unctuous enough, but -totally devoid of feeling. "Here's a pickup--you need it." - -The Lensman tossed off the potion, without thanks, as was good -technique in those parts. His head cleared miraculously, although the -stabbing ache remained. - -"Come in again next time. Everything's been on the green, ain't it, -sir?" - -"Uh-huh, very nice," the Lensman admitted. "Couldn't ask for better. -I'll be back in five or six weeks, if I have any luck at all." - -As the battered but stanch and powerful meteorboat floated slowly -upward a desultory conversation was taking place in the dive he -had left. At that early hour business was slack to the point of -nonexistence, and Strongheart was chatting idly with a bartender and -one of the hostesses. - -"If more of the boys was like him, we wouldn't have no trouble at all," -Strongheart stated with conviction. "Nice, quiet, easygoing--why, he -didn't hardly damage a thing, for all his fun." - -"Yeah, but at that maybe it's a good gag nobody riled him up too much," -the barkeep opined. "He could be rough if he wanted to, I bet a quart. -Drunk or sober, he's chain lightning with them DeLameters." - -"He's so refined, such a perfect gentleman," sighed the woman. "He's -nice." To her, he had been. She had had plenty of credits from the big -miner, without having given anything save smiles and dances in return. -"Them two guys he drilled must have needed killing, or he wouldn't have -burned 'em." - -And that was that. As the Lensman had intended, Wild Bill Williams was -an old, known, and highly respected resident of Miners' Rest! - - * * * * * - -Out among the asteroids again; more muscle-tearing, back-breaking, -lonesome labor. Kinnison did not find any more fabulously rich -meteors--such things happen only once in a hundred lifetimes--but he -was getting his share of heavy stuff. Then one day when he had about -half a load there came, screaming in upon the emergency wave, a call -for help; a call so loud that the ship broadcasting it must be very -close indeed. Yes, there she was, right in his lap; startlingly large -even upon the low-power plates of his spacetramp. - -"Help! Spaceship _Hyperion_, position--" a rattling string of numbers. -"Bergenholm dead, meteorite screens practically disabled, intrinsic -velocity throwing us into the asteroids. Any spacetugs, any vessels -with tractors--hurry!" - -At the first word Kinnison had shoved his blast-lever full over. A few -seconds of free flight, a minute of inert maneuvering that taxed to the -utmost his Lensman's skill and powerful frame, and he was within the -liner's air lock. - -"I know something about Bergs!" he snapped. "Take this boat of mine and -pull! Are you evacuating passengers?" he shot at the mate as they ran -toward the engine room. - -"Yes, but afraid we haven't boats enough--overloaded," was the gasped -reply. - -"Use mine--fill 'er up!" If the mate was surprised at such an offer -from the despised spacerat he did not show it. There were many more -surprises in store. - -In the engine room Kinnison brushed aside a crew of helplessly futile -gropers and threw in switch after switch. He looked. He listened. Above -all, he pried into that sealed monster of power with all his sense of -perception. How glad he was now that he and Thorndyke had struggled -so long and so furiously with a balky Bergenholm on that trip to -tempestuous Trenco! For as a result of that trip he _did_ know Bergs, -with a sure knowledge. - -"Number four lead is shot somewhere," he reported. "Must be burned off -where it clears the pilaster. Careless overhaul last time--got to take -off the lower port third cover. No time for wrenches--get me a cutting -beam, and get the lead out of your pants!" - -The beam was brought on the double and the Lensman himself blasted -away the designated cover. Then, throwing an insulated plate over the -red-hot casing he lay on his back--"Hand me a light!"--and peered -briefly upward into the bowels of the Gargantuan mechanism. - -"I thought so," he grunted. "Piece of four-oh stranded, eighteen inches -long. Ditmars number six clip ends, spaced to twenty inches between -hole-centers. Myerbeer insulation on center section, doubled. Snap it -up! One of you other fellows, bring me a short, heavy screwdriver and a -Ditmars six wrench!" - -The technicians worked fast and in a matter of seconds the stuff was -there. The Lensman labored briefly but hugely; and much more surely -than if he were dependent upon the rays of the hand-lamp to penetrate -the smoky, steamy, greasy murk in which he toiled. Then: - -"QX--give her the juice!" he snapped. - -They gave it, and to the stunned surprise of all, she took it. The -liner again was free! - -"Kind of a jury-rigging I gave it, but it'll hold long enough to -get you into port, sir," he reported to the captain in his sanctum, -saluting crisply. He was in for it now, he knew, as the officer stared -at him. But he _couldn't_ have let that shipload of passengers get -ground up into hamburger. Anyway, there was no way out. - - * * * * * - -In apparent reaction he turned pale and trembled, and the officer -hastily took from his medicinal stores a bottle of choice brandy. - -"Here, drink this," he directed, proffering the glass: - -Kinnison did so. More, he seized the bottle from the captain's hand and -drank that, too--all of it--a draft which would have literally turned -him inside out a few months since. Then, to the captain's horrified -disgust, he took from his filthy dungarees a packet of bentlam and -began to chew it, idiotically blissful. Thence, and shortly, into -oblivion. - -"Poor devil--you poor, poor devil," the commander murmured, and had him -put into a bunk. - -When he had come to and had had his pickup, the captain came and -regarded him soberly. - -"You were a man once. An engineer, and a crackerjack; or I'm an oiler's -pimp," he said levelly. - -"Maybe," Kinnison replied, white and weak. "I'm all right yet, except -once in a while--" - -"I know," the captain frowned. "No cure?" - -"Not a chance. Tried dozens. So--" and the Lensman spread out his hands -in a hopeless gesture. - -"Better tell me your name, anyway--your real name. That'll let your -planet know that you aren't--" - -"Better not," the sufferer shook his aching head. "Folks think I'm -dead. Better let them keep on thinking so. Williams is the name, sir; -William Williams, of Aldebaran II." - -"As you say." - -"How far are we from where I boarded you?" - -"Close. Less than half a billion miles. This, the second, is our home -planet: your asteroid belt is just outside the orbit of the fourth." - -"I can hop it in an hour, easy. Guess I'll buzz off." - -"As you say," the officer agreed, again. "But we'd like to--" and he -extended a sheaf of currency. - -"Rather not, sir, thanks. You see, the longer it takes me to earn -another stake, the longer it'll be before--" - -"I see. Thanks, anyway, for us all," and captain and mate helped the -derelict embark. They scarcely looked at him, scarcely dared look at -each other, but-- - -Kinnison, for his part, was almost content. This story, too, would get -around. It would be in Miners' Rest before he got back there, and it -would help--help a lot. - -He did not see how he could possibly, or ever, let those officers know -the truth, even though he realized full well that at that very moment -they were thinking, pityingly: - -"The poor devil--the poor, brave devil!" - - - - - XIII. - - -The Gray Lensman went back to his mining with a will and with -unimpaired vigor, for his distress aboard the ship he had rescued had -been sheerest acting. One small bottle of good brandy was scarcely a -cocktail to the physique that had stood up under quart after quart of -the crudest, wickedest, fieriest beverage known to space; that tiny -morsel of bentlam--scarcely half a unit--affected him no more than a -lozenge of licorice. - -Three weeks. Twenty-one days, each of twenty-four G-P hours. At the -end of that time, he had learned from the mind of the zwilnik that -the Boskonian director of this, the Borovan solar system, would visit -Miners' Rest, to attend some kind of a meeting. His informant did not -know what the meeting was to be about, and he was not unduly curious -about it. Kinnison, however, did and was. - -The Lensman knew, or at least very shrewdly suspected, that that -meeting was to be a regional conference of big-shot zwilniks; he was -intensely curious to know all about everything that was to take place; -and he was determined to be present. - -Three weeks was lots of time. In fact, he should be able to complete -his quota of heavy metal in two, or less. It was there, there was no -question of that. Right out there were the meteors, unaccountable -thousands of millions of them, and a certain proportion of them carried -values. The more and the harder he worked, the more of these worthwhile -wanderers of the void he would find. Therefore he labored long, hard, -and rapidly, and his store of high-test meteors grew apace. - -To such good purpose did he use beam and Spalding drill that he was -ready more than a week ahead of time. That was QX--he'd much rather be -early than late. Something might have happened to hold him up--things -did happen, too often--and he had to be at that meeting! - -Thus it came about that, a few days before the all-important date, -Kinnison's battered treasure-hunter blasted herself down to her second -landing at Strongheart's dock. This time the miner was welcomed, not as -a stranger, but as a friend of long standing. - -"Hi, Wild Bill!" Strongheart yelled at sight of the big spacehound. -"Right on time, I see--glad to see you! Luck, too, I hope--lots of -luck, and all good, I bet me--ain't it?" - -"Ho, Strongheart!" the Lensman roared in return, pommeling the -divekeeper affectionately. "Had a good trip, yeah--a fine trip. Struck -a rich sector--twice as much as I got last time. Told you I'd be back -in five or six weeks, and made it in five weeks and four days." - -"Keeping tab on the days, huh?" - -"I'll say I do. With a thirst like mine a guy can't do nothing else--I -tell you all my guts're dryer than any desert on the whole of Mars. -Well, what're we waiting for? Check this plunder of mine in and let me -get to going places and doing things!" - -The business end of the visit was settled with neatness and dispatch. -Dealer and miner understood each other thoroughly, each knew what could -and what could not be done to the other. The meteors were tested and -weighed. Supplies for the ensuing trip were bought. The guarantee and -twenty-four units of benny--QX. No argument. No hysterics. No bickering -or quarreling or swearing. Everything on the green, all the way. -Gentlemen and friends. Kinnison turned over his keys, accepted a thick -sheaf of currency, and, after the first formal drink with his host, -set out upon the self-imposed, superstitious tour of the other hot -spots which would bring him favor--or at least would avert the active -disfavor--of Klono, his spaceman's deity. - - * * * * * - -This time, however, that tour took longer. Upon his first ceremonial -round he had entered each saloon in turn, had bought one drink of -whatever was nearest, had tossed it down, and had gone on to the next -place; unobserved and inconspicuous. Now, how different it all was! -Wherever he went he was the center of attention. - -Men who had met him before flung themselves upon him with whoops of -welcome; men who had never seen him clamored to drink with him; women, -whether or not they knew him, fawned upon him and brought into play -their every lure and wile. For not only was this man a hero and a -celebrity of sorts; he was a lucky--or a skillful--miner whose every -trip resulted in wads of money big enough to clog the under jets of a -Valerian freighter! Moreover, when he was lit up he threw it around -regardless, and he was getting stewed as fast as he could swallow. -Let's keep him here--or, if we can't do that, let's go along, wherever -he goes! - -This, too, was strictly according to the Lensman's expectations. -Everybody knew that he did not do any serious drinking glass by glass -at the bar, but bottle by bottle; that he did not buy individual drinks -for his friends, but let them drink as deeply as they would from -whatever container chanced then to be in hand; and his vast popularity -gave him a sound excuse to begin his bottle-buying at the start instead -of waiting until he got back to Strongheart's. He bought, then, several -or many bottles and tins in each place, instead of a single drink. And, -since everybody knew for a fact that he was a practically bottomless -drinker, who was even to suspect that he barely moistened his gullet -while the hangers-on were really emptying the bottles, flasks, and -flagons? - -And during his real celebration at Strongheart's, while he drank -enough, he did not drink too much. He waxed exceedingly happy and -frolicsome, as before. He was as profligate, as extravagant in tips. He -had the same sudden flashes of hot anger. He fought enthusiastically -and awkwardly, as Wild Bill Williams did, although only once or twice, -that time; and he did not have to draw his DeLameters at all--he was so -well known and so beloved! He sang as loudly and as raucously, and with -the same good taste in madrigals. - -Therefore, when the infiltration of thought-screened men warned him -that the meeting was about to be called Kinnison was ready. He was in -fact cold sober when he began his tuneful, last-two-bottles trip up -the street, and he was almost as sober when he returned to "Base," -empty of bottles and pockets, to make the usual attempt to obtain more -money from Strongheart and to compromise by taking his farewell chew of -bentlam instead. - -[Illustration: _As any man should under that mighty dose of bentlam, -Kim passed out--physically. But his mind reached out, even while the -attendants carried his dulled body out--_] - -Nor was he unduly put out by the fact that both Strongheart and the -zwilnik were now wearing screens. He had taken it for granted that -they might be, and had planned accordingly. He seized the packet as -avidly as before, chewed its contents as ecstatically, and slumped down -as helplessly and as idiotically. That much of the show, at least, -was real. Twenty-four units of that drug will paralyze _any_ human -body, make it assume the unmistakable pose and stupefied mien of the -bentlam-eater. But Kinnison's mind was not an ordinary one; the dose -which would have rendered any bona-fide miner's brain as helpless as -his body did not affect the Lensman's new equipment at all. Alcohol and -bentlam together were bad, but the Lensman was sober. Therefore, if -anything, the drugging of his body only made it easier to dissociate -his new mind from it. Furthermore, he need not waste any thought in -making it act. There was only one way it could act, now, and Kinnison -let his new senses roam abroad without even thinking of the body he was -leaving behind him. - - * * * * * - -In view of the rigorous orders from higher-up the conference room -was heavily guarded by screened men; no one except old and trusted -employees were allowed to enter it, and they were also protected. -Nevertheless, Kinnison got in, by proxy. - -A clever pickpocket brushed against a screened waiter who was about to -enter the sacred precincts, lightning fingers flicking a switch. The -waiter began to protest--then forgot what he was going to say, even as -the pickpocket forgot completely the deed he had just done. The waiter -in turn was a trifle clumsy in serving a certain big shot, but earned -no rebuke thereby; for the latter forgot the offense almost instantly. -Under Kinnison's control the director fumbled at his screen-generator -for a moment, loosening slightly a small but important resister. That -done, the Lensman withdrew delicately and the meeting was an open book. - -"Before we do anything," the director began, "show me that all your -screens are on." He bared his own--it would have taken an expert -service man an hour to find that it was not functioning perfectly. - -"Poppycock!" snorted the zwilnik. "Who in all the hells of space thinks -that a Lensman would--or _could_--come to Euphrosyne?" - -"No one can tell what this particular Lensman can or can't do, and -nobody knows what he is doing until just before he dies. Hence the -strictness. You've searched everybody here, of course?" - -"Everybody," Strongheart averred, "even the drunks and dopes. The whole -building is screened, besides the screens we're wearing." - -"The dopes don't count, of course, provided they're really doped." No -one, except the Gray Lensman himself, could possibly conceive of a -Lensman being--not seeming to be, but actually _being_--a drunken sot, -to say nothing of being a confirmed addict of any drug. "By the way, -who is this Wild Bill Williams that I've been hearing about?" - -Strongheart and his friend looked at each other and laughed. - -"I checked up on him early," the zwilnik chuckled. "He isn't the -Lensman, of course, but I thought at first he might be an agent. We -frisked him and his ship thoroughly--no dice--and checked back on him -as a miner, four solar systems back. He's clean, anyway; this is his -second bender here. He's been guzzling everything in stock for a week, -getting more pie-eyed every day, and Strongheart and I just put him to -bed with twenty-four units of benny. You know what _that_ means, don't -you?" - -"Your own benny or his?" the director asked. - -"My own. That's why I know he's clean. All the other dopes are, too. -The drunks we gave the bum's rush, like you told us to." - -"QX. I don't think there's any danger, myself--I think that the -hot-shot Lensman they're afraid of is still working Bronseca--but these -orders not to take any chances at all come from 'way, 'way up." - -"How about this new system they're working on, that nobody knows his -boss any more?" asked the zwilnik. "Hooey, I call it." - -"Not ready yet," the director answered. "They haven't been able to -invent one that is safe enough for them and yet will handle the volume -of work that has to be done. In the meantime, we're using these books. -Cumbersome, but absolutely safe, they say, unless and until the enemy -gets onto the idea. Then one group will go into the lethal chambers of -the Patrol and the rest of us will use something else. Some say that -this code can't be cracked without the key; others say any code can be -read in time. Anyway here's your orders. Pass them along. Give me your -stuff and we'll have supper and a few drinks." - -They ate. They drank. They enjoyed an evening and a night of high -revelry and low dissipation, each to his taste; each secure in the -knowledge that his thought-screen was one-hundred-percent effective -against the one enemy he really feared. Indeed, the screens were that -effective--then. The Lensman, having learned from the director all that -he knew, had restored the generator to full efficiency in the instant -of his relinquishment of control. - -Although the heads of the zwilniks, and therefore their minds, were -secure against Kinnison's prying, the books of record were not. And, -though his body was lying helpless, inert upon a drug-fiend's cot, his -sense of perception read those books; if not as readily as though they -were in his hands and open, yet readily enough. And, far off in space, -a power-brained Lensman yclept Worsel, recorded upon imperishable -metal a detailed account, including names, dates, facts, and figures, -of all the doings of all the zwilniks of a solar system! - -The information was coded, it is true; but, since Kinnison knew the -key, it might just as well have been printed in English. To the later -consternation of Narcotics, however, that tape was sent in under -Lensman's seal--the spool could not be opened until the Gray Lensman -gave the word. - - * * * * * - -In twenty-four hours Kinnison recovered from the effects of his -debauch. He got his keys from Strongheart. He left the asteroid. He -knew the mighty intellect with whom he had next to deal, he knew where -that entity was to be found; but, sad to say, he had positively no idea -at all as to what he was going to do or how he was going to do it. - -Wherefore it was that a sense of relief tempered, with no small degree, -the natural apprehension he felt upon receiving an insistent call from -Port Admiral Haynes. Truly this must be something really extraordinary, -for while during the long months of his service Kinnison had called the -chief of staff scores of times, Haynes had never before lensed him. - -"Kinnison! Haynes calling!" the message beat into his consciousness. - -"Kinnison acknowledging Haynes, sir!" the Gray Lensman thought back. - -"Am I interrupting anything important?" - -"No, sir, not at all. I'm just doing a little flit." - -"A situation has come up which we feel you should study, not only in -person, but also without advance information or preconceived ideas. Is -it at all possible for you to come into Prime Base immediately?" - -"Yes, sir, eminently so. In fact, a little time right now might do me -good in two ways--let me mull a job over, and let a nut mellow down to -a point where maybe I can crack it. At your orders, sir!" - -"Not orders, Kinnison!" the old man reprimanded him sharply. "No one -gives unattached Lensmen orders. We request or suggest, but you are the -sole judge as to where your greatest usefulness lies." - -"Please believe, sir, that your requests are orders, to me," Kinnison -replied in all seriousness. Then, more lightly, "Your calling me in -suggests an emergency, and traveling in this miner's scow of mine is -just a trifle faster than going afoot. How about sending out something -with some legs to pick me up?" - -"The _Dauntless_, for instance?" - -"Oh--you've got her rebuilt already?" - -"Yes." - -"I'll bet she's a sweet clipper! She was a mighty slick stepper before; -now she must have more legs than a centipede!" - -And so it came about that in a region of space entirely empty of all -other vessels as far as ultrapowerful detectors could reach, the -_Dauntless_ met Kinnison's tugboat. The two went inert and maneuvered -briefly, then the immense warship engulfed her tiny companion and -flashed away. - -"Hi, Kim, you old son-of-a-space-flea!" A general yell arose at sight -of him, and irrepressible youth rioted, regardless of Regs, in this -reunion of old comrades-in-arms who were yet scarcely more than boys in -years. - -"His Nibs says for you to call 'im, Kim, when we're about an hour -out from Prime Base," Commander Maitland informed his classmate -irreverently, as the _Dauntless_ neared the Solarian System. - -"Plate or Lens?" - -"Didn't say--as you like, I suppose." - -"Plate then, I guess--don't want to butt in." - -In a few moments chief of staff and Gray Lensman were in image -face-to-face. - -"How are you making out, Kinnison?" The Port Admiral studied the young -man's face intently, gravely, line by line. Then, upon his Lens, "We -heard about the shows you put on, clear over here on Tellus. A man -can't drink and dope the way you did without suffering consequences. -I've been wondering if even you can fight it off. How about it? How do -you feel now?" - -"Some craving, of course," Kinnison replied, shrugging his shoulders. -"That can't be helped--you can't make an omelette without breaking -eggs. However, I can assure you as a fact that it's nothing I can't -lick. I've got it pretty well boiled out of my system already." - -"Mighty glad to hear that, son. Only Ellison and I know who Wild -Bill Williams really is. You had us scared stiff for a while." Then, -speaking aloud: - -"I would like to have you come to my office as soon as is convenient -after you land." - -"I'll be there, chief, two minutes after we hit the bumpers," and he -was. - -"Right of way, Norma?" he asked, waving an airy salute at the -attractive young woman in Haynes' outer office. - -"Go right in, Lensman Kinnison, he's waiting for you," and opening the -door for him, she stood aside as he strode into the sanctum. - - * * * * * - -The Port Admiral returned the younger man's punctilious salute, then -the two shook hands warmly before Haynes referred to the third man in -the room. - -"Navigator Xylpic, this is Lensman Kinnison, unattached. Sit down, -please; this may take some time. Now, Kinnison, I want to tell you that -ships have been disappearing, right and left, disappearing without -sending out an alarm or leaving a trace. Convoying makes no difference, -as the escorts also disappear--" - -"Any with the new projectors?" Kinnison flashed the question via -Lens--this was nothing to talk about aloud. - -"No," came the reassuring thought in reply. "Every one bottled up tight -until we find out what it's all about. Sending out the _Dauntless_ -after you was the only exception." - -"Fine. You shouldn't have taken even that much chance." This interplay -of thought took but an instant; Haynes went on with scarcely a break in -his voice: - -"--with no more warning or report than the freighters and liners they -are supposed to be protecting. Automatic reporting also fails--the -instruments simply stop sending. The first and only sign of light--if -it _is_ such a sign; which, frankly, I doubt--came shortly before I -called you in, when Xylpic here came to me with a tall story." - -Kinnison looked then at the stranger. Pink. Unmistakably a -Chickladorian--pink all over. Bushy hair, triangular eyes, teeth, -skin; all that same peculiar color. Not the flush of red blood showing -through translucent skin, but opaque pigment; the brick-reddish pink so -characteristic of the near-humanity of that planet. - -"We have investigated this Xylpic thoroughly." Haynes went on, -discussing the Chickladorian as impersonally as though he were upon his -home planet instead of there in the room, listening. "The worse of it -is that the man is absolutely honest--or at least, he himself believes -that he is--in telling this yarn. Also, except for this one thing--this -obsession, fixed idea, hallucination, call it what you like; it seems -incredible that it _can_ be a fact--he not only seems to be, but -actually _is_, absolutely sane. - -"Now, Xylpic, tell Kinnison what you have told the rest of us. And -Kinnison, I hope that you can make sense of it--none of the rest of us -can." - -"QX. Go ahead, I'm listening." But Kinnison did far more than listen. -As the fellow began to talk the Gray Lensman insinuated his mind -into that of the Chickladorian. He groped for moments, seeking the -wave-length; then he, Kimball Kinnison, was actually reliving with the -pink man an experience which harrowed his very soul. - -"The Second Navigator of a Radeligian vessel died in space, and when -it landed on Chickladoria I took the berth. About a week out, the -whole crew went mad, all at once. The first I knew of it was when the -pilot on duty beside me left his board, picked up a stool, and smashed -the automatic recorder. Then he went inert and neutralized all the -controls. - -"I yelled at him, but he didn't answer me, and all the men in the -control room acted funny. They just milled around like men in a trance. -I buzzed the captain, but he didn't acknowledge either. Then the men -around me left the control room and went down the companionway toward -the main lock. I was scared--my skin prickled and the hair on the -back of my neck stood straight up--but I followed along, quite a ways -behind, to see what they were going to do. The captain, all the rest -of the officers, and the whole crew joined them in the lock. Everybody -was acting kind of crazy, and as if they were in an awful hurry to get -somewhere. - -"I didn't go any nearer--I wasn't going to go out into space without a -suit on. I went back into the control room to get at a spy ray, then -changed my mind. That was the first place they would come to if they -boarded us, as they probably would--other ships had disappeared in -space, plenty of them. Instead, I went over to a lifeboat and used its -spy. And I tell you, sirs, there was nothing there--nothing at all!" -The stranger's voice rose almost to a shriek, his mind quivered in an -ecstasy of horror. - -"Steady, Xylpic, steady," the Gray Lensman said, quietingly. -"Everything you've said so far makes sense. It all fits right into the -matrix. Nothing to go off the beam about, at all." - -"What! You believe me!" the Chickladorian stared at Kinnison in -amazement, an emotion very evidently shared by the Port Admiral. - -"Yes," the man in gray leather asserted. "Not only that, but I have a -very fair idea of what's coming next. G. A." - - * * * * * - -"The men walked out into space." The pink man offered this information -diffidently, although positively--an oft-repeated but starkly -incredible statement. "They did not float outward, sirs, they _walked_; -and they acted as if they were breathing air, not space. And as they -walked they sort of faded out; became thin, mistylike. This sounds -crazy, sir"--to Kinnison alone--"I thought then maybe I was cuckoo, and -everybody around here thinks I am now, too. Maybe I _am_ nuts, sir--I -don't know." - -[Illustration: _"I saw them walk out of the ship into space--but as -though they walked on something, something invisible. And they walked -into that ghost-ship, the hell-ship from nowhere--"_] - -"I do. You aren't," Kinnison said, calmly. - -"Well, and here comes the worst of it, they walked around just as -though they were in a ship, growing fainter all the time. Then some -of them lay down and something began to _skin_ one of them--skin him -alive, sir--but there was nothing there at all. I ran, then. I got into -the fastest lifeboat on the far side and gave her all the oof she'd -take. That's all, sir." - -"Not quite all, Xylpic, unless I'm badly mistaken. Why didn't you tell -the rest of it while you were at it?" - -"I didn't dare to, sir. If I'd told any more they would have _known_ I -was crazy instead of just thinking so--" He broke sharply, his voice -altering strangely as he went on: "What makes you think there was -anything more, sir? Do you--" The question trailed off into silence. - -"I do. If what I think happened really did happen, there was -more--quite a lot more--and worse. Wasn't there?" - -"I'll say there was!" The navigator almost exploded in relief. "Or -rather, I think now that there was. But I can't describe any of it very -well--everything was getting fainter all the time, and I thought that I -must be imagining most of it." - -"You weren't imagining a thing--" the Lensman began, only to be -interrupted by Haynes. - -"Hell's jingling bells!" that worthy almost shouted. "If you know what -it was, tell me!" - -"Think I know, but not quite sure yet--got to check it. Can't get -it from him--he's told everything he really knows. He didn't really -see anything, it was practically invisible. Even if he had tried to -describe the whole performance you wouldn't have recognized it. Nobody -could have, except Worsel and I, and possibly Van Buskirk. I'll tell -you the rest of what actually happened and Xylpic can tell us if it -checks." His features grew taut, his voice became hard and chill. "I -saw it done, once. Worse, I heard it. Saw it and heard it, clear and -plain. Also, I knew what it was all about, so I can describe it a lot -better than Xylpic possibly can. - -"Every man of that crew was killed by torture. Some were flayed alive, -as Xylpic said; then they were carved up, slowly and piecemeal. Some -were stretched, pulled apart by chains and hooks, on racks. Others -twisted on frames. Boiled, little by little. Picked apart, bit by bit. -Gassed. Eaten away by corrosives, one molecule at a time. Pressed out -flat, as though between two plates of glass. Whipped. Scourged. -Beaten gradually to a pulp. Other methods, lots of them--indescribable. -All slow, though, and extremely painful. Greenish-yellow light, showing -the aura of each man as he died. Beams from somewhere--possibly -invisible--consuming the auras. Check, Xylpic?" - -"Yes, sir, it checks!" The Chickladorian exclaimed in profound relief; -then added, carefully: "That is, that's the way the torture was, -exactly, sir, but there was something funny, a difference, about their -fading away. I can't describe what was funny about it, but it didn't -seem so much that they became invisible as that they went away, sir, -even though they didn't go any place." - -"That's due to the way that system of invisibility works. Got to -be--nothing else will fit into--" - -"The Overlords of Delgon!" Haynes rasped, sharply. "But if that's a -true picture, how in all the hells of space did this Xylpic, alone of -all the ship's personnel, get away clean? Tell me that!" - -"Simple!" the Gray Lensman snapped back as sharply. "The rest were -all Radeligians--he was the only Chickladorian aboard. The Overlords -simply didn't know that he was there. They didn't feel him at all. -Chickladorians think on a wave nobody else in the Galaxy uses--you must -have noticed that when you felt of him with your Lens. It took me half -a minute to synchronize with him. - -"As for his escape, that makes sense, too. The Overlords are slow -workers and when they're playing that game they really concentrate on -it--they don't pay any attention to anything else. By the time they got -done and were ready to take over the ship, he could be almost anywhere." - -"But he says that there was no ship there--nothing at all!" Haynes -protested. - -"Invisibility isn't hard to understand," Kinnison countered. "We've -almost got it ourselves--we undoubtedly could have it as good as that, -with a little more work on it. There was a ship there, beyond question. -Close. Hooked on with magnets, and with a spacetube, lock to lock. - -"The only peculiar part of it, and the bad part, is something you -haven't mentioned yet. What would the Overlords--if, as we must assume, -some of them got away from Worsel and his crew--be doing with a ship? -They never had any spaceships that I ever knew anything about, nor any -other mechanical devices requiring any advanced engineering skill. -Also, and most important, they never did and never could invent or -develop such an invisibility apparatus as that." - - * * * * * - -Kinnison fell silent, and while he frowned in thought Haynes dismissed -the Chickladorian, with orders that his every want be supplied. - -"What do you deduce from those facts?" the Port Admiral presently asked. - -"Plenty," the Gray Lensman said, darkly. "I smell a rat. In fact, it -stinks to high Heaven. Boskone." - -"You may be right," the chief of staff conceded. It was hopeless, he -knew, for him to try to keep up with this man's mental processes. "But -why, and above all, how?" - -"'Why' is easy. They both owe us a lot, and want to pay us in full. -Both hate us all to pieces. 'How' is immaterial. One found the other, -some way. They're together, just as sure as hell's a mantrap, and -that's what matters. It's bad. Very, _very_ bad, believe me." - -"Orders?" asked Haynes. He was a big man; big enough to ask -instructions from anyone who knew more than he did--big enough to make -no bones of such asking. - -"One does not give orders to the Port Admiral," Kinnison mimicked him -lightly, but meaningly. "One may request, perhaps, or suggest, but--" - -"Skip it! I'll take a club to you yet, you young hellion! You said -you'd take orders from me. QX--I'll take 'em from you. What are they?" - -"No orders yet, I don't think--" Kinnison ruminated. "No ... not until -after we investigate. I'll have to have Worsel and Van Buskirk; we're -the only three who have had experience. We'll take the _Dauntless_, I -think--it'll be safe enough. Thought-screens will stop the Overlords -cold, and a scrambler will take care of the invisibility business if -they use the same principle we do, and they very probably do." - -"Safe enough, then, you think, to let traffic resume, if they're -protected with screens?" - -"I wouldn't say so. They've got Boskonian superdreadnoughts now to use -if they want to, and that's something else to think about. Another week -or so won't hurt much--better wait until we see what we can see. I've -been wrong once or twice before, too, and I may be again." - -He was. Although his words were conservative enough, he was practically -certain in his own mind that he knew all the answers. But how wrong -he was--how terribly, how tragically wrong! For even his mentality -had not as yet envisaged the incredible actuality; his deductions and -perceptions fell far, far short of the appalling truth! - - - - - XIV. - - -The fashion in which the Overlords of Delgon had come under the ægis -of Boskone, while obscure for a time, was in reality quite simple and -logical; for upon distant Jarnevon the Eich had profited signally -from Eichlan's disastrous raid upon Arisia. Not exactly in the sense -suggested by Eukonidor, the Arisian guardian, it is true, but profited -nevertheless. They had learned that thought, hitherto considered only -a valuable adjunct to achievement, was actually an achievement in -itself; that it could be used as a weapon of surpassing power. - -Eukonidor's homily, as he more than suspected at the time, might as -well never have been uttered, for all the effect it had upon the life -or upon the purpose in life of any single member of the race of the -Eich. Eichmil, who had been Second of Boskone, was now First; the -others were advanced correspondingly; and a new Eighth and Ninth had -been chosen to complete the roster of the council which was Boskone. - -"The late Eichlan," Eichmil stated harshly after calling the new -Boskone to order--which event took place within a day after it became -apparent that the two bold spirits had departed to a bourne from which -there was to be no returning--"erred seriously, in fact fatally, in -underestimating an opponent, even though he himself was prone to harp -upon the danger of that very thing. - -"We are agreed that our objectives remain unchanged; and also that -greater circumspection must be used until we have succeeded in -discovering the hitherto unsuspected potentialities of pure thought. -We will now hear from one of our new members, the Ninth, also a -psychologist, who most fortunately had been studying this situation -even before the inception of the expedition which yesterday came to -such a catastrophic end." - -"It is clear," the Ninth of Boskone began, "that Arisia is at -present out of the question. Perceiving the possibility of some such -dénouement--an idea to which I repeatedly called the attention of my -predecessor psychologist, the late Eighth--I have been long at work -upon certain alternative measures. - -"Consider, please, that we learned first of the thought-screens from -Helmuth; who was then of the opinion that they were first used in the -Tellurian Galaxy by the natives of Velantia. This belief was amended -later, in discredited reports, to one that said devices did in fact -originate upon Arisia. This later conclusion we may now accept as -a fact, since the Arisians could and did break such screens by the -application of mental forces either of greater magnitude than they -could withstand or of some new and as yet unknown composition or -pattern. - -"Such screens were, however, and probably still are, used largely and -commonly upon the planet Velantia. Therefore they must have been both -necessary and adequate. The deduction is, I believe, defensible that -they were used as a protection against entities who were, and who -still may be, employing against the Velantians the weapons of pure -thought which we wish to investigate and to acquire. - -"I propose, then, that I and a few others of my selection continue this -research, not upon Arisia, but upon Velantia and perhaps elsewhere." - -To this suggestion there was no demur and a vessel set out forthwith. -The visit to Velantia was simple and created no untoward disturbance -whatever. In this connection it must be remembered that the natives -of Velantia, then in the early ecstasies of discovery by the Galactic -Patrol and the consequent acquisition of inertialess flight, were -fairly reveling in visits to and from the widely-variant peoples of -the planets of hundreds of other suns. It must be borne in mind that, -since the Eich were, if anything, physically more like the Velantians -than were the men of Tellus, the presence of a group of such entities -upon the planet would create no more interest or comment than that of -a group of human beings. Therefore that fateful visit went unnoticed -at the time, and as it was only by long and arduous research, after -Kinnison had deduced that some such visit must have been made, that it -was shown to have been an actuality. - -Space forbids any detailed account of what the Ninth of Boskone and -his fellows did, although that story of itself would be no mean epic. -Suffice it to say, then, that they became well acquainted with the -friendly Velantians; they studied and they learned. Particularly did -they seek information concerning the noisome Overlords of Delgon, -although the natives did not care to dwell at any length upon the -subject. - -"Their power is broken," they were wont to inform the questioners, with -airy flirtings of tail and wing. "Every known cavern of them, and not -a few hitherto unknown caverns, have been blasted out of existence. -Whenever one of them dares to obtrude his mentality upon any one of us -he is at once hunted down and slain. Even if they are not all dead, -as we think, they certainly are no longer a menace to our peace and -security." - - * * * * * - -Having secured all the information available upon Velantia, the Eich -went to Delgon, where they devoted all the power of their admittedly -first-grade minds and all the not inconsiderate resources of their ship -to the task of finding and uniting the remnants of what had once been a -flourishing race, the Overlords of Delgon. - -The Overlords! That monstrous, repulsive, amoral race which, not -excepting even the Eich themselves, achieved the most universal -condemnation ever to have been given in the long history of the -Galactic Union. The Eich, admittedly deserving of the fate which was -theirs, had and have their apologists. The Eich were wrong-minded, all -admit. They were anti-social, blood-mad, obsessed with an insatiable -lust for power and conquest which nothing except complete extinction -could extirpate. Their evil attributes were legion. They were, however, -brave. They were organizers par excellence. They were, in their own -fashion, creators and doers. They had the courage of their convictions -and followed them to the bitter end. - -Of the Overlords, however, nothing good has ever been said. They were -debased, cruel, perverted to a degree starkly unthinkable to any -normal intelligence, however housed. In their native habitat they had -no weapons, nor need of any. Through sheer power of mind they reached -out to their victims, even upon other planets, and forced them to -come to the gloomy caverns in which they had their being. There the -victims were tortured to death in numberless unspeakable fashions, and -while they died the captors _fed_, ghoulishly, upon the departing life -principle of the sufferer. - -The mechanism of that absorption is entirely unknown; nor is there -any adequate evidence as to what end was served by it in the economy -of that horrid race. That these orgies were not essential to their -physical well-being is certain, since many of the creatures survived -for a long time after the frightful rites were rendered impossible. - -Be that as it may, the Eich sought out and found many surviving -Overlords. The latter tried to enslave the visitors and to bend them -into their hideously sadistic purposes, but to no avail. Not only were -the Eich protected by thought-screens; they had minds of a fierce -power almost, if not quite, equal to the Overlord's own. And, after -these first overtures had been made and channels of communication -established, the alliance was a natural. - -Much has been said and written of the binding power of love. That, -and other noble emotions, have indeed performed wonders. It seems to -this historian, however, that all too little has been said of the -effectiveness of pure hate as a cementing material. Probably for good -and sufficient moral reasons; perhaps because--and for the best--its -application has been of comparatively infrequent occurrence. Here, -in the case in hand, we have history's best example of two entirely -dissimilar peoples working efficiently together under the urge, not of -love or of any other lofty sentiment, but of sheer, stark, unalloyed -and corrosive, but common, hate. - -Both hated civilization and everything pertaining to it. Both wanted -revenge; wanted it with a searing, furious need almost tangible; -a gnawing, burning lust which neither countenanced palliation nor -brooked denial. And above all, both hated vengefully, furiously, -esuriently--every way except blindly--an as yet unknown and -unidentified wearer of the million-times accursed Lens of the Galactic -Patrol! - -The Eich were hard, ruthless, cold; not even having such words in their -language as "conscience," "mercy," or "scruple." Their hatred of the -Lensman was then a thing of an intensity unknowable to any human mind. -Even that emotion, however, grim as it was and fearsome, paled beside -the passionately vitriolic hatred of the Overlords of Delgon for the -being who had been the Nemesis of their race. - -And when the sheer mental power of the Overlords, unthinkably great as -it was and operative withal in a fashion sheerly incomprehensible to us -of civilization, was combined with the ingenuity, resourcefulness, and -drive, as well as with the scientific ability of the Eich, the results -would in any case have been portentous indeed. - -In this case they were more than portentous, and worse. Those -prodigious intellects, fanned into fierce activity by fiery blasts of -hatred, produced a thing incredible. - - - - - XV. - - -Before the _Dauntless_ was serviced for the flight into the unknown -Kinnison changed his mind. He was vaguely troubled about the trip. It -was nothing as definite as a "hunch"; hunches are, the Gray Lensman -knew, the results of the operation of an extrasensory perception -possessed by all of us in greater or lesser degree. It was probably -not an obscure warning to his super-sense from another, more pervasive -dimension. It was, he thought, a repercussion of the doubt in Xylpic's -mind that the fading out of the men's bodies had been due to simple -invisibility. - -"I think I'd better go alone, chief," he informed the Port Admiral one -day. "I'm not quite as sure as I was as to just what they've got." - -"What difference does that make?" Haynes demanded. - -"Lives," was the terse reply. - -"_Your_ life is what I'm thinking about. You'll be safer with the big -ship, you can't deny that." - -"We-ll, perhaps. But I don't want--" - -"What you want is immaterial." - -"How about a compromise? I'll take Worsel and Van Buskirk. When the -Overlords hypnotized him that time it made Bus so mad that he's been -taking treatments from Worsel. Nobody can hypnotize him now, Worsel -says, not even an Overlord." - -"No compromise. I can't order you to take the _Dauntless_, since your -authority is transcendent. You can take anything you like. I can, -however, and shall, order the _Dauntless_ to ride your tail wherever -you go." - -"QX, I'll have to take her then." Kinnison's voice grew somber. "But -suppose half the crew don't get back--and that I do?" - -"Isn't that what happened on the _Brittania_?" - -"No," came flat answer. "We were all taking the same chance then--it -was the luck of the draw. This is different." - -"How different?" - -"I've got better equipment than they have. I'd be a murderer, cold." - -"Not at all, no more than then. You had better equipment then, too, -you know, although not as much of it. Every commander of men has that -same feeling when he sends men to death. But put yourself in my place. -Would you send one of your best men, or let him go alone on a highly -dangerous mission when more men or ships would improve his chances? -Answer that, honestly." - -"Probably I wouldn't," Kinnison admitted, reluctantly. - -"QX. Take all the precautions you can--but I don't have to tell you -that. I know you will." - - * * * * * - -Therefore it was the _Dauntless_ in which Kinnison set out a day or two -later. With him were Worsel and Van Buskirk, as well as the vessel's -full operating crew of Tellurians. As they approached the region of -space in which Xylpic's vessel had been attacked every man in the crew -got his armor in readiness for instant use, checked his side arms, and -took his emergency battle station. Kinnison turned then to Worsel. - -"How d'you feel, fellow old snake?" he asked. - -"Scared," the Velantian replied, sending a rippling surge of power the -full length of the thirty-foot-long cable of supple, although almost -steel-hard flesh that was his body. "Scared to the tip of my tail. Not -that they can treat me as they did before--we three, at least, are safe -from their minds--but at what they will _do_. Whatever it is to be, it -will not be what we expect. They certainly will not do the obvious." - -"That's what's clogging my jets." The Lensman agreed. "As a flapper -told me once, I'm getting the screaming meamies." - -"That's what you mugs get for being so brainy," Van Buskirk put in. -With a flick of his massive wrist he brought his thirty-pound spaceax -to the "ready" as lightly as though it were a Tellurian dress saber. -"Bring on your Overlords--squish! Just like that!" and a whistling -sweep of his atrocious weapon was illustration enough. - -"May be something in that, too, Bus," he laughed. Then, to the -Velantian, "About time to tune in one of 'em, I guess." - -He was in no doubt whatever as to Worsel's ability to reach them. He -knew that that incredibly powerful mind, without Lens or advanced -Arisian instruction, had been able to cover eleven solar systems: he -knew that, with his present ability, Worsel could cover half of space! - -Although every fiber of his being shrieked protest against contact with -the hereditary foe of his race, the Velantian put his mind en rapport -with the Overlords and sent out his thought. He listened for seconds, -motionless, then glided across the room to the thought-screened pilot -and hissed directions. The pilot altered his course sharply and gave -her the gun. - -"I'll take her over now," Worsel said, presently. "It'll look better -that way--more as though they had us all under control." - -He cut the Bergenholm, then set everything on zero--the ship hung, -inert and practically motionless, in space. Simultaneously twenty -unscreened men--volunteers--dashed toward the main air lock, overcome -by some intense emotion. - -"Now! Screens on! Scramblers!" Kinnison yelled; and at his words a -thought-screen enclosed the ship; high-powered scramblers--within whose -fields no invisibility apparatus could hold--burst into action. Then -the vessel was, right beside the _Dauntless_, a Boskonian in every line -and member! - -"Fire!" - -But even as she appeared, before a firing-stud could be pressed, the -enemy craft almost disappeared again; or rather, she did not really -appear at all, except as the veriest wraith of what a good, solid ship -of space-alloy ought to be. She was a ghost ship, as unsubstantial -as fog. Mist, tenuous, immaterial; the shadow of a shadow. A dream -ship, built of the gossamer of dreams, manned by figments of horror -recruited from sheerest nightmare. Not invisibility this time, Kinnison -knew with a profound shock. Something else--something entirely -different--something utterly incomprehensible. Xylpic had said it as -nearly as it could be put into understandable words--the Boskonian ship -was _leaving_, although it was standing still! It was monstrous--it -_couldn't be done_! - -Then, at a range of only feet instead of the usual "point-blank" range -of hundreds of miles, the tremendous secondaries of the _Dauntless_ -cut loose. At such a ridiculous range as that--why, the screens -themselves kept anything farther away from them than that ship -was--they _couldn't_ miss. Nor did they; but neither did they hit. -Those ravening beams went through and through the tenuous fabrication -which should have been a vessel, but they struck nothing whatever. They -went _past_--entirely harmlessly past--both the ship itself and the -wraithlike but unforgettable figures which Kinnison recognized at a -glance as Overlords of Delgon. His heart sank with a thud. He knew when -he had had enough; and this was altogether too much. - -"Go free!" he rasped. "Give 'er the oof!" - -Energy poured into and through the great Bergenholm, but nothing -happened; ship and contents remained inert. Not exactly inert, either, -for the men were beginning to feel a new and unique sensation. - -Energy raved from the driving jets, but still nothing happened. There -was none of the thrust, none of the reaction of an inert start; there -was none of the lashing, quivering awareness of speed which affects -every mind, however hardened to free flight, in the instant of change -from rest to a motion many times faster than that of light. - -"Armor! Thought-screens! Emergency stations all!" Since they could not -run away from whatever it was that was coming, they would face it. - - * * * * * - -And something was happening now, there was no doubt of that. Kinnison -had been seasick and airsick and spacesick. Also, since cadets must -learn to be able to do without artificial gravity, pseudo-inertia, and -those other refinements which make space liners so comfortable, he had -known the nausea and the queasily terrifying endless-fall sensations of -weightlessness, as well as the even worse outrages of the sensibilities -incident to inertialessness in its crudest, most basic applications. He -thought that he was familiar with all the untoward sensations of every -mode of travel known to science. This, however, was something entirely -new. - -He felt as though he were being compressed; not as a whole, but atom -by atom. He was being twisted--cork-screwed in a monstrously obscure -fashion which permitted him neither to move from his place nor to -remain where he was. He hung there, poised, for hours--or was it for -a thousandth of a second? At the same time he felt a painless, but -revolting transformation progress in a series of waves throughout his -entire body; a rearrangement, a writhing, crawling distortion, an -incomprehensibly impossible extrusion of each ultimate corpuscle of his -substance in an unknowable and non-existent direction! - -As slowly--or as rapidly--as the transformation had waxed, it waned. -He was again free to move. As far as he could tell, everything was -almost as before. The _Dauntless_ was about the same; so was the -almost-invisible ship attached to her so closely. There was, however, a -difference. The air seemed thick--familiar objects were seen blurrily, -dimly--distorted--outside the ship there was nothing except a vague -blur of grayness--no stars, no constellations. - -A wave of thought came beating into his brain. He had to leave the -_Dauntless_. It was most vitally important to go into that dimly-seen -companion vessel without an instant's delay! And even as his mind -instinctively reared a barrier, blocking out the intruding thought, he -recognized it for what it was--the summons of the Overlords! - -But how about the thought-screens, he thought in a semidaze, then -reason resumed accustomed sway. He was no longer in space--at least, -not in the space he knew. That new, indescribable sensation had been -one of _acceleration_--when they attained constant velocity it stopped. -Acceleration--velocity--in what? To what? He did not know. Out of space -as he knew it, certainly. Time was distorted, unrecognizable. Matter -did not necessarily obey the familiar laws. Thought? QX--thought, lying -in the subether, probably was unaffected. Thought-screen generators, -however, being material might not--in fact, did not--work. Worsel, Van -Buskirk, and he did not need them, but those other poor devils-- - -He looked at them. The men--all of them, officers and all--had thrown -off their armor, thrown away their weapons, and were again rushing -toward the lock. With a smothered curse Kinnison followed them, as did -the Velantian and the giant Dutch-Valerian. Into the lock. Through it, -into the almost invisible spacetube, which, he noticed, was floored -with a much denser-appearing substance. The air felt heavy; dense, -like water, or even more like metallic mercury. It breathed, however, -QX. Into the Boskonian ship, along corridors, into a room which was -precisely such a torture chamber as Kinnison had described. There they -were, ten of them; ten of the dragonlike, reptilian Overlords of Delgon! - - * * * * * - -They moved slowly, sluggishly, as did the Tellurians, in that thick, -dense medium which was not, could not be, air. Ten chains were thrown, -like pictures in slow motion, about ten human necks; ten entranced men -were led unresistingly to anguished doom. This time the Gray Lensman's -curse was not smothered--with a blistering deep-space oath he pulled -his DeLameter and fired--once, twice, thrice. No soap--he knew it, -but he had to try. Furious, he launched himself. His taloned fingers, -ravening to tear, went past, not around, the Overlord's throat; and the -scimitared tail of the reptile, fierce-driven, apparently went through -the Lensman, screens, armor, and brisket, but touched none of them in -passing. He hurled a thought a more disastrous bolt by far than he -had sent against any mind since he had learned the art. In vain--the -Overlords, themselves masters of mentality, could not be slain or even -swerved by any forces at his command. - -Kinnison reared back then in thought. There must be some ground, some -substance common to the planes or dimensions involved, else they could -not be here. The deck, for instance, was as solid to his feet as it -was to the enemy. He thrust out a hand at the wall beside him--it -was not there. The chains, however, held his suffering men, and the -Overlords held the chains. The knives, also and the clubs, and the -other implements of torture being wielded with such peculiarly horrible -slowness. - -To think was to act. He leaped forward, seized a maul, and made as -though to swing it in terrific blow; only to stop, shocked. The maul -did not move! Or rather, it moved, but _so_ slowly, as though he were -hauling it through putty! He dropped the handle, shoving it back, and -received another shock, for it kept on coming under the urge of his -first mighty heave--kept coming, knocking him aside as it came! - -Mass! Inertia! The stuff must be a hundred times as dense as platinum! - -"Bus!" he flashed a thought to the staring Valerian. "Grab one of these -clubs here--a little one, even _you_ can't swing a big one--and get to -work!" - -As he thought, he leaped again; this time for a small, slender knife, -almost a scalpel, but with a long, keenly thin blade. Even though it -was massive as a dozen broadswords he could swing it and he did so; -plunging lethally as he swung. A full-arm sweep--razor-edge shearing, -crunching through plated, corded throat--grisly head floating one way, -horrid body the other! - -Then an attack in waves of his own men! The Overlords knew what was -toward. They commanded their slaves to abate the nuisance, and the Gray -Lensman was buried under an avalanche of furious, although unarmed, -humanity. - -"Chase 'em off me, will you, Worsel?" Kinnison pleaded. "You're husky -enough to handle 'em all--I'm not. Hold 'em off while Bus and I polish -off this crowd, huh?" And Worsel did so. - -Van Buskirk, scorning Kinnison's advice, had seized the biggest thing -in sight, only to relinquish it sheepishly--he might as well have -attempted to wield a bridge-girder! He finally selected a tiny bar, -only half an inch in diameter and scarcely six feet long; but he found -that even this sliver was more of a bludgeon than any spaceaxe he had -ever swung. - -Then the armed pair went joyously to war, the Tellurian with his knife, -the Valerian with his magic wand. When the Overlords saw that a fight -to the finish was inevitable they also seized weapons and fought with -the desperation of the cornered rats they were. This, however, freed -Worsel from guard duty, since the monsters were fully occupied in -defending themselves. He seized a length of chain, wrapped six feet -of tail in an unbreakable anchorage around a torture rack, and set -viciously to work. - -Thus again the intrepid three, the only minions of civilization -theretofore to have escaped alive from the clutches of the Overlords -of Delgon, fought side by side. Van Buskirk particularly was in his -element. He was used to a gravity almost three times Earth's; he was -accustomed to enormously heavy, almost viscous air. This stuff, thick -as it was, tasted infinitely better than the vacuum that Tellurians -liked to breathe. It let a man _use_ his strength; and the gigantic -Dutchman waded in happily, swinging his frightfully massive weapon -with devastating effect. _Crunch! Splash! THWUCK!_ When that bar -struck it did not stop. It went through; blood, brains, smashed heads -and dismembered limbs flying in all directions. And Worsel's lethal -chain, driven irresistibly at the end of the twenty-five-foot lever of -his free length of body, clanked, hummed, and snarled its way through -reptilian flesh. And, while Kinnison was puny indeed in comparison with -his two brothers-in-arms, he had selected a weapon which would make his -skill count; and his wicked knife stabbed, sheared, and trenchantly bit. - -And thus, instead of dealing out death, the Overlords died. - - - - - XVI. - - -The carnage over, Kinnison made his way to the control board, which was -more or less standard in type. There were, however some instruments new -to him; and these he examined with care, tracing their leads throughout -their lengths with his sense of perception before he touched a switch. -Then he pulled out three plungers, one after the other. - -There was a jarring _thunk!_ and a reversal of the inexplicable, -sickening sensations he had experienced previously. They ceased; the -ships, solid now and still locked side by side, lay again in open, -familiar space. - -"Back to the _Dauntless_," Kinnison directed, tersely, and they went; -taking with them the bodies of the slain patrolmen. The ten who had -been tortured were dead; twelve more had perished under the mental -forces or the physical blows of the Overlords. Nothing could be done -for any of them save to take their remains back to Tellus. - -"What do we do with this ship? Let's burn her out, huh?" asked Van -Buskirk. - -"Not on Tuesdays--the College of Science would fry me to a crisp in my -own lard if I did," Kinnison retorted. "We take her in, as is. Where -are we, Worsel? Have you and the navigator found out yet?" - -"'Way, 'way out--almost out of the Galaxy," Worsel replied, and one of -the computers recited a string of numbers, then added, "I don't see how -we could have come so far in that short a time." - -"How much time was it--got any idea?" Kinnison asked, pointedly. - -"Why, by the chronometers--Oh--" the man's voice trailed off. - -"You're getting the idea. Wouldn't have surprised me much if we'd been -clear out of the known universe. Hyperspace is funny that way, they -say. Don't know a thing about it myself, except that we were in it for -a while, but that's enough for me." - -Back to Tellus they drove at the highest practicable speed, and at -Prime Base scientists swarmed over and throughout the Boskonian vessel. -They tore down, rebuilt, measured, analyzed, tested, and conferred. - -"They got some of it. All of it, they say, except the stuff that is of -real importance," Thorndyke reported to his friend Kinnison one day. -"Old Cardynge is mad as a cateagle about your report of that vortex, -or tunnel, or whatever it was. He says your lack of appreciation of the -simplest fundamentals is something pitiful, or words to that effect. -He's going to blast you to a cinder as soon as he gets hold of you." - -"Vell, ve can't all be first violiners in der orchestra, some of us got -to push vind through der trombone," Kinnison quoted, philosophically. -"I done my darnedest. How's a guy going to report accurately on -something he can't hear, see, feel, smell, taste, or sense? But I heard -that they've solved that thing of the interpenetrability of the two -kinds of matter. What's the low-down on that?" - -"Cardynge says it's simple. Maybe it is, but I'm a technician myself, -not a mathematician. As near as I can get it, the Overlords and their -stuff were treated or conditioned with an oscillatory wave of some -kind, so that under the combined action of the fields generated by -the ship and the shore station all their substance was rotated almost -out of space. Not out of space, exactly, either, more like, say, very -nearly one hundred eighty degrees out of phase; so that two bodies--one -untreated, our stuff--could occupy the same place at the same time -without perceptible interference. The failure of either force, such as -your cutting the ship's generators, would relieve the strain." - -"It did more than that--it destroyed the vortex ... but it might, at -that," the Lensman went on, thoughtfully. "It could very well be that -only that one special force, exerted in the right place relative to -the home-station generator, could bring the vortex into being. But how -about that heavy stuff, common to both planes, or phases, of matter?" - -"Synthetic, they say. Not as dense as it appears--that's due largely to -field-action, too. They're working on it now." - -"Thanks for the dope. I've got to flit--got a date with Haynes. I'll -see Cardynge later and let him get it off his chest," and the Lensman -strode away toward the Port Admiral's office. - - * * * * * - -Haynes greeted him cordially; then, at sight of the storm signals -flying in the Gray Lensman's eyes, he sobered. - -"QX," he said, wearily. "If we have to go over this again, unload it, -Kim." - -"Twenty-two good men," Kinnison said, harshly. "I murdered them. Just -as surely, if not quite as directly, as though I brained them with a -spaceaxe." - -"In one way, if you look at it fanatically enough, yes," the older man -admitted, much to Kinnison's surprise. "I am not asking you to look at -it in a broader sense, because you probably can't--yet. Some things you -can do alone; some things you can do even better alone than with help. -I have never objected; nor shall I ever object to your going alone -on such missions, however dangerous they may be. That is, and will -be, your job. What you are forgetting in the luxury of giving way to -your emotions is that the Patrol comes first. The Patrol is of vastly -greater importance than the lives of any man or group of men in it." - -"But I know that, sir," protested Kinnison. "I--" - -"You have a peculiar way of showing it, then," the Admiral broke in. -"You say that you killed twenty-two men. Admitting it for the moment, -which would you say was better for the Patrol--to lose those twenty-two -good men in a successful and productive operation, or to lose the life -of one Unattached Lensman without gaining any information or any other -benefit whatever thereby?" - -"Why ... I--If you look at it that way, sir--" Kinnison still knew that -he was right, but in that form the question answered itself. - -"That is the only way it can be looked at," the old man returned, -flatly. "No heroics on your part, no maudlin sentimentality. Now, as a -Lensman, is it your considered judgment that it is best for the Patrol -that you traverse that hyperspatial vortex alone, or with all the -resources of the _Dauntless_ at your command?" - -Kinnison's face was white and strained. He could not lie to the Port -Admiral. Nor could he tell the truth, for the dying agonies of those -fiendishly tortured boys still wracked him to the core. - -"But I can't order men into any such death as that," he broke out, -finally. - -"You must," Haynes replied, inexorably. "Either you take the ship as -she is or else you call for volunteers--and you know what that would -mean." - -Kinnison did, too well. The surviving personnel of the two -_Brittanias_, the full present complement of the _Dauntless_, -the crews of every other ship in Base, practically everybody on -the Reservation--Haynes himself certainly, even Lacy and old von -Hohendorff, everybody, even or especially if they had no business on -such a trip as that--would volunteer; and every man jack of them would -yell his head off at being left out. Each would have a thousand reasons -for going. - -"QX, I suppose. You win." Kinnison submitted, although with ill grace, -rebelliously. "But I don't like it, nor any part of it. It clogs my -jets." - -"I know it, Kim," Haynes put a hand upon the boy's shoulder, tightening -his fingers. "We all have to do it, it's part of the job. But remember -always, Lensman, that the Patrol is not an army of mercenaries or -conscripts. Any one of them--just as would you yourself--would go out -there, _knowing_ that it meant death in the torture chamber of the -Overlords, if in so doing he knew that he could help to end the torture -and the slaughter of non-combatant men, women, and children that is -now going on." - - * * * * * - -Kinnison walked slowly back to the Field; silenced, but not convinced. -There was something screwy somewhere, but he couldn't-- - -"Just a moment, young man!" came a sharp, irritated voice. "I have been -looking for you. At what time do you propose to set out for that which -is being so loosely called the 'hyperspatial vortex'?" - -He pulled himself out of his abstraction to see Sir Austin Cardynge. -Testy, irascible, impatient, and vitriolic of tongue, he had always -reminded Kinnison of a frantic hen attempting to mother a brood of -ducklings. - -"Hi, Sir Austin! Tomorrow--hour fifteen. Why?" The Lensman had too much -on his mind to be ceremonious with this mathematical nuisance. - -"Because I find that I must accompany you, and it is most damnably -inconvenient, sir. The Society meets Tuesday week, and that ass -Weingarde will--" - -"Huh?" Kinnison ejaculated. "Who told you that you had to go along, or -that you even _could_, for that matter?" - -"Don't be a fool, young man!" the peppery scientist advised. "It should -be apparent even to your feeble intelligence that after your fiasco, -your inexcusable negligence in not reporting even the most elementary -vectorial-tensorial analysis of that extremely important vortex, -someone with at least a rudimentary brain should--" - -"Hold on, Sir Austin!" Kinnison interrupted the harangue, "Do you mean -to say that you want to come along just to study the mathematics of -that damn--" - -"_Just_ to study it!" shrieked the old man, almost tearing his hair. -"You dolt--you blockhead! My God, why should anything with such a -brain be permitted to live? Don't you even know, Kinnison, that in -that vortex lies the solution of one of the greatest problems in all -science?" - -"Never occurred to me," the Lensman replied, unruffled by the old man's -acid fury. He had had weeks of it, at the Conference. - -"It is imperative that I go." Sir Austin was still acerbic, but the -intensity of his passion was abating. "I must analyze those fields, -their patterns, interactions and reactions, myself. Unskilled -observations are useless, as you learned to your sorrow, and this -opportunity is priceless--possibly it is unique. Since the data must be -not only complete but also entirely authoritative, I myself must go. -That is clear, is it not, even to you?" - -"No. Hasn't anybody told you that everybody aboard is simply flirting -with the undertaker?" - -"Nonsense! I have subjected the affair, every phase of it, to a rigid -statistical analysis. The probability is significantly greater than -zero--oh, ever so much greater, almost point one nine, in fact--that -the ship will return, with my notes." - -"But listen, Sir Austin," Kinnison explained patiently. "You won't have -time to study the generators at the other end, even if the folks there -felt inclined to give us the chance. Our object is to blow the whole -thing clear out of space." - -"Of course, of course--certainly! The mere generating mechanisms are -immaterial. Analyses of the forces themselves are the sole desiderata. -Vectors--tensors--performance of mechanisms in reception--ethereal and -subethereal phenomena--propagation--extinction--phase angles--complete -and accurate data upon hundreds of such items--slighting even one -would be calamitous. Having this material, however, the mechanism -of energization becomes a mere detail--complete solution and design -inevitable, absolute--childishly simple." - -"Oh," the Lensman was slightly groggy under the barrage. "The ship may -get back, but how about you, personally?" - -"What difference does that make?" Cardynge snapped fretfully. "Even if, -as is theoretically probable, we find that communication is impossible, -my notes have a very good chance--very good indeed--of getting back. -You do not seem to realize, young man, that to science that data is -_necessary_. It is _so_ evident that the persons or beings who are -operating it do not know, or are at least not utilizing, one percent of -its potentialities. They stumbled upon it--blundered into it--someone -with at least a rudimentary knowledge of science must analyze it, so -that the Conference may exhaust its real possibilities." - -Kinnison looked down at the wispy little man in surprise. Here was -something he had never suspected. Cardynge was a scientific wizard, -he knew. That he had a phenomenal mind there was no shadow of doubt, -but the Lensman had never thought of him as being physically brave. It -was not merely courage, he decided. It was something bigger--better. -Transcendent. An utter selflessness, a devotion to science so complete -that neither physical welfare nor even life itself could be given any -consideration whatever. - -"You think, then, that this data is worth sacrificing the lives of -four hundred men, including yours and mine, to get?" Kinnison asked, -earnestly. - -"Certainly, or a hundred times that many," Cardynge snapped, testily. -"You heard me say, did you not, that this opportunity is priceless, and -may very well be unique?" - -"QX, you can come," and Kinnison went on into the _Dauntless_. - - * * * * * - -Kinnison went to bed wondering. Maybe the chief was right. He woke up, -still wondering. Perhaps he was taking himself too seriously. Perhaps -he was, as Haynes had more than intimated, indulging in mock heroics. - -He prowled about. The two ships of space were still locked together. -They would fly together to and along that dread tunnel, and he had to -see that everything was on the green. - -He went into the wardroom. One young officer was thumping the piano -right tunefully and a dozen others were rending the atmosphere with -joyous song. In that room any formality or "as you were" signal was -unnecessary; the whole bunch fell upon their commander gleefully and -with a complete lack of restraint, in a vociferous hilarity very -evidently neither forced nor assumed. - -Kinnison went on with his tour. "What was it?" he demanded of himself. -Haynes didn't feel guilty. Cardynge was worse--he would kill forty -thousand men, including the Lensman and himself, without batting an -eye. These kids didn't give a damn. Their fellows had been slain by the -Overlords, the Overlords had in turn been slain. All square--QX. Their -turn next? So what? Kinnison himself did not want to die--he wanted to -live--but if his number came up that was part of the game. - -What was it, this willingness to give up life itself for an -abstraction? Science, the Patrol, Civilization--notoriously ungrateful -mistresses. Why? Some inner force--some compensation defying sense, -reason, or analysis? - -Whatever it was, he had it, too. Why deny it to others? What in all the -nine hells of Valeria was he griping about? - -"Maybe _I'm_ nuts!" he concluded, and gave the word to blast off. - -To blast off--to find and to traverse wholly that awful hypertube, at -whose far terminus there would be lurking no man knew what. - - - - - XVII. - - -Out in space Kinnison called the entire crew to a mass meeting, in -which he outlined to them as well as he could that which they were -about to face. - -"The Boskonian ship will undoubtedly return automatically to her dock," -he concluded. "That there is probably docking space for only one ship -is immaterial, since the _Dauntless_ will remain free. That ship is -not manned, as you know, because no one knows what is going to happen -when the fields are released in the home dock. Consequences may be -disastrous to any foreign, untreated matter within her. Some signal -will undoubtedly be given upon landing, although we have no means of -knowing what that signal will be and Sir Austin has pointed out that -there can be no communication between that ship and her base until her -generators have been cut. - -"Since we also will be in hyperspace until that time, it is clear -that the generator must be cut from within the vessel. Electrical -and mechanical relays are out of the question. Therefore two of our -personnel will keep alternate watches in her control room, to pull -the necessary switches. I am not going to order any man to such a -duty, nor am I going to ask for volunteers. If the man on duty is -not killed outright--this is a distinct possibility, although not -a probability--speed in getting back here will be decidedly of the -essence. It seems to me that the best interests of the Patrol will be -served by having the two fastest members of our force on watch. Time -trials from the Boskonian panel to our air lock are, therefore, now in -order." - -This was Kinnison's device for taking the job himself. He was, he knew, -the fastest man aboard, and he proved it. He negotiated the distance in -seven seconds flat, over half a second faster than any other member of -the crew. Then: - -"Well, if you small, slow runts are done playing creepie-mousie, get -out of the way and let folks run that really can," Van Buskirk boomed. -"Come on, Worsel, I see where you and I are going to get ourselves a -job." - -"But see here, you can't!" Kinnison protested, aghast. "I said members -of the crew." - -"No, you didn't," the Valerian contradicted. "You said 'two of our -personnel,' and if Worsel and I ain't personnel, what are we? We'll -leave it to Sir Austin." - -"Indubitably 'personnel,'" the arbiter decided, taking a moment from -the apparatus he was setting up. "Your statement that speed is a prime -requisite is also binding." - -Whereupon the winged Velantian flew and wriggled the distance in two -seconds, and the steel-thewed Dutch-Valerian ran it in three! - -"You big, knot-headed Valerian ape!" Kinnison hissed a malevolent -thought; not as the expedition's commander to a subordinate, but as an -outraged friend speaking plainly to friend. "You knew I wanted that job -myself, you clunker--damn your thick, hard crust!" - -"Well, so did I, you poor, spindly little Tellurian wart, and so did -Worsel," the giant warrior shot back in kind. "Besides it's for the -good of the Patrol--you said so yourself! Comb _that_ out of your -whiskers, half-portion!" he added, with a wide and toothy grin, as he -swaggered away, lightly brandishing his ponderous mace. - -The run to the point in space where the vortex had been was made on -schedule. Switches drove home, most of the fabric of the enemy vessel -went out of phase, the voyagers experienced the weirdly uncomfortable -acceleration along an impossible vector, and the familiar firmament -disappeared into an impalpable but impenetrable murk of featureless, -textureless gray. - -Sir Austin was in his element. Indeed, he was in the seventh heaven of -rapture as he observed, recorded, and calculated. He chuckled over his -interferometers, he clucked over his meters, now and again he emitted -shrill whoops of triumph as a particularly abstruse bit of knowledge -was torn from its lair. He strutted, he gloated, he practically purred -as he recorded upon the tape still another momentous conclusion or -a gravid equation, each couched in terms of such incomprehensibly -formidable mathematics that no one not a member of the Conference of -Scientists could even dimly perceive its meaning. - -Cardynge finished his work; and, after doing everything that could be -done to insure the safe return to Science of his priceless records, -he simply preened himself. He wasn't like an old hen, after all, -Kinnison decided. More like a lean, gray tomcat. One that has just -eaten the canary and, contemplatively smoothing his whiskers, is full -of pleasant, if somewhat sanguine visions of what he is going to do to -those other felines at that next meeting. - -Time wore on. A long time? Or a short? Who could tell? What possible -measure of that unknown and intrinsically unknowable concept exists -or can exist in that fantastic region of--hyperspace? Interspace? -Pseudospace? Call it what you like. - - * * * * * - -Time, as has been said, wore on. The ships arrived at the enemy base, -the landing signal was given. Worsel, on duty at the time, recognized -it for what it was--with his brain that was a foregone conclusion. He -threw the switches, then flew and wriggled as even he had never done -before, hurling a thought as he came. - -And as the Velantian, himself in the throes of weird deceleration, tore -through the thinning atmosphere, the queasy Gray Lensman watched the -development about them of a forbiddingly inimical scene. - -They were materializing upon a landing field of sorts, a smooth and -level expanse of black igneous rock. Two suns, one hot and close, one -pale and distant, cast the impenetrable shadows so characteristic of -an airless world. Dwarfed by distance, but still massively, craggily -tremendous, there loomed the encircling rampart of the volcanic crater -upon whose floor the fortress lay. - -And what a fortress! New--raw--crude--but fanged with armament of -might. There was the typically Boskonian dome of control, there were -powerful ships of war in their cradles, there beside the _Dauntless_ -was very evidently the power plant in which was generated the cryptic -force which made interdimensional transit an actuality. But, and here -was the saving factor which the Lensman had dared only half hope to -find, those ultrapowerful defensive mechanisms were mounted to resist -attack from without, not from within. It had not occurred to the foe, -even as a possibility, that the Patrol might come upon them in panoply -of war through their own hyperspatial tube! - -Kinnison knew that it was useless to assault that dome. He could, -perhaps, crack its screens with his primaries, but he did not have -enough stuff to reduce the whole establishment and therefore could not -use the primaries at all. Since the enemy had been taken completely by -surprise, however, he had a lot of time--at least a minute, perhaps a -trifle more--and in that time the old _Dauntless_ could do a lot of -damage. The power plant came first; that was what they had come out -here to get. - -"All secondaries fire at will!" Kinnison barked into his microphone. -He was already at his conning board, every man of the crew was at his -station. "All of you who can reach twenty-seven, three-oh-eight, hit -it--hard. The rest of you do as you please." - -Every beam which could be brought to bear upon the powerhouse, and -there were plenty of them, flamed out practically as one. The -building stood for an instant, starkly outlined in a raging inferno -of incandescence, then slumped down flabbily; its upper, nearer parts -flaring away in clouds of sparklingly luminous vapor even as its -lower members flowed sluggishly together in streams of molted metal. -Deeper and deeper bored the frightful beams; foundations, subcellars, -structural members and Gargantuan mechanisms uniting with the obsidian -of the crater's floor to form a lake of bubbling, frothing lava. - -"QX--that's good!" Kinnison snapped. "Scatter your stuff, fellows--hit -'em!" - -Kinnison then spoke to Henderson, his chief pilot. "Lift us up a bit, -Hen, to give the boys a better sight. Be ready to flit, fast; all -hell's going to be out for noon any second now!" - -Ships--warships of Boskone's mightiest--caught cold. Some crewless; -some half-manned; none ready for the stunning surprise attack of the -Patrolmen. Through and through them the ruthless beams tore; leaving, -not ships, but nondescript masses of half-fused metal. Hangars, machine -shops, supply depots suffered the same fate; a good third of the -establishment became a smoking, smoldering heap of junk. - -Then, one by one, the fixed-mount weapons of the enemy, by dint of -what Herculean efforts can only be surmised, were brought to bear -upon the bold invader. Brighter and brighter flamed her prodigiously -powerful defensive screens. Number One faded out; crushed flat by -the hellish energies of Boskone's projectors. Number Two flared into -ever more spectacular pyrotechnics, until soon even its tremendous -resources of power became inadequate--blotchily, in discrete areas, -clinging to existence when all the might of its Medonian generators and -transmitters, it, too, began to fall. - -"Better we flit, Hen, while we're all in one piece--right now," -Kinnison advised the pilot then. "And I don't mean loaf, either. Let's -see you burn a hole in the ether." - -Henderson's fingers swept over his board, depressing to maximum and -locking down key after key. Blast after blast flared from her jets of -energies of an intensity almost to pale the brilliance of the madly -warring screens, and to Boskone's observers the immense Patrol raider -vanished from all ken. - - * * * * * - -At that drive, the _Dauntless_ incomprehensible maximum, there was -little danger of pursuit: for, as well as being the biggest and the -most powerfully armed, she was also the fastest thing in space. - -Out in open intergalactic space--safe--discipline went by the board as -though on signal and all hands joined in a release of pent-up emotion. -Kinnison threw off his armor and, seizing the scandalized and highly -outraged Cardynge, spun him around in dizzying, though effortless -circles. - -"Didn't lose a man--NOT A MAN!" he yelled, exuberantly. - -He plucked the now idle Henderson from his board and wrestled with -him, only to drift lightly away, ahead of a tremendous slap aimed at -his back by Van Buskirk. Inertialessness takes most of the edge off -rough housing, but the performance did relieve the tension and soon the -ebullient youths quieted down. - -The enemy base was located well outside the Galaxy. Not, as Kinnison -had feared, in the Second Galaxy, but in a star cluster not too far -removed from the first. Hence the flight to Prime Base did not take -long. - -Sir Austin Cardynge was more like a self-satisfied tomcat than ever as -he gathered up his records, gave a corps of aides minute instructions -regarding the packing of his equipment, and set out, figuratively -but very evidently licking his chops, rehearsing the scene in which -he would confound his allegedly learned fellows, especially that -insufferable puppy, that upstart Weingarde. - -"And that's that," Kinnison concluded his informal report to Haynes. -"They're all washed up, there, at least. Before they can rebuild, you -can wipe out the whole nest. If there should happen to be one or two -more such bases, the boys know now how to handle them. I think I'd -better be getting back onto my own job, don't you?" - -"Probably so," Haynes thought for moments, then continued: "Can you use -help, or can you work better alone?" - -"I've been thinking about that. The higher the tougher, and it might -not be a bad idea at all to have Worsel standing by in my speedster; -close by and ready all the time. He's pretty much of an army himself, -mental and physical. QX?" - -"Can do," and thus it came about that the good ship _Dauntless_ flew -again, this time out Borova way; her sole freight a sleek black -speedster and a rusty, battered meteor-tug, her passengers a sinuous -Velantian and a husky Tellurian. - -"Sort of a thin time for you, old man, I'm afraid." Kinnison -leaned unconcernedly against the towering pillar of his friend's -tail, whereupon four or five grotesquely stalked eyes curled out -at him speculatively. To these two, each other's appearance and -shape were neither repulsive nor strange. They were friends, in -the deepest, truest sense. "He's so hideous that he's positively -distinguished-looking," each had boasted more than once of the other to -friends of his own race. - -"Nothing like that." The Velantian flashed out a leather wing and -flipped his tail aside in a playfully unsuccessful attempt to catch the -Earthman off balance. "Some day, if you ever learn really to think, you -will discover that a few weeks' solitary, undisturbed and concentrated -thought is a rare treat. To have such an opportunity in the line of -duty makes it a pleasure unalloyed." - -"I always did think that you were slightly screwy at times, and now I -know it," Kinnison retorted, unconvinced. "Thought is--or should be--a -means to an end, not an end in itself; but if that's your idea of a -wonderful time I'm glad to be able to give it to you." - - * * * * * - -They disembarked carefully in far space, the complete absence of -spectators assured by the warship's fullest reach of detectors, and -Kinnison again went down to Miners' Rest. Not, this time, to carouse. -Miners were not carousing there. Instead, the whole asteroid was -buzzing with news of the fabulously rich finds which were being made in -the distant solar system of Tressilia. - -Kinnison had known that the news would be there, for it was at his -instructions that those rich meteors had been placed there to be -found. Tressilia III was the home of the Regional Director with whom -the Gray Lensman had important business to transact; he had to have a -solid reason, not a mere excuse, for Bill Williams to leave Borova for -Tressilia. - -The lure of wealth, then as ever, was stronger even than that of drink -or of drug. Miners came to revel, but instead they outfitted in haste -and hied themselves to the new Klondike. Nor was this anything out -of the ordinary. Such stampedes occurred every once in a while, and -Strongheart and his minions were not unduly concerned. They'd be back, -and in the meantime there was the profit on a lot of metal and an -excess profit due to the skyrocketing prices of supplies. - -"You too, Bill?" Strongheart asked without surprise. - -"I'll tell the Universe!" came ready answer. "If there's metal there, -I'll find it, pal." In making this declaration he was not boasting, he -was merely voicing a simple truth. By this time the meteor belts of -a hundred solar systems knew for a fact that Wild Bill Williams, of -Aldebaran II could find metal if metal was there to be found. - -"If it's a bloomer, Bill, come back," the divekeeper urged. "Come back -anyway when you've worked it a couple of drunks." - -"I'll do that, Strongheart old pal, I sure will," the Lensman agreed, -amiably enough. "You run a nice joint here and I like it." - -Thus Kinnison went to the asteroid belts of Tressilia and there Bill -Williams found rich metal. Or, more precisely, he dumped out into -space and then recovered a very special meteor indeed--one in whose -fabrication Kinnison's own treasure-trove had played a leading part. He -did not find it the first day, of course, nor during the first week--it -would be a trifle smelly to have even Wild Bill strike it rich too -soon--but after a decent interval of time. - -His Tressilian find had to be very much worth while, far too much so -to be left to chance; for Edmund Crowninshield, the Regional Director, -inhabited no such rawly obvious dive as Miners' Rest. He catered only -to the upper crust; meteor miners and other similar scum were never -permitted to enter his door. - -When Kinnison repaired the Bergenholm of the Borovan spaceliner he had, -by sheerest accident, laid the groundwork of a perfect approach, and -now he was taking advantage of the circumstance. That incident had been -reported widely: it was well known that Wild Bill Williams had been a -gentleman once. If he should strike it rich--really rich--what would be -more natural than that he should forsake the noisesome space hells he -had been wont to frequent in favor of such gilded palaces of sin as the -Crown-On-Shield? - -In due time, then, Kinnison "found" his special meteor, which was big -enough and rich enough so that any miner would have taken it to a -Patrol station instead of to a space robber. He disposed of his whole -load by analysis; then, with more money in the bank than William -Williams had ever dreamed of having, he hesitated visibly before -embarking upon one of the gorgeous, spectacular sprees from which he -had derived his nickname. He hesitated; then, with an effort apparent -to all observers, he changed his mind. - -He had been a gentleman once, he would be again. He had his hair cut, -he had himself shaved every day. Manicurists dug away and scrubbed -away the ingrained grime from his hardened, meteor-miner's paws. His -nails, even, became pink and glossy. He bought clothes, including the -full-dress shorts, barrel-top jacket, and voluminous cloak of the -Aldebaranian gentleman, and wore them with easy grace. - -And in the meantime he was drinking steadily. He drank, however, only -the choicest beverages; decorously and--for him--sparingly. Thus, -while he was seldom what could be called strictly sober, he was never -really drunk. He shunned low resorts, living in the best hotels and -frequenting only the finest taverns. The finest, that is, with one -exception, the Crown-On-Shield. Not only did he not go there, he never -spoke of or would discuss the place. It was as though for him it did -not exist. - -Occasionally he escorted--oh, so correctly!--a charming companion to -supper or to the theater, but ordinarily he was alone. Alone by choice. -Aloof, austere, possibly not quite sure of himself. He rebuffed all -attempts to inveigle him into any one of the numerous cliques with -which the "upper crust" abounded. He waited for what he knew would come. - - * * * * * - -Underlings of gradually increasing numbers and importance came to him -with invitations to the Crown-On-Shield, but he refused them all; -curtly, definitely, and without giving reason or excuse. In the light -of what he was going to do there he could not be seen in the place -unless and until it was clear to all that the visit was not of his -design. Finally Crowninshield himself met the ex-miner as though by -accident. - -"Why haven't you been out to our place, Mr. Williams?" he asked, -heartily. - -"Because I didn't want to, and don't want to," Kinnison replied, flatly -and definitely. - -"But why?" demanded the Boskonian Director, this time in genuine -surprise. "It's getting talked about--_everybody_ comes to the -Crown!--people are wondering why you never even look in on us." - -"You know who I am, don't you?" The Lensman's voice was coldly level, -uninflected. - -"Certainly. William Williams, formerly of Aldebaran II." - -"No. Wild Bill Williams, meteor miner. The Crown-On-Shield boasts that -it does not solicit the patronage of men of my profession. If I go -there, some dim-wit will start blasting off about miners. Then you'll -have the job of mopping him up off the floor with a sponge and the -Patrol will be after me with a speedster. Thanks just the same, but -none of that for me." - -"Oh, is _that_ all?" Crowninshield smiled in relief. "Perhaps a natural -misapprehension, Mr. Williams, but you are entirely mistaken. It is -true that practicing miners do not find our society congenial, but -you are no longer a miner and we never refer to any man's past. As an -Aldebaranian gentleman we would welcome you. And, in the extremely -remote contingency to which you refer, I assure you that you would not -have to act. Any guest so boorish would be expelled." - -"In that case I would really enjoy spending a little time with you. It -has been a long time since I associated with persons of breeding," he -explained, with engaging candor. - -"I'll have a boy see to the transfer of your things," and thus the Gray -Lensman allowed the zwilnik to persuade him to visit the one place in -the Universe where he most ardently wished to be. - -For days in the new environment everything went on with the utmost -decorum and circumspection, but Kinnison was not deceived. They would -feel him out some way, just as effectively if not as crassly as did -the zwilniks of Miners' Rest. They would have to--this was Regional -Headquarters. At first he had been suspicious of thionite, but since -the high-ups were not wearing anti-thionite plugs in their nostrils, he -wouldn't have to either. - -Then one evening a girl--young, pretty, vivacious--approached him, a -pinch of purple powder between her fingers. As the Gray Lensman he knew -that the stuff was not thionite, but as William Williams he did not. - -"_Do_ have a tiny smell of thionite, Mr. Williams!" she urged, -coquettishly, and made as though to blow it into his face. - -Williams reacted strangely, but instantaneously. He ducked with -startling speed and the flat of his palm smacked ringingly against the -girl's cheek. He did not slap her hard--it looked and sounded much -worse than it really was--the only actual force was in the follow-up -push that sent her flying across the room. - -"Whatja mean, you? You can't slap girls around like that here!" and the -chief bouncer came at him with a rush. - -This time the Lensman did not pull his punch. He struck with everything -he had, from heels to fingertips. Such was the sheer brute power of -the blow that the bouncer literally somersaulted the length of the -room, bringing up with a crash against the distant wall; so accurate -was its placement that the victim, while not killed outright, would be -unconscious for many hours to come. - -Others turned then, and paused; for Williams was not running away; he -was not even giving ground. Instead, he stood lightly poised upon the -balls of his feet, knees bent the veriest trifle, arms hanging at -ready, eyes as hard and as cold as the iron meteorites of the space he -knew so well. - -"Any others of you damn zwilniks want to make a pass at me?" he -demanded, and a concerted gasp arose: the word "zwilnik" was in those -circles far worse than a mere fighting word. It was absolutely taboo: -it was _never_, under any circumstance, uttered. - -Nevertheless, no action was taken. At first the cold arrogance, the -sheer effrontery of the man's pose held them in check; then they -noticed one thing and remembered another, the combination of which gave -them most emphatically to pause. - -No garment, even by the most deliberate intent, could possibly have -been designed as a better hiding place for DeLameters than the -barrel-topped full-dress jacket of Aldebaran II; and-- - -Mr. William Williams, poised there in steel-spring readiness for -action; so coldly self-confident; so inexplicably, so scornfully -derisive of that whole roomful of men not a few of whom he knew must be -armed; was also the Wild Bill Williams, meteor miner, who was widely -known as the fastest and deadliest performer with twin DeLameters who -had ever infested space! - - - - - XVIII. - - -Edmund Crowninshield sat in his office and seethed quietly, the -all-pervasive blueness of the Kalonian brought out even more -prominently than usual by his mood. His plan to find out whether or not -the ex-miner was a spy had backfired, badly. He had had reports from -Euphrosyne that the fellow was not--_could_ not be--a spy, and now his -test had confirmed that conclusion, too thoroughly by far. He would -have to do some mighty quick thinking and perhaps some salve-spreading -or lose him. He certainly didn't want to lose a client who had over a -quarter of a million credits to throw away, and who could not possibly -resist his cravings for alcohol and bentlam much longer! But curse him, -what had the fellow meant by having a kit-bag built of indurite, with a -lock on it that not even his cleverest artists could pick! - -"Come in," he called, unctuously, in answer to a tap. "Oh, it's you! -What did you find out?" - -"Janice isn't hurt. He didn't make a mark on her--just gave her a shove -and scared hell out of her. But Clovis was nudged, believe me. He's -still out--will be for hours, the doctor says. What a sock that guy's -got! Clovis looks like he'd been hit with a Valerian maul." - -"You're sure he was armed?" - -"Must have been. Typical gun fighter's crouch. He was ready, not -bluffing, believe me. The man don't live that could bluff a roomful of -us like that. He was betting that he could whiff us all before we could -get a gun out, and I wouldn't wonder if he was right." - -"QX. Beat it, and don't let anyone come near here except Williams." - -Therefore the ex-miner was the next visitor. - -"You wanted to see me, Crowninshield, before I flit." Kinnison was -fully dressed, even to his flowing cloak, and he was carrying his own -kit. This, in an Aldebaranian, implied the extremest height of dudgeon. - -"Yes, Mr. Williams, I wish to apologize for the house. However," -somewhat exasperated, "it does seem that you were abrupt, to say the -least, in your reaction to a childish prank." - -"Prank!" The Aldebaranian's voice was decidedly unfriendly. "Sir, to me -thionite is no prank. I don't mind nitrolabe or heroin, and a little -bentlam now and then is good for a man, but when anyone comes around me -with thionite I object, sir, vigorously, and I don't care who knows it." - -"Evidently. But that wasn't really thionite--we would never permit -it--and Miss Carter is an exemplary young lady--" - -"How was I to know it wasn't thionite?" Williams demanded. "And as for -your Miss Carter, as long as a woman acts like a lady I treat her like -a lady, but if she acts like a zwilnik--" - -"Please, Mr. Williams--" - -"--I treat her like a zwilnik, and that's that." - -"Mr. Williams, please! Not that word, ever!" - -"No? A planetary idiosyncrasy, perhaps?" The ex-miner's towering wrath -abated into curiosity. "Now that you mention it, I do not recall having -heard it lately, nor hereabouts. For its use please accept my apology." - -Oh, this was better. Crowninshield was making headway. The big -Aldebaranian didn't even know thionite when he saw it, and he had a -rabid fear of it. - -"There remains, then, only the very peculiar circumstance of your -wearing arms here in a quiet hotel--" - -"Who says I was armed?" Kinnison demanded. - -"Why ... I ... it was assumed--" The proprietor was flabbergasted. - -The visitor threw off his coat and removed his jacket, revealing a -shirt of sheer glamorette through which could be plainly seen his -hirsute chest and the smooth, bronzed skin of his brawny shoulders. -He strode over to his kit-bag, unlocked it, and took out a double -DeLameter harness, complete with instruments. He donned the -contraption, put on jacket and cloak--open, now, this latter--shrugged -his shoulders a few times to settle the new burden into its wonted -position, and turned again to the hotelkeeper. - -"This is the first time that I have worn this hardware since I came -here," he said, quietly. "Having the name, however, you may take -it upon the very best of authority that I will be armed during the -remaining minutes of my visit here. With your permission, I shall leave -now." - -"Oh, no, that won't do, sir, really." Crowninshield was almost abject -at the prospect. "We should be desolated. Mistakes will happen, -sir--planetary prejudices--misunderstandings. Give us a little more -time to get really acquainted, sir--" and thus it went. - -Finally Kinnison let himself be mollified into staying on. With true -Aldebaranian mulishness, however, he wore his armament, proclaiming to -all and sundry his sole reason therefor: "An Aldebaranian gentleman, -sir, keeps his word; however lightly or under whatever circumstances -given. I said that I would wear these things as long as I stay here; -therefore wear them I must and I shall. I will leave here any time, -sir, gladly; but while here I remain armed, every minute of every day." - -And he did. He never drew them, was always and in every way a -gentleman. Nevertheless, the zwilniks were always uncomfortably -conscious of the fact that those grim, formidable portables were -there--always there and always ready. The fact that they themselves -went armed with weapons deadly enough was all too little reassurance. - - * * * * * - -Always the quintessence of good behavior, Kinnison began to relax his -barriers of reserve. He began to drink--to buy, at least--more and -more. He had taken regularly a little bentlam; now, as though his will -to moderation had begun to go down, he took larger and larger doses. It -was not a significant fact to any one, except himself, that the nearer -drew the time for a certain momentous meeting the more he apparently -drank and the larger the doses of bentlam became. - -Thus it was a purely unnoticed coincidence that it was upon the -afternoon of the day during whose evening the conference was to be -held that Williams' quiet and gentlemanly drunkenness degenerated -into a noisy and obstreperous carousal. As a climax he demanded--and -obtained--the twenty-four units of bentlam which, his host knew, -comprised the highest-ceiling dose of the old, unregenerate mining -days. They gave him the Titanic jolt, undressed him, put him carefully -to bed upon a soft mattress covered with silken sheets and forgot him. - -Before the meeting every possible source of interruption or spying was -checked, rechecked, and guarded against; but no one even thought of -suspecting the free-spending, hard-drinking, drug-soaked Williams. How -could they? - -And so it came about that the Gray Lensman attended that meeting also; -as insidiously and as successfully as he had the one upon Euphrosyne. -It took longer, this time, to read the reports, notes, orders, -addresses, and so on, for this was a Regional meeting, not merely a -local one. However, the Lensman had ample time and was a fast reader -withal; and in Worsel he had an aide who could tape the stuff as fast -as he could send it in. Wherefore, when the meeting broke up Kinnison -was well content. He had forged another link in his chain--was one link -nearer to Boskone, his goal. - -As soon as Kinnison could walk without staggering he sought out his -host. He was ashamed, embarrassed, bitterly and painfully humiliated; -but he was still--or again--an Aldebaranian gentleman. He had made -a resolution, and gentlemen of that planet did not take their -gentlemanliness lightly. - -"First, Mr. Crowninshield, I wish to apologize, most humbly, most -profoundly, sir, for the fashion in which I have outraged your -hospitality." He could slap down a girl and half-kill a guard without -loss of self-esteem, but no gentleman, however inebriated, should -descend to such depths of commonness and vulgarity as he had plumbed -here. Such conduct was inexcusable. "I have nothing whatever to say in -defense or palliation of my conduct. I can only say that in order to -spare you the task of ordering me out, I am leaving." - -"Oh, come, Mr. Williams, that is not at all necessary. Anyone is apt to -take a drop too much occasionally. Really, my friend, you were not at -all offensive, we have not even entertained the thought of your leaving -us." Nor had he. The ten thousand credits which the Lensman had thrown -away during his spree would have condoned behavior a thousand times -worse; but Crowninshield did not refer to that. - -"Thank you for your courtesy, sir, but I remember some of my actions, -and I blush with shame," the Aldebaranian rejoined, stiffly. He was -not to be mollified. "I could never look your other guests in the -face again. I think, sir, that I can still be a gentleman; but until -I am certain of the fact--until I know I can get drunk as a gentleman -should--I am going to change my name and disappear. Until a happier -day, sir, good-by." - -Nothing could make the stiff-necked Williams change his mind, and leave -he did, scattering five-credit notes abroad as he departed. However, -he did not go far. As he had explained so carefully to Crowninshield, -William Williams did disappear--forever, Kinnison hoped; he was all -done with him--but the Gray Lensman made connections with Worsel. - -"Thanks, old man," Kinnison shook one of the Velantian's gnarled, hard -hands, even though Worsel never had had much use for that peculiarly -human gesture. "Nice work. I won't need you for a while now, but I -probably will later. If I succeed in getting the data I'll Lens it to -you as usual for record--I'll be even less able than usual, I imagine, -to take recording apparatus with me. If I can't get it I'll call you -anyway, to help me make other arrangements. Clear ether, big fella!" - -"Luck, Kinnison," and the two Lensmen went their separate ways; Worsel -to Prime Base, the Tellurian on a long flit indeed. He had not been -surprised to learn that the Galactic Director was not in the Galaxy -proper, but in a star cluster; nor at the information that he whom -he sought was one Jalte, a Kalonian. Boskone, Kinnison thought, was -a highly methodical sort of a chap--he marked out the best way to do -anything, and then stuck by it through thick and thin. - - * * * * * - -Kinnison was almost wrong there, for not long afterward Boskone was -called in session and that very question was discussed seriously and at -length. - -"Granted that the Kalonians are good executives," the new Ninth of -Boskone argued. "They are strong of mind and do produce results. It -cannot be claimed, however, that they are in any sense comparable to us -of the Eich. Eichlan was thinking of replacing Helmuth, but he put off -acting until it was too late. - -"There are many factors to consider," the First replied, gravely. "The -planet is uninhabitable save for warm-blooded oxygen-breathers. The -base is built for such, and such is the entire personnel. Years of time -went into the construction there. One of us could not work efficiently -alone, insulated against its heat and its atmosphere. If the whole dome -were conditioned for us, we must needs train an entire new organization -to man it. Then, too, the Kalonians have to work well in hand and, -with all due respect to you and the others of your mind, it is by no -means certain that even Eichlan could have saved Helmuth's base had -he been there. Eichlan's own doubt upon this point had much to do -with his delay in acting. In the end it comes down to efficiency, and -some Kalonians are efficient. Jalte is one. And, while it may seem as -though I am boasting of my own selection of directors, please note that -Prellin, the Kalonian director upon Bronseca, seems to have been able -to stop the advance of the Patrol." - -"'Seems to' may be too exactly descriptive for comfort," said another, -darkly. - -"That is always a possibility," was conceded, "but whenever that -Lensman has been able to act, he has acted. Our keenest observers -can find no trace of his activities elsewhere, with the possible -exception of the misfunctioning of the experimental hyperspatial tube -of our allies of Delgon. Some of us have from the first considered -that venture ill-advised, premature; and its seizure by the Patrol -smacks more of their able mathematical physicists than of a purely -hypothetical, superhuman Lensman. Therefore, it seems logical to assume -that Prellin has stopped him. Our observers report that the Patrol -is loath to act illegally without evidence, and no evidence can be -obtained. Business was hurt, but Jalte is reorganizing as rapidly as -may be." - -"I still say that the Galactic Base should be rebuilt and manned by -the Eich," Nine insisted. "It is our sole remaining Grand Headquarters -there, and since it is both the brain of the peaceful conquest and the -nucleus of our new military organization, it should not be subjected to -any unnecessary risk." - -"And you will, of course, be glad to take that highly important -command, man the dome with your own people, and face the Lensman--if -and when he comes--backed by the forces of the Patrol?" - -"Why ... ah ... no," the Ninth managed. "I am of so much more use -here--" - -"That's what we all think," the first said, cynically. "While I would -like very much to welcome that hypothetical Lensman here, I do not care -to meet him upon any other planet. I really believe, however, that -any change in our organization would weaken it seriously. Jalte is -capable, energetic, and is as well informed as is any of us as to the -possibilities of invasion by the Lensman or his Patrol. Beyond asking -him whether he needs anything, and sending him everything he may wish -of supplies and of reinforcements, I do not see how he can improve -matters." - -But even before the question was asked, Kinnison's blackly invisible, -indetectable speedster was well within the star cluster. The -guardian fortresses were closer spaced by far than Helmuth's had -been. Electromagnetics had a three hundred percent overlap; ether -and subether alike were suffused with vibratory fields in which -nullification of detection was impossible, and the observers were alert -and keen. To what avail? The speedster was non-ferrous, intrinsically -indetectable; the Lensman slipped through the net with ease. - -Sliding down the edge of the world's black shadow he felt for the -expected thought-screen, found it, dropped cautiously through it, and -poised there; observing during one whole rotation. This had been a -fair, green world--once. It had had forests. It had once been peopled -by intelligent, urban dwellers, who had had roads, works, and other -evidences of advancement. But the cities had been melted down into -vast lakes of lava and slag. Cold now for years, cracked, fissured, -weathered; yet to Kinnison's probing sense they told tales of horror, -revealed all too clearly the incredible ferocity and ruthlessness -with which the conquerors had wiped out all the population of a -world. What had been roads and works were jagged ravines and craters -of destruction. The forests of the planet had been burned, again and -again; only a few charred stumps remaining to mark where a few of the -mightiest monarchs had stood. Except for the Boskonian base the planet -was a scene of desolation and ravishment indescribable. - -"They'll pay for that, too, the fiends," Kinnison gritted, and directed -his attention toward the base. Forbidding indeed it loomed; thrice -a hundred square miles of massively banked offensive and defensive -armament, with a central dome of such colossal mass as to dwarf even -the stupendous fabrications surrounding it. Typical Boskonian layout, -Kinnison thought, very much like Helmuth's Grand Base. Fully as large -and as strong, or stronger--but he had cracked that one and he was -pretty sure that he could crack this. Exploringly he sent out his sense -of perception; nor was he surprised to find that the whole aggregation -of structures was screened. He had not thought that it would be as easy -as that! - -He did not need to get inside the dome this time, as he was not going -to work directly upon the personnel. Inside the screen anywhere would -do. But how to get there? The ground all around the thing was flat, -as level as molten lava would cool, and every inch of it was bathed -in the white glare of floodlights. They had observers, of course, and -photo-cells, which were worse. - -Approach then, either through the air or upon the ground, did not -look so promising. That left only underground. They got water from -somewhere--wells, perhaps--and their sewage went somewhere unless -they incinerated it, which was highly improbable. There was a river -over there, he'd see if there wasn't a trunk sewer running into it -somewhere. There was. There was also a place within easy flying -distance to hide his speedster, an overhanging bank of smooth black -rock. The risk of his being seen was nil, anyway, for the only -intelligent life left upon the planet inhabited the Boskonian fortress -and did not leave it. - -Donning his space-black, indetectable armor, Kinnison flew down the -river to the sewer's mouth. He lowered himself into the placid stream -and against the sluggish current of the sewer he made his way. The -drivers of his suit were not as efficient in water as they were in air -or in space, and in the dense medium his pace was necessarily slow. But -he was in no hurry. It was fast enough--in a few hours he was beneath -the stronghold. - - * * * * * - -He then began his study of the dome. It was like Helmuth's in some -ways, entirely different from it in others. There were fully as many -firing-stations, each with its operators ready at signal to energize -and to direct the most terrifically destructive agencies known to the -science of the time. There were fewer visiplates and communicators, -fewer catwalks; but there were vastly more individual offices and -there were ranks and tiers of filing cabinets. There would have to be; -this was headquarters for the organized illicit commerce of an entire -galaxy. There, in the familiar center, sat at his great desk Jalte the -Kalonian, and beside him there sparkled the peculiar globe of force -which the Lensman now knew was an intergalactic communicator. - -"Ha!" Kinnison exclaimed triumphantly, if inaudibly, to himself, "the -real boss of the outfit--Boskone--is in the Second Galaxy!" - -He would have to wait until that communicator went into action, if -it took a month. But in the meantime there was plenty to do. Those -cabinets at least were not thought-screened, they held all the really -vital secrets of the drug ring, and it would take many days to transmit -the information which the Patrol must have if it were to make a -one-hundred-percent clean-up of the whole zwilnik organization. - -He called Worsel, and, upon being informed that the recorders were -ready, he started in. Characteristically, he began with Prellin of -Bronseca, and memorized the data covering that wight as he transmitted -it. The next one to go down upon the steel tape was Crowninshield -of Tressilia. Having exhausted all the filed information upon the -organization controlled by those two Regional Directors, he took the -rest of them in order. - -He had finished his real task and had practically finished a detailed -survey of the entire Base when the force-ball communicator burst into -activity. Knowing approximately the analysis of the beam and exactly -its location in space, it took only seconds for Kinnison to tap it; -but the longer the interview went on the more disappointed the Lensman -grew. Orders, reports, discussions of broad matters of policy--it was -simply a conference between two high executives of a vast business firm. - -"I assume from lack of mention that _the_ Lensman has made no further -progress," Eichmil concluded. - -"Not so far as our best men can discover," Jalte replied, carefully, -and Kinnison grinned like the Cheshire cat in his secure, if -uncomfortable, retreat. It tickled his vanity immensely to be referred -to so matter-of-factly as _the_ Lensman, and he felt very smart and -cagy indeed to be within a few hundred feet of Jalte as the Boskonian -uttered the words. "Lensmen by the score are still working Prellin's -base in Cominoche. Some twelve of these--human or approximately -so--have been returning again and again. We are checking those with -care, because of the possibility that one of them may be the one we -want, but as yet I can make no conclusive report." - -The connection was broken, and the Lensman's brief thrill of elated -self-satisfaction died away. - -"No soap," he growled to himself in disgust. "I've _got_ to get into -that guy's mind, some way or other!" - -How could he make the approach? Every man in the Base wore a -head-screen, and they were mighty careful. No dogs or other pet -animals. There were few birds, but it would smell very cheesy indeed -to have a bird flying around, pecking at screen generators. To anyone -with half a brain that would tell the whole story, and these folks were -really smart. What, then? - - * * * * * - -There was a nice spider up there in a corner. Big enough to do light -work, but not big enough to attract much, if any, attention. Did -spiders have minds? The power pack and the generator set were both -open, being on Jalte's belt, while the screen itself was radiated from -a collar-antenna round his neck. He would see what he could do. - -The spider had more of a mind than he had supposed, and he got into it -easily enough. She could not really think at all, and at the starkly -terrible savagery of her tiny ego the Lensman actually winced, but -at that she had redeeming features. She was willing to work hard and -long for a comparatively small return of food. He could not fuse his -mentality with hers smoothly, as he could do in the case of creatures -of greater brain power, but he could handle her after a fashion. At -least she knew that certain actions would result in nourishment. - -Through the insect's compound eyes the room and all its contents were -weirdly distorted, but the Lensman could make them out well enough to -direct her efforts. She crawled along the ceiling and dropped upon a -silken rope to Jalte's belt. She could not pull the plug of the power -pack--it loomed before her eyes, a gigantic metal pillar as immovable -as the Rock of Gibraltar--therefore she scampered on and began to -explore the mazes of the set itself. She could not see the thing as a -whole, it was far too immense a structure for that; so Kinnison, to -whom the device was no larger than a hand, directed her to the first -grid lead. - -A tiny thing, thread-thin in gross; yet to the insect it was an -ordinary cable of stranded soft-metal wire. Her powerful mandibles -pried loose one of the component strands and with very little effort -pulled it away from its fellows beneath the head of a binding screw. -The strand bent easily, and as it touched the metal of the chassis the -thought-screen vanished. - -Instantly Kinnison insinuated his mind into Jalte's and began to dig -for knowledge. Eichmil was his chief--Kinnison knew that already. His -office was in the Second Galaxy, on the planet Jarnevon. Jalte had been -there--co-ordinates so and so, courses such and such--Eichmil reported -to Boskone-- - -The Lensman stiffened. Here was the first positive evidence he had -found that his deductions were correct--or even that there really _was_ -such an entity as Boskone! He bored anew. - -Boskone was not a single entity, but a council--probably of the Eich, -the natives of Jarnevon--weird impressions of coldly intellectual -reptilian monstrosities, horrific, indescribable--Eichmil must know -exactly who and where Boskone was. Jalte did not. - -Kinnison finished his research and abandoned the Kalonian's mind -as insidiously as he had entered it. The spider opened the short, -restoring the screen to usefulness. Then, before he did anything else, -the Lensman directed his small ally to a whole family of young grubs -just under the cover of his manhole. Lensmen paid their debts, even to -spiders. - -Then, with a profound sigh of relief, he dropped down into the sewer. -The submarine journey to the river was made without incident, as was -the flight to his speedster. Night fell, and through its blackness -there darted the even blacker shape which was the Lensman's little -ship. Out into intergalactic space she flashed, and homeward. And as -she flew the Tellurian scowled. - -He had gained much, but not enough by far. He had hoped to get all the -data on Boskone, so that he could storm Headquarters in the van of -Civilization's armada, invincible in its newly-devised might. - -No soap. Before he could do that he would have to scout Jarnevon--in -the Second Galaxy--alone. Alone? Better not. Better take the flying -snake along. Good old dragon. That was a mighty long flit to be doing -alone, and one with some mightily high-powered opposition at the other -end of it. - - - - - XIX. - - -"Before you go anywhere; or, rather, whether you go anywhere or not, we -want to knock down that Bronsecan base of Prellin's," Haynes declared -to Kinnison in no uncertain voice. "It's a Galactic scandal, the way -we've been letting them thumb their noses at us. Everybody in space -thinks that the Patrol has gone soft all of a sudden. When are you -going to let us smack them down? Do you know what they've done now?" - -"No. What?" - -"Gone out of business. We've been watching then so closely that -they couldn't do any queer business--goods, letters, messages, or -anything--so they closed up the Bronseca branch entirely. 'Unfavorable -conditions,' they said. Locked up tight--telephones disconnected, -communicators cut, everything." - -"Hm-m-m. In that case we'd better take 'em, I guess. No harm done, -anyway, now--maybe all the better. Let Boskone think that our strategy -failed and we had to fall back on brute force." - -"You say it easy. You think that it'll be a push-over, don't you?" - -"Sure--why not?" - -"You noticed the shape of their screens?" - -"Roughly cylindrical"--in surprise. "They're hiding a lot of stuff, of -course, but they can't possibly--" - -"I'm afraid that they can, and will. I've been checking up on the -building. Ten years old. Plans and permits QX except for the fact that -nobody knows whether or not the inside of the building resembles the -plans in any particular." - -"Klono's whiskers!" Kinnison was aghast, his mind racing. "How could -that be, chief? Inspectors--builders--contractors--workmen?" - -"The city inspector who had the job came into money later, retired, -and nobody has seen him since. Nobody can locate a single builder or -workman who saw it constructed. No competent inspector has been in -it since. Cominoche is lax--all cities are, for that matter--with an -outfit as big as Wembleson's, that carries its own insurance, does its -own inspecting, and won't allow outside interference. Wembleson's isn't -alone in that attitude--they're not all zwilniks, either." - -"You think that it's really fortified, then?" - -"Sure of it. That's why we ordered a gradual, but complete, evacuation -of the city, beginning a couple of months ago." - -"How could you?" Kinnison was growing more surprised by the minute. -"The businesses--the houses--the expense!" - -"Martial law--the Patrol takes over in emergencies, you know. -Businesses moved, and mostly carrying on very well. People ditto--very -nice temporary camps, lake and river cottages, and so on. As for -expense, the Patrol pays damages. We'll pay for rebuilding the whole -city if we have to--much rather that than leave that Boskonian base -standing there untouched." - -"What a mess! Never thought of it that way, but you're right, as usual. -They wouldn't be there at all unless they thought--but they must know, -chief, that they can't hold off the stuff that you can bring to bear." - -"Probably betting that we won't destroy our own city to get them--if -so, they're wrong. Or possibly they hung on a few days too long." - -"How about the observers?" Kinnison asked. "They have four auxiliaries -there, you know." - -"That's strictly up to you." Haynes was unconcerned. "Smearing that -base is the only thing I insist on. We'll wipe out the observers or let -them observe and report, whichever you say; but that base goes--it has -been there far too long already." - -"Be nicer to let them alone," Kinnison decided. "We're not supposed to -know anything about them. You won't have to use the primaries, will -you?" - -"No. It's a fairly large building, as business blocks go, but it lacks -a lot of being big enough to be a first-class base. We can burn the -ground out from under all its foundations with our secondaries." - -He called an adjutant. "Get me Sector 19." Then, as the seamed, scarred -face of an old Lensman appeared upon a plate: - -"You can go to work on Cominoche now, Parker. Twelve maulers. Twenty -heavy caterpillars and about fifty units of Q-type screen, remote -control. Supplies and service. Have them muster all available -fire-fighting apparatus. If desirable, import some--we want to save as -much of the place as we can. I'll come over in the _Dauntless_." - -He glanced at Kinnison, one eye-brow raised quizzically. - -"I feel as though I rate a little vacation; I think I'll go and watch -this," he commented. "Got time to come along?" - -"I think so. It's more or less on my way to Lundmark's Nebula." - - * * * * * - -Upon Bronseca, then, as the _Dauntless_ ripped her way through -protesting space, there converged structures of the void from a dozen -nearby systems; each ship emblazoned with the device of ray-emitting -intertwined spirals which is the emblem of the Galactic Patrol. There -came maulers; huge, ungainly flying fortresses of stupendous might. -There came transports, bearing the commissariat and the service units. -Vast freighters, under whose unimaginable mass the Gargantuanly braced -and latticed and trussed docks yielded visibly and groaningly, crushed -to a standstill and disgorged their varied cargoes. - -What Haynes had so matter-of-factly referred to as "heavy" caterpillars -were all of that; and the mobile screens were even heavier. Clanking -and rumbling, but with their weight so evenly distributed over huge, -flat treads that they sank only a foot or so into even ordinary ground, -they made their ponderous way along Cominoche's deserted streets. - -What thoughts seethed within the minds of the Boskonians can only be -imagined. They knew that the Patrol had landed in force, but what could -they do about it? At first, when the Lensmen began to infest the place, -they could have fled in safety; but at that time they were too certain -of their immunity to abandon their richly established position. Even -now, they would not abandon it until that course became absolutely -necessary. - -They could have destroyed the city, true; but it was not until after -the non-combatant inhabitants had unobtrusively moved out that that -course suggested itself as a desirability. Now the destruction of -property would be a gesture worse than meaningless; it would be a waste -of energy which would all too certainly be needed--badly and soon. - -Hence, as the Patrol's land forces ground clangorously into position -the enemy made no demonstration. The mobile screens were in place, -surrounding the doomed section with a wall of force to protect the rest -of the city from the hellish energies so soon to be unleashed. The -heavy caterpillars, mounting projectors quite comparable in size and -power with the warships' own--weapons similar in purpose and function -to the railway-carriage coast-defense guns of an earlier day--were -likewise ready. Far back of the line, but still too close, as they -were to discover later, heavily armored men crouched at their remote -controls behind their shields; barriers both of hard-driven, immaterial -fields of force and of solid, grounded, ultrarefrigerated walls of the -most refractory materials possible of fabrication. In the sky hung the -maulers, poised stolidly upon the towering pillars of flame erupting -from their under jets. - -Cominoche, Bronseca's capital city, witnessed then what no one there -present had ever expected to see; the warfare designed for the -illimitable reaches of empty space being waged in the very heart of its -business district! - -For Port Admiral Haynes had directed the investment of this minor -stronghold almost as though it were a regulation base, and with good -reason. He knew that from their coigns of vantage afar four separate -Boskonian observers were looking on, charged with the responsibility -of recording and reporting everything that transpired, and he wanted -that report to be complete and conclusive. He wanted Boskone, whoever -and wherever he might be, to know that when the Galactic Patrol started -a thing, that thing it finished; that the mailed fist of civilization -would not spare an enemy base simply because it was so located within -one of humanity's cities that its destruction must inevitably result -in severe property damage. Indeed, the chief of staff had massed there -thrice the force necessary; specifically and purposely to drive that -message home. - -At the word of command there flamed out, almost as one, a thousand -lances of energy intolerable. Masonry, brickwork, steel, glass, and -chromium trim disappeared; flaring away in sparkling, hissing vapor -or cascading away in brilliantly mobile streams of fiery, corrosive -liquid. Disappeared, revealing the unbearably incandescent surface of -the Boskonian defensive screen. - -Full-driven, that barrier held, even against the titanic thrusts of the -maulers above and of the heavy defense guns below. Energy rebounded -in scintillating torrents, shot off in blinding streamers, released -itself in bolts of lightning hurling themselves frantically to ground. - -[Illustration: _The fury of the beams rebounded in scintillating -torrents, shot off in blinding streamers_--] - -Nor was that superbly disguised citadel designed for defense alone. -Knowing now that the last faint hope of continuing in business upon -Bronseca was gone, and grimly determined to take full toll of the hated -Patrol, the defenders in turn loosed their beams. Five of them shot -out simultaneously, and five of the panels of mobile screen flamed -instantly into eye-tearing violet. Then black. These were not the -comparatively feeble, antiquated rays which Haynes had expected, but -were the output of up-to-the-minute, first-line space artillery! - -Defenses down, it took but a blink of time to lick up the caterpillars. -On, then, the destroying beams tore, each in a direct line for a -remote-control station. Through tremendous edifices of masonry and -steel they drove, the upper floors collapsing into the cylinders of -annihilation only to be consumed almost as fast as they could fall. - -"All screen-control stations, back, fast!" Haynes directed crisply. -"Back, dodging! Put your screens on automatic block until you get back -beyond effective range. Spy-ray men! See if you can locate the enemy -observers directing fire!" - -But no matter how far back they went, Boskonian beams still sought -them out in grimly persistent attempts to slay. Their shielding fields -blazed white, their refractories wavered in the high blue as the -overdriven refrigerators strove mightily to cope with the terrific -load. The operators, stifling, almost roasting in their armor of -proof, shook sweat from the eyes they could not reach as they drove -themselves and their mechanisms on to even greater efforts; cursing -luridly, fulminantly the while at carrying on a space war in the hotly -reeking, the hellishly reflecting and heat-retaining environment of a -metropolis! - -And all around the embattled structure, within the Patrol's now -partially open wall of screen, spread holocaust supreme; holocaust -spreading wider and wider during each fractional split second. In an -instant, it seemed, nearby buildings burst into flame. The fact that -they were fireproof meant nothing whatever. The air inside them, heated -in moments to a point far above the ignition temperature of organic -material, fed furiously upon furniture, rugs, drapes, and whatever -else had been left in place. Even without such adventitious aids the -air itself, expanding tremendously, irresistibly, drove outward before -it the glass of windows and the solid brickwork of walls. And as they -fell, glass and brick ceased to exist as such. Falling, they fused; -coalescing and again splashing apart as they descended through the -inferno of annihilatory vibrations in an appalling rain which might -very well have been sprinkled from the hottest middle of the central -core of hell itself. And in this fantastically potent, this incredibly -corrosive flood the ground itself, the metaled pavement, the sturdily -immovable foundations of skyscrapers, dissolved as do lumps of sugar -in boiling coffee. Dissolved, slumped down, flowed away in blindingly -turbulent streams. Super-structures toppled into disintegration, each -discrete particle contributing as it fell to the utterly indescribable -fervency of the whole. - -More and more panels of mobile screen went down. They were not designed -to stand up under such heavy projectors as "Wemblesons" mounted, and -the Boskonians blasted them down in order to get at the remote-control -operators back of them. Swath after swath of flaming ruin was cut -through the Bronsecan capital as the enemy gunners tried to follow the -dodging caterpillar tractors. - -"Drop down, maulers!" the commander-in-chief ordered. "Low enough so -that your screens touch ground. Never mind damage--they'll blast the -whole city if we don't stop those beams. Surround him!" - -Down the maulers came, ringwise; mighty protective envelopes -overlapping; down until the screens bit ground. Now the caterpillar and -mobile-screen crews were safe; powerful as Prellin's weapons were, they -could not break through those maulers' screens. - -Now holocaust waxed doubly infernal. The wall was tight, the only -avenue of escape of all that fiercely radiant energy straight upward; -and adding to the furor were the flaring under jets--themselves -destructive agents by no means to be despised! - -Inside the screens, then, raged pure frenzy. At the line raved the -maulers' prodigious lifting blasts. Out and away, down every avenue -of escape, swept torrents of superheated air at whose touch anything -and everything combustible burst into flame. But there could be no -fire-fighting--yet. Outlying fires, along the lines of destruction -previously cut, yes; but personal armor has never been designed to -enable life to exist in such an environment as that near those screens -then was. - -"Burn out the ground under them!" came the order. "Tip them over--slag -them down!" - -Sharply downward angled twoscore of the beams which had been expending -their energies upon Boskone's radiant defenses. Downward into the -lake of lava which had once been pavement. That lake had already -been seething and bubbling; emitting momently bursts of lambent -flame. Now it leaped into a frenzy of its own; a transcendent fury of -volatilization. High-explosive shells by the hundred dropped also into -the incandescent mess, hurling the fiery stuff afar; deepening and -broadening the sulphurous moat. - -"Deep enough," Haynes spoke into his microphone. "Tractors and -pressors as assigned--tip him over." - -The intensity of the bombardment did not slacken, but from the maulers -to the north there reached out pressors, from those upon the south came -tractors; each a beam of terrific power, each backed by all the mass -and all the driving force of a veritable flying fortress. - -Slowly that which had been a building leaned from the perpendicular, -its inner defensive screen still intact. - -"Chief?" From his post as observer, Kinnison flashed a thought to -Haynes. "Are you beginning to think any funny thoughts about that ape -down there?" - -"No. Are you? What?" asked the port admiral, surprised. - -"Maybe I'm nuts, but it wouldn't surprise me if he'd start doing a flit -pretty quick. I've got a CRX tracer on him, just in case, and it might -be smart to caution Henderson to keep up on his toes." - -"Your diagnosis--'nuts'--is correct, I think," came the answering -thought; but the port admiral followed the suggestion, nevertheless. - - * * * * * - -And none too soon. Deliberately, grandly, the Colossus was leaning -over, bowing in stately fashion toward the awful lake in which it -stood. But only so far. Then there was a flash, visible even in the -inferno of energies already there at war, and the already coruscant -lava was hurled to all points of the compass as the full-blast drive of -a superdreadnought was cut loose beneath its surface! - -To the eye the thing simply and instantly disappeared; but not to the -ultra-vision of the observers' plates, and especially not to the CRX -tracers attached by Kinnison and by Henderson. They held, and the chief -pilot, already warned, was on the trail as fast as he could punch his -keys. - -Through atmosphere, through stratosphere, into interplanetary space -flew pursued and pursuer at ever-increasing speed. The _Dauntless_ -overtook her proposed victim fairly easily. The Boskonian was fast, but -the Patrol's new flier was the fastest thing in space. But tractors -would not hold against the now universal standard equipment of shears, -and the heavy secondaries served only to push the fleeing vessel along -all the faster. And the dreadful primary beams could not be used--yet. - -"Not yet," cautioned the admiral. "Don't get too close--wait until -there's nothing detectable in space." - -Finally an absolutely empty region was entered, the word to close up -was given, and Prellin drank of the bitter cup which so many commanders -of vessels of the Patrol had had to drain--the gallingly fatal -necessity of engaging a ship which was both faster and more powerful -than his own. The Boskonian tried, of course. His beams raged out at -full power against the screens of the larger ship, but without effect. -Three primaries lashed out as one. The fleeing vessel, structure and -contents, ceased to be. The _Dauntless_ returned to the torn and -ravaged city. - -The maulers had gone. The lumbering caterpillars--what were left -of them--were clanking away; reeking, smoking hot in every plate -and member. Only the firemen were left, working like Trojans with -explosives, rays, water, carbon-dioxide snow, clinging and smothering -chemicals; anything and everything which would isolate, absorb, or -dissipate any portion of the almost incalculable heat energy so -recently and so profligately released. - -Fire apparatus from four planets was at work. There were pumpers, -ladder trucks, hose and chemical trucks. There were men in heavily -insulated armor. Vehicles and men alike were screened against the -specific wave lengths of heat; and under the direction of a fire -marshal in his red speedster high in air they fought methodically and -efficiently the conflagration which was the aftermath of battle. They -fought, and they were winning. - -And then it rained. As though the heavens themselves had been outraged -by what had been done, they opened and rain sluiced down in level -sheets. It struck hissingly the nearby structures, but it did not touch -the central area at all. Instead, it turned to steam in mid-air, and, -rising or being blown aside by the tempestuous wind, it concealed the -redly glaring, raw wound beneath a blanket of crimson fog. - -"Well, that is that," the port admiral said slowly. His face was grim -and stern. "A good job of clean-up--expensive, but worth the price. So -be it to every pirate base and every zwilnik hide-out in the Galaxy! -Henderson, land us at Cominoche Spaceport." - - * * * * * - -And from four other cities of the planet four Boskonian observers, -each unknown to all the others, took off in four spaceships for four -different destinations. Each had reported fully and accurately to Jalte -everything that had transpired until the two fliers had faded into -the distance. Then, highly elated--and probably, if the truth could -be known, no little surprised as well--at the fact that he was still -alive, each had left Bronseca at maximum blast. - -The Galactic director had done all that he could, which was little -enough. At the Patrol's first warlike move he had ordered a squadron -of Boskone's ablest fighting craft to Prellin's aid. It was almost -certainly a useless gesture, he knew as he did it. Gone were the days -when pirate bases dotted the Tellurian Galaxy; only by a miracle could -those ships reach the Bronsecan's line of flight in time to be of -service. - -Nor could they. The howl of interfering vibrations which was smothering -Prellin's communicator beam snapped off into silence while the would-be -rescuers were many hours away. For minutes, then, Jalte sat immersed -in thought at his great desk in the Center, his normally bluish face -turning a sickly green, before he called the planet Jarnevon to report -to Eichmil, his chief. - -"There is, however, a bright side to the affair," he concluded. -"Prellin's records were destroyed with him. Also, there are two -facts--that the Patrol had to use such force as practically to -destroy the city of Cominoche, and that our four observers escaped -unmolested--which furnish conclusive proof that the vaunted Lensman -failed completely to penetrate with his mental powers the defenses we -have been using against him." - -"Not conclusive proof," Eichmil rebuked him harshly. "Not proof at all, -in any sense--scarcely a probability. Indeed, the display of force may -very well mean that he has already attained his objective. He may have -allowed the observers to escape, to lull our suspicions. You yourself -are probably the next in line. How certain are you that your own base -has not already been invaded?" - -"Absolutely certain, sir." Jalte's face, however, turned a shade -greener at the thought. - -"You use the term 'absolutely' very loosely--but I hope that you are -right. Use all the men and all the equipment we have sent you to make -sure that it remains impenetrable." - - - - - XX. - - -In their nonmagnetic, practically invisible speedster, Kinnison and -Worsel entered the terra incognita of the Second Galaxy and approached -the solar system of the Eich, slowing down to a crawl as they did so. -They knew as much concerning dread Jarnevon, the planet which was their -goal, as did Jalte, from whom the knowledge had been acquired; but that -was all too little. - -They knew that it was the fifth planet out from the Sun and that it -was bitterly cold. It had an atmosphere, but one containing no oxygen; -one poisonous to oxygen-breathers. It had no rotation--or rather, its -day coincided with its year--and its people dwelt upon its eternally -dark hemisphere. If they had eyes, a point upon which there was doubt, -they did not operate upon the frequencies ordinarily referred to as -"visible" light. In fact, about the Eich as persons or identities -they knew next to nothing. Jalte had seen them, but either he did not -perceive them clearly or else his mind could not retain their true -likeness; his only picture of the Eichlan physique being a confusedly -horrible blur. - -"I'm scared, Worsel," Kinnison declared. "Scared purple, and the closer -we come the more scared I get." - -And he was scared. He was afraid as he had never before been, in all -his short life. He had been in dangerous situations before, certainly; -not only that, he had been wounded almost unto death. In those -instances, however, peril had come upon him suddenly. He had reacted -to it automatically, having had little if any time to think about it -beforehand. - -Never before had he gone into a place in which he knew in advance -that the advantage was all upon the other side; from which his chance -of getting out alive was so terrifyingly small. It was worse, much -worse, than going into that vortex. There, while the road was strange, -the enemy was known to be one whom he had conquered before; and -furthermore, he had had the _Dauntless_, its eager young crew, and the -scientific self-abnegation of old Cardynge to back him. Here he had the -speedster and Worsel--and Worsel was just as scared as he was. - -The pit of his stomach felt cold, his bones seemed bits of rubber -tubing. Nevertheless, the two Lensmen were going in. That was their -job. They had to go in, even though they knew that the foe was at least -their equal mentally, was overwhelmingly their superior physically, and -was upon his own ground. - -"So am I," Worsel admitted. "I'm scared to the tip of my tail. I have -one advantage over you, however--I've been that way before." He was -referring to the time when he had gone to Delgon, abysmally certain -that he would not return. Nor would he have returned save for Kinnison -and Van Buskirk. "What is fated, happens. Shall we prepare?" - -They had spent many hours in discussion of what could be done, and in -the end had decided that the only possible preparation was to make sure -that if Kinnison failed, his failure would not bring disaster to the -Patrol. - -"Might as well. Come in; my mind's wide open." - -The Velantian insinuated his mind into Kinnison's and the Earthman -slumped down, unconscious. Then for many minutes Worsel wrought within -the plastic brain. Finally: - -"Thirty seconds after you leave me these inhibitions will become -operative. When I release them your memory and your knowledge will be -exactly as they were before I began to operate," he thought, slowly, -intensely, clearly. "Until that time you know nothing whatever of any -of these matters. No mental search, however profound; no truth drug, -however potent; no probing, even of the subconscious, will or can -discover them. They do not exist. They never have existed. They shall -not exist until I so allow. These other matters have been, are, and -shall be the facts until that instant. Kimball Kinnison, awaken!" - -The Tellurian came to, not knowing that he had been out. Nothing had -occurred; for him no time whatever had elapsed. He could not perceive -even that his mind had been touched. - -"Sure it's done, Worsel? I can't find a thing!" Kinnison, who had -himself operated upon so many minds as tracelessly, could scarcely -believe that his own had been tampered with. - -"It is done. If you could detect any trace of the work it would have -been poor work, and wasted." - - * * * * * - -The speedster dropped as nearly as the Lensmen dared toward Jarnevon's -tremendous primary base. They did not know whether they were being -observed or not. For all they knew, these incomprehensible beings might -be able to see or to sense them as plainly as though their ship were -painted with radium and were landing openly, with searchlights ablaze -and with bells a-clang. Muscles tense, ready to hurl their tiny flier -away at the slightest alarm, they wafted downward. - -Through the screens they dropped. Power off, even to the gravity pads; -thought, even, blanketed to zero. Nothing happened. They landed. They -disembarked. Foot by foot they made their cautious way forward. - -In essence the plan was simplicity itself. Worsel would accompany -Kinnison until both were within the thought-screens of the dome. Then -the Tellurian would get, some way or other, the information the Patrol -had to have, and the Velantian would get it back to Prime Base. If the -Gray Lensman could go, too, well and good. After all, there was no -real reason to think that he couldn't--he was merely playing safe, on -general principles. If, however, worst came to worst, well-- - -They arrived. - -"Now remember, Worsel, no matter what happens to me, or around me, you -stay out. Don't come in after me. Help me all you can with your mind, -but not otherwise. Take everything I get, and at the first sign of -danger you flit back to the speedster and give her the oof, whether I'm -around or not. Check?" - -"Check," Worsel agreed, quietly. Kinnison's was the harder part. Not -because he was the leader, but because he was the better qualified. -They both knew it. The Patrol came first. It was bigger, vastly more -important than any being or any group of beings in it. - -The man strode away and in thirty seconds underwent a weird and -striking mental transformation. Three quarters of his knowledge -disappeared so completely that he had no inkling that he had ever -had it. A new name, a new personality were his, so completely and -indisputably his that he had no faint glimmering of a recollection that -he had ever been otherwise. - -He was wearing his Lens. It could do no possible harm, since it was -almost inconceivable that the Eich could be made to believe that any -ordinary agent could have penetrated so far, and the fact should not -be revealed to the foe that any Lensman could work without his -Lens. That would explain far too much of what had already happened. -Furthermore, it was a necessity in the only really convincing rôle -which Kinnison could play in the event of his capture. - -He would not think into that base until he was far enough away from -Worsel so that the Velantian's hiding place, if it were not already -known, would not be revealed. He did not then know that such a being as -Worsel existed; he did not think into the stronghold simply because he -was not yet close enough to work efficiently. - -Closer he crept. Closer. There were pits beneath the pavement, he -observed, big enough to hold a speedster. Traps. He avoided them. There -were various mechanisms within the blank walls he skirted. More traps. -He avoided them. Photo-cells, trigger beams, invisible rays, networks. -He avoided them all. Close enough. - - * * * * * - -Delicately he sent out a mental probe, and almost in the instant of its -sending, cables of steel came whipping from afar. He perceived them as -they came, but he was unable to dodge them all. His projectors flamed -briefly, only to be sheared away. The cables wrapped about his limbs, -binding him fast. Helpless, he was carried through the atmosphere, -into the dome, through an air lock into a chamber housing much grimly -unmistakable apparatus. And in the council room, where the nine of -Boskone and one armored Delgonian Overlord held meeting, a communicator -buzzed and snarled. - -[Illustration: _At the first faint touch of Kim's mind, the Eich -reacted. Tentacles like steel whips lashed out to bind and hold him, to -drag him into the frowning fortress_--] - -"Ah!" exclaimed Eichmil. "Our visitor has arrived and is awaiting us in -the Delgonian hall of question. Shall we meet again, there?" - -They did so; they of the Eich armored against the poisonous oxygen, the -Overlord naked. All wore screens. - -"Earthling, we are glad indeed to see you here," the First of Boskone -welcomed the prisoner. "For a long time we have been anxious indeed--" - -"I don't see how that can be," the Lensman blurted. "I just graduated. -My first big assignment, and I have failed," he ended bitterly. - -A start of surprise swept around the circle. Could this be? - -"He is lying," Eichmil decided. "You of Delgon, take him out of his -armor." The Overlord did so, the Tellurian's struggles meaningless -to the reptile's superhuman strength. "Release your screen and see -whether or not you can make him tell the truth." - -After all, the man might not be lying. The fact that he could -understand a strange language meant nothing at all. All Lensmen could. - -"But in case he _should_ be the one we seek--" The Overlord hesitated. - -"We will see to it that no harm comes to you--" - -"We cannot," the Ninth--the psychologist--broke in. "Before any -screen is released I suggest that we question him verbally, under the -influence of the drug which renders it impossible for any warm-blooded -oxygen breather to tell anything except the complete truth." - -The suggestion, so eminently sensible, was adopted forthwith. - -"Are you the Lensman who has made it possible for the Patrol to drive -us out of the Tellurian Galaxy?" came the sharp demand. - -"No," was the flat and surprising reply. - -"Who are you, then?" - -"Philip Morgan, class of--" - -"Oh, this will take forever!" snapped the Ninth. "Let me question him. -Can you control minds at a distance and without previous treatment?" - -"If they are not too strong, yes. All of us specialists in psychology -can do that." - -"Go to work upon him, Overlord!" - -The now fully reassured Delgonian snapped off his screen and a battle -of wills ensued which made the subether boil. For Kinnison, although he -no longer knew what the truth was, still possessed a large part of his -mental power, and the Delgonian's mind, as has already been made clear, -was a capable one indeed. - -"Desist!" came the command. "Earthman, what happened?" - -"Nothing," Kinnison replied truthfully. "Each of us could resist the -other; neither could penetrate or control." - -"Ah!" and nine Boskonian screens snapped off. Since the Lensman could -not master one Delgonian, he would not be a menace to the massed minds -of the nine of Boskone, and the questioning need not wait upon the -slowness of speech. Thoughts beat into Kinnison's brain from all sides. - - * * * * * - -This power of mind was relatively new, yes. He did not know what it -was. He went to Arisia, fell asleep, and woke up with it. A refinement, -he thought, of hypnotism. Only advanced students in psychology could do -it. He knew nothing except by hearsay of the old _Brittania_--he was -a cadet then. He had never heard of Blakeslee, or of anything unusual -concerning any one hospital ship. He did not know who had scouted -Helmuth's base, or put the thionite into it. He had no idea who it -was who had killed Helmuth. As far as he knew, nothing had ever been -done about any Boskonian spies in Patrol bases. He had never happened -to hear of the planet Medon, or of anyone named Bominger, or Madame -Desplaines, or Prellin. He was entirely ignorant of any unusual weapons -of offense--he was a psychologist, not an engineer or a physicist. No, -he was not unusually adept with DeLameters-- - -"Hold on!" Eichmil commanded. "Stop questioning him, everybody! Now, -Lensman, instead of telling us what you do not know, give us positive -information, in your own way. How do you work? I am beginning to -suspect that the man we really want is a director, not an operator." - -This was a more productive line. Lensmen, hundreds of them, each -worked upon a definite assignment. None of them had ever seen or ever -would see the man who issued orders. He had not even a name, but was -a symbol--Star A Star. They received orders through their Lenses, -wherever they might be in space. They reported back to him in the -same way. Yes, Star A Star knew what was going on in that room. He was -reporting constantly-- - -A knife descended viciously. Blood spurted. The stump was dressed, -roughly but effectively. They did not wish their victim to bleed to -death when he died, and he was not to die in any fashion--yet. - -And in the instant that Kinnison's Lens went dead, Worsel, from his -safely distant nook, reached out direct to the mind of his friend, -thereby putting his own life in jeopardy. He knew that there was an -Overlord in that room, and the grue of a thousand helplessly sacrificed -generations of forebears swept his sinuous length at the thought, -despite his inward certainty of the new powers of his mind. He knew -that of all the entities in the Universe, the Delgonians were most -sensitive to the thought vibrations of Velantians. Nevertheless, he did -it. - -He narrowed the beam down to the smallest possible coverage, -employed a frequency as far as possible from that ordinarily used by -the Overlords, and continued to observe. It was risky, but it was -necessary. It was beginning to appear as though the Earthman might not -be able to escape, and he must not die in vain. - -"Can you communicate now?" In the ghastly chamber the relentless -questioning went on. - -"I cannot communicate." - -"It is well. In one way I would not be averse to letting your Star A -Star know what happens when one of his minions dares to spy upon the -Council of Boskone itself, but the information is as yet a trifle -premature. Later, he shall learn--" - -Kinnison did not consciously thrill at that thought. He did not know -that the news was going beyond his brain; that he had achieved his -goal. Worsel, however, did; and Worsel thrilled for him. The Gray -Lensman had finished his job; all that was left to do was to destroy -this world and the power of Boskone would be broken. Kinnison could -die, now, content. - -But no thought of leaving entered Worsel's mind. He would, of course, -stand by as long as there remained the slightest shred of hope, or -until some development threatened his ability to leave the planet with -his priceless information. And the pitiless inquisition went on. - - * * * * * - -Star A Star had sent him to investigate their planet, to discover -whether or not there was any connection between it and the zwilnik -organization. He had come alone, in a speedster. No, he could not tell -them even approximately where the speedster was. It was so dark, and -he had come such a long distance on foot. In an hour or so, though, it -would start sending out a thought signal which he could detect-- - -"But you must have some ideas about this Star A Star!" This director -was the man they wanted so desperately to get. They believed implicitly -in this figment of a Lensman director. Fitting in so perfectly with -their own ideas of efficient organization, it was more convincing by -far than the actual truth would have been. They knew now that he would -be hard to find. They did not now insist upon facts; they wanted every -possible crumb of surmise. "You must have wondered who and where Star A -Star is? You must have tried to trace him?" - -Yes, he had tried, but the problem could not be solved. The Lens was -non-directional, and the signals came in at practically the same -strength, anywhere in the Galaxy. They were, however, very much fainter -out here. That might be taken to indicate that Star A Star's office -was in a star cluster, well out in either the zenith or the nadir -direction-- - -The victim sucked dry, eight of the Council departed, leaving Eichmil -and the Overlord with the Lensman. - -"What you have in mind to do, Eichmil, is childish. Your basic idea is -excellent, but your technique is pitifully inadequate." - -"What could be worse?" Eichmil demanded. "I am going to dig out his -eyes, smash his bones, flay him alive, roast him, cut him up into a -dozen pieces, and send him back to his Star A Star with a warning that -every creature he sends into this Galaxy will be treated the same way. -What would _you_ do?" - -"You of the Eich lack finesse," the Delgonian sighed. "You have no -subtlety, no conception of the nicer possibilities of torture, either -of an individual or of a race. For instance, to punish Star A Star -adequately this man must be returned to him alive, not dead." - -"Impossible! He dies--_here_!" - -"You misunderstand me. Not alive as he is now--but not entirely dead. -Bones broken, yes, and eyes removed; but those minor matters are but -a beginning. If I were doing it, I should then apply several of these -devices here, successively; but none of them to the point of complete -incompatibility with life. I should inoculate the extremities of his -four limbs with an organism which grows--shall we say--unpleasantly? -Finally, I should extract his life force and consume it--as you know, -that essence is a rarely satisfying delicacy with us--taking care to -leave just enough to maintain a bare existence. I would then put what -is left of him aboard his ship, start it toward the Tellurian Galaxy, -and send notice to the Patrol as to its exact course and velocity." - -"But they would find him _alive_!" Eichmil stormed. - -"Exactly. For the fullest vengeance they must, as I have said. Which is -worse, think you? To find a corpse, however dismembered, and to dispose -of it with full military honors, or to find and to have to take care -of for a full lifetime a something that has not enough intelligence -even to swallow food placed in its mouth? Remember also that the -organism will be such that they themselves will be obliged to amputate -all four of the creature's limbs to save its life." - -While thinking thus the Delgonian shot out a slender tentacle which, -slithering across the floor, flipped over the tiny switch of a small -mechanism in the center of the room. This entirely unexpected action -surprised Worsel. He had been debating for minutes whether or not to -release the Gray Lensman's inhibitions. He would have done so instantly -if he had had any warning of what the Delgonian was about to do. Now it -was too late. - -"I have set up a thought-screen about the room. I do not wish to share -this titbit with any of my fellows, as there is not enough to divide," -the monster explained, parenthetically. "Have you any suggestions as to -how my plan may be improved?" - -"No. You have shown that you understand torture better than we do." - -"I should, since we Overlords have practiced it as a fine art since our -beginnings as a race. Do you wish the pleasure of co-operating with me -in the work?" - -"I do not torture for pleasure. Since you do, you may carry out the -procedure as outlined. All I require is the assurance that he will be a -warning and an object lesson to Star A Star of the Galactic Patrol." - -"I can assure you definitely that he will be both. More, I will show -you the results when I have finished with him. Or, if you like, I would -be glad to have you stay and look on--you will find the spectacle -interesting, entertaining and highly instructive." - -"No, thanks--that is, not if you are sure that you can handle him -alone." - -"Handle him! This pitiful weakling?" The Overlord snorted -contemptuously. "I could handle seven like him. He is on the verge of -fainting already. Observe, please, his reaction to the fungus-culture -injections." - -Four times the Delgonian rammed the needle home; and, true to -prediction, Kinnison's body went limp in its shackles. - -"Ah, yes; a weak race, physically--very weak," Eichmil observed, as he -left the room; and the Overlord, alone with his victim, cast off the -chains in order to stretch the Lensman out upon one of the sinister -machines so close at hand. - - * * * * * - -But Kinnison had not fainted. He had not allowed himself to feel the -hurt of the knife, of the needle, nor of the injected fluid. Never -before had he been more coldly, intently alert than in this, the -climactic minute of his life. The full of his powers he did not have, -perhaps, yet even now he was better equipped, mentally and physically, -than the Kinnison of even a short year ago, able to establish a nerve -block that would permit full and unshaken concentration on every move -of offense and defense he might make, whatever frightful toll of pain -and injury the inhumanly powerful, semireptilian Delgonian might -inflict in the struggle that the Lensman now proposed. Thus, upon the -first instant of opportunity, he exploded into action with a violence -which took even the trigger-nerved Overlord entirely by surprise. - -In practically one motion he rolled, ducked, gathered himself together -and launched a kick behind which there was the driving force of every -ounce of his powerful body and the concentrated urge of every cell of -his brain. It struck its mark squarely--the hard toe of the Lensman's -heavy boot crashed squarely against the Overlord's plated neck at the -exact base of the skull. That kick would have pulped any human or -near-human head--it would have slain a horse--it staggered momentarily -even the reptilianly armored monstrosity which was the Delgonian. - -Kinnison went leaping across the room toward a rack of implements and -weapons, only to be buried in mid-course beneath a hurtling avalanche -of fury. For a moment man and monster stood poised, almost en tableau, -then they crashed to the floor together--talons and fingers clawing, -gouging at eyes; wings, feet, hard-gnarled hands, scimitared tail, -balled fist, boots and teeth wreaking every ultimate possibility of -damage. Against the frightfully armed and naturally armored body of the -Delgonian, human physical weapons and human strength were near useless; -but, insulated against the agony of snapping bones and bludgeon blows -of the mighty tail by that hard-held nerve block, the Lensman's -furiously active mind had a goal--a vaguely understood goal--toward -which he directed the deadly struggle he could not control or hope to -win-- - -Upon and over the thought-screen generator rolled the madly warring -pair, and as the delicate mechanism disintegrated it ceased to function. - -Worsel's prodigious mentality had been beating ceaselessly against -that screen ever since its erection, and in the very instant of its -fall Kinnison became again the Gray Lensman of old. And in the next -instant both of those mighty minds--the two most powerful then known -to civilization--had hurled themselves against that of the Delgonian. -Bitter though the ensuing struggle was, it was brief. Nothing short of -an Arisian mentality could have withstood the venomous intensity, the -berserk power, of that concerted and synchronized attack. - -Brain half burned out, the Overlord wilted; and, docility itself, he -energized the communicator. - -"Eichmil? The work is done. Thoroughly done, and well." - -"So soon?" - -"Yes. I was hungry--and, as I intimated, Tellurians are much too weak -to furnish any real sport. Do you wish to inspect what is left of -the Lensman?" This question was safe enough; Worsel knew exactly how -Kinnison had fared during his whirlwind bodily encounter with the -frightfully armed, heavily armored engine of destruction which was the -Delgonian. - -"No." Eichmil, as a high executive, was accustomed to delegating far -more important matters to competent underlings. "If you say that it is -well done, that is sufficient." - -"Clear the way for me, then, please," the Overlord requested. Then, -picking up the hideously mangled thing that was Kinnison's body, he -incased it in its armor and, donning his own, wriggled boldly away with -his burden. "I go to place this residuum within its ship and to return -it to Star A Star." - -"You will be able to find the speedster?" - -"Certainly. He was to find it. Whatever he could have done, I, working -through the cells of his brain, can likewise do." - -"Can you handle him alone, Kinnison?" Worsel asked presently. "Can you -hold out until you reach the boat?" - -"Yes, to both. I can handle him--we softened him down plenty. I will -last--I'll make myself last, long enough." - -"I go, then, lest they be observing with spy rays." - -To the black flier the completely subservient Delgonian then bore his -physically disabled master, and carefully he put him aboard. Worsel -helped openly there, for he had put out screens against all forms of -intrusion. The vessel took off and the Overlord wriggled blithely back -toward the dome. He was full of the consciousness of a good job, well -done. He even felt the sensation of repletion concomitant with having -consumed much vital force! - -"I hate to let him go!" Worsel's thought was a growl of baffled fury. -"It gripes me to the tail to let him think that he has done everything -he set out to do; that he will never even know how he got those bruises -and contusions. I wanted--I still want--to tear him apart for what he -has done to you, my friend." - -"Thanks, old snake." Kinnison's thought came faintly. "Just temporary. -He's living on borrowed time. He'll get his. You've got everything -under control, haven't you?" - -"On the green. Why?" - -"Because I can't hold this nerve block any longer.... It hurts.... I'm -sick.... I think I'm going to--" - -He fainted. More, he plunged parsecs deep into the blackest depths of -oblivion as outraged nature took the toll she had been so long denied. - -Worsel hurled a call to Earth, then turned to his maimed and horribly -broken companion. He applied splints to the shattered limbs, he dressed -and bandaged the hideous wounds and the raw sockets which had once held -eyes, he ministered to the raging, burning thirst. Whenever Kinnison's -mind wearied he held for him the nerve block, the priceless anodyne -without which the Gray Lensman must have died from sheerest agony. - -"Why not allow me, friend, to relieve you of all consciousness until -help arrives?" the Velantian asked pityingly. - -"Can you do it without killing me?" - -"If you so allow, yes. If you offer any resistance, I do not believe -that any mind in the Universe could." - -"I won't resist you. Come in," and Kinnison's suffering ended. - -But kindly Worsel could do nothing about the fantastically atrocious -growths which were transforming the Earthman's legs and arms into -monstrosities out of nightmare. - -He could only wait--wait for the skilled assistance which he knew must -be so long in coming. - - - - - XXI. - - -When Worsel's hard-driven call impinged upon the port admiral's -lens, Haynes dropped everything to take the report himself. -Characteristically Worsel sent first and Haynes first recorded a -complete statement of the successful mission to Jarnevon. Last came -personalities, the tale of Kinnison's ordeal and of his present plight. - -"Are they following you in force, or can't you tell?" - -"Nothing has been detectable, and at the time of our departure there -had been no suggestion of any such action," Worsel replied carefully. - -"We'll come in force, anyway, and fast. Keep him alive until we meet -you," Haynes urged, and disconnected. - -It was an unheard-of occurrence for the port admiral to turn over his -very busy and extremely important desk to a subordinate without notice -and without giving him detailed instructions, but Haynes did it now. - -"Take charge of everything, Southworth!" he snapped. "I'm called -away--emergency. Kinnison found Boskone--got away--hurt--I'm going -after him in the _Dauntless_. Taking the new flotilla with me. Time -indefinite--probably a few weeks." - -He strode toward the communicator desk. The _Dauntless_ was, as always, -completely serviced and ready for any emergency. Where was that fleet -of her sister ships, on its shakedown cruise? He'd shake them down! -They had with them the new hospital ship, too--the only Red Cross ship -in space that could leg it, parsec for parsec, with the _Dauntless_. - -"Get me Navigations.... Figure best point of rendezvous for the -_Dauntless_ and Flotilla ZKD, both at full blast, en route to -Lundmark's Nebula. Fifteen minutes departure. Figure approximate time -of meeting with speedster, also at full blast, leaving that nebula -hour nine fourteen today. Correction! Cancel speedster meeting; we -can compute that more accurately later. Advise adjutant. Vice-Admiral -Southworth will send order, through channels. Get me Base Hospital.... -Lacy, please.... Kinnison's hurt, sawbones, bad. I'm going out after -him. Coming along?" - -"Yes. How about--" - -"On the green. Flotilla ZKD, including your new -two-hundred-million-credit hospital, is going along. Slip twelve, -_Dauntless_, eleven and one half minutes from now. Hipe!" And the -surgeon general "hiped." - -Two minutes before the scheduled take-off Base Navigations called the -chief navigating officer of the _Dauntless_. - -"Course to rendezvous with Flotilla ZKD latitude three fifty-four dash -thirty longitude nineteen dash forty-two time approximately twelve dash -seven dash twenty-six place one dash three dash oh outside arbitrary -galactic rim check and repeat," rattled from the speaker without pause -or punctuation. Nevertheless, the chief navigator got it, recorded it, -checked and repeated it. - -"Figures only approximations because of lack of exact data on -variations in density of medium and on distance necessarily lost in -detouring stars," the speaker chattered on. "Suggest instructing your -second navigator to communicate with navigating officers Flotilla -ZKD at time twelve dash oh dash oh to correct courses to compensate -unavoidably erroneous assumptions in computation Base Navigations off." - -"I'll say he's off--'way off!" growled the second. "What does he think -I am--a complete nitwit? Pretty soon he'll be telling me that two plus -two equals four point oh." - - * * * * * - -The fifteen-second warning bell sounded. Every man came to the ready at -his post, and precisely upon the designated second the superdreadnought -blasted off. For six miles she rose inert upon her under jets, -sirens and flaring lights clearing her way. Then she went free, her -needle prow slanted sharply upward, her full battery of main driving -projectors burst into action, and to all intents and purposes she -vanished. - -The Earth fell away from her at an incredible rate, dwindling away into -invisibility in less than a minute. In two minutes the Sun itself was -merely a bright star, in five it had merged indistinguishably into the -sharply defined, brilliantly white belt of the Milky Way. - -Hour after hour, day after day, the _Dauntless_ hurtled through space, -swinging almost imperceptibly this way and that to avoid the dense -ether in the neighborhood of suns through which the designated course -would have led; but never leaving far or for long the direct line, -almost exactly in the equatorial plane of the Galaxy, between Tellus -and the place of meeting. Behind her the Milky Way clotted, condensed, -gathered itself together; before her and around her the stars began -rapidly to thin out. Finally there were no more stars in front of her. -She had reached the "arbitrary rim" of the Galaxy, and the second -navigator plugged into Communications. - -"Please get me Flotilla ZDK, Flagship Navigations," he requested; and, -as a clean-cut young face appeared upon his plate: "Hi, Harvey, old -spacehound! Fancy meeting you out here! It's a small Universe, ain't -it? Say, did that crumb back there at Base tell you, too, to be sure -and start checking course before you overran the rendezvous? If he was -singling me out to make that pass at, I'm going to take steps, and not -through channels, either." - -"Yeah, he told me the same. I thought it was funny, too--an oiler's boy -would know enough to do that without being told. We figured maybe he -was jittery on account of us meeting the admiral or something. What's -burned out all the jets, Paul, to get the big brass hats 'way out here -and all dithered up, and to pull us offa the cruise this way? Must be -a hell of an important flit! You're computing the Old Man himself; you -oughta know something. What's all this about a speedster that we're -going to escort? Spill it--give us the dope!" - -"I don't know a thing, Harvey, honest, any more than you do. -They didn't put out a word. Well, we'd better be getting onto -the course--'to compensate unavoidably erroneous assumptions in -computation,'" he mimicked caustically. "What do you read on my lambda? -Fourteen--three--oh point six--decrement--" - -The conversation became a technical jargon; because of which, however, -the courses of the flying spaceships changed subtly. The flotilla -swung around, through a small arc of a circle of prodigious radius, -decreasing by a tenth its driving force. Up to it the _Dauntless_ -crept; through it and into the van. Then again in cone formation, but -with fifty-five units instead of fifty-four, the flotilla screamed -forward at maximum blast. - -Well before the calculated time of meeting the speedster a Velantian -Lensman who knew Worsel well put himself en rapport with him and -sent a thought out far ahead of the flying squadron. It found its -goal--Lensmen of that race, as has been brought out, have always been -extraordinarily capable communicators--and once more the course was -altered slightly. In due time Worsel reported that he could detect the -fleet, and shortly thereafter: - -"Worsel says to cut your drive to zero," the Velantian transmitted. -"He's coming up. He's close. He's going to go inert and start driving. -We're to stay free until we see what his intrinsic velocity is. Watch -for his flare." - -It was a weird sensation, this of knowing that a speedster--quite a -sizable chunk of boat, really--was almost in their midst, and yet -having all their instruments, even the electros, register empty space. - -There it was! The flare of the driving blast, a brilliant streamer of -fierce white light, sprang into being and drifted rapidly away to one -side of their course. When it had attained a safe distance: - -"All ships of the flotilla except the _Dauntless_ go inert," Haynes -directed. Then, to his own pilot, "Back us off a bit, Henderson, and do -the same," and the new flagship also went inert. - -"How can I get onto the _Pasteur_ the quickest, Haynes?" Lacy demanded. - -"Take a gig," the admiral grunted. "Strapped down, you can use as much -acceleration as you like. Three G's is all we can use without warning -and preparation." - - * * * * * - -There followed a curious and fascinating spectacle, for the hospital -ship had an intrinsic velocity entirely different from that of either -Kinnison's speedster or Lacy's powerful gig. The _Pasteur_, gravity -pads cut to zero, was braking down by means of her under jets at a -conservative one point four gravities, since hospital ships were not -allowed to use the brutal inert accelerations employed as a matter of -course by ships of war. - -The gig was on her brakes at five gravities, all that Lacy wanted to -take--but the speedster! Worsel had put his patient into a pressure -pack and had hung him on suspension, and was "balancing her down on her -tail" at everything he could stand--a full eleven gravities! - -But even at that, the gig first matched the velocity of the hospital -ship. The intrinsics of those two were at least of the same order -of magnitude, since both had come from the same galaxy. Therefore, -Lacy boarded the Red Cross vessel and was escorted to the office of -the chief nurse while Worsel was still blasting at eleven G's--fifty -thousand miles distant then and getting farther away by the second--to -kill the speedster's Lundmarkian intrinsic velocity. Nor could the -tractors of the warships be of any assistance--the speedster's own -vicious jets were fully capable of supplying more acceleration than -even unhuman Worsel could endure! - -"How do you do, Dr. Lacy? Everything is ready." Clarrissa MacDougall -met him, hand outstretched. Her saucy white cap was worn as jerkily -cocked as ever; perhaps even more so, now that it was emblazoned with -the cross-surmounted wedge which is the insignia of sector chief nurse. -Her flaming hair was as gorgeous, her smile was as radiant, her bearing -as confidently--Kinnison has said of her more than once that she is the -only person he has ever known who can strut sitting down!--as calmly -poised. "I'm very glad to see you, doctor. It's been quite a while--" -Her voice died away, for the man was looking at her with an expression -defying analysis. - -For Lacy was thunderstruck. If he had ever known it--and he must -have--he had forgotten completely that MacDougall had this ship. This -was awful--terrible! - -"Oh, yes ... yes, of course. How do you do? Mighty glad to see you -again. How's everything going?" He pumped her hand vigorously, thinking -frantically the while what he would--what he _could_--say next. "Oh, by -the way, who is to be in charge of the operating room?" - -"Why, I am, of course," she replied in surprise. "Who else would be?" - -"_Anyone_ else," he wanted to say, but did not--then. "Why, that isn't -at all necessary. I would suggest--" - -"You'll suggest nothing of the kind!" She stared at him intently; -then, as she realized what his expression really meant--she had never -before seen such a look of pitying anguish upon his usually sternly -professional face--her own turned white and both hands flew to her -throat. - -"Not Kim, Lacy!" she gasped. Gone now was everything of poise, of -insouciance, which had so characterized her a moment before. She who -had worked unflinchingly upon all sorts of dismembered, fragmentary, -maimed and mangled men was now a pleading, stricken, desperately -frightened girl. "Not Kim--please! Oh, merciful God, don't let it be -my Kim!" - -"You _can't_ be there, Mac." He did not need to tell her. She knew; he -knew that she knew. "Somebody else--_anybody_ else." - -"No!" came the hot negative, although the blood drained completely from -the chief nurse's face, leaving it as white as the immaculate uniform -she wore. Her eyes were black, burning holes. "It's my job, Lacy, in -more ways than one. Do you think that I would _ever_ let anyone else -work on _him_?" she finished passionately. - -"You'll have to," he declared. "I didn't want to tell you this, but -he's a ghastly mess. Altogether too much so for any woman, to say -nothing of one who loves him." This, from a surgeon of Lacy's long and -wide experience, was an unthinkable statement. Nevertheless: - -"All the more reason why I've got to do it. No matter what shape he's -in, I'll let no one else work on my Kim." - -"I say no. That's an order--official!" - -"Damn such orders!" she flamed. "There's nothing back of it--you know -that as well as I do!" - -"See here, young woman--" - -"Do you think that you can get away with ordering me not to perform -the very duties I have taken an oath to do?" she stormed. "And even -if it were not my job, I'd come in and work on him if I had to get a -torch and cut the ship apart, plate by plate, to do it! The only way -you can keep me out of that operating room, Lacy, is to have about ten -of your men put me into a strait jacket--and if you do that I'll have -you kicked out of the service bodily. You know that I could and that I -would!" - -"QX, MacDougall, you win." She had him there. This girl could and would -do exactly that. "But if you faint, I swear that I'll make you wish--" - -"You know me better than that, doctor." She was cold now as a woman of -marble. "If he dies, I'll die, too, right then. But if he lives, I'll -stand by as long as I can do a single thing, however small, to help." - -"You would, at that," the surgeon admitted. "Probably you would be -able to hold together better than anyone else could. But there'll be -after-effects in your case, you know." - -"I know." Her voice was bleak. "I'll live through them--if Kim lives." -She became all nurse in the course of a breath. White, cold, inhuman; -strung to highest tension and yet placidly calm, as only a truly loving -woman in life's great crises can be. "You have had reports on him, -doctor. What is your provisional diagnosis?" - -"Something like elephantiasis, only worse, affecting both arms and both -legs. Drastic amputations indicated. Eye sockets require attention. -Various multiple and compound fractures. Punctured and incised wounds. -Traumatism, ecchymosis, extensive extravasations, œdema. Profound -systemic shock, of course. The prognosis, however, seems to be -distinctly favorable, as far as we can tell." - -"Oh, I'm glad of that!" she breathed, the woman for a moment showing -through the armor of the nurse. She had not dared even to think of -prognosis. Then she had a thought. "Is that really true, or are you -just giving me a shot in the arm?" she demanded. - -"The truth--strictly," he assured her. "Worsel has an excellent sense -of perception, and he has reported fully and clearly. Kinnison's mind, -brain, and spine are not affected in any way, and we should be able to -save his life. That is the one good feature of the whole thing." - - * * * * * - -The speedster finally matched the velocity of the hospital ship. -She went free, flashed up to the _Pasteur_, inerted, and maneuvered -briefly. The larger vessel engulfed the smaller. The Gray Lensman was -carried into the operating room. The anæsthetist approached the table -and Lacy was stunned at a thought from Kinnison. - -[Illustration: _They wheeled Kim out of the speedster, grim Worsel's -vast strength gentle to help him into the hospital ship._] - -"Never mind the anæsthetic, Dr. Lacy. You can't make me unconscious -without killing me. Go ahead with your work. I'll hold a nerve block -while you're doing what has to be done. I can do it perfectly--I've had -lots of practice." - -"But we can't, man!" Lacy exclaimed. "You've got to be under a general -for this job--we can't have you conscious. You're raving, I think. It -will work, surely; it always has. Let us try it, anyway, won't you?" - -"Sure. It'll save me the trouble of holding the block, even though it -won't do anything else. Go ahead." - -The attendant physician did so, with the same cool skill and to the -same end point as in thousands of similar and successful undertakings. -At its conclusion: "Gone now, aren't you, Kinnison?" Lacy asked, -through his Lens. - -"No," came the surprising reply. "Physically, it worked. I can't feel a -thing and I can't move a muscle, but mentally I am as wide awake as I -ever was." - -"But you shouldn't be!" Lacy protested. "Perhaps you were right, at -that--we can't give you much more without danger of collapse. But -you've _got_ to be unconscious! Isn't there some way in which you can -be made so?" - -"Yes, there is. But why do I have to be unconscious?" Kinnison asked -curiously. - -"To avoid mental shock--seriously damaging," the surgeon explained. "In -your case particularly the mental aspect is much graver than the purely -physical one." - -"Maybe you're right but you can't do it with drugs. Call Worsel; he has -done it before. He had me unconscious most of the way over here, except -when he had to give me a drink or something to eat. He's the only man -this side of Arisia who can operate on my mind." - -Worsel came. "Sleep, my friend," he commanded, gently but firmly. -"Sleep profoundly, body and mind, with no physical or mental -sensations, no consciousness, no perception even of the passage of -time. Sleep until someone having authority to do so bids you awaken." - -And Kinnison slept; so deeply that even Lacy's probing Lens could -elicit no response. - -"He will _stay_ that way?" the surgeon asked in awe. - -"Yes." - -"For how long?" - -"Indefinitely. Until one of you doctors or nurses tells him to wake up, -or until he dies for lack of food or water." - -"We will see to it that he gets nourishment. He would make a much -better recovery if we could keep him in that state until his injuries -are almost healed. Would that do him harm, think you?" - -"None whatever." - -Then the surgeons and the nurses went to work. Lacy was not guilty of -exaggeration when he described Kinnison as being a "ghastly mess." -He was all of that. The job was long and hard. It was heartbreaking, -even for those to whom Kinnison was merely another case, not a beloved -personality. What they had to do they did, and the white marble -chief nurse carried on through every soul-wrenching second, through -every shocking, searing motion of it. She did her part, stoically, -unflinchingly, as efficiently as though the patient upon the table were -a total stranger undergoing a simple appendectomy and not the one man -in her entire universe suffering radical dismemberment. Nor did she -faint--then. - - * * * * * - -Back in Base Hospital, then, time wore on until Lacy decided that the -Lensman could be aroused from his trance. Clarrissa it was who woke -him up. She had fought for the privilege; first claiming it as a right -and then threatening to commit mayhem upon the person of anyone else -who dared even to think of doing it. - -"Wake up, Kim, dear," she whispered. "The worst of it is over now. You -are getting well." - -The Gray Lensman came to instantly, in full command of every faculty, -knowing everything that had happened up to the instant of his hypnosis -by Worsel. He stiffened, ready to establish again the nerve block -against the intolerable agony to which he had been subjected so long, -but there was no need. His body was, for the first time in untold -æons, free from pain; and he relaxed blissfully, reveling in the sheer -comfort of it. - -"I'm _so_ glad that you're awake, Kim," the nurse went on. "I know -that you can't talk to me--we can't unbandage your jaw until next -week--and you can't think at me, either, because your new Lens -hasn't come yet. But I can talk to you and you can listen. Don't be -discouraged, Kim. Don't let it get you down. I love you just as much as -I ever did, and as soon as you can talk we're going to get married. I -am going to take care of you--" - -"Don't 'poor dear' me, Mac," he interrupted her with a vigorous -thought. "You didn't say it, I know, but you were thinking it. I'm not -half as helpless as you think I am. I can still communicate, and I can -see as well as I ever could, or better. And if you think that I'm going -to let you marry me to take care of me, you're crazy." - -"You're raving! Delirious! Stark, staring mad!" She started back, -then controlled herself with an effort. "Maybe you can think at people -without a Lens--of course you can, since you just did, at me--but you -_can't_ see, Kim, possibly. Believe me, boy, I _know_ that you can't. I -was there--" - -"I can, though," he insisted. "I got a lot of stuff on my second trip -to Arisia that I couldn't let anybody know about then, but I can now. -I've got as good a sense of perception as Tregonsee has--maybe better. -To prove it, you look thin, worn--whittled down to a nub. You've been -working too hard--on me." - -"Deduction," she scoffed. "You would know that I would." - -"QX. How about those roses over there on the table? White ones, yellow -ones, and red ones? With ferns?" - -"You can smell them, perhaps"--dubiously. Then, with more assurance: -"You would know that practically all the flowers known to botany would -be here." - -"Well, I'll count 'em and point 'em out to you, then--or, better, how -about that little gold locket, with 'CM' engraved on it, that you're -wearing under your uniform? I can't smell that, nor the picture in -it--" The man's thought faltered in embarrassment. "_My_ picture! -Klono's whiskers, Mac, where did you get that--and why?" - -"It's a reduction that Admiral Haynes let me have made. I am wearing it -because I love you--I've said that before." - -The girl's entrancing smile was now in full evidence. She knew now that -he _could_ see, that he would never be the helpless hulk which she had -so gallingly thought him doomed to become, and her spirits rose in -ecstatic relief. But he would _never_ take the initiative now. Well, -then, she would; and this was as good an opening as she ever would have -with the stubborn brute. Therefore: - -"More than that, as I said before, I am going to marry you, whether -you like it or not." She blushed a heavenly--and discordant--magenta, -but went on unfalteringly: "And not out of pity, either, Kim, or just -to take care of you. It's older than that--much older." - -"It can't be done, Mac." His thought was a protest to high Heaven at -the injustice of Fate. "I've thought it over out in space a thousand -times--thought until I was black in the face--but I get the same -result every time. It's just simply no soap. You are much too fine a -woman--too splendid, too vital, too much of everything a woman should -be--to be tied down for life to a thing that's half steel, rubber, and -phenoline. It just simply is not on the wheel, that's all." - -"You're full of pickles, Kim." Gone was all her uncertainty and -nervousness. She was calm, poised; glowing with a transcendent inward -beauty. "I didn't really _know_ until this minute that you love me, -too, but I do now. Don't you realize, you big, dumb, wonderful clunker, -that as long as there's one single, little bit of a piece of you left -alive I'll love that piece more than I ever could any other man's -entire being?" - -"But I _can't_, I tell you!" He groaned the thought. "I can't and -I won't! My job isn't done yet, either, and the next time they'll -probably get me. I _can't_ let you waste yourself, Mac, on a fraction -of a man for a fraction of a lifetime!" - -"QX, Gray Lensman." Clarrissa was serene, radiantly untroubled. She -could make things come out right now; everything was on the green. -"We'll put this back up on the shelf for a while. I'm afraid that I -have been terribly remiss in my duties as a nurse. Patients mustn't be -excited or quarreled with, you know." - -"That's another thing. How come you, a sector chief, to be on ordinary -room duty, and night duty at that?" - -"Sector chiefs assign duties, don't they?" she retorted sunnily. "Now -I'll give you a rub and change some of these dressings." - - - - - XXII. - - -"Hi, Skeleton-gazer!" - -"Ho, Big Chief Feet-on-the-desk!" - -"I see that your red-headed sector chief is still occupying all -strategic salients in force." Haynes had paused in the surgeon -general's office on his way to another of his conferences with the Gray -Lensman. "Can't you get rid of her or don't you want to?" - -"Don't want to. Couldn't, anyway, probably. The young vixen would tear -down the hospital--she might even resign, marry him out of hand, and -lug him off somewhere. You want him to recover, don't you?" - -"Don't be any more of an idiot than you have to. What a question!" - -"Don't work up a temperature about MacDougall, then. As long as she's -around him--and that's twenty-four hours a day--he'll get everything in -the Universe that he can get any good out of." - -"That's so, too. This other thing's out of our hands now, anyway. -Kinnison can't hold his position long against her and himself -both--overwhelmingly superior force. Just as well, too--civilization -needs more like those two." - -"Check, but the affair isn't out of our hands yet, by any means. We've -got quite a little more fine work to do there, as you'll see, before -it's a really good job. But about Kinnison--" - -"Yes. When are you going to fit arms and legs on him? He should be -practicing with them at this stage of the game, I should think--I was." - -"You _should_ think--but, unfortunately, you don't, about anything -except war," was the surgeon's dry rejoinder. "If you did, you would -have paid more attention to what Phillips has been doing. He is making -the final test today. Come along--your conference with Kinnison can -wait half an hour." - -In the research laboratory which had been assigned to Phillips they -found von Hohendorff with the Posenian. Haynes was surprised to see the -old commandant of cadets, but Lacy quite evidently had known that he -was to be there. - -"Phillips," the surgeon general began, "explain to Admiral Haynes, in -nontechnical language, what you are doing." - -"The original problem was to discover what hormone or other agent -caused proliferation of neural tissue--" - -"Wait a minute; I'd better do it," Lacy broke in. "Anyway, you wouldn't -do yourself justice. The first thing that Phillips found out was that -the problem of repairing damaged nervous tissue was inextricably -involved with several other unknown things, such as the original growth -of such tissue, its relationship to growth in general, the regeneration -of lost members in lower forms, and so on. You see, Haynes, it is a -known fact that nerves do grow, or else they could not exist; and in -some lower forms of life they regenerate. Those facts were all he had, -at first. In higher forms, even during the growth stage, regeneration -does not occur spontaneously. Phillips set out to find out why. - -"The thyroid controls growth, but does not initiate it, he learned. -This fact seemed to indicate that there was an unknown hormone -involved--that certain lower types possess an endocrine gland which -is either atrophied or non-existent in higher types. If the latter, -he was sunk. He reasoned, however, that, since higher types evolved -from lower, the gland in question might very well exist in a vestigial -stage. He studied animals, thousands of them, from the germ upward. He -exhausted the patience of the Posenian authorities; and when they cut -off his appropriation, on the ground that the thing was impossible, he -came here. We gave him carte blanche. - -"The man is a miracle of perseverence, a keen observer, a shrewd -reasoner, and a mechanic par excellence--a born researcher. Therefore, -in time he learned what it must be: to cut it short, the pineal body. -Then he had to find the stimulant. Drugs, chemicals, and spectrum of -radiation; singly and in combination. Years of plugging, with just -enough progress to keep him at it. Visits to other planets peopled -by races human to two places or more; learning everything that had -been done along the line of his problem. When you fellows moved Medon -over here he visited it as a matter of routine, and there he hit -the jackpot. Wise himself is a surgeon, and the Medonians have for -centuries been having warfare and grief enough, steadily and in heroic -doses, to develop the medical and surgical arts no end. - -"They knew how to stimulate the pineal--a combination of drugs and -specific radiations--but their method was dangerous. With Phillips' -fresh viewpoint, his wide, new knowledge, and his mechanical genius, -they worked out a new and highly satisfactory technique. He was going -to try it out on a pirate going into the lethal chamber, but von -Hohendorff heard about it and insisted that it should be tried on him. -Got up on his Unattached Lensman's high horse and won't come down. So -here we are." - -"Hm-m-m--interesting!" The admiral had listened attentively. "You're -pretty sure that it will work, aren't you?" - -"As sure as we can be of anything that hasn't been tried. -Ninety-percent probability, say--certainly not over ninety-five." - - * * * * * - -"Good enough odds." Haynes turned to the commandant. "What do you mean, -you old reprobate, by sneaking around behind my back and horning in on -my reservation? I rate Unattached, too, you know, and it's mine. You're -out, von." - -"I saw it first and I refuse to relinquish." Von Hohendorff was adamant. - -"You've got to," Haynes insisted. "He isn't your cub any more; he's my -Lensman. Besides, I'm a better test than you are--I've got more parts -to replace than you have." - -"Four or five make just as good a test as a dozen," the commandant -declared. - -"Gentlemen, think!" the Posenian pleaded. "Please consider that the -pineal is actually inside the brain. It is true that I have not been -able to discover any brain injury so far, but the process has not yet -been applied to a reasoning brain and I can offer no assurance whatever -that some obscure injury will not result." - -"What of it?" and the two old Unattached Lensmen resumed their battle, -hammer and tongs. Neither would yield a millimeter. - -"Operate on them both, then, since they are both above law or reason," -Lacy finally ordered in exasperation. "There ought to be a law to -reduce Gray Lensmen to the ranks when they begin to suffer from -ossification of the intellect." - -"Starting with yourself, perhaps?" the admiral shot back, not at all -abashed. - -Haynes relented enough to let von Hohendorff go first, and both were -given the necessary injections. The commandant was then strapped -solidly into a chair; his head was clamped so firmly that he could not -move it in any direction. - -The Posenian swung his needle rays into place; two of them, -diametrically opposed, each held rigidly upon micrometered racks and -each operated by two huge, double, rock-steady hands. The operator -_looked_ entirely aloof--being eyeless and practically headless, it -is impossible to tell from a Posenian's attitude or posture anything -about the focal point of his attention--but the watchers knew that he -was observing in microscopic detail the tiny gland within the old -Lensman's skull. - -Then Haynes. "Is this all there is to it, or do we come back for more?" -he asked, when he was released from his shackles. - -"That's all," Lacy answered. "One stimulation lasts for life, as far as -we know. But if the treatment is successful you'll come back--about day -after tomorrow, I think--to go to bed here. Your spare equipment won't -fit and your stumps may require surgical attention." - -Sure enough, Haynes did come back to the hospital, but not to go to -bed. He was too busy. Instead, he got a wheel chair, and in it he was -taken back to his now-boiling office. And in a few more days he called -Lacy in high exasperation. - -"Know what you've done?" he demanded. "Not satisfied with taking my -perfectly good parts away from me, you've taken my teeth, too. They -don't fit--I can't eat a thing! And I'm hungry as a wolf--I was never -so hungry before in all my life! I _can't_ live on soup, man; I've got -work to do. What are you going to do about it?" - -"_Ho-ho-haw!_" Lacy roared. "Serves you right--von Hohendorff is taking -it easy here; sitting right on top of the world. Easy, now, sailor, -don't rupture your aorta. I'll send a nurse over with a soft-boiled egg -and a spoon. _Teething_--at _your_ age--_Haw-ho-haw!_" - -But it was no ordinary nurse who came, a few minutes later, to see -the port admiral; it was the sector chief herself. She looked at him -pityingly as she trundled him into his private office and shut the -door, thereby establishing complete coverage. - -"I had no idea, Admiral Haynes, that you ... that there--" She paused. - -"That I was so much of a machine-shop rebuild?"--complacently. "Except -in the matter of eyes--which he doesn't need, anyway--our mutual -friend Kinnison has very little on me, my dear. I got so handy with the -replacements that very few people knew how much of me was artificial. -But it's these teeth that are taking all the joy out of life. I'm -hungry, confound it! Have you got anything really satisfying that I can -eat?" - -"I'll say I have!" She fed him; then, bending over, she squeezed him -tight and kissed him emphatically. "You and the commandant are just -perfectly wonderful old darlings, and I love you all to pieces," she -declared. "I think Lacy was simply poisonous to laugh at you the way he -did. Why, you two are the world's greatest heroes! He knew perfectly -well all the time, the lug, that of course you'd be hungry; that you'd -have to eat twice as much as usual while your legs and things were -growing. Don't worry, admiral, I'll feed you until you bulge. I want -you to hurry up with this, so that they'll do it to Kim." - -"Thanks, Mac," and as she wheeled him back into the main office he -considered her anew. A ravishing creature, but sound. Rash, and a bit -stubborn, perhaps; impetuous and head-strong; but clean, solid metal -all the way through. She had what it takes--she qualified. She and -Kinnison would make a mighty fine couple when the lad got some of that -heroic damn nonsense knocked out of his head--but there was work to do. - - * * * * * - -There was. The Galactic Council had considered thoroughly Kinnison's -reports; its every member had conferred with him and with Worsel at -length. Throughout the First Galaxy the Patrol was at work in all its -prodigious might, preparing to wipe out the menace to civilization -which was Boskone. First-line superdreadnoughts--no others would go -upon that mission--were being built and armed, rebuilt and rearmed. - -Well it was that the Galactic Patrol had previously amassed an almost -inexhaustible supply of wealth, for its "reserves of expendible credit" -were running like water. - -Weapons, supposedly of irresistible power, were made even more -powerful. Screens already "impenetrable" were stiffened into even -greater stubbornness. - -Primary projectors were made to take even higher loads, for longer -times. New and heavier Q-type helices were designed and built. Larger -and more destructive duodec bombs were hurled against already ruined, -torn, and quivering test planets. Uninhabited worlds were being -equipped with super-Bergenholms and with driving projectors. The -negasphere, the most incredible menace to navigation which had ever -existed in space, was being patrolled by a cordon of guard ships. - -And all this activity centered in one vast building and culminated in -one man--Port Admiral Haynes, Galactic councilor and chief of staff. -And Haynes could not get enough to eat because he was cutting a new set -of teeth! - -He cut them, all thirty-two of them. His new limbs grew perfectly, even -to the nails. Hair grew upon what had for years been a shining expanse -of pate. But, much to Lacy's relief, it was old skin, not young, which -covered the new limbs. It was white hair, not brown, that was dulling -the glossiness of Haynes' bald old head. His bifocals, unchanged, were -still necessary if he were to see anything clearly, near or far. - -"Our experimental animals aged and died normally," Lacy explained -graciously, "but I was beginning to wonder if we had rejuvenated you -two, or perhaps endowed you with eternal life. Glad to see that the new -parts have the same physical age as the rest of you--it would be mildly -embarrassing to have to kill two Gray Lensmen to get rid of them." - -"You aren't even as funny as a rubber crutch," Haynes grunted. "When -are you going to give young Kinnison the works? Don't you realize that -we need him?" - -"Pretty soon now--just as soon as we give you and von your -psychological examinations." - -"Bah! That isn't necessary--my brain's QX!" - -"That's what you think, but what do you know about brains? Worsel will -tell us what shape your mind--if any--is in." - -The Velantian put both Haynes and von Hohendorff through a grueling -examination, finding that their minds had not been affected in any way -by the stimulants applied to their pineal glands. - -Then and only then did Phillips operate upon Kinnison; and in his -case, too, the operation was a complete success. Arms and legs and -eyes replaced themselves flawlessly. The scars of his terrible wounds -disappeared, leaving no sign of ever having been. - -He was a little slower, however; somewhat clumsy, and woefully weak. -Therefore, instead of discharging him from the hospital as cured, which -procedure would have restored to him automatically all the rights and -privileges of an Unattached Lensman, the Council decided to transfer -him to a physical-culture camp. A few weeks there would restore to him -entirely the strength, speed, and agility which had formerly been his, -and he would then be allowed to resume active duty. - - * * * * * - -Just before he left the hospital, Kinnison strolled with Clarrissa out -to a bench in the grounds. - -"--and you're making a perfect recovery," the girl was saying. "You'll -be exactly as you were before. But things between us aren't just as -they were, and they never can be again. You know that, Kim. We've got -unfinished business to transact--let's take it down off the shelf -before you go." - -"Better let it lay, Mac," and all the newfound joy of existence went -out of the man's eyes. "I'm whole, yes, but that angle was really the -least important of all. You never yet have faced squarely the fact that -my job isn't done and that my chance of living through it is just about -one in ten. Even Phillips can't do anything about a corpse." - -"No, and I won't face it, either, unless and until I must." Her reply -was tranquillity itself. "Most of the troubles people worry about in -advance never do materialize. And even if I did, you ought to know that -I ... that any woman would rather ... well, that half a loaf is better -than no bread." - -"QX. I haven't ever mentioned the worst thing. I didn't want to--but if -you've got to have it, here it is," the man wrenched out. "Look at what -I am. A barroom brawler. A rum-dum. A hard-boiled egg. A cold-blooded, -ruthless murderer, even of my own men--" - -"Not that, Kim, ever, and you know it," she rebuked him. - -"What else can you call it?" he grated. "A killer besides; a red-handed -butcher if there ever was one--then, now, and forever. I've got to be. -I can't get away from it. Do you think that you, or any other decent -woman, could stand it to live with me? That you could feel my arms -around you, feel my gory paws touching you, without going sick at the -stomach?" - -"Oh, so _that's_ what's really been griping you all this time!" -Clarrissa was surprised and entirely unshaken. "I don't have to think -about that, Kim--I know. If you were a murderer or had the killer -instinct, that would be different, but you aren't and you haven't. You -are hard, of course. You have to be--but do you think that I would -ever run a temperature over a softy? You brawl, yes--like the world's -champion you are. Anybody you ever killed needed killing, there's no -question of that. You don't do those things for fun; and the fact that -you can drive yourself to do the things that have to be done shows your -true caliber. - -"Nor have you ever thought of the obverse; that you lean over backward -in wielding that terrific power of yours. The Desplaines woman, the -countess--lots of other instances. I respect and honor you more -than any other man I have ever known. Any woman who really knew you -would--_she must! And I know!_ Remember that wide-open two-way put me -_in_ your mind for an instant--long enough--that let me understand -something of the horrible weight you have to carry, something of the -terrible power you must--for civilization--leash or release, direct and -control. _I know_--no words you may say now can add to or change that -single, full-view understanding I got then. - -"Listen, Kim. Read my mind, all of it. You will know me then, and -understand me better than I can ever explain myself." - -"Have you got a picture of me doing that?" he asked flatly. - -"No, you big, unreasonable clunker, I haven't!" she flared, "and -that's just what's driving me mad!" Then, voice dropping to a whisper, -almost sobbing: "Cancel that, Kim--I didn't mean it. You wouldn't--you -couldn't, I suppose, and still be you, the man I love. But isn't there -something--_anything_--that will make you understand what I really am?" - -"I know what you are." Kinnison's voice was uninflected, weary. "As I -told you before--the Universe's best. It's what I am that's clogging -the jets. What I have been and what I have to keep on being. I simply -don't rate up, and you'd better lay off me, Mac, while you can. -There's a poem by one of the ancients--Kipling--the 'Ballad of Boh Da -Thone'--that describes it exactly. You wouldn't know it--" - -"You just think that I wouldn't"--nodding brightly. "The only trouble -is that you always think of the wrong verses. Part of it really is -descriptive of you. You know, where all the soldiers of the Black -Tyrone thought so much of their captain?" - -She recited: - - "And worshiped with fluency, fervor, and zeal - The mud on the boot heels of Crook O'Neil. - -"That describes you exactly." - -"You're crazy for the lack of sense," he demurred. "I don't rate like -that." - -"Sure, you do," she assured him. "All the men think of you that way. -And not only men. Women, too, darn 'em--and the very next time that I -catch one of them at it I'm going to kick her cursed teeth out, one by -one!" - - * * * * * - -Kinnison laughed, albeit a trifle sourly. "You're raving, Mac. -Imagining things. But to get back to that poem, what I was referring to -went like this--" - -"I know how it goes. Listen: - - "But the captain had quitted the long-drawn strife - And in far Simoorie had taken a wife; - - "And she was a damsel of delicate mold, - With hair like the sunshine and heart of gold. - - "And little she knew the arms that embraced - Had cloven a man from the brow to the waist; - - "And little she knew that the loving lips - Had ordered a quivering life's eclipse, - - "And the eyes that lit at her lightest breath - Had glared unawed in the Gates of Death. - - "(For these be matters a man would hide, - As a general thing, from an innocent bride.) - -"That's what you, mean, isn't it?" she asked quietly. - -"Mac, you know a lot of things that you've got no business knowing." -Instead of answering her question, he stared at her speculatively. "My -sprees and brawls, Dessa Desplaines and the Countess Avondrin, and now -this. Would you mind telling me how you get the stuff?" - -"I'm closer to you than you suspect, Kim, and have been for a long -time. Worsel calls it being 'en rapport,' I believe. You don't need -to think at me--in fact, you have to put up a conscious block to keep -me out. So I know a lot that I shouldn't, but Lensmen aren't the only -ones who don't talk. You have been thinking about that poem a lot--it -worried you--so I went to the library and looked it up. I memorized -most of it." - -"Well, to get the true picture of me you'll have to multiply that by -a thousand. Also, don't forget that loose heads might be rolling onto -your breakfast table almost any morning instead of only once." - -"So what?" she countered evenly. "Do you think that I could sit for -Kipling's portrait of Mrs. O'Neil? Nobody ever called my mold delicate, -and he would have said of me: - - "With hair like a conflagration - And a heart of solid brass! - -"Captain O'Neil's bride, as well as being innocent and ignorant, -strikes me as having been a good deal of a sissy, something of a -weeping willow, and no little of a shrinking violet. Tell me, Kim, do -you think that she would have made good as a sector chief nurse?" - -"No, but that's neither here--" - -"It is, too," she interrupted. "You've got to consider what I did, and -that it's no job for a girl with a weak stomach. Besides, the Boh's -head took the fabled Mrs. O'Neil by surprise. She didn't know that her -husband used to be in the wholesale mayhem-and-killing business. I do. - -"And lastly, you big lug, do you think that I'd be making such -barefaced passes at you--playing the brazen hussy this way--unless I -was very, _very_ certain of the truth?" - -"Huh?" he demanded, blushing furiously. "I thought that you were -running a blazer on me before--you really do _know_, then, that--" He -would not say it, even then. - -"Of course I know!" She nodded; then, as the man spread his hands -helplessly, she abandoned her attempts to keep the conversation upon a -light level. - -"I know, my dear; there is nothing we can do about it yet." Her voice -was unsteady, her heart in every word. "You have to do your job, and I -honor you for that, too; even if it does take you from me. It will be -easier for you, though, I think, and I _know_ that it will be easier -for me, to have us both know the truth. Whenever you are ready, Kim, -I'll be here--or somewhere--waiting. Clear ether, Gray Lensman!" and, -rising to her feet, she turned back toward the hospital. - -"Clear ether, Chris!" Unconsciously he used the pet name by which he -had thought of her so much. He stared after her for a minute, hungrily. -Then, squaring his shoulders, he strode away. - - * * * * * - -And upon far Jarnevon Eichmil, the First of Boskone, was conferring -with Jalte via communicator. Long since, the Kalonian had delivered -through devious channels the message of Boskone to an imaginary -director of Lensmen; long since he had transmitted this cryptically -direful reply: - -"Lensman Morgan lives, and so does Star A Star." - -Jalte had not been able to report to his chief any news concerning the -fate of that which the speedster bore, since spies no longer existed -within the reservations of the Patrol. He had learned of no discovery -that any Lensman had made. He could not venture any hypothesis as -to how this Star A Star had heard of Jarnevon or had learned of its -location in space. He was sure of only one thing, and that was a grimly -disturbing fact indeed. The Patrol was re-arming throughout the Galaxy, -upon a scale theretofore unknown. Eichmil's thought was cold: - -"That means but one thing. A Lensman invaded you and learned of us -here--in no other way could knowledge of Jarnevon have come to them." - -"Why me?" Jalte demanded. "If there exists a mind of power sufficient -to break my screens and tracelessly to invade my mind, what of yours?" - -"It is a thing proven by the outcome." The Boskonian's statement was -a calm summation of fact. "The messenger sent against you succeeded; -the one sent against us failed. The Patrol intends and is preparing: -certainly to wipe out our remaining forces within the Tellurian Galaxy; -probably to attack your stronghold; eventually to invade our own -galaxy. It is well--for that reason, in part, was the Lensman Morgan -sent back as he was sent." - -"Let them come!" snarled the Kalonian. "We can and we will hold this -planet forever against anything they can bring through space!" - -"I would not be too sure of that," cautioned the superior. "In fact, -if--as I am beginning to regard as a probability--the Patrol does make -a concerted drive against any significant number of our planetary -organizations, you should abandon your base there and return to -Kalonia, after disbanding and so preserving for future use as many as -possible of the planetary units." - -"Future use? In that case there will be no future." - -"There will be," Eichmil replied, coldly vicious. "We are strengthening -the defenses of Jarnevon to withstand any conceivable assault. If they -do not attack us here of their own free will, we shall compel them to -do so. Then, after destroying their every mobile force, we shall again -take over their galaxy. Arms for that purpose are even now in the -building. Is the matter entirely clear?" - -"It is clear. We shall warn all our groups that such orders may issue; -and we shall prepare to abandon this base if such a step should become -desirable." - -So it was planned: neither Eichmil nor Jalte even suspecting two -startling truths: - -First, that when the Patrol was ready it would strike hard and without -warning, and, - -Second, that it would strike--not low, but high! - - - - - XXIII. - - -Kinnison played, worked, rested, ate, and slept. He boxed, strenuously -and viciously, with masters of the craft. He practiced with his -DeLameters until he had regained his old-time speed and dead-center -accuracy. He swam for hours at a time, he ran in cross-country races. -He lolled, practically naked, in hot sunshine. And finally, when his -muscles were writhing and rippling as of yore beneath the bronzed satin -of his skin, Lacy answered his insistent demands by coming to see him. - -The Gray Lensman met the flier eagerly, but his face fell when he saw -that the surgeon general was alone. - -"No, MacDougall didn't come--she isn't around any more," he explained -guilefully. - -"Huh?" came the startled query. "How come?" - -"Out in space--out Borova way somewhere. What do you care? After the -way you acted you've got the crust of a rhinoceros to think that--" - -"You're crazy, Lacy! Why, we ... she--It's all fixed up." - -"Funny kind of fixing. Moping around Base, crying her red head off. -Finally, though, she decided that she had some Scotch pride left, and I -let her go aboard again. If she isn't all done with you, she ought to -be." This, Lacy figured, would be good for what ailed the big saphead. -"Come on, and I'll see whether you're fit to go back to work or not." - -He was fit. "QX, lad, flit!" Lacy discharged him informally with a slap -upon the back. "Get dressed and I'll take you back to Haynes--he's been -snapping at me like a turtle ever since you've been out here." - -At Prime Base, Kinnison was welcomed enthusiastically by the admiral. - -"Feel those fingers, Kim!" he exclaimed. "Perfect! Just like the -originals!" - -"Mine, too. They do feel good." - -"It's a pity that you got your new ones so quick. You'd appreciate 'em -much more after a few years without 'em. But to get down to business. -The fleets have been taking off for a couple of weeks--we're to join up -as the line passes. If you haven't anything better to do, I'd like to -have you aboard the _Z9M9Z_." - -"I don't know of any place I'd rather be, sir--thanks." - -"QX. Thanks should be the other way. You can make yourself mighty -useful between now and zero time." He eyed the young man speculatively. - -Haynes had a special job for him, Kinnison knew. As a Gray Lensman, he -could not be given any military rank or post, and he could not conceive -of the admiral of Grand Fleet wanting him around as an aid-de-camp. - -"Spill it, chief," he invited. "Not orders, of course--I understand -that perfectly. Requests or ... ah-hum ... suggestions." - -"I _will_ crown you with something yet, you whelp!" Haynes snorted, -and Kinnison grinned. These two were very close, in spite of their -disparity in years; and very much of a piece. "As you get older you -will realize that it is good tactics to stick pretty close to Gen Regs. -Yes, I _have_ got a job for you, and it's a nasty one. Nobody else has -been able to handle it, not even two companies of Rigellians. Grand -Fleet Operations." - -"_Grand Fleet Operations!_" Kinnison was aghast. "Holy ... Klono's ... -brazen ... bowels! What makes you think I've got jets enough to swing -_that_ load, chief?" - -"I haven't any idea whether you can or not. I know, however, that if -you can't, nobody can; and in spite of all the work we've done on the -thing we'll have to operate as a mob, as we did before, and not as a -fleet. If so, I shudder to think of the results." - -"QX. If you'll send for Worsel, we'll try it a fling or two. It'd be a -shame to build a whole ship around an Operations tank and then not be -able to use it; I'll see what I can do. By the way, I haven't seen my -head nurse--Miss MacDougall, you know--any place lately. Have you? I -ought to tell her 'thanks' or something--maybe send her a flower." - -"Nurse? MacDougall? Oh, yes, the redhead. Let me see--did hear -something about her the other day. Married? No, that wasn't it.... She -took a hospital ship somewhere. Alsakan--Vandemar--somewhere; didn't -pay any attention. She doesn't need thanks--or flowers, either--she's -getting paid for her work. Much more important, don't you think, to get -Operations straightened out?" - -"Undoubtedly, sir," Kinnison replied stiffly, and as he went out Lacy -came in. - -The two old conspirators greeted each other with knowing grins. _Was_ -Kinnison taking it big! He was falling, like ten thousand bricks down a -well. - -"Do him good to undermine his position a bit. Too cocky altogether. But -_how_ they suffer!" - -"Check!" - - * * * * * - -Kinnison rode toward the flagship in a mood which even he could not -have described. He had expected to see her, as a matter of course--he -wanted to see her--confound it, he _had_ to see her! Why did she have -to do a flit now, of all the times on the calendar? She knew that the -fleet was shoving off, and that he'd have to go along--and nobody -knew where she was. When he got back he'd find her if he had to chase -her all over the Galaxy. He'd put an end to this. Duty was duty, of -course--but Chris was CHRIS--and half a loaf _was_ better than no bread! - -He jerked back to reality as he entered the gigantic teardrop which -was technically the _Z9M9Z_, socially the _Directrix_, and ordinarily -_GFHQ_. She had been designed and built specifically to be Grand Fleet -Headquarters, and nothing else. She bore no offensive armament; but -since she had to protect the presiding geniuses of combat, she had -every possible defense. - -Port Admiral Haynes had learned a bitter lesson during the expedition -to Helmuth's base. Long before that relatively small Grand Fleet got -there he was sick to the core, realizing that fifty thousand vessels -simply could not be controlled or maneuvered as a group. If that base -had been capable of an offensive, or even of a real defensive, or if -Boskone could have put their fleets into that star cluster in time, the -Patrol would have been defeated ignominiously; and Haynes, wise old -tactician that he was, knew it only too well. - -Therefore, immediately after the return from that "triumphant" venture, -he gave orders to design and to build, at whatever cost, a flagship -capable of directing efficiently a million combat units. - -The "tank"--the three-dimensional galactic chart which is a necessary -part of every pilot room--had grown and grown as it became evident that -it must be the prime agency in Grand Fleet Operations. Finally, in this -last rebuilding, the tank was seven hundred feet in diameter and eighty -feet thick in the middle--over seventeen million cubic feet of space in -which more than two million tiny lights crawled hither and thither in -hopeless confusion. For, after the technicians and designers had put -that tank into actual service, they had discovered that it was useless. -No available mind had been able either to perceive any situation as -a whole, or to identify with certainty any light or group of lights -needing correction. And as for linking up any particular light with -its individual, blanket-proof communicator in time to issue orders in -space combat-- - -Kinnison looked at the tank, then around the full circle of the -million-plug board encircling it. He observed the horde of operators, -each one trying frantically to do something. Next he shut his eyes, the -better to perceive everything at once, and studied the problem for an -hour. - -"Attention, everybody!" he thought then. "Open all circuits--do nothing -at all for a while." He then called Haynes. - -"I think that we can clean up this mess if you'll send over some -Simplex analyzers and the crew of technicians. Helmuth had a sweet -set-up on multiplex controls, and Jalte had some ideas that we can -adapt to fit this tank. If we add them all together, we may have -something." - - * * * * * - -And by the time Worsel arrived, they did. - -"Red lights are fleets already in motion," Kinnison explained rapidly -to the Velantian. "Greens are fleets still at their bases. Ambers are -the planets the greens took off from--connected, you see, by Ryerson -string-lights. The white star is us, the _Directrix_. That violet cross -'way over there is Jalte's planet, our first objective. The pink comets -are our free planets, their tails showing their intrinsic velocities. -Being so slow, they had to start long ago. The purple circle is the -negasphere. It's on its way, too. You take that side, I'll take this. -They were supposed to start from the edge of the twelfth sector. The -idea was to make it a smooth, bowl-shaped sweep across the Galaxy, -converging upon the objective, but each of the fleet commanders -apparently wants to run this war to suit himself. Look at that guy -there--he's beating the gun by nine thousand parsecs. Watch me pin his -ears back!" - -He pointed his Simplex at the red light which had so offendingly sprung -into being. There was a whirring click and the number 449276 flashed -above a board. An operator flicked a switch. - -"Grand Fleet Operations!" Kinnison snapped. "Why are you taking off -without orders?" - -"Why, I ... I'll give you the vice-admiral, sir--" - -"No time! Tell your vice-admiral that one more such break will put him -in irons. Land at once! GFO--off!" - -"With around a million fleets to handle, we can't spend much time on -anyone," he thought at Worsel, "but after we get them lined up and get -our Rigellians broken in, it won't be so bad." - -The breaking in did not take long; definite and meaningful orders -flew faster and faster along the tiny, but steel-hard beams of the -communicators. - -"Take off.... Increase drive four point five.... Decrease drive two -point seven.... Change course to--" and so it went, hour after hour and -day after day. - -And with the passage of time came order out of chaos. The red lights -formed a gigantically sweeping, curving wall, its almost imperceptible -crawl representing an actual velocity of almost one hundred parsecs an -hour. Behind that wall blazed a sea of amber, threaded throughout with -the brilliant filaments which were the Ryerson lights. Ahead of it lay -a sparkling, almost solid blaze of green. Closer and closer the wall -crept toward the bright white star. - -And in the "reducer"--the standard, ten-foot tank in the lower -well--the entire spectacle was reproduced in miniature. It was plainer -there, clearer and much more readily seen; but it was so crowded that -details were indistinguishable. - -Haynes stood beside Kinnison's padded chair one day, staring up into -the immense lens and shaking his head. He went down the flight of -stairs to the reducer, studied that, and again shook his head. - -"This is very pretty, but it doesn't mean a thing," he thought at -Kinnison. "It begins to look as though I'm going along just for the -ride. You--or you and Worsel--will have to do the fighting, too, I'm -afraid." - -"Uh-huh," Kinnison demurred. "What do we--or anyone else--know about -tactics, compared to you? You've got to be the brains. That's why we -had the boys rig up the original working model there, for a reducer. On -that you can watch and figure out the gross developments and tell us in -general terms what to do. Knowing that, we will know who ought to do -what, from the big tank here, and we will pass your orders along." - -"Say, that _will_ work, at that!" and Haynes brightened visibly. "Looks -as though a couple of those reds are going to knock our star out of the -tank, doesn't it?" - -"It'll be close in that reducer. They'll probably touch. Close enough -in real space--less than three parsecs." - -The zero hour came and the Tellurian armada of eighty-one sleek -destroyers--eighty superdreadnoughts and the _Directrix_--spurned Earth -and took its place in that hurtling wall of crimson. Solar system -after solar system was passed; fleet after fleet leaped into the ether -and fitted itself into the smoothly geometrical pattern which GFO was -nursing along so carefully. - -Through the Galaxy the formation swept, and out of it, toward a star -cluster. It slowed its mad pace; the center hanging back, the edges -advancing and folding in. - -"Surround the cluster and close in," the admiral directed; and, under -the guidance now of two hundred Rigellians, civilization's vast Grand -Fleet closed smoothly in and went inert. Drivers flared white as they -fought to match the intrinsic velocity of the cluster. - -"Vice admirals of all fleets, attention! Using secondaries only, fire -at will upon any enemy object coming within range. Engage outlying -structures and such battle craft as may appear. Keep assigned distance -from planet and stiffen cosmic screens to maximum. Haynes--off!" - -From untold millions of projectors there raved out gigantic rods, -knives, and needles of force, under the impact of which the defensive -screens of Jalte's guardian citadels flamed into terrible refulgence. -Duodec bombs were hurled--tight-beam-directed monsters of destruction -which, swinging around in huge circles to attain the highest possible -measure of momentum, flung themselves against Boskone's defenses in -Herculean attempts to smash them down. They exploded; each as it burst -filling all nearby space with blindingly intense violet light and with -flying scraps of metal. Q-type helices, driven with all the frightful -kilowattage possible to Medonian conductors and insulation, screwed in, -biting, gouging, tearing in wild abandon. Shear-planes, hellish knives -of force beside which Tellurian lightning is pale and wan, struck and -struck and struck again--fiendishly, crunchingly. - -But those grimly stolid fortresses could take it. They had been -repowered; their defenses stiffened to such might as to defy, in the -opinion of Boskone's experts, any projectors capable of being mounted -upon mobile bases. And not only could they take it--those formidably -armed and armored planetoids could dish it out as well. The screens of -the Patrol ships flared high into the spectrum under the crushing force -of sheer enemy power. Not a few of those defenses were battered down, -clear to the wall shields, before the unimaginable ferocity of the -Boskonian projectors could be neutralized. - - * * * * * - -And at this spectacularly frightful deep-space engagement Jalte, -Boskone's galactic director, and through him Eichmil, First of Boskone -itself, stared in stunned surprise. - -"It is insane!" Jalte gloated. "The fools judged our strength by that -of Helmuth; not considering that we, as well as they, would be both -learning and doing during the intervening time. They have a myriad of -ships, but mere numbers will never conquer my outposts, to say nothing -of my works here." - -"They are not fools. I am not sure--" Eichmil cogitated. - -He would have been even less sure could he have listened to a -conversation which was even then being held. - -"QX, Thorndyke?" Kinnison asked. - -"On the green," came instant reply. "Intrinsic, placement, -releases--everything on the green!" - -"Cut!" and the lone purple circle disappeared from tank and from -reducer. The master technician had cut his controls and every pound -of metal and other substance surrounding the negasphere had been -absorbed by that enigmatic volume of nothingness. No connection or -contact with it was now possible; and with its carefully established -intrinsic velocity it rushed engulfingly toward the doomed planet. One -of the mastodonic fortresses which lay in its path vanished utterly, -with nothing save a burst of invisible cosmics to mark its passing. It -approached its goal. It was almost upon the planet before any of the -defenders perceived it; and even then they could neither understand nor -grasp it. All detectors and other warning devices remained static, but: - -"Look! There! Something's _coming_!" an observer jittered, and Jalte -swung his plate. - -Jalte saw--nothing. Eichmil saw the same thing. There was nothing to -see. A vast, intangible nothing--yet a nothing tangible enough to -occult everything material in a full third of the cone of vision! -Jalte's operators hurled into it their mightiest beams. Nothing -happened. They struck nothing and disappeared. They loosed their -heaviest duodec torpedoes; gigantic missiles whose warheads contained -enough of that frightfully violent detonate to disrupt a world. Nothing -happened--not even an explosion. Not even the faintest flash of light. -Shell and contents alike merely and, oh, so incredibly peaceful, -ceased to exist. There were important bursts of cosmics, but they were -invisible and inaudible; and neither Jalte nor any member of his crew -were to live long enough to realize how terribly they had already been -burned. - -Gigantic pressors shoved against it; beams of power sufficient to -deflect a satellite; beams whose projectors were braced, in steel-laced -concrete down to bedrock, against any conceivable thrust. But this was -_negative_, not positive, matter--matter negative in every respect -of mass, inertia, and force. To it a push was a pull. Pressors to it -were tractors--at contact they pulled themselves up off their massive -foundations and hurtled into the appalling blackness. - - * * * * * - -Then the negasphere struck. Or did it? Can nothing strike anything? It -would be better, perhaps, to say that the spherical hyperplane which -was the three-dimensional cross-section of the negasphere began to -occupy the same volume of space as that in which Jalte's unfortunate -world already was. And at the surface of contact of the two the -materials of both disappeared. The substance of the planet vanished; -the incomprehensible nothingness of the negasphere faded away into the -ordinary vacuity of empty space. - -Jalte's base, all the three hundred square miles of it, was taken at -the first gulp. A vast pit opened where it had been, a hole which -deepened and widened with horrifying rapidity. And as the yawning -abyss enlarged itself the stuff of the planet fell into it, in turn to -vanish. Mountains tumbled into it, oceans dumped themselves into it. -The hot, frightfully compressed and nascent material of the planet's -core sought to erupt--but instead of moving, it, too, vanished. Vast -areas of the world's surface crust, tens of thousands of square -miles in extent, collapsed into it, splitting off along crevasses of -appalling depth, and became nothing. The stricken globe shuddered, -trembled, ground itself to bits in paroxysm after ghastly paroxysm of -disintegration. - -What was happening? Eichmil did not know, since his "eye" was destroyed -before any really significant developments could eventuate. He and his -scientists could only speculate and deduce--which, with surprising -accuracy, they did. The officers of the Patrol ships, however, _knew_ -what was going on, and they were scanning with intently narrowed eyes -the instruments which were recording instant by instant the performance -of the new cosmic super-screens which were being assaulted so brutally. - -For, as has been said, the negasphere was composed of negative matter. -Instead of electrons, its building blocks were positrons--the "Dirac -holes" in an infinity of negative energy. Whenever the field of a -positron encountered that of an electron, the two neutralized each -other, giving rise to two quanta of hard radiation. And, since those -encounters were occurring at the rate of countless trillions per -second, there was tearing at the Patrol's defenses a flood of cosmic -rays of an intensity which no spaceship had ever before been called -upon to withstand. But the new screens had been figured with a factor -of safety of five, and they stood up. - -The planet dwindled with soul-shaking rapidity to a moon, to a moonlet, -and finally to a discreetly conglomerate aggregation of meteorites -before the mutual neutralization ceased. - -"Primaries now," Haynes ordered briskly, as the needles of the -cosmic-ray-screen meters dropped back to the points of normal -functioning. The probability was that the defenses of the Boskonian -citadels would now be automatic only, that no life had endured through -that awful flood of lethal radiation; but he was taking no chances. Out -flashed the penetrant super rays and the fortresses, too, ceased to -exist save as the impalpable infradust of space. - -And the massed Grand Fleet of the Galactic Patrol, making its -formation, hurtled outward through the intergalactic void. - - - - - XXIV. - - -"They are not fools. I am not so sure--" Eichmil had said; and when -the last force-ball, his last means of intergalactic communication, -went dead, the First of Boskone became very unsure indeed. The Patrol -undoubtedly had something new--he himself had had glimpses of it--but -what was it? - -That Jalte's base was gone was obvious. That Boskone's hold upon the -Tellurian Galaxy was gone, followed as a corollary. That the Patrol was -or would soon be wiping out Boskone's regional and planetary units was -a logical inference. Star A Star, that accursed director of Lensmen, -had--must have--succeeded in stealing Jalte's records, to be willing to -destroy out of hand the base which had housed them. - -Nor could Boskone do anything to help the underlings, now that the -long-awaited attack upon Jarnevon itself was almost certainly coming. -Let them come--Boskone was ready. Or was it--quite? Jalte's defenses -had been strong, but they had not withstood that unknown weapon even -for seconds. - -Eichmil called a joint meeting of Boskone and the Academy of Science. -Coldly and precisely he told them everything that he had seen. -Discussion followed. - -"Negative matter beyond a doubt," a scientist summed up the consensus -of opinion. "It has long been surmised that in some other, perhaps -hyperspatial universe there must exist negative matter of mass -sufficient to balance the positive material of the universe we know. -It is conceivable that by hyperspatial explorations and manipulations -the Tellurians have discovered that other universe and have transported -some of its substance into ours." - -"Can they manufacture it?" Eichmil demanded. - -"The probability that such material can be manufactured is exceedingly -small," was the studied reply. "An entirely new mathematics would be -necessary. In all probability they found it already existent." - -"We must find it also, then, and at once." - -"We will try. Bear in mind, however, that the field is large, and do -not be optimistic of an early success. Note, also, that the substance -is not necessary--perhaps not even desirable--in a defensive action." - -"Why not?" - -"Because, by directing pressors against such a bomb, Jalte actually -pulled it into his base, precisely where the enemy wished it to go. -As a surprise attack, against those ignorant of its true nature, such -a weapon would be effective indeed; but against us it will prove a -boomerang. All that is needful is to mount tractor heads upon pressor -bases, and thus drive the bombs back upon those who send them." It did -not occur, even to the coldest scientist of them all, that that bomb -had been of planetary mass. Not one of the Eich suspected that all that -remained of the entire world upon which Jalte's base had stood was a -handful of meteorites. - -"Let them come, then," the First of Boskone announced grimly. "Their -dependence upon a new and supposedly unknown weapon explains what would -otherwise be insane tactics. With that weapon impotent, they cannot -possibly win a long war waged so far from their bases. We can match -them ship for ship, and more; and our supplies and munitions are close -at hand. We will wear them down--blast them out--the Tellurian Galaxy -shall yet be ours!" - - * * * * * - -Admiral Haynes spent almost every waking hour setting up and knocking -down tactical problems in the practice tank, and gradually his -expression changed from one of strained anxiety to one of pleased -satisfaction. He went over to his sealed-band transmitter, called all -communications officers, and ordered: - -"Each vessel will direct its longest-range detector, at highest -possible power, centrally upon the objective galaxy. The first observer -to find enemy activity will report it instantly to us here. We will -send out a general C. B., at which every vessel will cease blasting -at once, remaining motionless until further orders." He then called -Kinnison. - -"Look here," he directed the attention of the younger man into the -reducer, which now represented intergalactic space, with a portion -of the Second Galaxy filling one edge. "I have a solution, but its -practicability depends upon whether or not it calls for the impossible -from you, Worsel, and your Rigellians. You remarked at the start that I -knew my tactics. I wish that I knew more--or at least could be certain -that Boskone and I agree upon what constitutes good tactics. I feel -quite safe in assuming, however, that we shall meet their Grand Fleet -well outside the Galaxy--" - -"Why?" asked the startled Kinnison. "If I were Eichmil, I'd pull every -ship I had in around Jarnevon and keep it there; they can't force -engagement with us!" - -"Poor tactics. The very presence of their fleet out in space will -force us to engage, and decisively at that. From his viewpoint, if he -defeats us there, that ends it. If he loses, that is only his first -line of defense. His observers will have reported fully. He will have -invaluable data upon which to work, and much time before even his -outlying fortresses can be threatened. - -"From our viewpoint, we cannot refuse battle if his fleet is there. It -would be suicidal for us to enter that Galaxy, leaving intact outside -it a fleet as powerful as that one is bound to be." - -"Why? Harrying us from the rear might be bothersome, but I don't see -how it could be disastrous." - -"Not that. They could, and would, attack Tellus." - -"Oh--I never thought of that. But couldn't they, anyway--two fleets?" - -"No. He knows that Tellus is very strongly held, and that this is no -ordinary fleet. He will have to concentrate everything he has upon -either one or the other--it is almost inconceivable that he would -divide his forces." - -"QX. I said that you're the brains of the outfit, and you are!" - -"Thanks, lad. At the first sign of detection, we stop. They may be -able to detect us, but I doubt it, since we are looking for them with -special instruments. But that's immaterial. What I want to know is, can -you and your crew split the fleet, making two big, hollow hemispheres -of it? Let this group of ambers represent the enemy. Since they know -that we will have to carry the battle to them, they will probably be -in fairly close formation. Set your two hemispheres--the reds--there -and there. Close in, making a sphere, like this--englobing their whole -fleet. Can you do it?" - -Kinnison whistled through his teeth; a long, low, unmelodious whistle. -"Yes--but Klono's brazen claws, chief, suppose they catch you at it?" - -"How can they? If you were using detectors, instead of double-ended, -tight-beam binders, how many of our own vessels could you locate?" - -"That's right, too--less than one percent of them. They couldn't tell -that they were being englobed until long after it was done. They -could, however, globe up inside us--" - -"Yes--and that would give them the tactical advantage of position," -the admiral admitted. "We probably have, however, enough superiority -in firing power, if not in actual tonnage, to make up the difference. -Also, we have speed enough, I think, so that we could retire in good -order. But you are assuming that they can maneuver as rapidly and as -surely as we can, a condition which I do not consider at all probable. -If, as I believe much more likely, they have no better Grand Fleet -Operations than we had in Helmuth's star cluster--if they haven't the -equivalent of you and Worsel and this supertank here--then what?" - -"In that case it'd be just too bad. Just like pushing baby chicks into -a pond." Kinnison saw the possibilities clearly enough after they had -been explained to him. - -"How long will it take you?" - -"With Worsel and both full crews of Rigellians I would guess it at -about ten hours--eight to compute and assign positions and two to get -there." - -"Fast enough--faster than I would have thought possible. Oil up your -calculating machines and Simplexes and get ready." - - * * * * * - -In due time the enemy fleet was detected and detection was confirmed. -The "Cease Blasting" signal was sent out. Civilization's prodigious -fleet stopped dead, hanging motionless in space with its nearest -units at the tantalizing limit of detectability from the warships -awaiting them. For eight hours two hundred Rigellians stood at whirring -calculators, each solving course-and-distance problems at the rate of -ten per minute. Two hours or less of free flight, and Haynes rejoiced -audibly in the perfection of the two red hemispheres shown in his -reducer. The two immense bowls flashed together, rim to rim. The -sphere began inexorably to contract. Each ship put out a red K6T screen -as a combined battle flag and identification, and the greatest naval -engagement of the age was on. - -It soon became evident that the Boskonians could not maneuver their -forces efficiently. Their fleet was too huge, too unwieldy for their -operations officers to handle. Against an equally uncontrollable mob of -battle craft it would have made a showing, but against the carefully -planned, chronometer-timed attack of the Patrol individual action, -however courageous or however desperate, was useless. - -Each red-sheathed destroyer hurtled along a definite course at a -definite force of drive for a definite length of time. Orders were -strict; no ship was to be lured from course, pace, or time. They could, -however, fight en passant with their every weapon if occasion arose; -and occasion did arise, some thousands of times. The units of Grand -Fleet flashed inward, lashing out with their terrible primaries at -everything in space not wearing the crimson robe of civilization. And -whatever those beams struck did not need striking again. - -The warships of Boskone fought back. Many of the Patrol's defensive -screens blazed hot enough almost to mask the scarlet beacons; some -of them went down. A few Patrol ships were englobed by the concerted -action of two or three subfleet commanders more co-operative or more -farsighted than the rest, and were blasted out of existence by an -overwhelming concentration of power. But even those vessels took toll -with their primaries as they went out; few, indeed, were the Boskonians -who escaped through holes thus made. - -At a predetermined instant each dreadnought stopped, to find herself -one nut of an immense, red-flaming hollow sphere of ships packed almost -screen to screen. And upon signal every primary projector that could -be brought to bear hurled bolt after bolt, as fast as the burned-out -shells could be replaced, into the ragingly incandescent inferno which -that sphere's interior instantly became. For two hundred million -discharges such as those will convert even a very large volume of space -into something utterly impossible to describe. - -The raving torrents of energy subsided and keen-eyed observers swept -the scene of action. Nothing was there except jumbled and tumbling -white-hot wreckage. A few vessels had escaped during the closing in of -the sphere, but none inside it had survived this climactic action--not -one in five thousand of Boskone's massed fleet made its way back to -dark Jarnevon. - -"Maneuver fifty-eight--hipe!" and Grand Fleet shot away. There was no -waiting, no hesitation. Every course and time had been calculated and -assigned. - -Into the Second Galaxy the scarcely diminished armada of the Patrol -hurtled--to Jarnevon's solar system--around it. Once again the crimson -sheathing of civilization's messengers almost disappeared in blinding -coruscance as the outlying fortresses unleashed their mighty weapons; -once again a few ships, subjected to such concentrations of force as to -overload their equipment, were lost; but this conflict, although savage -in its intensity, was brief. Nothing mobile _could_ endure for long -the utterly hellish energies of the primaries, and soon the armored -planetoids, too, ceased to be. - -[Illustration: _Some ships, attacked on every hand, watched meters -climb, strain against stopping--and saw huge converters, hopelessly -overloaded, vanish in gouts of atomic flame._] - -"Maneuver fifty-nine--hipe!" and Grand Fleet closed in upon somber -Jarnevon itself. - -"Sixty!" It rolled in space, forming an immense cylinder; the doomed -planet the midpoint of its axis. - -"Sixty-one!" Tractors and pressors leaped out, from ship to ship -and from ship to shore. The Patrol did not know whether or not the -scientists of the Eich could render their planet inertialess, but now -it made no difference. Planet and fleet were for the time being one -rigid system. - -"Sixty-two--blast!" And against the world-girdling battlements of -Jarnevon there flamed out in all their appalling might the dreadful -beams against which the defensive webs of battleships and of mobile -citadels alike had been so pitifully inadequate. - -But these which they were attacking now were not the limited -installations of a mobile structure. The Eich had at their command -all the resources of a galaxy. Their generators and conductors could -be of any desired number and size. Hence Eichmil, in view of prior -happenings, had strengthened the defenses of his planet to a point -which certain of his fellows derided as being beyond the bounds of -sanity or reason. - - * * * * * - -Now those unthinkably powerful screens were being tested to the utmost. -Bolt after bolt of quasi-solid lightning struck against them, spitting -mile-long sparks in baffled fury as they raged to ground. Plain and -incased in Q-type helices they came; biting, tearing, gouging. Often -and often, under the thrust of half a dozen at once, local failures -appeared; but these were only momentary, and not even the newly devised -shells of the projectors could stand the load long enough to penetrate -effectively Boskone's indescribably capable defenses. Nor were the -enemies' offensive weapons less capable. - -Rods, cones, planes, and shears of pure force bored, cut, stabbed, and -slashed. Bombs and dirigible torpedoes charged to the skin with duodec -sought out the red-cloaked ships. Beams, sheathed against atmosphere -in Q-type helices, crashed against and through their armor--beams of -an intensity almost to rival that of the Patrol's primary weapons and -of a hundred times their effective aperture. And not singly did those -beams come. Eight, ten, twelve at once they clung to and demolished -dreadnought after dreadnought of the Expeditionary Force. - -Eichmil was well content. "We can hold them and we are burning them -down!" he gloated. "Let them loose their negative-matter bombs! Get the -analysis of those beams--build them! They are burning out projectors, -which means that they cannot keep this up indefinitely. They will have -to retire, what there are left of them, for more munitions; and when -they come back we will blast them out of space!" - -He was wrong. Grand Fleet did not stay there long enough so that even -the projectors of the Eich could destroy more than a few thousands of -ships. For even while the cylinder was forming, Kinnison was in rapid -but careful consultation with Thorndyke, checking intrinsic velocities, -directions, and speeds. - -"QX, Verne--_cut_!" he yelled. - -Two planets, one well within each end of the combat cylinder, went -inert at the word; resuming instantaneously their diametrically opposed -intrinsic velocities, each of some thirty miles per second. And it was -these two very ordinary, but utterly irresistible planets, instead of -the negative-matter bombs with which the Eich were prepared to cope, -which hurtled then along the axis of the immense tube of warships -toward Jarnevon. Whether or not the Eich could make their planet -inertialess has never been found out. Free or inert, the end would have -been the same. - -"Every Y14M officer of every ship of the Patrol, attention!" Haynes -ordered. "Don't get all tensed up. Take it easy; there's lots of time. -Any time within a second after I give the word will be p-l-e-n-t-y o-f -t-i-m-e--_cut_!" - -The two worlds rushed together, doomed Jarnevon squarely between them. -Haynes snapped out his order as the three were within two seconds of -contact, and as he spoke all the tractors and all the pressors were -released. The ships of the Patrol were already free--none had been -inert since leaving Jalte's ex-planet--and thus could not be harmed by -flying débris. - -The planets touched. They coalesced, squishingly at first, the -encircling warships drifting lightly away before a cosmically violent -blast of superheated atmosphere; Jarnevon burst open, all the way -around, and spattered; billions upon billions of tons of hot core-magma -being hurled afar in gouts and streamers. The two planets, crashing -through what had been a world, met, crunched, crushed together in -all the unimaginable momentum of their masses and velocities. They -subsided, crashingly. Not merely mountains, but entire halves of worlds -disrupted and fell, in such Gargantuan paroxysms as the eye of man had -never elsewhere beheld. And every motion generated heat. The kinetic -energy of translation of two worlds became heat. Heat added to heat, -piling up ragingly, frantically, unable to escape! - -The masses, still falling upon and through and past themselves and each -other, melted--boiled--vaporized incandescently. The entire mass, the -mass of three fused worlds, began to equilibrate; growing hotter and -hotter as more and more of its terrific motion was converted into pure -heat. Hotter! _Hotter!_ HOTTER! - -And as the Grand Fleet of the Galactic Patrol blasted through -intergalactic space toward the First Galaxy and home, there glowed -behind it a new, small, comparatively cool, and probably short-lived -companion to an old and long-established star. - - - - - XXV. - - -The uproar of the landing of the Tellurian contingent was over; the -celebration of victory had not yet begun. Haynes had, peculiarly -enough, set a definite time for a conference with Kinnison and the two -of them were in the admiral's private office, splitting a bottle of -fayalin and discussing--apparently--nothing at all. - -"Narcotics has been yelling for you." Haynes finally got around to -business. "But they don't need you to help them clean up the zwilnik -mess; they just want to have the honor of having you work with them--so -I told Ellington, as diplomatically as possible, to take a swan dive -off of an asteroid. Hicks wants you, too; and Spencer and Frelinghuysen -and thousands of others. See that basketful of stuff? All requests -for you, to be submitted to you for your consideration. I submit -'em, thus--into the wastebasket. You see, there's something really -important--" - -"Nix, chief, nix--jet back a minute, please!" Kinnison implored. -"Unless it's something that's got to be done right away, gimme a -break, can't you? I've got a couple of things to do first--stuff to -attend to. Maybe a little flit somewhere, too, I don't know yet." - -"More important than Patrol business?"--dryly. - -"Until it's cleaned up, yes." Kinnison's face burned scarlet and -his eyes revealed the mental effort necessary for him to make that -statement. "The most important thing in the Universe," he finished, -quietly but doggedly. - -"Well, of course I can't give you orders--" Haynes' frown was distinct -with disappointment. - -"Don't, chief--that hurts. I'll be back, honest, as soon as I possibly -can, and I'll do anything you want me to--" - -"That's enough, son." Haynes stood up and grasped Kinnison's -hands--hard--in both his own. "I know. Forgive me for taking you -for this little ride, but you and Mac suffer so! You're so young, -so intense, so insistent upon carrying the entire Cosmos upon your -shoulders--I couldn't help it. You won't have to do much of a flit." He -glanced at his chronometer. "You'll find all your unfinished business -in Room 7295, Base Hospital." - -"Huh? You know, then?" shouted the overjoyed young giant. - -"Who doesn't?" was the admiral's quizzical rejoinder. "There may be a -few members of some backward race somewhere who do not know all about -you and your red-headed sector riot, but I don't happen to know--" He -was addressing empty air. - -Kinnison shot out of the building and, exerting his Gray Lensman's -authority, he did a thing which he had always longed boyishly to do but -which he had never before really considered doing. He whistled, shrill -and piercingly, and waved a Lensed arm, even while he was directing a -Lensed thought at the driver of the fast ground car always in readiness -in front of GHQ. - -"Base Hospital--full emergency blast!" he ordered, and the Jehu obeyed. -That chauffeur loved emergency stuff, and the long, low, wide racer -took off with a deafening roar of unmuffled exhaust and a scream of -tortured, burning rubber. - -"Thanks, Jack--you needn't wait." At the hospital's door Kinnison -rendered tribute to fast service and strode along a corridor. An -express elevator whisked him up to the seventy-second floor, and there -his haste departed completely. This was Nurses' Quarters, he realized -suddenly. He had no more business there than--yes, he did, too. He -found Room 7295 and rapped upon its door. Boldly, he intended, but the -resultant sound was surprisingly small. - -"Come in!" called a clear contralto. Then, after a moment, "_Come in!_" -more sharply; but the Lensman did not, could not obey the summons. She -might be--dammitall, he _didn't_ have any business on this floor! Why -hadn't he called her up or sent her a thought or something? Why didn't -he think at her now? - - * * * * * - -The door opened, revealing the mildly annoyed sector chief. At what -she saw, her hands flew to her throat and her eyes widened in starkly -unbelieving rapture. - -"_Kim!_" she shrieked in ecstasy. - -"Chris--my Chris!" Kinnison whispered unsteadily, and for minutes those -two uniformed minions of the Galactic Patrol stood motionless upon -the room's threshold, strong young arms straining, nurse's crisp and -spotless white crushed unregarded against Lensman's pliant gray. - -"Oh ... I've missed you so terribly, my darling!" Clarrissa crooned. -Her voice, always sweetly rich, was pure music. - -"You don't know the half of it, Chris. This isn't real, I don't think. -It can't be--nothing _can_ feel this good!" - -"You did come back to me--you really did!" she lilted. "I didn't dare -to hope that you could come so soon." - -"I had to." Kinnison drew a deep breath. "I simply couldn't stand it -any longer. It'll be tough sometimes, but you were right--half a loaf -_is_ better than no bread." - -"Of course it is!" She released herself--partially--after the first -transports of their first embrace and eyed him shrewdly. "Tell me, Kim, -did Lacy have a hand in this surprise?" - -"Uh-huh," he denied. "I haven't seen him for ages--but jet back! Haynes -told me--say, what'll you bet that those two old hardheads haven't been -giving us the works?" - -"Who are old hardheads?" Haynes--in person--demanded. So deeply -immersed had Kinnison been in his rapturous delirium that even his -sense of perception was in abeyance; and there, not two yards from the -entranced couple, stood the two old Lensmen! - -The culprits sprang apart, flushing guiltily, but Haynes went on -imperturbably, quite as though nothing out of the ordinary had been -either said or done: - -"We gave you fifteen minutes, then came up to be sure to catch you -before you flited off to the celebration or somewhere. We have matters -to discuss--important matters, but pleasant." - -"QX. Come in, all of you." As she spoke, the nurse stood aside in -invitation. "You know, don't you, that it's exceedingly much contraregs -for nurses to entertain visitors of the opposite sex in their rooms? -Fifty demerits. Most girls never get a chance at even one Gray Lensmen, -and here I've got three!" She giggled infectiously. "Wouldn't it be one -for the book for me to get a hundred and fifty black spots for this? -And to have Surgeon General Lacy, Port Admiral Haynes, and Unattached -Lensman Kimball Kinnison all heaved into the clink to boot? Boy, oh, -boy, ain't we got fun?" - -"Lacy's too old and I'm too moral to be affected by the wiles even of -the likes of you, my dear," Haynes explained equably, as he seated -himself upon the davenport--the most comfortable thing in the room. - -"Old? Moral? Tommyrot!" Lacy glared an "I'll-see-you-later" look at the -admiral, then turned to the nurse. "Don't worry about that, MacDougall. -No penalties accrue--regulations apply only to nurses actually in the -service--" - -"And what--" she started to blaze, but checked herself and her tone -changed instantly. "Go on--you interest me strangely, sir. I'm just -going to love this!" Her eyes sparkled, her voice was vibrant with -unconcealed eagerness. - -"Told you she was quick on the uptake!" Lacy gloated. "Didn't fox her -for a second!" - -"But say--listen--what's this all about, anyway?" Kinnison demanded. - -"Never mind; you'll learn soon enough," from Lacy, and: - -"Kinnison, you are very urgently invited to attend a meeting of the -Galactic Council tomorrow afternoon," from Haynes. - -"Huh? What's up now?" Kinnison protested. His arm tightened about the -girl's supple waist and she snuggled closer, a trace of foreboding -beginning to dim the eagerness in her eyes. - -"Promotion. We want to make you something--galactic co-ordinator, -director, something like that--the job hasn't been named yet. In -plain language, the big shot of the Second Galaxy, formerly known as -Lundmark's Nebula." - -"But, Klono's brazen claws! Chief, I can't swing it--I haven't got jets -enough!" - -"You always yelp about a deficiency of jets whenever a new job is -mentioned, but we notice that you usually deliver the goods. Think it -over for a minute. Who else could we wish such a job as that onto?" - -"Worsel," Kinnison declared without hesitation. "He's--" - -"Balloon juice!" snorted the older man. - -"Well, then ... ah ... er--" He stopped. Clarrissa opened her mouth; -then shut it, ridiculously, without having uttered a word. - -"Go ahead, MacDougall--you are an interested party, you know." - -"No." She shook her spectacular head. "I'm not saying a word or -thinking a thought to sway his decision one way or the other. Besides, -he'd have to flit around as much then as now." - -"Some travel involved, of course," Haynes admitted. "All over that -Galaxy, some in this one, and back and forth between the two. However, -the _Dauntless_--or something newer, bigger, and faster--will be his -private yacht, and I do not see why it is either necessary or desirable -that his flits be solo." - -"Say, I never thought of that!" Kinnison blurted, and, as thoughts -began to race through his mind of what he could do, with Chris beside -him all the time, to straighten out the mess in the Second Galaxy: - -"Oh, Kim!" Clarrissa squealed in ecstasy, squeezing his arm even -tighter against her side. - -"Hooked!" the surgeon general chortled in triumph. - -"But I'd have to retire!" That thought was the only thorn in Kinnison's -whole wreath of roses. "I wouldn't like that." - - * * * * * - -"Certainly you wouldn't," Haynes agreed. "But remember that all such -assignments are conditional, subject to approval, and with a very -definite cancellation agreement in case of what the Lensman regards -as an emergency. If a Gray Lensman had to give up his right to serve -the Patrol in any way he considered himself most able, they'd have to -shoot us all before they could make executives out of us. And finally, -I don't see how the job we're talking about can be figured as any sort -of a retirement. You will be as active as you are now--yes, more so, I -think." - -"QX. I'll be there--I'll try it," Kinnison promised. - -"Now for some more news," Lacy announced. "Haynes didn't tell you, but -he has been made president of the Galactic Council. You are his first -appointment. I hate to say anything good about the old scoundrel, -but he has one outstanding ability. He doesn't know much or do much -himself, but he certainly can pick the men who have to do the work for -him!" - -"There's something vastly more important than that," Haynes steered the -acclaim away from himself. - -"Just a minute," Kinnison interposed. "I haven't got this all straight -yet. What was that crack about active nurses a while ago?" - -"Why, Dr. Lacy was just intimating that I had resigned, goose," -Clarrissa chuckled. "I didn't know a thing about it myself, but I -imagine that it must have been just before this conference started. Am -I right, doctor?" she asked innocently. - -"Or tomorrow, or even yesterday--any convenient time will do," Lacy -blandly assented. "You see, young man, MacDougall has been a mighty -busy girl, and wedding preparations take time, too. Therefore, we have -very reluctantly accepted her resignation." - -"Especially, preparations take time when it's going to be such a -wedding as the Patrol is going to stage," Haynes volunteered. "That was -what I was starting to talk about when I was so rudely interrupted." - -"Nix--not in seven thousand years!" Kinnison exploded. "Cancel that, -right now. I won't stand for it. I'll not--" - -"Close the pan, young fellow," the admiral advised him, firmly. -"Bridegrooms are to be seen--just barely visible--but not heard, ever. -A wedding is where the girls really strut their stuff. How about it, -you gorgeous young menace to civilization?" - -"I'll say so!" she exclaimed in high animation. "I'd just _love_ it, -admiral--" She broke off, aghast. Her face fell. "No, I didn't mean -that, really. Kim's right. Thanks a million, just the same, but--" - -"But nothing!" Haynes broke in. "I know what's the matter. Don't try -to fib to an old campaigner, and don't be silly. I said the Patrol -was throwing this wedding--_all_ of it. All you have to do is to -participate in the action. Got any money, Kinnison? On you, I mean." - -"No," in surprise. "What would I be doing with money?" - -"Here's ten thousand credits--Patrol funds. Take it and--" - -"He will not!" the nurse stormed. "No! You can't, Admiral Haynes, -really. Why, a bride has _got_ to buy her own clothes!" - -"She's right, Haynes," Lacy announced. The admiral stared at him in -wrathful astonishment, and even the girl seemed disappointed at her -easy victory. "But listen to this: As surgeon general, et cetera, in -recognition of the unselfish services, et cetera, unflinching bravery -under fire, performance beyond and above requirements or reasonable -expectations, et cetera, et cetera, Sector Chief Nurse Clarrissa -MacDougall, upon the occasion of her separation from the service, is -hereby granted a bonus of ten thousand credits. That goes on the record -as of hour twelve today. Now, you red-headed young spitfire, if you -refuse to accept that bonus, I'll cancel your resignation and put you -back to work! What do you say to that?" - -"I say QX, Dr. Lacy. Thanks a million, both of you--you're perfect -darlings and I love all two of you!" The gaspingly happy girl kissed -them both, then turned to her betrothed. - -"Let's go and walk about ten miles, shall we, Kim? I've got to do -_something_ or I'll explode all over the place!" - -And the tall Lensman--no longer unattached--and the radiant nurse swung -down the hall. - -Side by side, in step, heads up, laughing; a beginning symbolical -indeed of the life which they were to live together. - - - THE END. - -*** END OF THE PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK GRAY LENSMAN *** - -Updated editions will replace the previous one--the old editions will -be renamed. - -Creating the works from print editions not protected by U.S. copyright -law means that no one owns a United States copyright in these works, -so the Foundation (and you!) can copy and distribute it in the -United States without permission and without paying copyright -royalties. Special rules, set forth in the General Terms of Use part -of this license, apply to copying and distributing Project -Gutenberg-tm electronic works to protect the PROJECT GUTENBERG-tm -concept and trademark. Project Gutenberg is a registered trademark, -and may not be used if you charge for an eBook, except by following -the terms of the trademark license, including paying royalties for use -of the Project Gutenberg trademark. If you do not charge anything for -copies of this eBook, complying with the trademark license is very -easy. You may use this eBook for nearly any purpose such as creation -of derivative works, reports, performances and research. Project -Gutenberg eBooks may be modified and printed and given away--you may -do practically ANYTHING in the United States with eBooks not protected -by U.S. copyright law. Redistribution is subject to the trademark -license, especially commercial redistribution. - -START: FULL LICENSE - -THE FULL PROJECT GUTENBERG LICENSE -PLEASE READ THIS BEFORE YOU DISTRIBUTE OR USE THIS WORK - -To protect the Project Gutenberg-tm mission of promoting the free -distribution of electronic works, by using or distributing this work -(or any other work associated in any way with the phrase "Project -Gutenberg"), you agree to comply with all the terms of the Full -Project Gutenberg-tm License available with this file or online at -www.gutenberg.org/license. - -Section 1. General Terms of Use and Redistributing Project -Gutenberg-tm electronic works - -1.A. By reading or using any part of this Project Gutenberg-tm -electronic work, you indicate that you have read, understand, agree to -and accept all the terms of this license and intellectual property -(trademark/copyright) agreement. If you do not agree to abide by all -the terms of this agreement, you must cease using and return or -destroy all copies of Project Gutenberg-tm electronic works in your -possession. If you paid a fee for obtaining a copy of or access to a -Project Gutenberg-tm electronic work and you do not agree to be bound -by the terms of this agreement, you may obtain a refund from the -person or entity to whom you paid the fee as set forth in paragraph -1.E.8. - -1.B. "Project Gutenberg" is a registered trademark. It may only be -used on or associated in any way with an electronic work by people who -agree to be bound by the terms of this agreement. There are a few -things that you can do with most Project Gutenberg-tm electronic works -even without complying with the full terms of this agreement. See -paragraph 1.C below. There are a lot of things you can do with Project -Gutenberg-tm electronic works if you follow the terms of this -agreement and help preserve free future access to Project Gutenberg-tm -electronic works. See paragraph 1.E below. - -1.C. The Project Gutenberg Literary Archive Foundation ("the -Foundation" or PGLAF), owns a compilation copyright in the collection -of Project Gutenberg-tm electronic works. Nearly all the individual -works in the collection are in the public domain in the United -States. If an individual work is unprotected by copyright law in the -United States and you are located in the United States, we do not -claim a right to prevent you from copying, distributing, performing, -displaying or creating derivative works based on the work as long as -all references to Project Gutenberg are removed. Of course, we hope -that you will support the Project Gutenberg-tm mission of promoting -free access to electronic works by freely sharing Project Gutenberg-tm -works in compliance with the terms of this agreement for keeping the -Project Gutenberg-tm name associated with the work. You can easily -comply with the terms of this agreement by keeping this work in the -same format with its attached full Project Gutenberg-tm License when -you share it without charge with others. - -1.D. The copyright laws of the place where you are located also govern -what you can do with this work. Copyright laws in most countries are -in a constant state of change. If you are outside the United States, -check the laws of your country in addition to the terms of this -agreement before downloading, copying, displaying, performing, -distributing or creating derivative works based on this work or any -other Project Gutenberg-tm work. The Foundation makes no -representations concerning the copyright status of any work in any -country other than the United States. - -1.E. Unless you have removed all references to Project Gutenberg: - -1.E.1. The following sentence, with active links to, or other -immediate access to, the full Project Gutenberg-tm License must appear -prominently whenever any copy of a Project Gutenberg-tm work (any work -on which the phrase "Project Gutenberg" appears, or with which the -phrase "Project Gutenberg" is associated) is accessed, displayed, -performed, viewed, copied or distributed: - - This eBook is for the use of anyone anywhere in the United States and - most other parts of the world at no cost and with almost no - restrictions whatsoever. You may copy it, give it away or re-use it - under the terms of the Project Gutenberg License included with this - eBook or online at www.gutenberg.org. If you are not located in the - United States, you will have to check the laws of the country where - you are located before using this eBook. - -1.E.2. If an individual Project Gutenberg-tm electronic work is -derived from texts not protected by U.S. copyright law (does not -contain a notice indicating that it is posted with permission of the -copyright holder), the work can be copied and distributed to anyone in -the United States without paying any fees or charges. If you are -redistributing or providing access to a work with the phrase "Project -Gutenberg" associated with or appearing on the work, you must comply -either with the requirements of paragraphs 1.E.1 through 1.E.7 or -obtain permission for the use of the work and the Project Gutenberg-tm -trademark as set forth in paragraphs 1.E.8 or 1.E.9. - -1.E.3. If an individual Project Gutenberg-tm electronic work is posted -with the permission of the copyright holder, your use and distribution -must comply with both paragraphs 1.E.1 through 1.E.7 and any -additional terms imposed by the copyright holder. Additional terms -will be linked to the Project Gutenberg-tm License for all works -posted with the permission of the copyright holder found at the -beginning of this work. - -1.E.4. Do not unlink or detach or remove the full Project Gutenberg-tm -License terms from this work, or any files containing a part of this -work or any other work associated with Project Gutenberg-tm. - -1.E.5. Do not copy, display, perform, distribute or redistribute this -electronic work, or any part of this electronic work, without -prominently displaying the sentence set forth in paragraph 1.E.1 with -active links or immediate access to the full terms of the Project -Gutenberg-tm License. - -1.E.6. You may convert to and distribute this work in any binary, -compressed, marked up, nonproprietary or proprietary form, including -any word processing or hypertext form. However, if you provide access -to or distribute copies of a Project Gutenberg-tm work in a format -other than "Plain Vanilla ASCII" or other format used in the official -version posted on the official Project Gutenberg-tm website -(www.gutenberg.org), you must, at no additional cost, fee or expense -to the user, provide a copy, a means of exporting a copy, or a means -of obtaining a copy upon request, of the work in its original "Plain -Vanilla ASCII" or other form. Any alternate format must include the -full Project Gutenberg-tm License as specified in paragraph 1.E.1. - -1.E.7. Do not charge a fee for access to, viewing, displaying, -performing, copying or distributing any Project Gutenberg-tm works -unless you comply with paragraph 1.E.8 or 1.E.9. - -1.E.8. You may charge a reasonable fee for copies of or providing -access to or distributing Project Gutenberg-tm electronic works -provided that: - -* You pay a royalty fee of 20% of the gross profits you derive from - the use of Project Gutenberg-tm works calculated using the method - you already use to calculate your applicable taxes. The fee is owed - to the owner of the Project Gutenberg-tm trademark, but he has - agreed to donate royalties under this paragraph to the Project - Gutenberg Literary Archive Foundation. Royalty payments must be paid - within 60 days following each date on which you prepare (or are - legally required to prepare) your periodic tax returns. Royalty - payments should be clearly marked as such and sent to the Project - Gutenberg Literary Archive Foundation at the address specified in - Section 4, "Information about donations to the Project Gutenberg - Literary Archive Foundation." - -* You provide a full refund of any money paid by a user who notifies - you in writing (or by e-mail) within 30 days of receipt that s/he - does not agree to the terms of the full Project Gutenberg-tm - License. You must require such a user to return or destroy all - copies of the works possessed in a physical medium and discontinue - all use of and all access to other copies of Project Gutenberg-tm - works. - -* You provide, in accordance with paragraph 1.F.3, a full refund of - any money paid for a work or a replacement copy, if a defect in the - electronic work is discovered and reported to you within 90 days of - receipt of the work. - -* You comply with all other terms of this agreement for free - distribution of Project Gutenberg-tm works. - -1.E.9. If you wish to charge a fee or distribute a Project -Gutenberg-tm electronic work or group of works on different terms than -are set forth in this agreement, you must obtain permission in writing -from the Project Gutenberg Literary Archive Foundation, the manager of -the Project Gutenberg-tm trademark. Contact the Foundation as set -forth in Section 3 below. - -1.F. - -1.F.1. Project Gutenberg volunteers and employees expend considerable -effort to identify, do copyright research on, transcribe and proofread -works not protected by U.S. copyright law in creating the Project -Gutenberg-tm collection. Despite these efforts, Project Gutenberg-tm -electronic works, and the medium on which they may be stored, may -contain "Defects," such as, but not limited to, incomplete, inaccurate -or corrupt data, transcription errors, a copyright or other -intellectual property infringement, a defective or damaged disk or -other medium, a computer virus, or computer codes that damage or -cannot be read by your equipment. - -1.F.2. LIMITED WARRANTY, DISCLAIMER OF DAMAGES - Except for the "Right -of Replacement or Refund" described in paragraph 1.F.3, the Project -Gutenberg Literary Archive Foundation, the owner of the Project -Gutenberg-tm trademark, and any other party distributing a Project -Gutenberg-tm electronic work under this agreement, disclaim all -liability to you for damages, costs and expenses, including legal -fees. YOU AGREE THAT YOU HAVE NO REMEDIES FOR NEGLIGENCE, STRICT -LIABILITY, BREACH OF WARRANTY OR BREACH OF CONTRACT EXCEPT THOSE -PROVIDED IN PARAGRAPH 1.F.3. YOU AGREE THAT THE FOUNDATION, THE -TRADEMARK OWNER, AND ANY DISTRIBUTOR UNDER THIS AGREEMENT WILL NOT BE -LIABLE TO YOU FOR ACTUAL, DIRECT, INDIRECT, CONSEQUENTIAL, PUNITIVE OR -INCIDENTAL DAMAGES EVEN IF YOU GIVE NOTICE OF THE POSSIBILITY OF SUCH -DAMAGE. - -1.F.3. LIMITED RIGHT OF REPLACEMENT OR REFUND - If you discover a -defect in this electronic work within 90 days of receiving it, you can -receive a refund of the money (if any) you paid for it by sending a -written explanation to the person you received the work from. If you -received the work on a physical medium, you must return the medium -with your written explanation. The person or entity that provided you -with the defective work may elect to provide a replacement copy in -lieu of a refund. If you received the work electronically, the person -or entity providing it to you may choose to give you a second -opportunity to receive the work electronically in lieu of a refund. If -the second copy is also defective, you may demand a refund in writing -without further opportunities to fix the problem. - -1.F.4. Except for the limited right of replacement or refund set forth -in paragraph 1.F.3, this work is provided to you 'AS-IS', WITH NO -OTHER WARRANTIES OF ANY KIND, EXPRESS OR IMPLIED, INCLUDING BUT NOT -LIMITED TO WARRANTIES OF MERCHANTABILITY OR FITNESS FOR ANY PURPOSE. - -1.F.5. Some states do not allow disclaimers of certain implied -warranties or the exclusion or limitation of certain types of -damages. If any disclaimer or limitation set forth in this agreement -violates the law of the state applicable to this agreement, the -agreement shall be interpreted to make the maximum disclaimer or -limitation permitted by the applicable state law. The invalidity or -unenforceability of any provision of this agreement shall not void the -remaining provisions. - -1.F.6. INDEMNITY - You agree to indemnify and hold the Foundation, the -trademark owner, any agent or employee of the Foundation, anyone -providing copies of Project Gutenberg-tm electronic works in -accordance with this agreement, and any volunteers associated with the -production, promotion and distribution of Project Gutenberg-tm -electronic works, harmless from all liability, costs and expenses, -including legal fees, that arise directly or indirectly from any of -the following which you do or cause to occur: (a) distribution of this -or any Project Gutenberg-tm work, (b) alteration, modification, or -additions or deletions to any Project Gutenberg-tm work, and (c) any -Defect you cause. - -Section 2. Information about the Mission of Project Gutenberg-tm - -Project Gutenberg-tm is synonymous with the free distribution of -electronic works in formats readable by the widest variety of -computers including obsolete, old, middle-aged and new computers. It -exists because of the efforts of hundreds of volunteers and donations -from people in all walks of life. - -Volunteers and financial support to provide volunteers with the -assistance they need are critical to reaching Project Gutenberg-tm's -goals and ensuring that the Project Gutenberg-tm collection will -remain freely available for generations to come. In 2001, the Project -Gutenberg Literary Archive Foundation was created to provide a secure -and permanent future for Project Gutenberg-tm and future -generations. To learn more about the Project Gutenberg Literary -Archive Foundation and how your efforts and donations can help, see -Sections 3 and 4 and the Foundation information page at -www.gutenberg.org - -Section 3. Information about the Project Gutenberg Literary -Archive Foundation - -The Project Gutenberg Literary Archive Foundation is a non-profit -501(c)(3) educational corporation organized under the laws of the -state of Mississippi and granted tax exempt status by the Internal -Revenue Service. The Foundation's EIN or federal tax identification -number is 64-6221541. Contributions to the Project Gutenberg Literary -Archive Foundation are tax deductible to the full extent permitted by -U.S. federal laws and your state's laws. - -The Foundation's business office is located at 809 North 1500 West, -Salt Lake City, UT 84116, (801) 596-1887. Email contact links and up -to date contact information can be found at the Foundation's website -and official page at www.gutenberg.org/contact - -Section 4. Information about Donations to the Project Gutenberg -Literary Archive Foundation - -Project Gutenberg-tm depends upon and cannot survive without -widespread public support and donations to carry out its mission of -increasing the number of public domain and licensed works that can be -freely distributed in machine-readable form accessible by the widest -array of equipment including outdated equipment. Many small donations -($1 to $5,000) are particularly important to maintaining tax exempt -status with the IRS. - -The Foundation is committed to complying with the laws regulating -charities and charitable donations in all 50 states of the United -States. Compliance requirements are not uniform and it takes a -considerable effort, much paperwork and many fees to meet and keep up -with these requirements. We do not solicit donations in locations -where we have not received written confirmation of compliance. To SEND -DONATIONS or determine the status of compliance for any particular -state visit www.gutenberg.org/donate - -While we cannot and do not solicit contributions from states where we -have not met the solicitation requirements, we know of no prohibition -against accepting unsolicited donations from donors in such states who -approach us with offers to donate. - -International donations are gratefully accepted, but we cannot make -any statements concerning tax treatment of donations received from -outside the United States. U.S. laws alone swamp our small staff. - -Please check the Project Gutenberg web pages for current donation -methods and addresses. Donations are accepted in a number of other -ways including checks, online payments and credit card donations. To -donate, please visit: www.gutenberg.org/donate - -Section 5. General Information About Project Gutenberg-tm electronic works - -Professor Michael S. Hart was the originator of the Project -Gutenberg-tm concept of a library of electronic works that could be -freely shared with anyone. For forty years, he produced and -distributed Project Gutenberg-tm eBooks with only a loose network of -volunteer support. - -Project Gutenberg-tm eBooks are often created from several printed -editions, all of which are confirmed as not protected by copyright in -the U.S. unless a copyright notice is included. Thus, we do not -necessarily keep eBooks in compliance with any particular paper -edition. - -Most people start at our website which has the main PG search -facility: www.gutenberg.org - -This website includes information about Project Gutenberg-tm, -including how to make donations to the Project Gutenberg Literary -Archive Foundation, how to help produce our new eBooks, and how to -subscribe to our email newsletter to hear about new eBooks. diff --git a/old/69584-0.zip b/old/69584-0.zip Binary files differdeleted file mode 100644 index 9ca8043..0000000 --- a/old/69584-0.zip +++ /dev/null diff --git a/old/69584-h.zip b/old/69584-h.zip Binary files differdeleted file mode 100644 index cb14c4a..0000000 --- a/old/69584-h.zip +++ /dev/null diff --git a/old/69584-h/69584-h.htm b/old/69584-h/69584-h.htm deleted file mode 100644 index 1c68ae7..0000000 --- a/old/69584-h/69584-h.htm +++ /dev/null @@ -1,12274 +0,0 @@ -<!DOCTYPE html> -<html lang="en"> -<head> - <meta charset="UTF-8"> - <title> - Gray Lensman, by E. E. Smith, Ph. D.—A Project Gutenberg eBook - </title> - <link rel="icon" href="images/cover.jpg" type="image/x-cover"> - <style> - -body { - margin-left: 10%; - margin-right: 10%; -} - - h1,h2 { - text-align: center; /* all headings centered */ - clear: both; -} - -p { - margin-top: .51em; - text-align: justify; - margin-bottom: .49em; -} - -.ph1 { text-align: center; text-indent: 0em; } -.ph1 { font-size: medium; margin: .83em auto; } - -hr { - width: 33%; - margin-top: 2em; - margin-bottom: 2em; - margin-left: 33.5%; - margin-right: 33.5%; - clear: both; -} - -hr.tb {width: 45%; margin-left: 27.5%; margin-right: 27.5%;} -hr.chap {width: 65%; margin-left: 17.5%; margin-right: 17.5%;} -@media print { hr.chap {display: none; visibility: hidden;} } -hr.full {width: 95%; margin-left: 2.5%; margin-right: 2.5%;} - -.center {text-align: center;} - -.right {text-align: right;} - -.poetry .stanza -{ - margin: 1em auto; -} - -.poetry .verse -{ - padding-left: 3em; -} - -/* Images */ -.figcenter { - margin: auto; - text-align: center; -} - -.caption p -{ - text-align: center; - text-indent: 0; - margin: 0.25em 0; - font-weight: bold; -} - -x-ebookmaker-drop {display: none;} - -/* Footnotes */ -.footnotes {border: 1px dashed;} - -.footnote {margin-left: 10%; margin-right: 10%; font-size: 0.9em;} - -.footnote .label {position: absolute; right: 84%; text-align: right;} - -.fnanchor { - vertical-align: super; - font-size: .8em; - text-decoration: - none; -} - -div.titlepage { - text-align: center; - page-break-before: always; - page-break-after: always; -} - -div.titlepage p { - text-align: center; - text-indent: 0em; - font-weight: bold; - line-height: 1.5; - margin-top: 3em; -} - - </style> - </head> -<body> -<p style='text-align:center; font-size:1.2em; font-weight:bold'>The Project Gutenberg eBook of Gray lensman, by E. E. Smith</p> -<div style='display:block; margin:1em 0'> -This eBook is for the use of anyone anywhere in the United States and -most other parts of the world at no cost and with almost no restrictions -whatsoever. You may copy it, give it away or re-use it under the terms -of the Project Gutenberg License included with this eBook or online -at <a href="https://www.gutenberg.org">www.gutenberg.org</a>. If you -are not located in the United States, you will have to check the laws of the -country where you are located before using this eBook. -</div> - -<p style='display:block; margin-top:1em; margin-bottom:1em; margin-left:2em; text-indent:-2em'>Title: Gray lensman</p> -<p style='display:block; margin-top:1em; margin-bottom:0; margin-left:2em; text-indent:-2em'>Author: E. E. Smith</p> -<p style='display:block; text-indent:0; margin:1em 0'>Release Date: December 20, 2022 [eBook #69584]</p> -<p style='display:block; text-indent:0; margin:1em 0'>Language: English</p> - <p style='display:block; margin-top:1em; margin-bottom:0; margin-left:2em; text-indent:-2em; text-align:left'>Produced by: Greg Weeks, Mary Meehan and the Online Distributed Proofreading Team at http://www.pgdp.net</p> -<div style='margin-top:2em; margin-bottom:4em'>*** START OF THE PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK GRAY LENSMAN ***</div> - -<div class="figcenter x-ebookmaker-drop"> - <img src="images/illusc1.jpg" alt=""> -</div> - -<hr class="chap"> - -<div class="titlepage"> - - -<h1>GRAY LENSMAN</h1> - -<h2>By E. E. SMITH, Ph. D.</h2> - -<p>[Transcriber's Note: This etext was produced from<br> -Astounding Science Fiction<br> -October, November, December 1939, January 1940.<br> -Extensive research did not uncover any evidence that<br> -the U.S. copyright on this publication was renewed.]</p> - -</div> - -<hr class="chap"> - -<div class="figcenter"> - <img src="images/illus1.jpg" alt=""> -</div> - -<hr class="chap"> - -<p class="ph1"><i>PROLOGUE</i></p> - - -<p>This is not, strictly speaking, a biography. It is not, it cannot -be, comprehensive enough to be called that. Nor, since of necessity -it must be limited, both in length and in scope, can it be called a -history. It is, perhaps, best described as a record—the record of the -activities of Galactic Co-ordinator Kimball Kinnison, Gray Lensman, of -Tellus, during the Boskonian War.</p> - -<p>Nevertheless this record, what there is of it, is in essence -biographical; and the biographer of such a man as Kinnison has a -peculiar task. In one way it is easy, in two others it is difficult in -the extreme.</p> - -<p>"Nuts!" he is wont to exclaim in answer to a direct question as to some -particular event or situation. "Why in all the nine hells of Valeria -are you still wasting time writing about <i>me</i>?" But eventually I get -the data I need, and thus it is comparatively easy to make this work -completely authentic, as far as the Gray Lensman himself is concerned.</p> - -<p>It may be objected that I have recorded as facts certain minutiae -which, considering what happened to the planet of the Eich and in the -light of other happenings elsewhere, cannot be known so exactly by -any living entity. This objection is untenable; as profound research -upon every debatable point has shown conclusively that something very -similar to, if not in fact identical with, each such detail must have -occurred.</p> - -<p>Of the two great difficulties, one lies in the selection of material. -The story of Kimball Kinnison easily could—and really should—fill -a dozen encyclopedic spools; it is a Galactic shame and an almost -impossible undertaking to compress it into one two-hour tape. The other -sticking point is the diversity of my audience. For in the First Galaxy -alone there are millions of planets, peopled by races as divergent in -mentality and in physique as they are far apart in space. Some races -will read this chronicle from printed pages; some will see it; some -will hear it; some will both see it and hear it; some, unable either -to see or to hear, will receive it telepathically. Still others, -in other Galaxies, will undoubtedly acquire it in fashions starkly -incomprehensible to me, its compiler.</p> - -<p>Numberless races of intelligent beings already know Kinnison well, -since his fame has spread north, south, east, west, zenith and nadir, -to the six points of the three-dimensional galactic-inductor compasses -of two galaxies. On the other hand, many know him not at all. Many -have never even heard of Tellus, nor of Sol, our parent sun; even -though it was upon that proud planet of this, our Solarian System, that -the Galactic Patrol came into being. Indeed, it is inevitable that -this biography will in days to come be of interest to races which, -inhabiting planets not yet reached by the Cosmic Survey, have not even -heard of the Galactic Patrol, to say nothing of knowing its origin and -its history.</p> - -<p>In view of the above inescapable facts, and after a great deal of -thought and care, I have decided to write this Prologue, which will -summarize very simply that which is already most widely known; namely, -the happenings up to and including the first phase of the Boskonian -War. Even that condensation, however, leaves me all too little space -in which to do justice to the part that Kimball Kinnison played in -enabling the civilization of the Galactic Council to triumph over the -monstrous culture of Boskone.</p> - -<p>With the understanding, then, that the more informed mentality may skip -from here to Chapter I, I proceed.</p> - -<hr class="tb"> - -<p>Should I begin with Arisia? That forbidding, forbidden planet -whose inhabitants, having achieved sheerly unimaginable heights of -philosophical and mental power, withdrew almost completely into -themselves, leaving traces only in Galaxy-wide folk tales and legends -of supermen and gods? Probably not. I should, it seems to me, begin -with Earth's almost prehistoric bandits and gangsters, gentry who -flourished in the days when space flight was mentioned only in -fantastic fiction.</p> - -<p>Know, then, that for ages law enforcement lagged behind law violation -because the minions of the law were limited in their spheres of action, -while criminals were not. Thus, in the days following the invention of -the automobile, State troopers could not cross State lines. Later, when -what were then known as the "G-men" combined with the various State -constabularies to form the National Police, they could not follow the -stratosphere planes of the lawbreakers across national boundaries.</p> - -<p>Still later, when interplanetary flight became commonplace, the -Planetary Guards were at the same old disadvantage. They had no -authority off their own worlds, while the public enemies flitted -unhampered from planet to planet. And finally, with the development of -the inertialess drive and the consequent traffic between hundreds of -thousands of solar systems, crime became so rampant as to threaten the -very foundations of civilization.</p> - -<p>Then the Galactic Patrol came into being. At first it was a -pitiful-enough organization. It was handicapped from within by the -usual small, but utterly disastrous percentage of grafters and -criminals; from without by the fact that there was then no emblem or -credential which could not be counterfeited. No one could tell with -certainty that the man in uniform was a Patrolman and not an outlaw in -disguise.</p> - -<p>The second difficulty was overcome first. One old-time Patrolman had -heard of the Arisians. He visited their planet and—this should be a -saga by itself—persuaded those Masters of Mentality that they should -help right against wrong, at least to the extent of furnishing a -positive means of identification. They did, and still do—The Lens.</p> - -<p>Each being about to graduate as a Lensman is sent to Arisia; where, -although the candidate does not then know it, a Lens—a lenticular -jewel composed of thousands of tiny crystalloids—is built to match his -individual life force. While no mind other than that of an Arisian can -understand its functioning, thinking of the Lens as being synchronized -with, or in exact resonance with the life principle—personality, ego, -call it what you will—of its owner will give a rough idea of it. It is -not really alive, as we understand the term. It is, however, endowed -with a sort of pseudolife, by virtue of which it gives off its strong, -characteristically changing, polychromatic light as long as it is in -circuit with the living mentality for which it was designed. It is -inimitable, unforgettable. Anyone who has ever seen a Lens, or even a -picture of one, will never forget it; nor will he ever be deceived by -any possible counterfeit or imitation of it.</p> - -<p>The Lens cannot be removed by anyone except its wearer without actual -dismemberment of that wearer; it shines as long as its rightful owner -wears it, and in the instant of its owner's death, it ceases forever -to shine. And not only does a Lens refuse to shine if any impostor -attempts to wear it—any Lens not in circuit with its owner kills in -a space of minutes any other who touches it, so strongly does its -pseudolife interfere with any life to which it is not attuned.</p> - -<p>Also by virtue of that pseudolife the Lens acts as a telepath through -which its owner may communicate with any other intelligence, high or -low; even though the other entity may possess no organs either of sight -or of hearing, as we know these senses. The Lens has also many other -highly important uses, which lack of space forbids even mentioning here.</p> - -<hr class="tb"> - -<p>Having the Lens, it was an easy matter for the Patrol to purify -itself of its few unworthy members. Standards of entrance were raised -higher and higher; and, as it became evident that it was to a man -incorruptible, it was granted more and ever more authority.</p> - -<p>Now its power is practically unlimited; the Lensman can follow the -lawbreaker, wherever he may go. He can commandeer any material or -assistance, whenever and wherever required. The Lens is so respected -throughout the Galactic Union that any wearer of it may at any time be -called upon to act as judge, jury, and executioner. Wherever he goes, -throughout the Universe of Civilization, he not only carries the law -with him—he <i>is</i> the law.</p> - -<p>How are these Lensmen chosen? An Earthman myself, and proud of the fact -that Tellus was the cradle of Galactic Civilization, I will describe -only how Tellurian Lensmen are selected. Upon other planets the methods -and means vary widely; but the results are the same: Wherever he may -be found or however monstrous he may appear, a Lensman is always a -<i>Lensman</i>.</p> - -<p>Each year one million boys are picked, by competitive examination, -from all the eighteen-year-olds of Earth. During the first year of -training, before any of them set foot inside Wentworth Hall, that -number shrinks to less than fifty thousand. Then, for four years more, -they are put through the most poignantly searching, the most pitilessly -rigid process of elimination possible to develop, during the course of -which every man who can be made to reveal any sign of unworthiness or -of weakness is dropped. Of each class, only about a hundred win through -to the Lens; but each of those few has proven repeatedly, to the cold -verge of death itself, that he is in every sense fit to wear it.</p> - -<p>Of those who drop out alive, most are dismissed from the Patrol. There -are many splendid men, however, who for some reason not involving moral -turpitude are not quite what a Lensman must be. These men make up -the organization, from grease monkeys up to the highest commissioned -officers below the rank of Lensman. This fact explains what is already -so widely known: that the Galactic Patrol is the finest body of -intelligent beings yet to serve under one banner.</p> - -<p>But even Lensmen are not all alike; some are more richly endowed than -others. Most Lensmen work more or less under direction; that is, they -have headquarters and, at the completion of one investigation or -project, are assigned to another by the port admiral. Occasionally, -however, a Lensman shows himself to be of such outstanding ability, -even for a Lensman, that he is given his Release. Technically, he -is now an "Unattached Lensman"; in popular parlance he is a "Gray -Lensman," from the color of the leather he wears.</p> - -<hr class="tb"> - -<p>The Release! The goal toward which all Lensmen strive, but which so -relatively few attain, even after years of work! The Gray Lensman -is as nearly absolutely free an agent as it is possible for any -flesh-and-blood being to be. He is responsible to no one and to nothing -save his own conscience. He is no longer of Earth, nor of the Solarian -System, but of the Universe as a whole. He is no longer a cog in the -immense machine of the Galactic Patrol; wherever he may go throughout -the reaches of unbounded space, he is the Galactic Patrol:</p> - -<p>He goes anywhere he pleases and does anything he pleases, for as -long as he pleases. He takes what he wants, when he wants it, with -or without giving reasons or anything except a thumb-printed credit -slip in return—if he chooses to do so. He reports when, where, and -to whom he pleases—or not, as he pleases. He has no headquarters, no -address; he can be reached only through his Lens. He no longer gets -even a formal salary; he takes that, too, as he goes, whatever he finds -needful.</p> - -<p>To the man on the street that would seem to be a condition of perfect -bliss. It is not. All Lensmen strive mightily for the Release, even -though they realize dimly what it will mean—but only an Unattached -Lensman really understands what a frightful, what a man-killing load -the Release brings with it. However, Gray Lensmen being what they must -be, it is a load which they are glad and proud to bear.</p> - -<p>Hence, to say that Kimball Kinnison ranked Number One in his graduating -class is to say a great deal—but even more revealing of his quality -is to add that he was the first to perceive that what was known as -Boskonia was not merely an organization of outlaws and pirates, but -was in fact a Galaxy-wide culture diametrically opposed in fundamental -philosophy to that of Galactic Civilization. The most illuminating -thing I can say of him in a few words, however, is this:</p> - -<p>Of all the millions of entities who through the years had worn the -symbol of the Lens, Kinnison was the first to perceive that the -Arisians had endowed the Lens with powers theretofore undreamed of, -powers which no brain without special training could either evoke or -control. Thus, he was the first Lensman to return to Arisia for that -advanced training; and during that instruction he learned why no other -Lensman had been so trained before. It was such an ordeal that only a -mind of power sufficient to perceive of itself the real need of such -treatment could endure it without becoming starkly insane.</p> - -<p>Shortly after Kinnison won his Lens, he was called to Prime Base by -Port Admiral Haynes, the Patrol's chief of staff. There, in a room -sealed against spy rays, an appalling situation was bared. Space -piracy, always rife enough, had become an organized force; and, under -the leadership of a half-mythical entity about whom nothing was known -save the name "Boskone," had risen to such heights of power as to -threaten seriously the Galactic Patrol itself. Indeed, in one respect, -Boskonia was ahead of the Patrol, its scientists having developed a -source of power vastly greater than any known to Galactic Civilization. -It had fighting ships of a new and extraordinary type, from which even -convoyed shipping was no longer safe. Being faster than the Patrol's -fast cruisers, and more heavily armed than its heaviest battleships, -they had been doing practically as they pleased in space.</p> - -<p>For one particular purpose, the engineers of the Patrol had designed -and built one ship—the <i>Brittania</i>. She was the fastest thing in -space, but for offensive armament she had only one weapon, the "Q-gun." -This depended upon chemical explosives, which, in warfare at least, had -been obsolete for centuries. Nevertheless, Kinnison was put in command -of the <i>Brittania</i> and was told to take her out, capture a pirate war -vessel of late model, learn her secrets of power, and transmit the -information to Prime Base with the least possible delay.</p> - -<p>He was successful in finding and in defeating such a vessel. Peter van -Buskirk led the storming party of Valerians—men of remote Earth-human -ancestry, but of extraordinary size, strength and agility because -of the enormous gravitation of generations of life on the planet -Valeria—in wiping out those of the pirate crew not killed in the -combat between the two vessels.</p> - -<p>The <i>Brittania's</i> scientists secured the required data, but were -unable to report immediately to Prime Base, as the pirates were -blanketing all available channels of communication. Boskonian ships -were gathering for the kill, and the crippled Patrol ship could neither -run nor fight. Therefore each man was given a spool of tape bearing a -complete record of everything that had occurred; and, after setting up -a director-by-chance to make the empty ship pursue an unpredictable -course in space, and after rigging bombs to explode her at the first -touch of a ray, the Patrolmen paired off by lot and took to the -lifeboats.</p> - -<p>The erratic course of the cruiser brought her near the lifeboat in -which Kinnison and Van Buskirk were, and there the pirates attempted -to stop her. The ensuing explosion was so violent that flying wreckage -disabled practically the entire personnel of one of the attacking -ships, which did not have time to go free—inertialess—before the -crash. The two Patrolmen captured the pirate vessel and drove her -toward Earth. They reached the solar system of Velantia before the -Boskonians blocked them off, thus compelling them again to take to -their lifeboat. They landed upon the planet Delgon, where they were -rescued from a horde of Catlats by Worsel, a highly intelligent winged -reptile, a native of the neighboring planet of Velantia.</p> - -<p>By means of improvements upon Velantian thought-screens the three -destroyed most of the Overlords of Delgon, a sadistic race of monsters -who had been preying upon the other people of the system by sheer power -of mind. Worsel then accompanied the two Patrolmen to Velantia, where -all the resources of the planet were devoted to the preparation of -defense against the expected attack of the Boskonians. Several other of -the <i>Brittania's</i> lifeboats reached Velantia, guided by Worsel's mind -working through Kinnison's mind and Lens.</p> - -<p>Kinnison intercepted a message from Helmuth, who "spoke for Boskone," -and traced his communicator beam, thus getting his first line upon -Boskonia's Grand Base. The pirates attacked Velantia, and six of -their vessels were captured. In these six ships, manned by Velantian -crews and blanketing ether and subether against the pirates' own -communicators, the Patrolmen again set out toward Earth and the Prime -Base of the Galactic Patrol.</p> - -<p>Then Kinnison's Bergenholm broke down. The Bergenholm, the generator of -the force that neutralizes inertia—the <i>sine qua non</i> of interstellar -speed. For, while any mass in the free condition can assume an almost -unlimited velocity, inert matter cannot equal even that of light—the -veriest crawl, as space speeds go. Also, there is no magic, no getting -of something for nothing, in the operation of a Bergenholm. It takes -power, plenty of power, to run one, and whenever one goes out, the ship -dependent upon it is, to all intents and purposes, anchored in space.</p> - -<p>Therefore the Patrolmen were forced to land upon Trenco—which, as -almost everyone knows, is the planet upon which is produced thionite, -perhaps the deadliest of all habit-forming drugs—for repairs.</p> - -<p>Meanwhile Helmuth, the Boskonian, had deduced that it was a Lensman -who had been giving him so much trouble. He had already connected the -Lens with Arisia; therefore he set out for Arisia to find out for -himself just what it was that made the Lens such a powerful thing. -He discovered that he was no match at all for an Arisian. He was -given terrific mental punishment, but was allowed to return to his -Grand Base alive and sane; being informed that he was spared because -his destruction would not be good for the budding Civilization to -which Boskonian culture was opposed. He was told further that the -Arisians had given Civilization the Lens; that by its intelligent use, -Civilization should be able to conquer Boskone's alien, abhorrent -culture; that if it could not learn to use the Lens, it was not yet -ready to become a Civilization, and Boskonia would be allowed to -flourish for a time.</p> - -<p>After various adventures upon Trenco—a peculiar planet -indeed—Kinnison secured a new Bergenholm and went on. This time -he managed to reach Tellus, and, after a spectacular battle in the -stratosphere with a blockading fleet of the enemy, got down to Prime -Base with his precious data. There he first revealed his conviction -that the Boskonians were not ordinary pirates, but in fact composed -a culture almost, if not quite, as strong as Civilization itself; and -asked that certain scientists of the Patrol should try to develop a -detector nullifier. He predicted a stalemate, and intimated that such a -nullifier might well prove to be the deciding factor in the entire war.</p> - -<p>By building ultrapowerful battleships, called "maulers," the Patrol -gained a temporary advantage, but the stalemate soon ensued. Kinnison -thought out a plan of action, in the pursuit of which he scouted a -pirate base upon Aldebaran I. The personnel of this base, however, -instead of being human or near-human beings, were Wheelmen, beings -possessed of a sense of perception unknown to man. The Lensman was -discovered before he could accomplish anything, and in the fight which -followed he was very seriously wounded.</p> - -<p>However, he managed to get back to his speedster and sent a thought -to Port Admiral Haynes, who forthwith sent ships to his aid. In the -hospital, Chief Surgeon Lacy put him together without the use of -artificial members; and, during a long and quarrelsome convalescence, -Nurse Clarrissa MacDougall held him together.</p> - -<p>As soon as he could leave the hospital he went to Arisia in the hope -that he might be permitted to take advanced training—an unheard-of -idea. Much to his surprise, he learned that he had been expected to -return for exactly such training. Getting it almost killed him, but he -emerged from the ordeal infinitely stronger of mind than any man had -ever been before; and possessed of a new sense of perception as well—a -sense somewhat analogous to sight, but of vastly greater power, depth, -and scope, and not dependent upon light, a sense only vaguely forecast -by ancient experiments with clairvoyance.</p> - -<p>After trying out his new mental equipment by solving a murder mystery -upon Radelix, he succeeded in entering an enemy base upon Boyssia II. -There he took over the mind of the communications officer and waited -for the opportunity of getting the second, all-important line upon -Boskonia's Grand Base. An enemy ship of this base captured a hospital -ship of the Patrol and brought it in. Nurse MacDougall, head nurse of -the captured ship, working under Kinnison's instructions, stirred up -trouble which soon became mutiny. Helmuth, from Grand Base, took a -hand, thus enabling Kinnison to get his second line.</p> - -<p>The hospital ship, undetectable by virtue of the Lensman's nullifier, -escaped from Boyssia II and headed for Earth at full blast. Kinnison, -convinced that Helmuth was really Boskone himself, found that the -intersection of his two lines—and therefore the pirates' Grand -Base—lay in a star cluster AG 257-4736, well outside the Galaxy. -Pausing only long enough to destroy the Wheelmen of Aldebaran I, the -project in which his first attempt had failed so dismally, he set -out to investigate Helmuth's headquarters. He found a stronghold -impregnable to any massed attack the Patrol could throw against it, -manned by beings each wearing a thought-screen. His sense of perception -was suddenly cut off—the pirates had thrown a thought-screen around -the entire planet. He then returned to Prime Base, deciding en route -that boring from within was the only possible way in which that -stupendous fortress could be taken.</p> - -<p>In consultation with Port Admiral Haynes, the zero hour was set, -at which time the massed Grand Fleet of Patrol was to begin raying -Helmuth's base with every projector that could be brought to bear.</p> - -<p>Pursuant to his plan, Kinnison again visited Trenco, where the Patrol -forces extracted for him fifty kilograms of thionite, the noxious drug -which, in microgram inhalations, makes the addict experience all the -sensations of doing whatever it is that he wishes most ardently to do. -The larger the dose, the more intense the sensations; the slightest -overdose resulting in an ecstatic death. Thence to Helmuth's planet; -where, finding a dog whose brain was unshielded, he let himself into -the central dome. Here, just before the zero minute, he released his -thionite into the air stream, thus wiping out all the pirate personnel -except Helmuth, who, in his inner sanctum, could not be affected.</p> - -<p>The Grand Fleet of the Patrol attacked, but Helmuth would not leave his -retreat, even to try to save his Base. Therefore Kinnison would have -to go in after him. Poised in the air of Helmuth's inner sphere there -was an enigmatic, sparkling ball of force which the Lensman could not -understand, and of which he was in consequence extremely suspicious.</p> - -<p>But the storming of that quadruply-defended inner stronghold was -precisely the task for which Kinnison's new and ultracumbersome armor -had been designed; and in the Gray Lensman went.</p> - -<hr class="chap"> - -<p class="ph1">I.</p> - - -<p>Among the world-girdling fortifications of a planet distant indeed -from star cluster AG 257-4736 there squatted sullenly a fortress quite -similar to Helmuth's own. Indeed, in some respects it was even superior -to the base of him who spoke for Boskone. It was larger and stronger. -Instead of one dome, it had many. It was dark and cold withal, for its -occupants had practically nothing in common with humanity save the -possession of high intelligence.</p> - -<p>In the central sphere of one of the domes there sparkled several of -the peculiarly radiant globes whose counterpart had given Kinnison so -seriously to think, and near them there crouched or huddled or lay at -ease a many-tentacled creature indescribable to man. It was not exactly -like an octopus. Though spiny, it did not resemble at all closely a -sea-cucumber. Nor, although it was scaly and toothy and wingy, was it, -save in the vaguest possible way, similar to a lizard, a sea serpent, -or a vulture. Such a description by negatives is, of course, pitifully -inadequate; but, unfortunately, it is the best that can be done.</p> - -<p>The entire attention of this being was focused within one of the -globes, the obscure mechanism of which was relaying to his sense of -perception from Helmuth's globe and mind a clear picture of everything -which was happening within Grand Base. The corpse-littered dome was -clear to his sight; he knew that the Patrol was attacking from without; -knew that that ubiquitous Lensman, who had already unmanned the -citadel, was about to attack from within.</p> - -<p>"You have erred seriously," the entity was thinking coldly, -emotionlessly, into the globe, "in not deducing until after it was too -late to save your base that the Lensman had perfected a nullifier of -subethereal detection. Your contention that I am equally culpable is, I -think, untenable. It was your problem, not mine; I had, and still have, -other things to concern me. Your base is of course lost; whether or not -you yourself survive will depend entirely upon the adequacy of your -protective devices."</p> - -<p>"But, Eichlan, you yourself pronounced them adequate!"</p> - -<p>There followed an interval of silence, as though those conferring -were separated by such a gulf of space that even thought, with its -immeasurable velocity of propagation, required finite time to traverse -it.</p> - -<p>"Pardon me—I said that they <i>seemed</i> adequate."</p> - -<hr class="chap"> - -<div class="figcenter"> - <img src="images/illus2.jpg" alt=""> - <div class="caption"> - <p><i>Through inter-Galactic space Helmuth's thought drove.</i></p> -<p>"<i>You said the defenses were adequate!</i>"</p> -<p>"<i>I said they seemed adequate</i>," <i>said the Eichlan coldly.</i></p> - </div> -</div> - -<hr class="chap"> - -<p>"If I survive—or, rather, after I have destroyed this Lensman—what -are your orders?" Another interval.</p> - -<p>"Go to the nearest communicator and concentrate our forces; half of -them to engage this Patrol fleet, the remainder to wipe out all the -life of Sol III. I have not tried to give those orders direct, since -all the beams are keyed to your board and, even if I could reach them, -no commander in that Galaxy knows that I speak for Boskone. After you -have done that, report to me here."</p> - -<p>"Instructions received and understood. Helmuth, ending message."</p> - -<p>"Set your controls as instructed. I will observe and record. Prepare -yourself, the Lensman comes. Eichlan, speaking for Boskone, ending -message."</p> - -<p>The Lensman rushed. Even before he crashed the pirate's screens his own -defensive zone flamed white in the beam of semiportable projectors, and -through that blaze came tearing the metallic slugs of a high-caliber -machine rifle. But the Lensman's screens were almost those of a -battleship, his armor relatively as strong; he had at his command -projectors scarcely inferior to those opposing his advance. Therefore, -with every faculty of his newly enlarged mind concentrated upon that -thought-screened, armored head behind the bellowing gun and the flaring -projectors, Kinnison held his line and forged ahead.</p> - -<hr class="tb"> - -<p>Attentive as he was to Helmuth's thought-screens, the Patrolman was -ready when it weakened slightly and a thought began to seep through, -directed at that peculiar ball of force. He blanketed it savagely, -before it could even begin to take form, and attacked the screen so -viciously that the Boskonian had either to restore full coverage -instantly or else die there and then.</p> - -<p>Kinnison feared that force-ball no longer. He still did not know what -it was; but he had learned that, whatever its nature might be, it was -operated or controlled by thought. Therefore it was and would remain -harmless. If the pirate chief softened his screen enough to emit a -thought he would never think again.</p> - -<p>Doggedly the Lensman drove in, closer and closer. Magnetic clamps -locked and held. Two steel-clad, warring figures rolled into the line -of fire of the ravening automatic rifle. Kinnison's armor, designed and -tested to withstand even heavier stuff, held; wherefore he came through -that storm of metal unscathed. Helmuth's, however, even though stronger -far than the ordinary personal armor of space, failed; and thus the -Boskonian died.</p> - -<p>Blasting himself upright, the Patrolman shot across the inner dome to -the control panel and paused, momentarily baffled. He could not throw -the switches controlling the defensive screens of the gigantic outer -dome! His armor, designed for the ultimate of defensive strength, could -not and did not bear any of the small and delicate external mechanisms -so characteristic of the ordinary spacesuit. To leave his personal tank -at that time and in that environment was unthinkable; yet he was fast -running out of time. A scant fifteen seconds was all that remained -before zero, the moment at which the hellish output of every watt -generable by the massed fleet of the Galactic Patrol would be hurled -against those screens in their furiously raging destructive might. To -release the screens after that zero moment would mean his own death, -instantaneous and inevitable.</p> - -<p>Nevertheless, he could open those circuits—the conservation of -Boskonian property meant nothing to him. He flipped on his own -projector and flashed its beam briefly across the banked panels in -front of him. Insulation burst into flame, fairly exploding in its -haste to disintegrate; copper and silver ran in brilliant streams or -puffed away in clouds of sparkling vapor: high-tension arcs ripped, -crashed, and cracked among the writhing, dripping, flaring bus-bar. -The shorts burned themselves clear or blew their fuses, every circuit -opened, every Boskonian defense came down; and then, and only then, -could Kinnison get into communication with his friends.</p> - -<p>"Haynes!" he thought crisply into his Lens. "Kinnison calling!"</p> - -<p>"Haynes acknowledging!" a thought instantly snapped back. "Congrat—"</p> - -<p>"Hold it! We're not done yet! Have every ship in the Fleet go free at -once. Have them all, except yours, put out full-coverage screens, so -that they can't look at or think into this Base."</p> - -<p>A moment passed. "Done!"</p> - -<p>"Don't come in any closer—I'm on my way out there to you. Have your -ship block every band except your personal frequency, which you and I -are now on, and caution all Lensmen aboard with you to stay off that -channel until further notice. Now as to you, personally, I don't like -to seem to be giving orders to the Admiral of the Fleet, but it may -be quite essential that you concentrate upon me, and think of nothing -else, for the next few minutes."</p> - -<p>"Right! I don't mind taking orders from <i>you</i>."</p> - -<p>"QX. Now we can take things a bit easier." Kinnison had so arranged -matters that no one except himself could think into that stronghold, -and he himself would not. He would not think into that tantalizing -enigma, nor toward it, nor even of it, until he was completely ready to -do so. And how many persons, I wonder, really realize just how much of -a feat that was? Realize the sort of mental training that required?</p> - -<p>"How many gamma-zeta tracers can you put out, chief?" Kinnison asked -then, more conversationally.</p> - -<p>A brief consultation; then, "Ten in regular use. By tuning in all our -spares we can put out sixty."</p> - -<p>"At two diameters' distance forty-eight fields will surround this -planet at one-hundred-percent overlap. Please have that many set that -way. Of the other twelve, set three to go well outside the first -sphere—say at four diameters out—covering the line from this planet -to Lundmark's Nebula. Set the last nine to be thrown out as far as you -can read them accurately to only the first decimal on your screens, -centering on the same line. Not much overlap is necessary on these -backing fields—bare contact is enough. Release nothing, of course, -until I get there. And while the boys are setting things up, you might -go inert—it's safe enough now—so that I can match your intrinsic -velocity and come aboard."</p> - -<hr class="tb"> - -<p>There followed the maneuvering necessary for one inert body to approach -another in space, then Kinnison's incredible housing of steel was -hauled into the airlock by means of space lines attached to magnetic -clamps. The outer door of the lock closed behind him, the inner one -opened, and the Lensman entered the flagship.</p> - -<p>First to the armory, where he clambered stiffly out of his small -battleship and gave orders concerning its storage. Then to the control -room, stretching and bending hugely as he went, in vast relief at his -freedom from the narrow and irksome confinement which he had endured so -long.</p> - -<p>Of all the men in that control room, only two knew Kinnison personally. -All knew of him, however, and as the tall gray-clad figure entered -there was a loud, quick cheer.</p> - -<p>"Hi, fellows—thanks." Kinnison waved a salute to the room as a -whole. "Hi, Port Admiral! Hi, Commandant!" He saluted Haynes and von -Hohendorff as perfunctorily, and greeted them as casually, as though he -had last seen them an hour, instead of ten weeks, before; as though the -intervening time had been spent in the veriest idleness, instead of in -the fashion in which it actually had been spent.</p> - -<p>Old von Hohendorff greeted his erstwhile pupil cordially enough, but: -"Out with it!" Haynes demanded. "What did you do? How did you do it? -What does all this confounded rigmarole mean? Tell us all about it—all -you can, I mean," he added, hastily.</p> - -<p>"There's no need of secrecy now, I think," and in flashing thoughts the -Gray Lensman went on to describe everything that had happened.</p> - -<p>"So you see," he concluded, "I don't really <i>know</i> anything. It's all -surmise, suspicion, and deduction. It may be that nothing at all will -happen: in which case these precautions, while they will have been -wasted effort, will have done us no harm. In case something <i>does</i> -happen, however—and I'll bet all the tea in China that something -will—we'll be ready for it."</p> - -<p>"But if what you are beginning to suspect is really true, it means that -Boskonia is inter-Galactic in scope—wider spread even than the Patrol!"</p> - -<p>"Probably, but not necessarily—it may mean only that they have bases -further outside. And remember that I'm arguing on a mighty slim thread -of evidence. That screen was hard and tight, and I couldn't touch the -external beam—if there was one—at all. I got just part of a thought, -here and there. However, the thought was 'that' galaxy; not just -'galaxy,' or 'this' or 'the' galaxy—and why think that way if the guy -was already in this galaxy?"</p> - -<hr class="chap"> - -<div class="figcenter"> - <img src="images/illus3.jpg" alt=""> - <div class="caption"> - <p><i>"But that's not the end, sir," said Kinnison. "They -said not 'the' galaxy, or even 'this' galaxy—the thought was 'that' -galaxy!"</i></p> - </div> -</div> - -<hr class="chap"> - -<p>"But nobody has ever—But skip it for now—the boys are ready for you. -Take over!"</p> - -<p>"QX. First we'll go free again. Don't think much, if any, of the -stuff can come out here, but no use taking chances. Cut your screens. -Now, all you gamma-zeta men, throw out your fields, and if any of you -get a puncture, or even a flash, measure its position. You recording -observers, step your scanners up to fifty thousand. QX?"</p> - -<p>"QX!" the observers and recorders reported, almost as one, and the Gray -Lensman sat down at a plate.</p> - -<hr class="tb"> - -<p>His mind, free at last to make the investigation from which it had been -so long and so sternly barred, flew down into and through the dome, to -and into that cryptic globe so tantalizingly poised in the air of the -Center.</p> - -<p>The reaction was practically instantaneous; so rapid that any ordinary -mind could have perceived nothing at all; so rapid that even Kinnison's -consciousness recorded only a confusedly blurred impression. But he -did see something: in that fleeting millionth of a second he sensed a -powerful, malignant mental force; a force backing multiplex scanners -and subethereal stress-fields interlocked in peculiarly unidentifiable -patterns.</p> - -<p>For that ball was, as Kinnison had more than suspected, a potent agency -indeed. It was, as he had thought that it must be, a communicator; but -it was far more than that. Ordinarily harmless enough, it could be so -set as to become an infernal machine at the vibrations of any thought -not in a certain coded sequence; and Helmuth had so set it.</p> - -<p>Therefore at the touch of the Patrolman's thought it exploded: -liberating instantaneously the unimaginable forces with which -it was charged. More, it sent out waves which, attuned to -detonating receivers, touched off strategically placed stores of -duodecaplylatomate. "Duodec," that concentrated essence of atomic -violence than which science has even yet failed to develop a more -devastating!</p> - -<p>"Hell's—jingling—bells!" Port Admiral Haynes grunted in stunned -amazement, then subsided into silence, eyes riveted upon his plate; -for to the human eye dome, fortress, and planet had disappeared in one -cataclysmically incandescent sphere of flame.</p> - -<p>But the observers of the Galactic Patrol did not depend upon eyesight -alone. Their scanners had been working at ultrafast speed; and, as -soon as it became clear that none of the ships of the Fleet had been -endangered, Kinnison asked that certain of the spools be run into a -visitank at normal tempo.</p> - -<p>There, slowed to a speed at which the eye could clearly discern -sequences of events, the two old Lensmen and the young one studied with -care the three-dimensional pictures of what had happened; pictures -taken from points of projection close to and even within the doomed -structure itself.</p> - -<p>Deliberately, the ball of force opened up, followed an inappreciable -instant later by the secondary centers of detonation; all expanding -magically into spherical volumes of blindingly brilliant annihilation. -There were as yet no flying fragments: no inert fragment <i>can</i> fly -from duodec in the first few instants of its detonation. For the -detonation of duodec is propagated at the velocity of light, so that -the entire mass disintegrates in a period of time to be measured only -in fractional trillionths of a second. Its detonation pressure and -temperature have never been measured save indirectly, since nothing -will hold it except a Q-type helix of pure force. And even those -helices, which perforce must be practically open at both ends, have -to be designed and powered to withstand pressures and temperatures -obtaining only in the cores of suns.</p> - -<p>Imagine, if you can, what would happen if some fifty thousand metric -tons of material from the innermost core of Sirius B were to be taken -to Grand Base, separated into twenty-five packages, each package placed -at a strategic point, and all restraint instantaneously removed. What -would have happened then, was what actually <i>was</i> happening!</p> - -<p>As has been said, for moments nothing moved except the ever-expanding -spheres of destruction. Nothing <i>could</i> move—the inertia of matter -itself held it in place until it was too late—everything close to -those centers of action simply flared into turgid incandescence and -added its contribution to the already hellish whole.</p> - -<p>As the spheres expanded, their temperatures and pressures decreased -and the action became somewhat less violent. Matter no longer simply -disappeared. Instead, plates and girders, even gigantic structural -members, bent, buckled, and crumbled. Walls blew outward and upward. -Huge chunks of metal and of masonry, many with fused and dripping -edges, began to fly in all directions.</p> - -<p>And not only, or principally, upward was directed the force of those -inconceivable explosions. Downward the effect was, if possible, even -more catastrophic, since conditions there approximated closely the -oft-argued meeting between the irresistible force and the immovable -object. The planet was to all intents and purposes immovable, the -duodec to the same degree irresistible. The result was that the entire -planet was momentarily blown apart. A vast chasm was blasted deep into -its interior, and, gravity temporarily overcome, stupendous cracks and -fissures began to yawn. Then, as the pressure decreased, the core-stuff -of the planet became molten and began to wreak its volcanic havoc.</p> - -<p>Gravity, once more master of the situation, took hold. The cracks and -chasms closed, extruding uncounted cubic miles of fiery lava and metal. -The entire world shivered and shuddered in a Gargantuan cosmic ague.</p> - -<hr class="tb"> - -<p>The explosion blew itself out. The hot gases and vapors cooled. The -steam condensed. The volcanic dust disappeared. There lay the planet; -but changed—hideously and awfully changed. Where Grand Base had been -there remained nothing whatever to indicate that anything wrought by -man had ever been there. Mountains were leveled, valleys were filled. -Continents and oceans had shifted, and were still shifting; visibly. -Earthquakes, volcanoes, and other seismic disturbances, instead of -decreasing, were increasing in violence, minute by minute.</p> - -<p>Helmuth's planet was, and would for years remain, a barren and -uninhabitable world.</p> - -<p>"Well!" Haynes, who had been holding his breath unconsciously, -released it in an almost explosive sigh. "That is inescapably and -incontrovertibly <i>that</i>. I was going to use that base, but it looks as -though we'll have to get along without it."</p> - -<p>Without comment Kinnison turned to the gamma-zeta observers. "Any -traces?" he asked.</p> - -<p>It developed that three of the fields had shown activity. Not merely -traces or flashes, but solid punctures showing the presence of a hard, -tight beam. And those three punctures were in the same line; a line -running straight out into inter-Galactic space.</p> - -<p>Kinnison took careful readings on the line, then stood motionless. -Feet wide apart, hands jammed into pockets, head slightly bent, eyes -distant, he stood there unmoving; thinking with all the power of his -brain.</p> - -<p>"I want to ask three questions," the old Commandant of Cadets -interrupted his cogitations finally. "Was Helmuth Boskone, or not? Have -we got them licked, or not? What do we do next, besides the mopping up -of those eighteen super-maulers?"</p> - -<p>"To all three the answer is 'I don't know'." Kinnison's face was stern -and hard. "You know as much about the whole thing as I do—I haven't -held back a thing that I even suspect. I did not tell you that Helmuth -was Boskone; I said that everyone in any position to judge, including -myself, was as sure that he was as one could be about anything that -could not be proved. I firmly believed that he was. The presence of -this communicator line, and the other stuff I have told you about, has -destroyed that belief in my mind. However, we do not actually <i>know</i> -any more than we did before. It is no more certain now that Helmuth -was <i>not</i> Boskone than it was before that he <i>was</i> Boskone. The second -question ties in with the first, and so does the third—but I see that -the mopping up has started."</p> - -<p>While von Hohendorff and Kinnison had been talking, Haynes had issued -orders and the Grand Fleet, divided roughly and with difficulty into -eighteen parts, went raggedly outward to surround the eighteen outlying -fortresses. But, and surprisingly enough to the Patrol forces, the -reduction of those hulking monsters was to prove no easy task.</p> - -<p>The Boskonians had witnessed the destruction of Helmuth's Grand Base. -Their master plates were dead. Try as they would, they could get in -touch with no one with authority to give them orders, with no one to -whom they could report their present plight. Nor could they escape: the -slowest mauler in the Patrol Fleet could have caught any one of them in -space of minutes.</p> - -<p>To surrender was not even thought of—better far to die a clean -death in the blazing holocaust of space battle than to be thrown -ignominiously into the lethal chambers of the Patrol. There was not, -there could not be, any question of pardon or of sentence to any mere -imprisonment, for the strife between Civilization and Boskonia in -no respect resembled the wars between two fundamentally similar and -friendly nations which small, green Terra knew so frequently of old. -It was a Galaxy-wide struggle for survival between two diametrically -opposed, mutually exclusive, and absolutely incompatible cultures; -a duel to the death in which quarter was neither asked nor given; a -conflict which, except for the single instance which Kinnison himself -had engineered, was, and of stern necessity had to be, one of ruthless, -complete, and utter extinction.</p> - -<hr class="tb"> - -<p>Die, then, the pirates knew they must; and, although adherents to a -scheme of existence monstrous indeed to our way of thinking, they -were in no sense cowards. Not like cornered rats did they conduct -themselves, but fought like what they were; courageous beings -hopelessly outnumbered and outpowered, unable either to escape or to -choose the field of operations, grimly resolved that in their passing -they would take full toll of the minions of that detested and despised -Galactic Civilization. Therefore, in suicidal glee, Boskonian engineers -rigged up a fantastically potent weapon of offense, tuned in their -defensive screens and hung poised in space, awaiting calmly the massed -attack so sure to come.</p> - -<p>Up flashed the heavy cruisers of the Patrol, serenely confident. -Although of little offensive strength, these vessels mounted tractors -and pressors of prodigious power, as well as defensive screens -which—theoretically—no projector-driven beam of force could puncture. -They had engaged mauler after mauler of Boskonia's mightiest, and never -yet had one of those screens gone down. Theirs the task of immobilizing -the opponent; since, as is of course well known, it is under any -ordinary conditions impossible to wreak any hurt upon an object which -is both inertialess and at liberty to move in space. It simply darts -away from the touch of the harmful agent, whether it be immaterial beam -or material substance.</p> - -<p>Formerly the attachment of two or three tractors was all that was -necessary to insure immobility, and thus vulnerability; but with the -Velantian development of a shear-plane to cut tractor beams, a new -technique became necessary. This was englobement, in which a dozen -or more vessels surrounded the proposed victim in space and held it -motionless at the center of a sphere by means of pressors, which could -not be cut or evaded. Serene, then, and confident, the heavy cruisers -rushed out to englobe the Boskonian fortress.</p> - -<p>Flash! Flash! Flash! Three points of light, as unbearably brilliant -as atomic vortices, sprang into being upon the fortress' side. Three -needle rays of inconceivable energy lashed out, hurtling through the -cruisers' outer screens as though they had been so much inactive -webbing. Through the second and through the first. Through the wall -shield, even that ultrapowerful field scarcely flashing as it went -down. Through the armor, violating the prime tenet then held and -which has just been referred to, that no object free in space can be -damaged—in this case, so unthinkably vehement was the thrust, the -few atoms of substances in the space surrounding the doomed cruisers -afforded resistance enough. Through the ship itself, a ravening -cylinder of annihilation.</p> - -<p>For perhaps a second—certainly no longer—those incredible, those -undreamed-of beams persisted before winking out into blackness; but -that second had been long enough. Three riddled hulks lay dead in -space, and as the three original projectors went black three more -flared out. Then three more. Nine of the mightiest of Civilization's -ships of war were riddled before the others could hurl themselves -backward out of range!</p> - -<hr class="tb"> - -<p>Most of the officers of the flagship were stunned into temporary -inactivity by that shocking development, but two reacted almost -instantly.</p> - -<p>"Thorndyke!" the Admiral snapped. "What did they do, and how?"</p> - -<p>And Kinnison, not speaking at all, leaped to a certain panel, to read -for himself the analysis of those incredible beams of force.</p> - -<p>"They made superneedle rays out of their main projectors," Master -Technician Laverne Thorndyke reported, crisply. "They must have shorted -everything they've got onto them to burn them out that fast."</p> - -<p>"Those beams were hot—plenty hot," Kinnison corroborated the findings. -"These recorders go to five billion and have a factor of safety of ten. -Even that wasn't anywhere nearly enough—everything in the recorder -circuits blew."</p> - -<p>"But how could they handle them—" von Hohendorff began to ask.</p> - -<p>"They didn't. They pointed them and died," Thorndyke explained, -grimly. "They traded one projector and its crew for one cruiser and -<i>its</i> crew—a good trade from their viewpoint."</p> - -<p>"There will be no more such trades," Haynes declared.</p> - -<p>Nor were there. The Patrol had maulers enough to englobe the enemy -craft at a distance greater even than the effective range of those -suicidal beams, and it did so.</p> - -<p>Shielding screens cut off the Boskonians' intake of cosmic power and -the relentless beaming of the bulldog maulers began. For hour after -hour it continued, the cordon ever tightening as the victims' power -lessened. And finally even the Gargantuan accumulators of the immense -fortresses were drained. Their screens went down under the hellish fury -of the maulers' incessant attack, and in a space of minutes thereafter -the structures and their contents ceased to exist save as atomic -detritus.</p> - -<p>The Grand Fleet of the Galactic Patrol remade its formation after a -fashion and set off toward the Galaxy at touring blast.</p> - -<p>And in the control room of the flagship three Lensmen brought a very -serious conference to a close.</p> - -<p>"You saw what happened to Helmuth's planet," Kinnison's voice was -oddly hard, "and I gave you all I could get of the thought about the -destruction of all life upon Sol III. A big-enough duodec bomb in -the bottom of an ocean would do it. I don't really <i>know</i> anything -except that we hadn't better let them catch us asleep at the switch -again—we've got to be up on our toes every second."</p> - -<p>And the Gray Lensman, face set and stern, strode off to his quarters.</p> - -<hr class="chap"> - -<p class="ph1">II.</p> - - -<p>During practically all of the long trip back to Earth, Kinnison kept -pretty much to his cabin, thinking deeply, blackly, and, he admitted -ruefully to himself, to very little purpose. And at Prime Base, through -week after week of its feverish activity, he continued to think. -Finally, however, he was snatched out of his dark abstraction by no -less a personage than Surgeon General Lacy.</p> - -<p>"Snap out of it, lad," that worthy advised, smilingly. "When you -concentrate on one thing too long, you know, the vortices of thought -occupy narrower and narrow loci, until finally the effective volume -becomes infinitesimal. Or, mathematically, the then range of -cogitation, integrated between the limits of plus and minus infinity, -approaches zero as a limit—"</p> - -<p>"Huh? What are you talking about?" the Lensman demanded.</p> - -<p>"Poor mathematics, perhaps, but sound psychology," Lacy grinned. "It -got your undivided attention, didn't it? That was what I was after. In -plain English, if you keep on thinking around in circles you'll soon be -biting yourself in the small of the back. Come on, you and I are going -places."</p> - -<p>"Where?"</p> - -<p>"To the Grand Ball in honor of the Grand Fleet, my boy—old Dr. Lacy -prescribes it for you as a complete and radical change of atmosphere. -Let's go!"</p> - -<p>The city's largest ballroom was a blaze of light and color. A thousand -polychromic lamps flooded their radiance downward through draped -bunting upon an even more colorful throng. Two thousand items of -feminine loveliness were there, in raiment whose fabrics were the boast -of hundreds of planets, whose hues and shades put the spectrum itself -to shame. There were over two thousand men, clad in plain or beribboned -or bemedaled full civilian dress, or in the variously panoplied dress -uniforms of the many Services.</p> - -<p>"You're dancing with Miss Forrester first, Kinnison," the surgeon -introduced them informally, and the Lensman found himself gliding -away with a stunning blonde, ravishingly and revealingly dressed in a -dazzlingly blue wisp of Manarkan glamorette—fashion's <i>dernier cri</i>.</p> - -<p>To the uninformed, Kinnison's garb of plain gray leather might have -seemed incongruous indeed in that brilliantly and fastidiously dressed -assemblage. But to those people, as to us of today, the drab, starkly -utilitarian uniform of the Unattached Lensman transcended far any -other, however resplendent, worn by men: and literally hundreds of eyes -followed the strikingly handsome couple as they slid rhythmically out -upon the polished floor. But a measure of the tall beauty's customary -poise had deserted her. She was slimly taut in the circle of the -Lensman's arm, her eyes were downcast, and suddenly she missed a step.</p> - -<p>"'Scuse me for stepping on your feet," he apologized. "A fellow gets -out of practice, flitting around in a speedster so much."</p> - -<p>"Thanks for taking the blame, but it's my fault entirely—I know it as -well as you do," she replied, flushing uncomfortably. "I <i>do</i> know how -to dance, too, but—Well, you're a Gray Lensman, you know."</p> - -<p>"Huh?" he ejaculated, in honest surprise, and she looked up at him -for the first time. "What has that fact got to do with the price of -Venerian orchids in Chicago—or with my clumsy walking all over your -slippers?"</p> - -<hr class="tb"> - -<p>"Everything in the world," she assured him. Nevertheless, her stiff -young body relaxed and she fell into the graceful, accurate dancing -which she really knew so well how to do. "You see, I don't suppose that -any of us has ever seen a Gray Lensman before, except in pictures, and -actually to be dancing with one is so thrilling that it is really a -shock—I have to get used to it gradually, so to speak. Why, I don't -even know how to talk to you! One couldn't possibly call you plain -mister, as one would any ord—"</p> - -<p>"It'll be QX if you just call me 'say'!" he informed her. "Maybe you'd -rather not dance with a dub? What say we go get us a sandwich and a -bottle of fayalin or something?"</p> - -<p>"No—never!" she exclaimed. "I didn't mean it that way at all. I'm -going to have this full dance with you, and enjoy every second of it. -And later I am going to pack this dance card—which I hope you will -sign for me—away in lavender, so it will go down in history that in my -youth I really did dance with Gray Lensman Kinnison. I see that I have -recovered enough so that I can talk and dance at the same time. Do you -mind if I ask you some silly questions about space?"</p> - -<p>"Go ahead. They won't be silly, if I'm any judge. Elementary, perhaps, -but not silly."</p> - -<p>"I hope so, but I think you're being charitable again. Like most of -the girls here, I suppose, I have never been out in deep space at all. -Besides a few hops to the Moon, I have taken only two flits, and they -were both only interplanetary. One to Mars and one to Venus. I never -could see how you deep-space men can really understand what you're -doing—either the frightful speeds at which you travel, the distance -you cover, or the way your communicators work. In fact, a professor -told us that no human mind can understand figures of those magnitudes -at all. But you must understand them, I should think ... oh, perhaps—"</p> - -<p>"Or maybe the guy isn't human?" Kinnison laughed deeply, infectiously. -"No, your professor was right. We can't understand the figures, but we -don't have to—all we have to do is to work with them. And, now that it -has just percolated through my skull who you really are, that you are -<i>Gladys</i> Forrester, it is quite clear that you are in that same boat."</p> - -<p>"Me? How?" she exclaimed.</p> - -<p>"The human mind cannot really understand a million of anything. Yet -your father, an immensely wealthy man, gave you clear title to a -million credits in cash, to train you in finance in the only way that -really produces results—the hard way of actual experience. You lost a -lot of it at first, of course; but at last accounts you had got it all -back, and some besides, in spite of all the smart guys trying to take -it away from you. The fact that your brain cannot envisage a million -credits has not interfered with your manipulation of that amount, has -it?"</p> - -<p>"No, but that's entirely different!" she protested.</p> - -<p>"Not in any essential feature," he countered. "I can explain it best, -perhaps, by analogy. You can't visualize, mentally, the size of North -America, either, yet that fact does not bother you in the least while -you are driving around on it in an automobile. What do you drive? On -the ground, I mean, not in the air?"</p> - -<p>"A De Khotinsky sporter."</p> - -<p>"Um. Top speed a hundred and forty miles per hour, and I suppose you -cruise between ninety and a hundred. We'll have to pretend that you -drive a Crownover sedan, or some other big, slow jalopy, so that you -will tour at about sixty and have an absolute top of ninety. Also, -you have a radio. On the broadcast bands you can hear a program from -three or four thousand miles away; or, on short wave, from anywhere on -Tellus—"</p> - -<p>"I can get tight-beam short-wave programs from the Moon," the girl -broke in. "I've heard them lots of times."</p> - -<p>"Yes," Kinnison assented dryly, "at such times as there didn't happen -to be any interference."</p> - -<p>"Static <i>is</i> pretty bad, lots of times," the heiress agreed.</p> - -<hr class="tb"> - -<p>"Well, change 'miles' to 'parsecs' and you've got the picture of -deep-space speeds and operations," Kinnison informed her. "Our speed -varies, of course, with the density of matter in space; but on the -average—say one atom of substance per ten cubic centimeters in -space—we tour at about sixty parsecs an hour, and full blast is about -ninety. And our ultra-wave communicators, working below the level of -the ether, in the subether—"</p> - -<p>"Whatever that is," she interrupted.</p> - -<p>"That's as good a description or definition of it as any," he grinned -at her. "We don't know what even the ether is, or whether or not -it exists as an objective reality; to say nothing of what we so -nonchalantly call the subether. We do not understand gravity, although -we can make it to order. No scientist yet has been able to say how it -is propagated, or even whether or not it is propagated. No one has been -able to devise any kind of an apparatus or meter or method by which -its nature, period, or velocity can be determined. Neither do we know -anything about time or space. In fact, fundamentally, we don't really -<i>know</i> much of anything at all," he concluded.</p> - -<p>"Says you. But that makes me feel better, anyway," she confided, -snuggling a little closer. "Go on about the communicators."</p> - -<p>"Ultra-waves are faster than ordinary radio waves, which of course -travel through the ether with the velocity of light, in just about -the same ratio as that of the speed of our ships to the speed of slow -automobiles—that is, the ratio of a parsec to a mile. Roughly nineteen -billion to one. Range, of course, is proportional to the square of the -speed."</p> - -<p>"Nineteen billion!" she exclaimed. "And you just said that nobody could -understand even a million!"</p> - -<p>"That's the point exactly," he went on, undisturbed. "You don't have to -understand or to visualize it. All you have to do is to remember that -deep-space vessels and communicators can cover distance in parsecs at -practically the same rate that Tellurian automobiles can cover miles. -So, when some space-flea talks to you about parsecs, just think of -miles in terms of an automobile and a radio and you won't be far off."</p> - -<p>"I never heard it explained that way before—it does make it ever so -much simpler. Will you sign this, please?"</p> - -<p>"Just one more point." The music had ceased and he was signing her -card, preparatory to escorting her back to her place. "Like your -supposedly tight-beam Luna-Tellus hookups, our long range, equally -tight-beam communicators are very sensitive to interference, either -natural or artificial. So, while under perfect conditions we can -communicate clear across the Galaxy, there are times—particularly when -the pirates are scrambling the channels—that we can't drive a beam -from here to Alpha Centauri. Thanks a lot for the dance."</p> - -<hr class="tb"> - -<p>The other girls did not quite come to blows as to which of them -was to get him next; and shortly—he never did know exactly how -it came about—he found himself dancing with a luscious, cuddly -little brunette, clad—partially clad, at least—in a high-slitted, -flame-colored sheath of some new fabric which the Lensman had never -seen before. It looked like solidified, tightly woven electricity!</p> - -<p>"Oh, Mr. Kinnison!" his new partner cooed, ecstatically. "I think that -all spacemen, and you Lensmen particularly, are just too perfectly darn -<i>heroic</i> for anything! Why, I think that space is just <i>terrible</i>! I -simply can't <i>cope</i> with it at <i>all</i>!"</p> - -<p>"Ever been out, miss?" he grinned. He had never known many social -butterflies, and temporarily he had forgotten that such girls as this -one really existed.</p> - -<p>"Why, of <i>course</i>!" The young woman kept on being exclamatory.</p> - -<p>"Clear out to the Moon, perhaps?" he hazarded.</p> - -<p>"Don't be ridic! <i>Ever</i> so much farther than <i>that</i>! Why, I went clear -to <i>Mars</i>! And it gave me the screaming <i>meamies</i>, no less. I thought I -would <i>collapse</i>!"</p> - -<p>That dance ended ultimately, and other dances with other girls -followed; but Kinnison could not throw himself into the gaiety -surrounding him. During his cadet days he had enjoyed such revels to -the full, but now the whole thing left him cold. His mind insisted -upon reverting to its problem. Finally, in the throng of young people -on the floor, he saw a girl with a mass of red-bronze hair and a -supple, superbly molded figure. He did not need to await her turning -to recognize his erstwhile nurse and later assistant, whom he had last -seen just this side of far-distant Boyssia II.</p> - -<p>"Mac!" To her mind alone he sent out a thought through his Lens. "For -the love of Klono, lend a hand—rescue me! How many dances have you got -ahead?"</p> - -<p>"None at all—I'm not dating ahead." She jumped as though someone had -jabbed her with a needle, then paused in panic; eyes wide, breath -coming fast, breast pounding. She had felt Lensed thoughts before, but -this was something else, something entirely different. Every cell of -her brain was open to that Lensman's mind—and what <i>was</i> she seeing! -She blanketed her thoughts desperately, tried with all her might not to -think at all!</p> - -<hr class="chap"> - -<div class="figcenter"> - <img src="images/illus4.jpg" alt=""> - <div class="caption"> - <p><i>She froze suddenly, a gasp of horror half suppressed. -She was seeing things—sensing things beyond comprehension</i>—</p> - </div> -</div> - -<hr class="chap"> - -<p>"QX, Mac," the thought went quietly on within her mind, quite as though -nothing unusual were occurring. "No intrusion meant. You didn't think -it; I already knew that if you started dating ahead you'd be tied up -until day after tomorrow. Can I have the next one?"</p> - -<p>"Sure, Kim."</p> - -<p>"Thanks—the Lens is off for the rest of the evening."</p> - -<p>She sighed in relief as he snapped the telepathic line as though he -were hanging up the receiver of a telephone.</p> - -<p>"I'd like to dance with you all, kids," he addressed a large group of -buds surrounding him and eying him hungrily, "but I've got this next -one. See you later, perhaps," and he was gone.</p> - -<p>"Sorry, fellows," he remarked casually, as he made his way through the -circle of men around the gorgeous redhead. "Sorry, but this dance is -mine, isn't it, Miss MacDougall?"</p> - -<p>She nodded, flashing the radiant smile which had so aroused his ire -during his hospitalization. "I heard you invoke your spaceman's god, -but I was beginning to be afraid that you had forgotten this dance."</p> - -<p>"And she said she wasn't dating ahead—the diplomat!" murmured an -ambassador, aside.</p> - -<p>"Don't be a dope," a captain of Marines muttered in reply. "She meant -with <i>us</i>. That's a Gray Lensman!"</p> - -<hr class="tb"> - -<p>Although the nurse, as has been said, was anything but small, she -appeared almost petite against the Lensman's mighty frame as they took -off. Silently the two circled the great hall once; lustrous, goldenly -green gown—of Earthly nylon, this one, and less revealing than -most—swishing in perfect cadence against deftly and softly stepping -high-laced boots.</p> - -<p>"This is better, Mac," Kinnison sighed, finally, "but I lack just seven -thousand kilocycles of being in tune with this. Don't know what's -the matter, but it's clogging my jets. I must be getting to be a -space-louse."</p> - -<p>"A space-louse—you? Uh-uh!" She shook her head. "You know very well -what the matter is. You're just too much of a man to mention it."</p> - -<p>"Huh?" he demanded.</p> - -<p>"Uh-huh," she asserted, positively if obliquely. "Of course you're not -in tune with this crowd. How could you be? I don't fit into it any more -myself, and what I'm doing isn't even a muffled flare compared to your -job. Not one in ten of these fluffs here tonight has ever been beyond -the stratosphere; not one in a hundred has ever been out as far as -Jupiter, or has ever had a serious thought in her head except about -clothes or men; not one of them all has any more idea of what a Lensman -really is than I have of hyperspace or of non-Euclidean geometry!"</p> - -<p>"Kitty, kitty!" he laughed. "Sheathe the little claws, before you -scratch somebody!"</p> - -<p>"That isn't cattishness; it's the barefaced truth. Or perhaps," she -amended, honestly, "it's both true and cattish, but it's certainly -true. And that isn't half of it. No one in the Universe except yourself -really <i>knows</i> what you are doing, and I'm pretty sure that only two -others even suspect. And Dr. Lacy is not one of them," she concluded, -surprisingly.</p> - -<p>Though shocked, Kinnison did not miss a step. "You <i>don't</i> fit into -this matrix, any more than I do," he agreed, quietly. "S'pose you and I -could do a little flit somewhere?"</p> - -<p>"Surely, Kim," and, breaking out of the crowd, they strolled out into -the grounds. Not a word was said until they were seated upon a broad, -low bench beneath the spreading foliage of a tree.</p> - -<p>Then: "What did you come here for tonight, Mac—the real reason?" he -demanded, abruptly.</p> - -<p>"I ... me ... you ... I mean—Oh, skip it!" the girl stammered, a -wave of scarlet flooding her face and down even to her superb, bare -shoulders. Then she steadied herself and went on: "You see, I agree -with you—as you say, I check you to nineteen decimals. Even Dr. Lacy, -with all his knowledge, can be slightly screwy at times, I think."</p> - -<p>"Oh, so that's it!" It was not, it was only a very minor part of her -reason; but the nurse would have bitten her tongue off rather than -admit that she had come to that dance solely and only because Kimball -Kinnison was to be there. "You knew, then, that this was old Lacy's -idea?"</p> - -<p>"Of course. You would never have come, else. He thinks that you may -begin wobbling on the beam pretty soon unless you put out a few braking -jets."</p> - -<p>"And you?"</p> - -<p>"Not in a million, Kim. Lacy is as cockeyed as Trenco's ether, and I as -good as told him so. He may wobble a bit, but <i>you</i> won't. You've got a -job to do, and you're doing it. You'll finish it, too, in spite of all -the vermin infesting all the galaxies of the macro-cosmic Universe!" -she finished, passionately.</p> - -<p>"Klono's brazen whiskers, Mac!" He turned suddenly and stared intently -down into her wide, gold-flecked, tawny eyes. She stared back for a -moment, then looked away.</p> - -<p>"Don't look at me like that!" she almost screamed. "I can't stand -it—you make me feel stark naked! I know that your Lens is off—I'd -simply die if it wasn't—but I think that you're a mind-reader, even -without it!"</p> - -<hr class="tb"> - -<p>She did know that that powerful telepath was off and would remain -off, and she was glad indeed of that fact; for her mind was seething -with thoughts which that Lensman must not know, then or ever. And for -his part, the Lensman knew what she did not even suspect; that had he -chosen to exert the powers at his command she would have been naked, -mentally and physically, to his perception; but he did not exert those -powers—then. The amenities of human relationship demanded that some -fastnesses of reserve remain inviolate, but he had to know what this -woman knew. If necessary, he would take the knowledge away from her by -force, so completely that she would never know that she had ever known -it. Therefore:</p> - -<p>"Just what do you know, Mac, and how did you find it out?" he demanded; -quietly, but with a stern finality of inflection that made a quick -chill run up and down the nurse's back.</p> - -<p>"I know a lot, Kim." The girl shivered slightly, even though the -evening was warm and balmy. "I learned it from your own mind. When you -called me, back there on the floor, you didn't send just a single, -sharp thought, just as though you were speaking to me, as you always -did before. Instead, it seemed as though I was actually inside your -own mind—the whole of it. I have heard Lensman speak of a wide-open -two-way, but I never had even the faintest inkling of what it would be -like—no one could who has never experienced it. Of course I didn't—I -couldn't—understand a millionth of what I saw, or seemed to see. -It was too vast, too incredibly immense. I never dreamed any mortal -<i>could</i> have a mind like that, Kim! But it was ghastly, too. It gave -me the creepy jitters. It sent me down completely out of control for -a second. And you didn't even know it—I know you didn't! I didn't -want to look, really, but I couldn't help seeing, and I'm glad I -did—I wouldn't have missed it for the world!" she finished, almost -incoherently.</p> - -<p>"Hm-m-m. That changes the picture entirely." Much to her surprise, the -man's voice was calm and thoughtful; not at all incensed. Not even -disturbed. "So I spilled the beans myself, on a wide-open two-way, -and didn't even realize it. I knew that you were back-firing about -something, but thought it was because I might think you guilty of petty -vanity. And I called <i>you</i> a dumbbell once!" he marveled.</p> - -<p>"Twice," she corrected him, "and the second time I was never so glad to -be called names in my whole life."</p> - -<p>"Now I <i>know</i> that I was getting to be a space-louse."</p> - -<p>"Uh-uh, Kim," she denied again, gently. "And you aren't a brat or a lug -or a clunker, either, even though I have thought at times that you were -all of those things. But, now that I've actually got all this stuff, -what can you—what can we—do about it?"</p> - -<p>"Perhaps ... probably ... I think, since I gave it to you myself, I'll -let you keep it," Kinnison decided, slowly.</p> - -<p>"Keep it!" she exclaimed. "Of course, I'll keep it! Why, it's in my -mind—I'll <i>have</i> to keep it—nobody can take <i>knowledge</i> away from -anyone!"</p> - -<p>"Oh, sure—of course," he murmured, absently. There were a lot of -things that Mac didn't know, and probably no good end would be served -my enlightening her further. "You see, there's a lot of stuff in my -mind that I don't know much about myself, yet. Since I gave you an -open channel, there must have been a good reason for it, even though, -consciously, I don't know myself what it was." He thought intensely -for moments, then went on: "Undoubtedly the subconscious. Probably it -recognized the necessity of discussing the whole situation with someone -having a fresh viewpoint, someone whose ideas can help me develop a -fresh angle of attack. Haynes and I think too much alike for him to be -of much help."</p> - -<p>"You trust <i>me</i> that much?" the girl asked, dumfounded.</p> - -<p>"Certainly," he replied without hesitation. "I know enough about you to -know that you can keep your mouth shut."</p> - -<hr class="tb"> - -<p>Thus unromantically did Kimball Kinnison, Gray Lensman, acknowledge the -first glimmerings of the dawning perception of a vast fact—that this -nurse and he were two between whom there never would nor could exist -any iota of doubt or of question.</p> - -<p>Then they sat and talked. Not idly, as is the fashion of lovers, of the -minutiae of their own romantic affairs, did these two converse, but -cosmically, of the entire Universe and of the already existent conflict -between the culture of Civilization and Boskonia.</p> - -<p>They sat there, romantically enough to all outward seeming; their -privacy assured by Kinnison's Lens and by his ever-watchful sense of -perception. Time after time, completely unconsciously, that sense -reached out to other couples who approached, to touch and to affect -their minds so insidiously that they did not know that they were being -steered away from the tree in whose black moon-shadow sat the Lensman -and the nurse.</p> - -<p>Finally the long conversation came to an end and Kinnison assisted his -companion to her feet. His frame was straighter, his eyes held a new -and brighter light.</p> - -<p>"By the way, Kim," she asked idly as they strolled back toward the -ballroom, "who is this Klono, by whom you were swearing a while ago? -Another spaceman's god, like Noshabkeming, of the Valerians?"</p> - -<p>"Something like him, only more so," he laughed. "A combination of -Noshabkeming, some of the gods of the ancient Greeks and Romans, all -three of the Fates, and quite a few other things as well. I think, -originally, from Corvina, but fairly widespread through certain -sections of the Galaxy now. He's got so much stuff—teeth and -horns, claws and whiskers, tail and everything—that he's much more -satisfactory to swear by than any other space-god I know of."</p> - -<p>"But why do men have to swear at all, Kim?" she queried, curiously. -"It's so silly."</p> - -<p>"For the same reason that women cry," he countered. "A man swears to -keep from crying, a woman cries to keep from swearing. Both are sound -psychology. Safety valves—means of blowing off excess pressure that -would otherwise blow fuses or burn out tubes."</p> - -<hr class="chap"> - -<p class="ph1">III.</p> - - -<p>In the library of the Port Admiral's richly comfortable home, a room -as heavily guarded against all forms of intrusion as was his private -office, two old but active Lensmen sat and grinned at each other like -the two conspirators which in fact they were. One took a squat, red -bottle of fayalin from a cabinet and filled two small glasses. The -glasses clinked, rim to rim.</p> - -<p>"Here's to love!" Haynes gave the toast.</p> - -<p>"Ain't it grand!" Surgeon General Lacy responded.</p> - -<p>"Down the hatch!" they chanted in unison, and action followed word.</p> - -<p>"You aren't asking if everything stayed on the beam." This from Lacy.</p> - -<p>"No need. I had a spy ray on the whole performance."</p> - -<p>"You would—you're the type. However, I would have, too, if I -had a panel full of them in <i>my</i> office. Well, say it, you old -space-hellion!" Lacy grinned again, albeit a trifle wryly.</p> - -<p>"Nothing to say, sawbones. You did a grand job, and you've got nothing -to blow a jet about."</p> - -<p>"No? How would you like to have a red-headed spitfire who's scarcely -dry behind the ears yet tell you to your teeth that you've got -softening of the brain? That you had the mental capacity of a gnat, the -intellect of a Zabriskan fontema? And to have to take it, without even -heaving the insubordinate young jade into the can for about twenty-five -well-earned black spots?"</p> - -<p>"Oh, come, now, you're just blasting. It wasn't that bad."</p> - -<p>"Perhaps not quite—but it was bad enough."</p> - -<p>"She'll grow up, some day, and realize that you were foxing her six -ways from the origin."</p> - -<p>"Probably. In the meantime, it's all part of the bigger job. Thank God -I'm not young any more. They suffer so."</p> - -<p>"Check. <i>How</i> they suffer!"</p> - -<p>"But you saw the ending and I didn't. How did it turn out?" Lacy asked.</p> - -<p>"Partly good, partly bad." Haynes slowly poured two more drinks and -thoughtfully swirled the crimson, pungently aromatic liquid around and -around in his glass before he spoke again. "Hooked—but she knows it, -and I'm afraid she'll do something about it."</p> - -<p>"She's a smart girl—I told you she was. She doesn't fox herself about -anything. Hm-m-m. And separation is indicated, it would seem."</p> - -<p>"Check. Can you send out a hospital ship somewhere, so as to get rid of -her for two or three weeks?"</p> - -<p>"Can do. Three weeks be enough? We can't send him anywhere, you know."</p> - -<p>"Plenty. He'll be gone in two." Then, as Lacy glanced at him -questioningly, Haynes continued: "Ready for a shock? He's going to -Lundmark's Nebula."</p> - -<p>"But he <i>can't</i>! That would take years! Nobody has ever got back from -there yet, and there's this new job of his. Besides, this separation is -only supposed to last until you can spare him for a while!"</p> - -<p>"If it takes very long he's coming back. The idea has always been, you -know, that intergalactic matter may be so thin—one atom per liter -or so—that such a flit won't take one tenth the time supposed. We -recognize the danger. He's going well heeled."</p> - -<p>"How well?"</p> - -<p>"The best that we can give him."</p> - -<p>"I hate to clog their jets this way, but it's got to be done. We'll -give her a raise when I send her out—make her sector chief. Huh?"</p> - -<p>"Did I hear any such words lately as 'spitfire,' 'hussy,' and 'jade,' -or did I dream them?" Haynes asked, quizzically.</p> - -<p>"She's all of them, and more—but she's one of the best nurses and one -of the finest women this side of Hades, too!"</p> - -<p>"QX, Lacy, give her her raise. Of course she's good, or she wouldn't -be in on this deal at all. In fact, they're about as fine a couple of -youngsters as old Tellus has produced."</p> - -<p>"They are that. Man, <i>what</i> a pair of skeletons!"</p> - -<hr class="tb"> - -<p>And in the Nurses' Quarters a young woman with a wealth of -red-bronze-auburn hair and tawny eyes was staring at her own reflection -in a mirror.</p> - -<p>"You half-wit, you ninny, you lug!" she stormed, bitterly if almost -inaudibly, at that reflection. "You lame-brained moron, you red-headed, -idiotic imbecile, you microcephalic dumbbell, you <i>clunker</i>! Of all the -men in this whole cockeyed galaxy, you <i>would</i> have to make a dive at -Kimball Kinnison, the one man who never has realized that you are even -alive. At a Gray Lensman—" Her expression changed and she whispered -softly: "A ... Gray ... Lensman. He <i>can't</i> love any woman as long as -he's carrying that load. They can't let themselves be human—quite; -perhaps loving him will be enough—"</p> - -<p>She straightened up, shrugged, and smiled; but even that pitiful -travesty of a smile could not long endure. Shortly it was buried in -waves of pain and the girl threw herself down upon her bed.</p> - -<p>"Oh Kim, Kim!" she sobbed. "I wish ... why can't you—Oh, why did I -ever have to be born!"</p> - -<hr class="tb"> - -<p>Three weeks later, far out in space, Kimball Kinnison was thinking -thoughts entirely foreign to his usual pattern. He was in his bunk, -smoking dreamily, staring unseeing at the metallic ceiling. He was not -thinking of Boskone.</p> - -<p>When he had thought of Mac, back there at that dance, he had, for the -first time in his life, failed to narrow down his beam to the exact -thought being sent. Why? The explanation he had given the girl was -totally inadequate. For that matter, why had he been so glad to see her -there? And why, at every odd moment, did visions of her keep coming -into his mind—her form and features, her eyes, her lips, her startling -hair?</p> - -<p>She was beautiful, of course, but not nearly such a seven-sector -callout as that thionite dream he had met on Aldebaran II—and his only -thought of <i>her</i> was an occasional faint regret that he had not half -wrung her lovely neck. Why, she wasn't really as good-looking as, and -didn't have half the <i>je ne sais quoi</i> of, that blond heiress—what was -her name?—oh, yes, Forrester—</p> - -<p>There was only one answer, and it jarred him to the core—he would not -admit it, even to himself. He couldn't love anybody—it just simply was -not in the cards. He had a job to do. The Patrol had spent a million -credits making a Lensman out of him, and it was up to him to give them -some kind of a run for their money. No Lensman had any business with a -wife, especially a Gray Lensman. He couldn't sit down anywhere, and she -couldn't flit with him. Besides, nine out of every ten Gray Lensmen got -killed before they finished their jobs, and the one that did happen to -live long enough to retire to a desk was almost always half machinery -and artificial parts—</p> - -<p>No, not in seven thousand years. No woman deserved to have her life -made into such a hell on earth as that would be—years of agony, of -heartbreaking suspense, climaxed by untimely widowhood; or, at best, -the wasting of the richest part of her life upon a husband who was half -steel, rubber, and phenoline plastic. Red in particular was much too -splendid a person to be let in for anything like that—</p> - -<p>But hold on—jet back! What made him think that he rated any such girl? -That there was even a possibility—especially in view of the way he -had behaved while under her care in Base Hospital—that she would ever -feel like being anything more to him than a strictly impersonal nurse? -Probably not. He had Klono's own brazen gall to think that she would -marry him, under any conditions, even if he made a full-power dive at -her.</p> - -<p>Just the same, she might. Look at what women did fall in love with, -sometimes. So he would never make any kind of a dive at her; no, not -even a pass. She was too sweet, too fine, too vital a woman to be -tied to any space-louse; she deserved happiness, not heartbreak. She -deserved the best there was in life, not the worst; the whole love of -a whole man for a whole lifetime, not the fractions which were all -that he could offer any woman. As long as he could think a straight -thought he wouldn't make any motions toward spoiling her life. In fact, -he hadn't better see Reddy again. He wouldn't go near any planet she -was on, and if he saw her out in space he'd go somewhere else at ten -gravities.</p> - -<p>With a bitter imprecation Kinnison sprang out of his bunk, hurled his -half-smoked cigarette at an ash tray, and strode toward the control -room.</p> - -<hr class="tb"> - -<p>The ship he rode was of the Patrol's best. Superbly powered for flight, -defense, and offense, she was withal a complete space-laboratory and -observatory; and her personnel, over and above her regular crew, was -as varied as her equipment. She carried ten Lensmen—a circumstance -unique in the annals of space, even for such a trouble-shooting battle -wagon as the <i>Dauntless</i> was; a scientific staff which was practically -a cross section of the Tree of Knowledge. She carried Lieutenant -Peter van Buskirk and his company of Valerian wild cats; Worsel of -Velantia and threescore of his reptilian kinsmen; Tregonsee, the blocky -Rigellian Lensman, and a dozen or so of his fellows; Master Technician -LaVerne Thorndyke and his crew. She carried three Master Pilots, Prime -Base's best—Henderson, Schermerhorn, and Watson.</p> - -<p>The <i>Dauntless</i> was an immense vessel. She had to be, in order to -carry, in addition to the men and the things requisitioned by Kinnison, -the personnel and the equipment which Port Admiral Haynes had insisted -upon sending with him.</p> - -<p>"But great Klono, chief, think of what a hole you're making in Prime -Base if we don't get back!" Kinnison had protested.</p> - -<p>"You're coming back, Kinnison," the Port Admiral had replied gravely. -"That is why I am sending these men and this stuff along—to be as sure -as I possibly can that you <i>do</i> get back."</p> - -<p>Now they were out in intergalactic space, and the Gray Lensman, lying -flat upon his back with his eyes closed, sent his sense of perception -out beyond the confining iron walls and let it roam the void. This -was better than a visiplate; with no material barriers or limitations -he was feasting upon a spectacle scarcely to be pictured in the most -untrammeled imaginings of man. There were no planets, no suns, no -stars, no meteorites, no particles of cosmic débris. All nearby space -was empty, with an indescribable perfection of emptiness at the very -thought of which the mind quailed in uncomprehending horror. And, -accentuating that emptiness, at such mind-searing distances as to be -dwarfed into buttons, and yet, because of their intrinsic massiveness, -starkly apparent in their three-dimensional relationships, there hung -poised and motionlessly stately the component galaxies of a universe.</p> - -<p>Behind the flying vessel the First Galaxy was a tiny, brightly shining -lens, so far away that such minutiae as individual solar systems were -invisible, so distant that even the gigantic masses of its accompanying -globular star clusters were merged indistinguishably into its sharply -lenticular shape. In front of her, to right and to left of her, above -and beneath her were other galaxies, never explored by man or by any -other beings subscribing to the code of Galactic Civilization. Some, -edge on, were thin, waferlike. Others appeared as full disks, showing -faintly or boldly the prodigious, mathematically inexplicable spiral -arms by virtue of whose obscure functioning they had come into being. -Between these two extremes there was every possible variant in angular -displacement.</p> - -<p>Utterly incomprehensible although the speed of the space-flyer was, -yet those galaxies remained relatively motionless, hour after hour. -What distances! What magnificence! What grandeur! What awful, what -poignantly solemn calm!</p> - -<p>Despite the fact that Kinnison had gone out there expecting to behold -that very scene, he felt awed to insignificance by the overwhelming, -the cosmic immensity of the spectacle. What business had he, a -sub-electronic midge from an ultra-microscopic planet, venturing -out into macro-cosmic space, a demesne comprehensible only to the -omniscient and omnipotent Creator?</p> - -<hr class="tb"> - -<p>He got up, shaking off the futile mood. This wouldn't get him to the -first check station, and he had a job to do. And, after all, wasn't -man as big as space? Could he have come out here, otherwise? He was. -Yes, man was bigger even than space. Man, by his very envisionment of -macro-cosmic space, had already mastered it.</p> - -<p>Besides, the Boskonians, whoever they might be, had certainly mastered -it; he was now certain that they were operating upon an intergalactic -scale. Even after leaving Tellus he had hoped and had really expected -that his line would lead to a stronghold in some star cluster belonging -to his own Galaxy, so distant from it, or perhaps so small, as to have -escaped the notice of the chartmakers; but such was not the case. No -possible error in either the determination or the following of that -line placed it anywhere near any such cluster. It led straight to and -only to Lundmark's Nebula; and that Galaxy was, therefore, his present -destination.</p> - -<p>Man was certainly as good as the pirates; probably better, on the basis -of past performance. Of all the races of the Galaxy, man had always -taken the initiative, had always been the leader and commander. And, -with the exception of the Arisians, man had the best brain in the -Galaxy.</p> - -<p>The thought of that eminently philosophical race gave Kinnison pause. -His Arisian sponsor had told him that by virtue of the Lens the Patrol -should be able to make Civilization secure throughout the Galaxy. Just -what did that mean—that it could not go outside? Or did even the -Arisians suspect that Boskonia was in fact intergalactic? Probably. The -mentor had said that, given any one definite fact, a really competent -mind could envisage the entire Universe; even though he had added -carefully that his own mind was not a really competent one.</p> - -<p>But this, too, was idle speculation, and it was time to receive and to -correlate some more reports. Therefore, one by one, he got in touch -with scientists and observers.</p> - -<p>The density of matter in space, which had been lessening steadily, -was now approximately constant at one atom per four hundred cubic -centimeters. Their speed was therefore about a hundred thousand parsecs -per hour; and, even allowing for the slowing up at both ends due to the -density of the medium, the trip should not take over ten days.</p> - -<p>The power situation, which had been his gravest care, since it was -almost the only factor not amenable to theoretical solution, was even -better than anyone had dared hope; the cosmic energy available in space -had actually been increasing as the matter content decreased—a fact -which seemed to bear out the contention than energy was continually -being converted into matter in such regions. It was taking much less -excitation of the intake screens to produce a given flow of power than -any figure ever observed in the denser media within the Galaxy.</p> - -<p>Thus, the atomic motors which served as exciters had a maximum power -of four hundred pounds an hour; that is, each exciter could transform -that amount of matter into pure energy and employ the output usefully -in energizing the intake screen to which it was connected. Each -screen, operating normally on a hundred-thousand-to-one ratio, would -then furnish its receptor on the ship with energy equivalent to the -annihilation of four million pounds per hour of material substance. Out -there, however, it was being observed that the intake-exciter ratio, -instead of being less than a hundred thousand to one, was actually -almost a million to one.</p> - -<hr class="tb"> - -<p>It would serve no useful purpose here to go further into the details -of any more of the reports, or to dwell at any great length upon the -remainder of the journey to the Second Galaxy. Suffice it to say that -Kinnison and his highly trained crew observed, classified, recorded, -and conferred; and that they approached their destination with every -possible precaution. Detectors full out, observers were at every plate, -the ship was as immune to detection as Hotchkiss' nullifiers could -make it.</p> - -<p>Up to the Second Galaxy the <i>Dauntless</i> flashed, and into it. Was -this island universe essentially like the First Galaxy as to planets -and peoples? If so, had they been won over or wiped out by the horrid -culture of Boskonia or was the struggle still going on?</p> - -<p>"If we assume, as we must, that the line we followed was the trace -of Boskone's beam," argued the sagacious Worsel, "the probability is -very great that the enemy is in virtual control of this entire Galaxy. -Otherwise—if they were in a minority or were struggling seriously for -dominion—they could neither have spared the forces which invaded our -Galaxy, nor would they have been in condition to rebuild their vessels -as they did to match the new armaments developed by the Patrol."</p> - -<p>"Very probably true," agreed Kinnison, and that was the consensus of -opinion. "Therefore we want to do our scouting very quietly. But in -some ways that makes it all the better. If they are in control, they -won't be unduly suspicious."</p> - -<p>And thus it proved. A planet-bearing sun was soon located, and while -the <i>Dauntless</i> was still light-years distant from it, several ships -were detected. At least, the Boskonians were not using nullifiers!</p> - -<p>Spy rays were sent out. Tregonsee, the Rigellian Lensman, exerted to -the full his powers of perception, and Kinnison hurled downward to the -planet's surface a mental viewpoint and communications center. That -the planet was Boskonian was soon learned, but that was all. It was -scarcely fortified: no trace could be found of a beam communicating -with Boskone.</p> - -<p>Solar system after solar system was found and studied, with like -result. But finally, out in space, one of the screens showed activity; -a beam was in operation between a vessel then upon the plates and -some other station. Kinnison tapped it quickly; and, while observers -were determining its direction, hardness, and power, a thought flowed -smoothly into the Lensman's brain.</p> - -<p>"—proceed at once to relieve vessel P4K730. Eichlan, speaking for -Boskone, ending message."</p> - -<p>"Follow that ship, Hen!" Kinnison directed, crisply. "Not too close, -but don't lose him!" He then relayed to the others the orders which had -been intercepted.</p> - -<p>"The same formula, huh?" Van Buskirk roared, and "Just another -lieutenant, that sounds like, not Boskone himself." Thorndyke added.</p> - -<p>"Perhaps so, perhaps no." The Gray Lensman was merely thoughtful. "It -doesn't prove a thing except that Helmuth was not Boskone, which was -already fairly certain. If we can prove that there is such a being as -Boskone, and that he is not in this Galaxy—well, in that case, we'll -go somewhere else," he concluded, with grim finality.</p> - -<hr class="tb"> - -<p>The chase was comparatively short, leading toward a yellowish star -around which swung eight average-sized planets. Toward one of these -flew the unsuspecting pirate, followed by the Patrol vessel, and it -soon became apparent that there was a battle going on. One spot upon -the planet's surface, either a city or a tremendous military base, was -domed over by a screen which was one blinding glare of radiance. And -for miles in every direction ships of space were waging spectacularly -devastating warfare.</p> - -<p>Kinnison shot a thought down into the fortress, and with the least -possible introduction or preamble, got into touch with one of its high -officers. He was not surprised to learn that those people were more or -less human in appearance, since the planet was quite similar to Tellus -in age, climate, atmosphere, and mass.</p> - -<p>"Yes, we are fighting Boskonia," the answering thought came coldly -clear. "We need help, and badly. Can you—"</p> - -<p>"We're detected!" Kinnison's attention was seized by a yell from the -board. "They're all coming at us at once!"</p> - -<p>Whether the scientists of Boskone developed the detector-nullifier -before or after Helmuth's failure to deduce the Lensman's use of such -an instrument is a nice question, and one upon which a great deal has -been said. While interesting, the point is really immaterial here; the -facts remaining the same—that the pirates not only had it at the time -of the Patrol's first visit to the Second Galaxy, but had used it to -such good advantage that the denizens of that recalcitrant planet had -been forced, in the sheer desperation of self-preservation, to work -out a scrambler for that nullification and to surround their world -with its radiations. They could not restore perfect detection, but the -conditions for complete nullification were so critical that it was a -comparatively simple matter to upset it sufficiently so that an image -of a sort was revealed. And, at that close range, any sort of an image -was enough.</p> - -<p>The <i>Dauntless</i>, approaching the planet, entered the zone of scrambling -and stood revealed plainly enough upon the plates of enemy vessels. -They attacked instantly and viciously; within a second after the -lookout had shouted his warning the outer screens of the Patrol ship -were blazing incandescent under the furious assaults of a dozen -Boskonian beams.</p> - -<hr class="chap"> - -<p class="ph1">IV.</p> - - -<p>For a moment all eyes were fixed apprehensively upon meters and -recorders, but there was no immediate cause for alarm. The builders of -the <i>Dauntless</i> had builded well; her outer screen, the lightest of -her series of four, was carrying the attackers' load with no sign of -distress.</p> - -<p>"Strap down, everybody," the expedition's commander ordered then. -"Inert her, Hen. Match velocity with that base," and as Master Pilot -Henry Henderson cut his Bergenholm, the vessel lurched wildly aside as -its intrinsic velocity was restored.</p> - -<p>Henderson's fingers swept over his board as rapidly and as surely as -those of an organist over the banked keys of his console; producing, -not chords and arpeggios of harmony, but roaring blasts of precisely -controlled power. Each keylike switch controlled one jet. Lightly and -fleetingly touched, it produced a gentle urge; at sharp, full contact -it yielded a mighty, solid shove; depressed still farther, so as to -lock into any one of a dozen notches, it brought into being a torrent -of propulsive force of any desired magnitude, which ceased only when -its key-release was touched.</p> - -<p>And Henderson was a virtuoso. Smoothly, effortlessly, but in a space -of seconds the great vessel rolled over, spiraled, and swung until her -landing jets were in line and exerting five gravities of thrust. Then, -equally smoothly, almost imperceptibly, the line of force was varied -until the flame-enshrouded dome was stationary below them. Nobody, not -even the two other Master Pilots, and least of all Henderson himself, -paid any attention to the polished perfection, the consummate artistry, -of the performance. That was his job. He was a Master Pilot, and one of -the hallmarks of his rating was the habit of making difficult maneuvers -look easy.</p> - -<p>"Take 'em now, chief? Can't we, huh?" Chatway, the chief firing -officer, did not say those words. He did not need to. The attitude and -posture of the C.F.O. and his subordinates made the thought tensely -plain.</p> - -<p>"Not yet, Chatty," the Lensman answered the unsent thought. "We'll have -to wait until they englobe us, so that we can get them all. It's got -to be all or none. If even one of them gets away, or even has time to -analyze and report on the stuff we're going to use, it'll be just too -bad."</p> - -<p>He then got in touch with the officer within the beleaguered base and -renewed the conversation at the point at which it had been broken off.</p> - -<p>"We can help you, I think; but to do so effectively we must have clear -ether. Will you please order your ships away, out of even extreme -range?"</p> - -<p>"For how long? They can do us irreparable damage in one rotation of the -planet."</p> - -<p>"One-twentieth of that time, at most—if we cannot do it in that time -we cannot do it at all. Nor will they direct many beams at you, if any. -They will be working on us."</p> - -<p>Then, as the defending ships darted away, Kinnison turned to his C. F. -O. "QX, Chatty. Open up with your secondaries. Fire at will!"</p> - -<p>Then from projectors of a power theretofore carried only by maulers, -there raved out against the nearest Boskonian vessels beams of a -vehemence compared to which the enemies' own seemed weak, futile. And -those were the secondaries!</p> - -<p>As has been intimated, the <i>Dauntless</i> was an unusual ship. She was -enormous. She was bigger even than a mauler in actual bulk and mass; -and from needle-beaked prow to jet-studded stern she was literally -packed with power—power for any emergency conceivable to the fertile -minds of Port Admiral Haynes and his staff of designers and engineers. -Instead of two, or at most three intake-screen exciters, she had two -hundred. Her bus bars, instead of being the conventional rectangular -coppers, of a few square inches cross-sectional area, were laminated -members built up of co-axial tubing of pure silver to a diameter -of over a yard—multiple and parallel conductors, each of whose -current-carrying capacity was to be measured only in millions of -amperes. And everything else aboard that mighty engine of destruction -was upon the same Gargantuan scale.</p> - -<hr class="tb"> - -<p>Titanic though those thrusts were, not a pirate ship was seriously -hurt. Outer screens went down, and more than a few of the second lines -of defense also failed. But that was the Patrolmen's strategy; to let -the enemy know that they had weapons of offense somewhat superior to -their own, but not quite powerful enough to be a real menace.</p> - -<p>In minutes, therefore, the Boskonians rushed up and englobed the -newcomer; supposing, of course, that she was a product of the world -below, that she was manned by the race who had so long and so -successfully fought off Boskonian encroachment.</p> - -<p>They attacked, and under the concentrated fury of their beams, the -outer screen of the Patrol ship began to fail. Higher and higher into -the spectrum it radiated, blinding white—blue—an intolerable violet -glare; then, patchily, through the invisible ultraviolet and into -the black of extinction. The second screen resisted longer and more -stubbornly, but finally it also went down; the third automatically -taking up the burden of defense. Simultaneously, the power of -Civilization's projectors weakened, as though the <i>Dauntless</i> were -shifting her power from offense to defense in order to stiffen her -third, and supposedly her last, shielding screen.</p> - -<p>"Pretty soon, now, Chatway," Kinnison observed. "Just as soon as they -can report that they have us in a bad way; that it is just a matter of -time until they blow us out of the ether. Better report now—I'll put -you on the spool."</p> - -<p>"We are equipped to energize simultaneously eight of the new, -replaceable-unit primary projectors," the C.F.O. stated, crisply. -"There are twenty-one vessels englobing us, and no others within -detection. With a discharge period of point six oh second and a -switching interval of point oh nine, the entire action should occupy -one point nine eight seconds."</p> - -<p>"Chief Communications Officer Nelson on the spool. Can the last -surviving ship of the enemy report enough in two seconds to do us -material harm?"</p> - -<p>"In my opinion it cannot, sir," Nelson reported, formally. "The -communications officer is neither an observer nor a technician; he -merely transmits whatever material is given him by other officers -for transmission. If he is already working a beam to his base at the -moment of our first blast, he might be able to report the destruction -of vessels, but he could not be specific as to the nature of the agent -used. Such a report could do no harm, as the fact of the destruction -of the vessels will in any event become apparent shortly. Since we -are apparently being overcome easily, however, and this is a routine -action, the probability is that this detachment is not in direct -communication with Base at any given moment. If not, he could not -establish working control in two seconds."</p> - -<p>"Kinnison now reporting. Having determined to the best of my ability -that engaging the enemy at this time will not enable them to send -Boskone any information regarding our primary armament, I now give the -word to—<i>fire</i>."</p> - -<hr class="tb"> - -<p>The underlying principle of the destructive beam produced by -overloading a regulation projector had, it is true, been discovered by -a Boskonian technician. In so far as Boskonia was concerned, however, -the secret had died with its inventor, since the pirates had at that -time no headquarters in the First Galaxy. And the Patrol had had months -of time in which to perfect it, for that work was begun before the last -of Helmuth's guardian fortress had been destroyed.</p> - -<p>The projector was not now fatal to its crew, since they were protected -from the lethal back-radiation, not only by shields of force, but also -by foot after impenetrable foot of lead, osmium, carbon, and paraffin. -The refractories were of neo-cargalloy, backed and permeated by M K R -fields; the radiators were constructed of the most ultimately resistant -materials known to the science of the age. But even so, the unit had -a useful life of but little over half a second, so frightful was the -overload at which it was used. Like a rifle cartridge, it was good for -only one shot. Then it was thrown away, to be replaced by a new unit.</p> - -<p>Those problems were relatively simple of solution. Switching those -enormous energies was the great stumbling block. The old Kimmerling -block-dispersion circuit breaker was prone to arc over under loads -much in excess of a hundred billion KW, hence could not even be -considered in this new application. However, the Patrol force finally -succeeded in working out a combination of the immersed-antenna and -the semi-permeable-condenser types, which they called the Thorndyke -heavy-duty switch. It was cumbersome, of course—any device to -interrupt voltages and amperages of the really astronomical magnitude -in question could not at that time be small—but it was positive, -fast-acting, and reliable.</p> - -<p>At Kinnison's word of command, eight of those indescribable primary -beams lashed out; stilettos of irresistibly penetrant energy which not -even a Q-type helix could withstand. Through screens, through wall -shields, and through metal they hurtled in a space of time almost too -brief to be measured. Then, before each beam expired, it was swung a -little, so that the victim was literally split apart or carved into -sections. Performance exceeded by far that of the hastily improvised -weapon which had so easily destroyed the heavy cruisers of the Patrol; -in fact, it checked almost exactly with the theoretical figures of the -designers.</p> - -<p>As the first eight beams winked out, eight more came into being, then -five more; and meanwhile the mighty secondaries were sweeping the -heavens with full-aperture cones of destruction. Metal meant no more -to those rays than did organic material; everything solid or liquid -whiffed into vapor and disappeared. The <i>Dauntless</i> lay alone in the -sky of that new world.</p> - -<p>"Marvelous—wonderful!" the thought beat into Kinnison's brain as soon -as he re-established rapport with the being so far below. "We have -recalled our ships. Will you please come down to our spaceport at -once, so that we can put into execution a plan which has been long in -preparation?"</p> - -<p>"As soon as your ships are down," the Tellurian acquiesced. "Not -sooner, as your landing conventions are doubtless very unlike our own -and we do not wish to cause disaster. Give me the word when your field -is entirely clear."</p> - -<hr class="tb"> - -<p>That word came soon, and Kinnison nodded to the pilots. Once more -inertialess, the <i>Dauntless</i> shot downward, deep into atmosphere, -before her inertia was restored. Rematching velocity this time was a -simple matter, and upon the towering, powerfully resilient pillars of -her landing-jets the inconceivable mass of the Tellurian ship of war -settled toward the ground, as lightly seeming as a wafted thistle-down.</p> - -<p>"Their cradles wouldn't fit us, of course, even if they were big -enough—which they aren't, by half," Schermerhorn commented. "Where do -they want us to put her?"</p> - -<p>"'Anywhere,' they say," the Lensman answered, "but we don't want to -take that too literally—without a solid dock she'll make an awful -hole, wherever we set her down. Won't hurt her any. She's designed for -it. We couldn't expect to find cradles to fit her anywhere except on -Tellus. I'd say to lay her down on her belly over there in that corner, -out of the way, as close to that big hangar as you can work without -blasting it out with your jets."</p> - -<p>As Kinnison had intimated, the lightness of the vessel was indeed only -seeming. Superbly and effortlessly the big boat seeped downward into -the designated corner; but when she touched the pavement she did not -stop. Still easily and without jar or jolt she settled—a full twenty -feet into the concrete, reinforcing steel and hard-packed earth of the -field before she came to a halt.</p> - -<p>"What a monster! Who are they? Where could they have come from?" -Kinnison caught a confusion of startled thoughts as the real size and -mass of the visitor became apparent to the natives. Then again came -the clear thought of the officer.</p> - -<p>"We would like very much to have you and as many as possible of your -companions come to confer with us as soon as you have tested our -atmosphere. Come in spacesuits if you must."</p> - -<p>The air was tested and found suitable. True, it did not match exactly -that of Tellus, or Rigel IV, or Velantia; but then, neither did that of -the <i>Dauntless</i>, since that gaseous mixture was a compromise one, and -mostly artificial to boot.</p> - -<p>"Worsel, Tregonsee, and I will go to this conference," Kinnison -decided. "The rest of you sit tight. I don't need to tell you to -keep on your toes, that anything is apt to happen, anywhere, without -warning. Keep your detectors full out and keep your noses clean—be -ready like the good little endeavorers you are, 'to do with all your -might what your hands find to do.' Come on, fellows," and the three -Lensmen strode, wriggled, and waddled across the field, to and into a -spacious room of the Administration Building.</p> - -<p>"Strangers, or, I should say friends, I introduce you to Wise, our -president," Kinnison's acquaintance said, clearly enough, although it -was plain to all three Lensmen that he was shocked at the sight of the -Earthman's companions.</p> - -<p>"I am informed that you understand our language—" the president began -doubtfully.</p> - -<p>He, too, was staring at Tregonsee and Worsel. He had been told that -Kinnison, and therefore, supposed, the rest of the visitors, were -beings fashioned more or less after his own pattern. But these two -creatures!</p> - -<hr class="tb"> - -<p>For they were not even remotely human in form. Tregonsee, the -Rigellian, with his leathery, multiappendaged, oil-drumlike body, his -immobile dome of a head and his four blocky pillars of legs must at -first sight have appeared fantastic indeed. And Worsel, the Velantian, -was infinitely worse. He was repulsive, a thing materialized from -sheerest nightmare—a leather-winged, crocodile-headed, crooked-armed, -thirty-foot long, pythonish, reptilian monstrosity!</p> - -<p>But the President of Medon saw at once that which the three outlanders -had in common. The Lenses, each glowingly aflame with its own innate -pseudo-vitality—Kinnison's clamped to his brawny wrist by a band of -iridium-osmium-tungsten alloy; Tregonsee's embedded in the glossy -black flesh of one mighty, sinuous arm; Worsel's apparently driven -deep and with cruel force into the horny, scaly hide squarely in the -middle of his forehead, between two of his weirdly stalked, repulsively -extensible eyes.</p> - -<p>"It is not your language we understand, but your thoughts, by virtue of -these our Lenses which you have already noticed." The president gasped -as Kinnison bulleted the information into his mind. "Go ahead.... Just -a minute!" as an unmistakable sensation swept through his being. "We've -gone <i>free</i>! The whole planet, I perceive. In that respect, at least, -you are in advance of us. As far as I know, no scientist of any of our -races has even thought of a Bergenholm big enough to free a world."</p> - -<p>"It was long in the designing; many years in the building of its -units," Wise replied. "We are leaving this sun in an attempt to escape -from our enemy and yours; Boskone. It is our only chance of survival. -The means have long been ready, but the opportunity which you have just -made for us is the first that we have had. This is the first time in -many, many years that not a single Boskonian vessel is in position to -observe our flight."</p> - -<p>"Where are you going? Surely the Boskonians will be able to find you if -they wish."</p> - -<p>"That is possible, but we must run that risk. We must have a respite -or perish; after a long lifetime of continuous warfare, our resources -are at the point of exhaustion. There is a part of this Galaxy in which -there are very few planets, and of those few, none are inhabited or -habitable. Since nothing is to be gained, ships seldom or never go -there. If we can reach that region undetected, the probability is that -we shall be unmolested long enough to recuperate."</p> - -<p>Kinnison exchanged flashing thoughts with his two fellow Lensmen, then -turned again to Wise.</p> - -<p>"We come from a neighboring Galaxy," he informed him, and pointed -out to his mind just which Galaxy he meant. "You are fairly close to -the edge of this one. Why not move over to ours? You have no friends -here, since you think that yours may be the only remaining independent -planet. We can assure you of friendship. We can also give you some hope -of peace—or at least semipeace—in the near future, for we are driving -Boskonia out of our Galaxy."</p> - -<p>"What you think of as 'semipeace' would be tranquillity incarnate to -us," the old man replied with feeling. "We have, in fact, considered -long that very move. We decided against it for two reasons: first, -because we knew nothing about conditions there, and hence might be -going from bad to worse; and second and more important, because of lack -of reliable data upon the density of matter in intergalactic space. -Lacking that, we could not estimate the time necessary for the journey, -and we could have no assurance that our sources of power, great as they -are, would be sufficient to make up the heat lost by radiation."</p> - -<p>"We have already given you an idea of conditions and we can give you -the data you lack."</p> - -<hr class="tb"> - -<p>They did so, and for a matter of minutes the Medonians conferred. -Meanwhile Kinnison went on a mental expedition to one of the power -plants. He expected to see supercolossal engines; bus bars ten feet -thick, perhaps cooled in liquid helium; and other things in proportion. -But what he actually saw made him gasp for breath and call Tregonsee's -attention. The Rigellian sent out his sense of perception with -Kinnison's, and he also was almost stunned.</p> - -<p>"What's the answer, Trig?" the Earthman asked, finally. "This is more -down your alley than mine. That motor's about the size of my foot, and -if it isn't eating a thousand pounds an hour I'm Klono's maiden aunt. -And the whole output is going out on two wires no bigger than number -four, jacketed together like ordinary parallel pair. Perfect insulator? -If so, how about switching?"</p> - -<p>"That must be it, a substance of practically infinite resistance," the -Rigellian replied absently, studying intently the peculiar mechanism. -"Must have a better conductor than silver, too, unless they can handle -voltages of ten to the fifteenth or so, and don't see how they could -break such potentials.... Guess they don't use switches ... don't see -any ... must shut down the prime sources.... No, there it is—so small -that I overlooked it completely. In that little box there! Sort of a -jam-plate type; a thin sheet of insulation with a knife on the leading -edge, working in a slot to cut the two conductors apart—kills the arc -by jamming into the tight slot at the end of the box. The conductors -must fuse together at each make and burn away a little at each break, -that's why they have renewable tips. Kim, they've really got something! -I certainly am going to stay here and do some studying."</p> - -<p>"Yes, and we'll have to rebuild the <i>Dauntless</i>—"</p> - -<p>The two Lensmen were called away from their study by Worsel—the -Medonians had decided to accept the invitation to attempt to move to -the First Galaxy. Orders were given, the course was changed and the -planet, now a veritable spaceship, shot away in the new direction.</p> - -<p>"Not as many legs as a speedster, of course, but at that, she's no -slouch—we're making plenty of lights," Kinnison commented, then turned -to the president. "It seems rather presumptuous for us to call you -simply 'Wise,' especially as I gather that that is not really your -formal name—"</p> - -<p>"That is what I am called, and that is what you are to call me," the -oldster replied: "We of Medon do not have names. Each has a number; or, -rather, a symbol composed of numbers and letters of our alphabet—a -symbol which gives his full classification. Since these things are -too clumsy for regular use, however, each of us is given a nickname, -usually an adjective, which is supposed to be more or less descriptive. -You of Earth we could not give a complete symbol, your two companions -we could not give any at all. However, you may be interested in knowing -that you three have already been named?"</p> - -<p>"Very much so."</p> - -<p>"You are to be called 'Keen.' He of Rigel IV is 'Strong,' and he of -Velantia is 'Agile.'"</p> - -<p>"Quite complimentary to me, but—"</p> - -<p>"Not bad at all, I'd say," Tregonsee broke in. "But hadn't we better be -getting on with more serious business?"</p> - -<p>"We should indeed," Wise agreed. "We have much to discuss with you; -particularly the weapon you used."</p> - -<p>"Could you get an analysis of it?" Kinnison asked, sharply.</p> - -<p>"No. No one beam was in operation long enough. However, a study of the -recorded data, particularly the figure for intensity—figures so high -as to be almost unbelievable—lead us to believe that the beam is the -result of an enormous overload upon a projector otherwise of more or -less conventional type. Some of us have wondered why we did not think -of the idea ourselves—"</p> - -<p>"So did we, when it was used on us," Kinnison grinned and went off to -explain the origin of the primary. "But before we go into details, -I noticed that your fixed-mount stuff could not work effectively -through atmosphere. We have what we call Q-type helices, with which -we incase such beams so that they work in a tube of vacuum. We will -give you the Q-formulæ and also the working hookup—including the -protective devices, because they're mighty dangerous without plenty -of force-backing—of the primaries, in exchange for some lessons in -power-plant design."</p> - -<p>"Such an exchange of knowledge would be helpful indeed," Wise agreed.</p> - -<p>"The Boskonians know nothing whatever of this beam, and we do not -want them to learn of it," Kinnison cautioned. "Therefore I have two -suggestions to make. First, that you try everything else before you -use this primary beam. Second, that you don't use it even then unless -you can wipe out, as nearly simultaneously as we did out there, every -Boskonian who may be able to report back to his base as to what really -happened. Fair enough?"</p> - -<p>"Eminently so. We agree without reservation—it is to our interest as -much as yours that such a secret be kept from Boskone."</p> - -<p>"QX. Fellow, let's go back to the ship for a couple of minutes." Then, -aboard the <i>Dauntless</i>: "Tregonsee, you and your crew want to stay with -the planet, to show the Medonians what to do and to help them along -generally, as well as to learn about their power system. Thorndyke, -you and your gang, and probably Lensman Hotchkiss, had better study -these things, too—you'll know what you want as soon as they show you -the hookup. Worsel, I'd like to have you stay with the ship. You're -in command of her until further orders. Keep her here for, say, a -week or ten days, until the planet is well out of the Galaxy. Then, -if Hotchkiss and Thorndyke haven't got all the dope they want, leave -them here to ride back with Tregonsee on the planet and drill the -<i>Dauntless</i> for Tellus. Keep yourself more or less disengaged for a -while, and sort of keep tuned to me. I may not need an ultra-long-range -communicator, but you never can tell."</p> - -<p>"Why such comprehensive orders, Kim?" asked Hotchkiss. "Who ever heard -of a commander abandoning his expeditions? Aren't you sticking around?"</p> - -<p>"Nope—got to do a flit. Think maybe I'm getting an idea. Break out my -speedster, will you, Allerdyce?"—and the Gray Lensman was gone.</p> - -<hr class="chap"> - -<p class="ph1">V.</p> - - -<p>Kinnison's speedster shot away and made an undetectable, uneventful -voyage back to the Earth. In due time, therefore, the Gray Lensman was -again closeted with Port Admiral Haynes.</p> - -<p>"Why the foliage?" the chief of staff asked, almost at sight, for the -Gray Lensman was wearing a more-than-half-grown beard.</p> - -<p>"I may need to be Chester Q. Fordyce for a while. If I don't, I can -shave it off quick. If I do, a real beard is a lot better than an -imitation," and he plunged into his subject.</p> - -<p>"Very fine work, son, very fine indeed," Haynes congratulated the -younger man at the conclusion of his report. "We shall begin at once, -and be ready to rush things through when the technicians bring back the -necessary data from Medon. But there's one more thing I want to ask -you. How did you come to place those spotting-screens so exactly? The -beam practically dead-centered them. You said that it was surmise and -suspicion before it happened, but I thought then and still think that -you had a much firmer foundation than any kind of a mere hunch. What -was it?"</p> - -<p>"Deduction, based upon an unproved, but logical, cosmogonic theory—but -you probably know more about that stuff than I do."</p> - -<p>"Highly improbable. I read just a smattering now and then of the doings -of the astronomers and astrophysicists. I didn't know that that was one -of your specialties, either."</p> - -<p>"It isn't, but I had to do a little cramming. We'll have to go back -quite a while to make it clear. You know, of course, that a long time -ago, before even interplanetary ships were developed, the belief was -general that not more than about four planetary solar systems could be -in existence at any one time in the whole Galaxy?"</p> - -<p>"Yes, I am familiar with that belief—a consequence of the -binary-dynamic-encounter theory in a too-limited application. The -theory itself is still good, isn't it?"</p> - -<p>"Eminently so—every other theory is wrecked by its failure to account -for the quantity and above all, the distribution, of angular momentum -of planetary systems. But you know what I'm going to say—that 'limited -application' proves it!"</p> - -<p>"No, just let's say that a bit of light is beginning to dawn. Go ahead."</p> - -<p>"QX. Well, when it was discovered that there were millions of times -as many planets in the Galaxy as could be accounted for by a dynamic -encounter occurring once in two times ten to the tenth years or so, -some way had to be figured out to increase, millionfold, the number -of such encounters. Manifestly, the random motion of the stars within -the Galaxy could not account for it. Neither could the vibration or -oscillation of the globular clusters through the Galaxy. The meeting -of two Galaxies—the passage of them completely through each other, -edgewise—would account for it very nicely. It would also account for -the fact that the solar systems on one side of the Galaxy tend to be -somewhat older than the ones on the apposite side. Question; find the -Galaxy. It was van der Schleiss, I believe, who found it. Lundmark's -Nebula. It is edge on to us, with a receding velocity of twelve hundred -and forty-six miles per second—the exact velocity which, corrected for -gravitational decrement, will put Lundmark's Nebula right here at the -time when, according to our best geophysicists and geochemists, old -Earth was being born. If that theory was correct, Lundmark's Nebula -should also be full of planets. Four expeditions went out to check the -theory, and none of them came back. We know why, now—Boskone got them. -We got back, because of you, and only you."</p> - -<p>"Holy Klono!" the old man breathed, paying no attention to the tribute. -"It checks—<i>how</i> it checks!"</p> - -<p>"To nineteen decimals."</p> - -<hr class="tb"> - -<p>"But still it doesn't explain why you set your traps on that line."</p> - -<p>"Sure it does. How many Galaxies are there in the Universe, do you -suppose, that are full of planets?"</p> - -<p>"Why, all of them I suppose—or no, not so many perhaps—I don't -know—I don't remember of having read anything on that question."</p> - -<p>"No, and you probably won't. Only loose-screwed space detectives, -like me, and crackpot science-fiction writers, like Wacky Willison, -have noodles vacuous enough to harbor such thin ideas. But, according -to our admittedly highly tenuous reasoning, there are only two such -Galaxies—Lundmark's Nebula and ours."</p> - -<p>"Huh? Why?" demanded Haynes.</p> - -<p>"Because Galaxies don't collide much, if any, oftener than binaries -within a Galaxy do," Kinnison asserted. "True, they are closer -together in space, relative to their actual linear dimensions, than are -stars; but on the other hand, their relative motions are slower—that -is, a star will traverse the average interstellar distance much quicker -than a Galaxy will the intergalactic one—so that the whole thing evens -up. As nearly as Wacky and I could figure it, two Galaxies will collide -deeply enough to produce a significant number of planetary solar -systems on an average of once in just about one point eight times ten -to the tenth years. Pick up your slide rule and check me on it, if you -like."</p> - -<p>"I'll take your word for it," the old Lensman murmured absently. "But -any Galaxy probably has at least a couple of solar systems all the -time—but I see your point. The probability is overwhelmingly great -that Boskone would be in a Galaxy having hundreds of millions of -planets rather than in one having only a dozen or less inhabitable -worlds. But at that, they <i>could</i> all have lots of planets. Suppose -that our wilder thinkers are right, that Galaxies are grouped into -Universes, which are spaced, roughly, about the same as the Galaxies -are. Two of <i>them</i> could collide, couldn't they?"</p> - -<p>"They could, but you're getting 'way out of my range now. At this -point the detective withdraws, leaving a clear field for you and the -science-fiction imaginationeer."</p> - -<p>"Well, finish the thought—that I'm wackier even than he is!" Both -men laughed, and the Port Admiral went on: "It's a fascinating -speculation—it does no harm to let the fancy roam at times—but at -that, there are things of much greater importance. You think, then, -that the thionite ring enters into this matrix?"</p> - -<p>"Bound to. Everything ties in. The most intelligent races of this -Galaxy are oxygen-breathers, with warm, red blood: the only kind of -physique which thionite affects. The more of us who get the thionite -habit, the better for Boskone. It explains why we have never got to -the first check station in getting any of the real higher-ups in the -thionite game; instead of being an ordinary criminal ring they've got -all the brains and all the resources of Boskonia back of them. But if -they are that big—and as good as we know they are—I wonder why—" -Kinnison's voice trailed off into silence; his brain raced.</p> - -<hr class="tb"> - -<p>"I want to ask you a question that is none of my business," the young -Lensman went on almost immediately, in a voice strangely altered. "Just -how long ago was it that you started losing fifth-year men just before -graduation? I mean, that boys sent to Arisia to be measured for their -Lenses supposedly never got there? Or at least, they never came back -and no Lenses were ever received for them?"</p> - -<p>"About ten years. Twelve, I think, to be ex—" Haynes broke off in the -middle of the word and his eyes bored into those of the younger man. -"What makes you think that there were any such?"</p> - -<p>"Deduction again, but this time I know that I'm right. At least one -every year. Usually two or three."</p> - -<p>"Right, but there have always been space accidents ... or they were -caught by the pirates ... you think, then, that—"</p> - -<p>"I don't think. I <i>know</i>!" Kinnison declared. "They got to Arisia, <i>and -they died there</i>. All I can say is, thank God for the Arisians! We can -still trust our Lenses; they are seeing to that."</p> - -<p>"But why didn't they tell us?" Haynes asked, perplexed.</p> - -<p>"They wouldn't; that isn't their way," Kinnison stated, flatly and -with conviction. "They have given us an instrumentality, the Lens, by -virtue of which we should be able to do the job, and they are seeing -to it that that instrumentality remains untarnished. If we cannot -handle it properly, that is our lookout. We've got to fight our own -battles and bury our own dead. Now that we have smeared up the enemy's -military organization in this Galaxy by wiping out Helmuth and his -headquarters, the drug syndicate seems to be my best chance of getting -a line on the real Boskone. While you are mopping up and keeping them -from establishing another war base here, I think I'd better be getting -at it, don't you?"</p> - -<p>"Probably so—you know your own oysters best. Mind if I ask where -you're going to start in?" Haynes looked at Kinnison quizzically as he -spoke. "Have you deduced that, too?"</p> - -<p>The Gray Lensman returned the look in kind. "No. Deduction couldn't -take me quite that far," he replied in the same tone. "You are going to -tell me that, when you get around to it."</p> - -<p>"Me? Where do I come in?" the Port Admiral feigned surprise.</p> - -<p>"As follows. Helmuth probably had nothing to do with the dope running, -so its organization must still be intact. If so, they would take over -as much of the other branch as they could get hold of, and hit us -harder than ever. I haven't heard of any unusual activity around here, -so it must be somewhere else. Wherever it is, you would know about it, -since you are a member of Galactic Council; and Councillor Ellington, -in charge of Narcotics, would hardly take any very important step -without conferring with you, as port admiral and chief of staff. How -near right am I?"</p> - -<hr class="tb"> - -<p>"On the center of the beam, all the way—your deducer is blasting at -maximum," Haynes said, in admiration. "Radelix is the worst—they're -hitting it mighty hard. We sent a full unit over there last week. Shall -we recall them, or do you want to work independently?"</p> - -<p>"Let them go on; I'll be of more use working on my own, I think. I did -the boys over there a favor a while back—they would co-operate anyway, -of course, but it's a little nicer to have them sort of owe it to me. -We'll all be able to play together very nicely if the opportunity -arises."</p> - -<p>"I'm mighty glad you're taking this on. The Radeligians are stuck, and -we had no real reason for thinking that our men could do any better. -With this new angle of approach, however, and with you working behind -the scenes, the picture looks entirely different."</p> - -<p>"I'm afraid that's unjustifiably high—"</p> - -<p>"Not a bit of it, lad. Just a minute—I'll break out a couple of -beakers of fayalin—Luck!"</p> - -<p>"Thanks, chief!"</p> - -<p>"Down the hatch!" and again the Gray Lensman was gone. To the -spaceport, into his speedster, and away—hurtling through the void -at the maximum blast of the fastest space-flier then boasted by the -Galactic Patrol.</p> - -<p>During the long trip, Kinnison exercised, thought, and studied -spool after spool of tape—the Radeligian language. Thoughts of the -red-headed nurse obtruded themselves strongly at times, but he put them -aside resolutely. He was, he assured himself, off women forever—all -women. He cultivated his new beard; trimming it, with the aid of a -triplex mirror and four stereoscopic photographs, into something which, -although neat and spruce enough, was too full and bushy by half to be -a Vandyke. Also, he moved his Lens bracelet up his arm and rayed the -white skin thus exposed until his whole wrist was the same even shade -of tan.</p> - -<p>He did not drive his speedster to Radelix, for that racy little -fabrication would have been recognized anywhere for what she was; and -private citizens simply did not drive ships of that type. Therefore, -with every possible precaution of secrecy, he landed her in a -Patrol base four solar systems away. In that base Kimball Kinnison -disappeared; but the tall, shock-haired, bushy-bearded Chester Q. -Fordyce—cosmopolite, man of leisure, and dilettante in science—who -took the next space liner for Radelix was not precisely the same -individual who had come to that planet a few days before with that name -and those unmistakable characteristics.</p> - -<p>Mr. Chester Q. Fordyce, then, and not Gray Lensman Kimball Kinnison, -disembarked at Ardith, the world-capital of Radelix. He took up his -abode at the Hotel Ardith-Splendide and proceeded, with neither too -much nor too little fanfare, to be his cosmopolitan self in those -circles of society in which, wherever he might find himself, he was -wont to move.</p> - -<p>As a matter of course, he entertained, and was entertained by, the -Tellurian Ambassador. Equally as a matter of course, he attended divers -and sundry functions, at which he made the acquaintance of hundreds of -persons, many of them personages. That one of these should have been -Vice-Admiral Gerrond, Lensman in charge of the Patrol's Radeligian -base, was inevitable.</p> - -<hr class="tb"> - -<p>It was, then, a purely routine and logical development that at a -reception one evening Vice-Admiral Gerrond stopped to chat for a -moment with Mr. Fordyce; and it was purely accidental that the nearest -bystander was a few yards distant. Hence, Mr. Fordyce's conduct was -strange enough.</p> - -<p>"Gerrond!" he said without moving his lips and in a tone almost -inaudible, the while he was offering the Admiral an Alsakanite -cigarette. "Don't look at me particularly right now, and don't show -surprise. Study me for the next ten minutes, then put your Lens on -me and tell me whether you have ever seen me before or not." Then, -glancing at the watch upon his left wrist—a time-piece just about -as large and as ornate as a wrist watch could be and still remain in -impeccable taste—he murmured something conventional and strolled away.</p> - -<p>The ten minutes passed and he felt Gerrond's thought. A peculiar -sensation, this, being on the receiving end of a single beam, instead -of using his own Lens.</p> - -<p>"As far as I can tell, I have never seen you before. You are certainly -not one of our agents, and if you are one of Haynes' whom I have ever -worked with you have done a wonderful job of disguising. I must have -met you somewhere, sometime, else there would be no point to your -question; but beyond the evident—and admitted—fact that you are a -white Tellurian, I can't seem to place you."</p> - -<p>"Does this help?" This question was shot through Kinnison's own Lens.</p> - -<p>"Since I have known so few Tellurian Lensmen it tells me that you -must be Kinnison, but I do not recognize you at all readily. You seem -changed—older—besides, who ever heard of an Unattached Lensman doing -the work of an ordinary agent?"</p> - -<p>"I am both older and changed—partly natural and partly artificial. As -for the work, it's a job that no ordinary agent can handle—it takes a -lot of special equipment—"</p> - -<p>"You've got <i>that</i>, indubitably! I get goose-flesh yet every time I -think of that trial."</p> - -<p>"You think that I'm proof against recognition, then, as long as I don't -use my Lens?" Kinnison stuck to the issue.</p> - -<p>"Absolutely so. You're here, then, on thionite?" No other issue, -Gerrond knew, could be grave enough to account for this man's presence. -"But your wrist? I studied it. You can't have worn your Lens there for -months—those Tellurian bracelets leave white streaks an inch wide."</p> - -<p>"I tanned it with a pencil beam. Nice job, eh? But what I want to ask -you about is a little co-operation. As you supposed, I'm here to work -on this drug ring."</p> - -<p>"Surely—anything we can do. But Narcotics is handling that, not -us—but you know that, as well as I do—" the officer broke off, -puzzled.</p> - -<p>"I know. That's why I want you—that and because you handle the secret -service. Frankly, I'm scared to death of leaks. For that reason I'm not -saying anything to anyone except Lensmen, and I'm having no dealings -with anyone connected with Narcotics. I have as unimpeachable an -identity as Haynes could furnish—"</p> - -<p>"There's no question as to its adequacy, then," the Radeligian -interposed.</p> - -<p>"I would like to have you pass the word around among your boys and -girls that you know who I am and that I'm safe to play with. That way, -if Boskone's agents spot me, it will be for an agent of Haynes, and not -for what I really am. That's the first thing. Can do?"</p> - -<p>"Easily and gladly. Consider it done. Second?"</p> - -<p>"To have a boatload of good, tough marines on hand if I should call -you. There are some Valerians coming over later, but I may need help in -the meantime. I may want to start a fight—quite possibly even a riot."</p> - -<p>"They'll be ready, and they'll be big, tough, and hard. Anything else?"</p> - -<hr class="tb"> - -<p>"Not just now, except for one question. You know Countess Avondrin, the -woman I was dancing with a while ago. Got any dope on her?"</p> - -<p>"Certainly not—what do you mean?"</p> - -<p>"Huh? Don't you know even that she's a Boskonian agent of some kind?"</p> - -<p>"Man, you're crazy! She isn't an agent, she can't be. Why, she's the -daughter of a Planetary Councillor, the wife of one of our most loyal -officers."</p> - -<p>"She would be. That's the type they like to get hold of."</p> - -<p>"Prove it!" the Admiral snapped. "Prove it or retract it!" He almost -lost his poise, almost looked toward the distant corner in which the -bewhiskered gentleman was sitting so idly.</p> - -<p>"QX. If she isn't an agent, why is she wearing a thought-screen? You -haven't tested her, of course."</p> - -<p>Of course not. The amenities, as has been said, demanded that certain -reserves of privacy remain inviolate. The Tellurian went on: "You -didn't, but I did. On this job I can recognize nothing of good taste, -of courtesy, of chivalry, or even of ordinary common decency. I suspect -<i>everyone</i> who does not wear a Lens."</p> - -<p>"A thought-screen!" exclaimed Gerrond. "How could she, without armor?"</p> - -<p>"It's a late model—brand new. Just as good and just as powerful as the -one I myself am wearing," Kinnison explained. "The mere fact that she's -wearing it gives me a lot of highly useful information."</p> - -<p>"What do you want me to do about her?" the Admiral asked. He was -mentally asquirm, but he was a Lensman.</p> - -<p>"Nothing whatever—except possibly, for our own information, to find -out how many of her friends have become thionite-sniffers lately. If -you do anything, you may warn them, although I know nothing definite -about which to caution you. I'll handle her. Don't worry too much, -though; I don't think she's anybody we really want. Afraid she's small -fry—no such luck as that I'd get hold of a big one so soon."</p> - -<p>"I hope she's small fry." Gerrond's thought was a grimace of distaste. -"I hate Boskonia as much as anybody does, but I don't relish the idea -of having to put that girl into the Chamber."</p> - -<p>"If my picture is half right she can't amount to much," Kinnison -replied. "A good lead is the best I can expect. I'll see what I can do."</p> - -<p>For days, then, the searching Lensman pried into minds: so insidiously -that he left no trace of his invasions. He examined men and women, -of high and of low estate. Waitresses and ambassadors, flunkies and -bankers, ermined prelates and truck drivers. He went from city to city. -Always, but with only a fraction of his brain, he played the part of -Chester Q. Fordyce; ninety-nine percent of his stupendous mind was -probing, searching and analyzing. Into what charnel pits of filth and -corruption he delved, into what fastnesses of truth and loyalty and -high courage and ideals, must be left entirely to the imagination; for -the Lensman never has spoken and never will speak of these things.</p> - -<p>He went back to Ardith and, late at night, approached the dwelling of -Count Avondrin. A servant arose and admitted the visitor, not knowing -then or ever that he did so. The bedroom door was locked from the -inside, but what of that? What resistance can any mechanism offer to -a master craftsman, plentifully supplied with tools, who can perceive -every component part, however deeply buried?</p> - -<p>The door opened. The countess was a light sleeper, but before she could -utter a single scream one powerful hand clamped her mouth, another -snapped the switch of her supposedly carefully concealed thought-screen -generator. What followed was done very quickly.</p> - -<hr class="chap"> - -<div class="figcenter"> - <img src="images/illus5.jpg" alt=""> - <div class="caption"> - <p><i>A throttling hand clamped over her mouth even as she -awoke, and in the same instant her thought-screen flicked off.</i></p> - </div> -</div> - -<hr class="chap"> - -<p>Mr. Fordyce strolled back to his hotel and Lensman Kinnison directed a -thought at Vice-Admiral Gerrond.</p> - -<p>"Better fake up some kind of an excuse for having a couple of guards or -policemen in front of Count Avondrin's town house at eight twenty-five -this morning. The countess is going to have a brainstorm."</p> - -<p>"What <i>have</i> ... what will she do?" Gerrond mastered his emotions -sufficiently to keep from swearing.</p> - -<p>"Nothing much. Scream a bit, rush out of doors half dressed, and fight -anything and everybody that touches her. Warn the officers that she'll -kick, scratch, and bite. There are plenty of signs of a prowler having -been in her room, but if they can find him they're good—<i>very</i> good. -She'll have all the signs and symptoms, even to the puncture, of having -been given a shot in the arm of some brand-new drug, which the doctors -won't be able to find or to identify. But there will be no question -raised of insanity or of any other permanent damage—she'll be right -as rain in a couple of months."</p> - -<p>"Oh, that mind-ray machine of yours again, eh? And that's all you're -going to do to her?"</p> - -<p>"That's all. I can let her off easy and still be just, I think. She's -helped me a lot. She'll be a good girl from now on, too; I've thrown a -scare into her that will last her the rest of her life."</p> - -<p>"Thanks, Gray Lensman! What else?"</p> - -<p>"I'd like to have you at the Tellurian Ambassador's Ball day after -tomorrow, if it's convenient."</p> - -<p>"I've been planning on it, since it's on the 'must' list. Shall I bring -anything or anyone special?"</p> - -<p>"No. I just want you on hand to give me any information you can on a -person who will probably be there to investigate what happened to the -countess."</p> - -<p>"I'll be there," and he was.</p> - -<hr class="tb"> - -<p>It was a gay and colorful throng, but neither of the two Lensmen was -in any mood for gaiety. They acted, of course. They neither sought nor -avoided each other but, somehow, they were never alone together.</p> - -<p>"Man or woman?" asked Gerrond.</p> - -<p>"I don't know. All I've got is the recognition."</p> - -<p>The Radeligian did not ask what that recognition was to be. He knew -that that information might prove dangerous indeed to any unauthorized -possessor. He did not want to know it; he was glad that the Tellurian -had not thrust it upon him.</p> - -<p>Suddenly the Vice-Admiral's attention was wrenched toward the doorway, -to see the most marvelously, the most flawlessly beautiful woman he -had ever seen. But not long did he contemplate that beauty, for the -Tellurian Lensman's thoughts were fairly seething, despite his iron -control.</p> - -<p>"Do you mean ... you can't mean—" Gerrond faltered.</p> - -<p>"Yes—definitely!" Kinnison rasped. "She looks like an angel, but take -it from me, <i>she isn't</i>. She's one of the slimiest snakes that ever -lived—she's so low that she could put on a tall silk hat and walk -under a duck. I know she's beautiful. She's a riot, a seven-sector -callout, a thionite dream. So what? She is also Dessa Desplaines, -formerly of Aldebaran II. Does that mean anything to you?"</p> - -<p>"Not a thing, Kinnison."</p> - -<p>"She's in it, clear to her neck. I had a chance to wring her neck once, -too, damn it all, and didn't. She's got a brazen crust, coming here -now, with all our Narcotics on the job—Wonder if they think they've -got Enforcement so badly whipped that they can get away with stuff as -rough as this—Sure you don't know her, or know of her?"</p> - -<p>"I never saw her before, or heard of her."</p> - -<p>"Perhaps she isn't known, out this way. Or maybe they think they're -ready for a show-down ... or don't care. Her being here ties me up hand -and foot, anyway. <i>She'll</i> recognize me, for all the tea in China. -Gerrond! You know the Narcotics' Lensmen, don't you?"</p> - -<p>"Certainly."</p> - -<p>"Call one of them right now. Tell him that Dessa Desplaines, the -zwilnik<a id="FNanchor_1" href="#Footnote_1" class="fnanchor">[1]</a> houri, is right here on the floor—What! He doesn't know -her, either! And none of our boys are Lensmen! Make it a three-way. -Lensman Winstead? Kinnison of Sol III—unattached. Sure that none of -you recognize this picture?" and he transmitted a perfect image of -the ravishing creature then moving regally across the floor. "Nobody -does? Good! Maybe that's why she's here, after all—thinks she can get -away with it. Anyway, she's your meat. Here's the chance for a real -capture. Come and get her."</p> - -<p>"You will appear against her, of course?"</p> - -<p>"If necessary—but it won't be necessary. As soon as she sees that the -game's up, all hell will be out for noon."</p> - -<hr class="tb"> - -<p>As soon as the connection had been broken, Kinnison realized that the -thing could not be done that way; that he could not stay out of it. No -man alive save himself could prevent her from flashing a warning—badly -as he hated it, he had to do it. Gerrond glanced at him curiously: he -had received a few of those racing thoughts.</p> - -<p>"Tune in on this," Kinnison grinned wryly. "If the last meeting I had -with her is any criterion, it ought to be good. S'pose anybody around -here understands the language of Aldebaran II?"</p> - -<p>"Never heard it mentioned if they do."</p> - -<p>The Tellurian walked blithely up to the radiant visitor, held out -his hand in Earthly—and Aldebaranian—greeting, and spoke: "Madam -Desplaines would not remember Chester Q. Fordyce, of course. It is of -the piteousness that I should be so accursedly of the ordinariness; for -to see madam but the one time, as I did at the New Year's ball in High -Altamont, is to remember her forever."</p> - -<p>"Such a flatterer!" The woman laughed. "I trust that you will forgive -me, Mr. Fordyce, but one meets so many interesting—" Her eyes widened -in surprise, an expression which changed rapidly to one of flaming -hatred, not unmixed with fear.</p> - -<p>"So you do recognize me, you bedroom-eyed, Aldebaranian hell-cat," he -remarked, evenly. "I rather expected that you would."</p> - -<p>"Yes, you sweet, uncontaminated sissy, you overgrown super-Boy Scout, -I do," she hissed, malevolently, and made a quick motion toward her -corsage. These two, as has been intimated, were friends of old.</p> - -<p>Quick though she was, the man was quicker. His left hand darted out to -seize her left wrist; his right, flashing around her body, grasped her -right and held it rigidly in the small of her back. Thus they walked -away.</p> - -<p>"Stop!" she flared. "You're making a spectacle of me!"</p> - -<p>"Now isn't that something to worry about?" His lips smiled, for the -benefit of the observers, but his eyes held no glint of mirth. "These -folks will think that this is the way all Aldebaranian friends walk -together. If you think for a second that I'm going to give you a chance -to touch that sounder you're wearing you haven't got the sense of a -Zabriskan fontema. Stop wriggling!" he counseled, sharply. "Even if you -can do enough hula-hula shimmying to work it, before it contacts once -I'll crush your brain to a pulp, right here and right now!"</p> - -<p>Outside, in the grounds, "Oh, Lensman, let's sit down and talk this -over!" and the girl brought into play everything she had. It was a -distressing scene, but it left the Lensman cold.</p> - -<p>"Save your breath," he advised her finally, wearily. "To me you're just -another zwilnik, no more and no less. A female louse is still a louse; -and calling a zwilnik a louse is sheerest flattery."</p> - -<p>He said that; and, saying it, knew it to be the exact and crystal -truth: but not even that knowledge could mitigate in any iota the -recoiling of his every fiber from the deed which he was about to do. He -could not even pray, with immortal Merritt's <i>Dwayanu</i>:</p> - -<p>"<i>Luka—turn your wheel so I need not slay this woman!</i>"</p> - -<p>It had to be. Why in all the nine hells of Valeria did he have to be -a Lensman? Why did he have to be the one to do it? But it had to be -done, and soon; they'd be here shortly.</p> - -<p>"There's just one thing you can do to make me believe that you're even -partially innocent," he ground out, "that you have even one decent -thought or one decent instinct anywhere in you."</p> - -<p>"What is that, Lensman? I'll do it, whatever it is!"</p> - -<p>"Release your thought-screen and send out a call to the Big Shot."</p> - -<p>The girl stiffened. This big cop wasn't so dumb—he really <i>knew</i> -something. He must die, and at once. How could she get word to—</p> - -<p>Simultaneously Kinnison perceived that for which he had been waiting; -the Narcotics men were coming.</p> - -<p>He tore open the woman's gown, flipped the switch of her -thought-screen, and invaded her mind. But, fast as he was, he was -late—almost too late altogether. He could get neither direction line -nor location; but only, and faintly, a picture of a space-dock saloon, -of a repulsively obese man in a luxuriously furnished back room. Then -her mind went completely blank and her body slumped down, bonelessly.</p> - -<p>Thus Narcotics found them; the woman inert and flaccid upon the bench, -the man staring down at her in black abstraction.</p> - -<hr class="chap"> - -<div class="figcenter"> - <img src="images/illusc2.jpg" alt=""> -</div> - -<hr class="chap"> - -<p class="ph1">VI.</p> - - -<p>"Suicide? Or did you—" Gerrond paused, delicately. Winstead, the -Lensman of Narcotics, said nothing, but looked on intently.</p> - -<p>"Neither," Kinnison replied, still studying. "I would have had to, but -she beat me to it."</p> - -<p>"What d'you mean, 'neither'? She's dead, isn't she? How did it happen?"</p> - -<p>"Not yet, and unless I'm more cockeyed even than usual, she won't be. -She isn't the type to rub herself out—ever, under any conditions. As -to 'how,' that was easy. A hollow false tooth. Simple, but new—and -clever. But why? WHY?" Kinnison was thinking to himself more than -addressing his companions. "If they had killed her, yes. As it is, it -doesn't make any kind of sense—any of it."</p> - -<p>"But the girl's dying!" protested Gerrond. "What're you going to <i>do</i>?"</p> - -<p>"I wish to Klono I knew." The Tellurian was puzzled, groping. "No -hurry doing anything about her—what was done to her has been done, -and no one this side of Hades can undo it—unless I can fit these -pieces together into some kind of a pattern I'll never know what it's -all about—none of it makes sense—" He shook himself and went on: -"One thing is plain. She won't die. If they had intended to kill her, -she would have died almost instantly. They figure she's worth saving; -in which I agree with them. At the same time, they certainly are not -planning on letting me tap her knowledge. They may be planning on -taking her away from us. Therefore, as long as she stays alive—or even -not dead, the way she is now—guard her so heavily that an army can't -get her. If she should happen to die, don't leave her body unguarded -for a second until she's been autopsied, and you know she'll <i>stay</i> -dead. The minute she recovers, day or night, call me. Might as well -take her to the hospital now, I guess."</p> - -<p>The call came soon that the patient had indeed recovered.</p> - -<p>"She's talking, but I haven't answered her," Gerrond reported. "There's -something strange here, Kinnison."</p> - -<p>"There would be—bound to be. Hold everything until I get there," and -he hurried to the hospital.</p> - -<p>"Good morning, Dessa," he greeted her in Aldebaranian. "You are feeling -better, I hope?"</p> - -<p>Her reaction was surprising. "You really know me?" she almost shrieked, -and flung herself into the Lensman's arms. Not deliberately; not with -her wonted, highly effective technique of bringing into play the s.a. -equipment with which she was so overpoweringly armed. No; this was the -utterly innocent, the wholly unselfconscious abandon of a very badly -frightened young girl. "What happened?" she sobbed, frantically, "Where -am I? Why are all these strangers here?"</p> - -<p>Her wide, childlike, tear-filled eyes sought his; and as he probed -them, deeper and deeper into the brain behind them; his face grew set -and hard. Mentally, she now <i>was</i> a young and innocent girl! Nowhere -in her mind, not even in the deepest recesses of her subconscious, -was there the slightest inkling that she had even existed since her -fifteenth year. It was staggering; it was unheard of; but it was -indubitably a fact. For her, now, the intervening time had lapsed -instantaneously—five or six years of her life had disappeared so -utterly as never to have been!</p> - -<p>"You have been very ill, Dessa," he told her gravely, "and you are -no longer a child." He led her into another room and up to a triple -mirror. "See for yourself."</p> - -<p>"But that isn't I?" she protested. "It can't be! Why, she's beautiful!"</p> - -<p>"You're all of that," the Lensman agreed, casually. "You've had a bad -shock. Your memory will return shortly, I think. Now you must go back -to bed."</p> - -<p>She did so, but not to sleep. Instead, she went into a trance; and so, -almost, did Kinnison. For over an hour he lay intensely asprawl in an -easy-chair, the while he engraved, day by day, a memory of missing -years into that bare storehouse of knowledge. And finally the task was -done.</p> - -<p>"Sleep, Dessa," he told her then. "Sleep. Waken in eight hours; whole."</p> - -<p>"Lensman, you're a <i>man</i>!" Gerrond realized vaguely what had been done. -"You didn't give her the truth, of course?"</p> - -<p>"Far from it. Only that she was married and is a widow. The rest of it -is highly fictitious—just enough like the real thing so that she can -square herself with herself, if she meets old acquaintances. Plenty of -lapses, of course, but they're covered by shock."</p> - -<p>"But the husband?" queried the curious Radeligian.</p> - -<p>"That's her business," Kinnison countered, callously. "She'll tell you, -if she ever feels like it. One thing I did do, though—they'll never -use her again. The next man that tries to hypnotize her will be lucky -if he gets away alive."</p> - -<hr class="tb"> - -<p>The advent of Dessa Desplaines, however, and his curious adventure with -her, had altered markedly the Lensman's situation. No one else in the -throng had worn a screen, but there might have been agents—anyway, the -observed facts would enable the higher-ups to link Fordyce up with what -had happened—they would know, of course, that the real Fordyce hadn't -done it—he could be Fordyce no longer.</p> - -<p>Wherefore the real Chester Q. Fordyce took over and a strange -Unattached Lensman appeared. A Posenian, supposedly, since against -the air of Radelix he wore that planet's unmistakable armor. No other -race of even approximately human shape could "see" through a helmet of -solid, opaque metal.</p> - -<p>And in this guise Kinnison continued his investigations. That place and -that man must be on this planet somewhere; the sending outfit worn by -the Desplaines woman could not possibly reach any other. He had a good -picture of the room and a fair picture—several pictures, in fact—of -the man. The room was an actuality; all he had had to do was to fill -in the details which definitely, by unmistakable internal evidence, -belonged there. The man was different. How much of the original picture -was real, and how much of it was the girl's impression?</p> - -<p>She was, he knew, physically fastidious almost to an extreme. He knew -that no possible hypnotism could nullify completely the basic, the -fundamental characteristics of the subconscious. The intrinsic ego -could not be changed. Was the man really such a monster, or was the -picture in the girl's mind partially or largely the product of her -physical revulsion?</p> - -<p>For hours he had sat at a recording machine, covering yard after yard -of tape with every possible picture of the man he wanted. Pictures -ranging from a man almost of normal build up to a thing duplicating in -every detail the woman's mental image.</p> - -<p>Now he ran the tape again, time after time. The two extremes, he -concluded, were highly improbable. Somewhere in between—the man <i>was</i> -fat, he guessed. Fat, and had a mean pair of eyes. And, no matter how -Kinnison changed the man's physical shape he had found it impossible to -eradicate a personality that was definitely bad.</p> - -<p>"The guy's a louse," Kinnison decided, finally. "Needs killing. Glad -of that—if I have to keep on fighting women much longer I'll go -completely nuts. Got enough dope to identify him now, I think."</p> - -<p>And again the Tellurian Lensman set out to comb the planet, city -by city. Since he was not now dealing with Lensmen, every move he -made had to be carefully planned and as carefully concealed. It was -heartbreaking; but at long last he found a bartender who had once seen -his quarry. He <i>was</i> fat, Kinnison discovered, and he was a bad egg. -From that point on, progress was rapid. He went to the indicated city, -which was, ironically enough, the very Ardith from which he had set -out; and, from a bit of information here and a bit there, he tracked -down his man. He found the room first, and then the man. The girl -wasn't so far wrong, at that. Her aversion was somewhat worse than the -actuality, but not too much.</p> - -<p>Now what to do? The technique he had used so successfully upon Boyssia -II and in other bases could not succeed here; there were thousands of -people instead of dozens, and someone would certainly catch him at it. -Nor could he work at a distance. He was no Arisian, he had to be right -beside his job. He would have to turn dock-walloper.</p> - -<p>Therefore a dock-walloper he became. Not like one, but actually one. -He labored prodigiously, his fine hands and his entire being becoming -coarse and hardened. He ate prodigiously, and drank likewise. But, -wherever he drank, his liquor was poured from the bartender's own -bottle or from one of similarly innocuous contents; for then, as -now, bartenders did not themselves imbibe the corrosively potent -distillates in which they dealt. Nevertheless, Kinnison became -intoxicated—boisterously, flagrantly, and pugnaciously so, as did his -fellows.</p> - -<p>He lived scrupulously within his dock-walloper's wages. Eight credits -per week went to the company, in advance, for room and board; the -rest he spent over the fat man's bar or gambled away at the fat man's -crooked games—for Bominger, although engaged in vaster commerce -far, nevertheless, allowed no scruple to interfere with his esurient -rapacity. Money was money, whatever its amount or source or however -despicable its means of acquirement.</p> - -<p>The Lensman knew that the games were crooked, certainly. He could see, -however they were concealed, the crooked mechanisms of the wheels. -He could see the crooked workings of the dealers' minds as they -manipulated their crooked decks. He could read as plainly as his own -the cards his crooked opponents held. But to win or to protest would -have set him apart, hence he was always destitute before pay day. Then, -like his fellows, he spent his spare time loafing in the same saloon, -vaguely hoping for a free drink or for a stake at cards, until one of -the bouncers threw him out.</p> - -<hr class="tb"> - -<p>But in his every waking hour, working, gambling, or loafing, he -studied Bominger and Bominger's various enterprises. The Lensman -could not pierce the fat man's thought-screen, and he could never -catch him without it. However, he could and did learn much. He read -volume after volume of locked account books, page by page. He read -secret documents, hidden in the deepest recesses of massive vault. He -listened in on conference after conference; for a thought-screen of -course, does not interfere with either sight or sound. The Big Shot did -not own—legally—the saloon, nor the ornate, almost palatial back -room which was his office. Nor did he own the dance hall and boudoirs -upstairs, nor the narrow, cell-like rooms in which addicts of twice a -score of different noxious drugs gave themselves over libidinously to -their addictions. Nevertheless, they were his; and they were only a -part of that which was his.</p> - -<p>Kinnison detected, traced, and identified agent after agent. With his -sense of perception he followed passages, leading to other scenes, -utterly indescribable here. One comparatively short gallery, however, -terminated in a different setting altogether; for there, as here and -perhaps everywhere, ostentation and squalor lie almost back to back. -Nalizok's Café, the high-life hot-spot of Radelix! Downstairs was -innocuous enough; nothing rough—that is, too rough—was ever pulled -there. Most of the robbery there was open and above-board, plainly -written upon the checks. But there were upstairs rooms, and cellar -rooms, and back rooms. And there were addicts, differing only from -those others in wearing finer raiment and being of a self-styled higher -stratum. Basically they were the same.</p> - -<p>Men, women, girls ever were there, in the rigid muscle-lock of -thionite. Teeth hard-set, every muscle tense and staring, eyes jammed -closed, fists clenched, faces white as though carved from marble, -immobile in the frenzied emotion which characterized the ultimately -passionate fulfillment of every suppressed desire; in the release of -their every inhibition crowding perilously close to the dividing line -beyond which lay death from sheer ecstasy. That was the technique of -the thionite-sniffer—to take every microgram that he could stand, to -come to, shaken and too weak even to walk; to swear that he would never -so degrade himself again; to come back after more as soon as he had -recovered strength to do so; and finally, with an irresistible craving -for stronger and ever stronger thrills, to take a larger dose than his -rapidly-weakening body could endure, and so to cross the fatal line.</p> - -<p>There also were the idiotically smiling faces of the hadive smokers, -the twitching members of those who preferred the Centralian -nitrolabe-needle, the helplessly stupefied eaters of bentlam—but why -go on? Suffice it to say that in that one city block could be found -every vice and every drug enjoyed by Radeligians and the usual run -of visitors; and if perchance you were an unusual visitor, desiring -something unusual, Bominger could get it for you—at a price.</p> - -<p>Kinnison studied, perceived, and analyzed. Also, he reported, via Lens, -daily and copiously, to Narcotics, under Lensman's Seal.</p> - -<p>"But Kinnison!" Winstead protested one day. "How much longer are you -going to make us wait?"</p> - -<p>"Until I get what I came after or until they get onto me," Kinnison -replied, flatly. For weeks his Lens had been hidden in the side of -his shoe, in a flat sheath of highly charged metal, proof against any -except the most minutely searching spy-ray inspection; but this new -location did not in any way interfere with its functioning.</p> - -<p>"Any danger of that?" the Narcotics head asked, anxiously.</p> - -<p>"Plenty—and getting worse every day. More actors in the drama. Some -day I'll make a slip—I can't keep this up forever."</p> - -<p>"Let us go, then," Winstead urged. "We've got enough now to blow this -ring out of existence, all over the planet."</p> - -<p>"Not yet. You're making good progress, aren't you?"</p> - -<p>"Yes, but considering—"</p> - -<p>"Don't consider it yet. Your present progress is normal for your -increased force. Any more would touch off an alarm. You could take this -planet's drug personnel, yes, but that isn't what I'm after. I want big -game, not small fry. So sit tight until I give you the g.a. QX?"</p> - -<p>"Got to be QX if you say so, Kinnison. Be careful!"</p> - -<p>"I am. Won't be long now, I'm sure. Bound to break very shortly, one -way or the other. If possible, I'll give you and Gerrond warning."</p> - -<hr class="tb"> - -<p>Kinnison had everything lined up except the one thing he had come -after. This was, in fact, the headquarters of the drug syndicate for -the entire planet of Radelix. He knew where the stuff came in, and -when, and how. He knew who received it, and the principal distributors -of it. He knew almost all of the secret agents of the ring, and not a -few even of the small-fry peddlers. He knew where the remittances went, -and how much, and what for. But every lead had stopped at Bominger. -Apparently the fat man was the absolute head of the drug syndicate; -and that appearance didn't make sense—it <i>had</i> to be false. Bominger -and the other planetary lieutenants—themselves only small fry if the -Lensman's ideas were only half right—<i>must</i> get orders from, and send -reports and, in probability, payments to some Boskonian authority; of -that Kinnison felt certain, but he had not been able to get even the -slightest trace of that higher-up.</p> - -<p>That the communication would be established upon a thought-beam the -Tellurian was equally certain. The Boskonian would not trust any -ordinary, tappable communicator beam, and he certainly would not be -such a fool as to send any written or taped or otherwise permanently -recorded message, however coded. No, that message, when it came, would -come as thought, and to receive it the fat man would have to release -his screen. Then, and not until then, could Kinnison act. Action at -that time might not prove simple—judging from the precautions Bominger -was taking already, he would not release his screen without taking -plenty more—but until then the Lensman could do nothing.</p> - -<p>That screen had not yet been released, Kinnison could swear to that. -True, he had had to sleep at times, but he had slept in a very -hair-trigger, with his subconscious and his Lens set to guard that -screen and to give the alarm at its first sign of weakening.</p> - -<p>As the Lensman had foretold, the break came soon. Not in the middle of -the night, as he had half-thought that it would come; nor yet in the -quiet of the daylight hours. Instead, it came well before midnight, -while revelry was at its height. It did not come suddenly, but was -heralded by a long period of gradually increasing tension, of a mental -stress very apparent to the mind of the watcher.</p> - -<p>Agents of the drug baron came in, singly and in groups, to an -altogether unprecedented number. Some of them were their usual -viciously self-contained selves, others were slightly but definitely -ill at ease. Kinnison, seated alone at a small table, playing a game -of Radeligian solitaire, divided his attention between the big room as -a whole and the office of Bominger; in neither of which was anything -definite happening.</p> - -<p>Then a wave of excitement swept over the agents as five men wearing -thought-screens entered the room and, sitting down at a reserved table, -called for cards and drinks; and Kinnison thought it time to send his -warning.</p> - -<p>"Gerrond! Winstead! Three-way! It's going to break soon, now, -I think—tonight. Agents all over the place—five men with -thought-screens here on the floor. Nervous tension high. Lots more -agents outside, for blocks. General precaution, I think, not specific. -Not suspicious of me, at least not exactly. Afraid of spies with a -sense of perception—Rigellians or Posenians or such. Just killed an -Ordovik on general principles, over on the next block. Get your gangs -ready, but don't come too close—just close enough so that you can be -here in thirty seconds after I call you."</p> - -<p>"What do you mean 'not exactly suspicious'? What have you done?"</p> - -<p>"Nothing that I know of—any one of a million possible small slips I -may have made. Nothing serious, though, or they wouldn't have let me -hang around this long."</p> - -<p>"You're in danger. No armor, no DeLameter, no anything. Better come out -while you can."</p> - -<p>"And miss what I've spent all this time building up? Not a chance; I'll -be able to take care of myself, I think—Here comes one of the boys in -a screen, to talk to me. I'll leave my Lens open, so that you can sort -of look on."</p> - -<hr class="tb"> - -<p>Just then Bominger's screen went down and Kinnison invaded his mind; -taking complete possession of it. Under his domination the fat man -reported to the Boskonian, reported truly and fully. In turn, he -received orders and instructions. Had any inquisitive stranger been -around, or anyone on the planet using any kind of a mind-ray machine -since that quadruply-accursed Lensman had held that trial? (Oh, that -was what had touched them off! Kinnison was glad to know it.) No, -nothing unusual at all—</p> - -<p>And just at that critical moment, when the Lensman's mind was so busy -with its task, the stranger came up to his table and stared down at him -dubiously, questioningly.</p> - -<p>"Well, what's on <i>your</i> mind?" Kinnison growled. He could not spare -much of his mind just then, but it did not take much of it to play his -part as a dock-walloper. "You another of these smoking house-numbers, -snooping around to see if I'm trying to run a blazer on myself? By the -devil and his imps, if I hadn't lost so much money here already I'd -tear up this deck and go over to Croleo's and <i>never</i> come near this -crummy joint again—his rotgut can't be any worse than yours is."</p> - -<p>"Don't burn out a jet, pal." The agent, apparently reassured, adopted a -conciliatory tone.</p> - -<p>"Who in hell ever said you was a pal of mine, you Radelig-gig-gigian -pimp?" The supposedly three quarters drunken, certainly three quarters -naked, Lensman got up, wobbled a little, and sat down again, heavily. -"Don't 'pal' me, ape—I'm partic-hic-hicular about who I pal with."</p> - -<p>"That's all right, big fellow; no offense intended," soothed the other. -"Come on, I'll buy you a drink."</p> - -<p>"Don't want no drink until after I've finished this game," Kinnison -grumbled, and took an instant to flash a thought via Lens. "All set, -boys? Thing's moving fast. If I have to take this drink—it's doped, of -course—I'll bust this bird wide open. When I yell, shake the lead out -of your pants!"</p> - -<p>"Of course you want a drink!" the pirate urged. "Come and get it—it's -on me, you know."</p> - -<p>"And who are you to be buying me, a Tellurian gentleman, a drink?" the -Lensman roared, flaring into one of the sudden, senseless rages of the -character he had cultivated so assiduously. "Did I ask you for a drink? -I'm educated, I am, and I've got money, I have. I'll buy myself a drink -when I want one." His rage mounted higher and higher, visibly. "Did I -<i>ever</i> ask you for a drink, you—" (unprintable here for the space of -two long breaths).</p> - -<p>This was the blow-off. If the fellow was even half honest, there would -be a fight, which Kinnison could make as long as necessary. If he did -not start slugging after what Kinnison had just called him, he was not -what he seemed and the Lensman was surely suspected; for the Earthman -had dredged out the noisomest depths of the foulest vocabularies in -space for the terms he had just employed.</p> - -<p>"If you weren't drunk I'd break every bone in your laxlo-soaked -carcass." The other man's anger was sternly suppressed, but he looked -at the dock-walloper with no friendship in his eyes. "I don't ask lousy -spaceport bums to drink with me every day, and when I do, they do—or -else. Do you want to take that drink now or do you want a couple of the -boys to work you over first? Barkeep! Bring two glasses of laxlo over -here!"</p> - -<p>Now the time was short, indeed, but Kinnison would not—could not—act -yet. Bominger's conference was still on; the Lensman didn't know enough -yet. The fellow wasn't very suspicious, certainly, or he would have -made a pass at him before this. Bloodshed meant less than nothing to -these gentry; the stranger did not want to incur Bominger's wrath by -killing a steady customer. The fellow probably thought the whole mind -ray story was hocus-pocus, anyway—not a chance in a million of it -being true. Besides, he needed a machine, and Kinnison couldn't hide -a thing, let alone anything as big as that mind-ray machine had been, -because he didn't have clothes enough on to flag a handcar with. But -that free drink was certainly doped—Oh, they wanted to question him. -It would be a truth-dope in the laxlo, then—he certainly couldn't take -<i>that</i> drink!</p> - -<p>Then came the all-important second; just as the bartender set the -glasses down Bominger's interview ended. At the signing off, Kinnison -got additional data, just as he had thought that he would; and in that -instant, before the drugmaster could restore his screen, the fat man -died—his brain literally blasted. And in that same instant Kinnison's -Lens fairly throbbed with the power of the call he sent out to his -allies.</p> - -<p>But not even Kinnison could hurl such a mental bolt without some -outward sign. His face stiffened, perhaps, or his eyes may have lost -their drunken, vacant stare, to take on momentarily the keen, cold -ruthlessness that was for the moment his. At any rate, the enemy agent -was now definitely suspicious.</p> - -<p>"Drink that, bum, and drink it quick—or burn!" he snapped, DeLameter -out and poised.</p> - -<hr class="chap"> - -<div class="figcenter"> - <img src="images/illus6.jpg" alt=""> - <div class="caption"> - <p><i>Kinnison looked up at the stranger blearily. "Drink -that, bum, and drink it quick—or burn!" the gunman snapped.</i></p> - </div> -</div> - -<hr class="chap"> - -<p>The Tellurian's hand reached out for the glass, but his mind also -reached out, and faster by a second, to the brains of two nearby -agents. Those worthies drew their own weapons and, with wild yells, -began firing. Seemingly indiscriminately, yet in those blasts two of -the thought-screened minions died. For a fraction of a second even the -hard-schooled mind of Kinnison's opponent was distracted, and that was -long enough for the Gray Lensman's instantaneous nervous reactions and -his mighty muscles.</p> - -<hr class="tb"> - -<p>A quick flick of the wrist sent the potent liquor into the Boskonian's -eyes; a lightning thrust of the knee sent the little table hurtling -against his gun-hand, flinging the weapon afar. Simultaneously, the -Lensman's hamlike fist, urged by all the strength and all the speed -of his two hundred and sixteen pounds of rawhide and whalebone, drove -forward. Not for the jaw. Not for the head or the face. Lensmen know -better than to mash bare hands, break fingers and knuckles, against -bone. For the solar plexus. The big Patrolman's fist sank forearm-deep. -The stricken zwilnik uttered one shrieking grunt, doubled up, and -collapsed; never to rise again. Kinnison leaped for the fellow's -DeLameter—too late, he was already hemmed in.</p> - -<p>One—two—three—four of the nearest men died without having received a -physical blow; again and again Kinnison's heavy fists and far heavier -feet crashed deep into vital spots. One thought-screened enemy dived -at him bodily in a Tomingan donganeur, to fall with a broken neck as -the Lensman opposed instantly the only possible parry—a savage chop, -edge-handed, just below the base of the skull; the while he disarmed -the surviving thought-screened stranger with an accurately-hurled -chair. The latter, feinting a swing, launched a vicious French kick. -The Lensman, expecting anything, perceived the foot coming. His big -hands shot out like striking snakes, closing and twisting savagely in -the one fleeting instant, then jerking upward and backward. A hard and -heavy dock-walloper's boot crashed thuddingly to a mark. A shriek rent -the air and that foeman, too, was done.</p> - -<p>Not fair fighting, no; nor cluvvy. Lensmen did not and do not fight -according to the tenets of the late Marquis of Queensberry. They use -the weapons provided by Mother Nature only when they must; but they -can, and do use them with telling effect indeed, when body-to-body -brawling becomes necessary. For they are skilled in the art—every -Lensman has a completely detailed knowledge of all the lethal tricks of -foul combat known to all the dirty fighters of ten thousand planets for -twice ten thousand years.</p> - -<p>And then the doors and windows crashed in, admitting those whom -no other bifurcate race has ever faced willingly in hand-to-hand -combat—full-armed Valerians, swinging their space-axes!</p> - -<p>The gangsters broke then, and fled in panic disorder; but escape from -Narcotics' fine-meshed net was impossible. They were cut down to a man.</p> - -<p>"QX, Kinnison?" came two hard, sharp thoughts. The Lensmen did not see -the Tellurian, but Lieutenant Peter van Buskirk did. That is, he saw -him, but did not look at him.</p> - -<p>"Hi, Kim, you little Tellurian wart!" That worthy's thought was a yell. -"Ain't we got fun?"</p> - -<p>"QX fellows—thanks," to Gerrond and to Winstead, and—</p> - -<p>"Ho, Bus! Thanks, you big, Valerian ape!" to the gigantic -Dutch-Valerian with whom he had shared so many experiences in the past. -"A good clean-up, fellows?"</p> - -<p>"One hundred per cent, thanks to you. We'll put you—"</p> - -<p>"Don't, please. You will probably clog my jets if you do. I don't -appear in this anywhere—it's just one of your good, routine jobs of -mopping up. Clear ether, fellows, I've got to do a flit."</p> - -<p>"Where?" all three wanted to ask, but they didn't—the Gray Lensman was -gone.</p> - -<hr class="chap"> - -<p class="ph1">VII.</p> - - -<p>Kinnison did start his flit, but he did not get far. In fact, he did -not even reach his squalid room before cold reason told him that the -job was only half done—yes, less than half. He had to give Boskone -credit for having brains, and it was not at all likely that even such -a comparatively small unit as a planetary headquarters would have only -one string to its bow. They certainly would have been forced to install -duplicate controls of some sort or other by the trouble they had had -after Helmuth's supposedly impregnable Grand Base had been destroyed.</p> - -<p>There were other straws pointing the same way. Where had those five -strange thought-screened men come from? Bominger hadn't known of them -apparently. If that idea was sound, the other headquarters would have a -spy ray on the whole thing. Both sides used spy rays freely, of course, -and to block them was, ordinarily, worse than to let them come. The -enemies' use of the thought-screen was different. They realized that -it made it easy for the unknown Lensman to discover their agents, but -they were forced to use it because of the deadliness of the supposed -mind-ray. Why hadn't he thought of this sooner, and had the whole area -blocked off? Too late to cry about it now, though.</p> - -<p>Assume the idea correct. They certainly knew now that he was a -Lensman; probably were morally certain that he was <i>the</i> Lensman. His -instantaneous change from a drunken dock-walloper to a cold-sober, -deadly-skilled rough-and-tumble brawler—and the unexplained deaths of -half-a-dozen agents, as well as that of Bominger himself—this was bad. -Very, <i>very</i> bad—a flare lit tip-off, if there ever was one. Their spy -rays would have combed him, millimeter by plotted cubic millimeter: -they knew exactly where his Lens was, as well as he did himself. He had -put his tail right into the wringer—wrecked the whole job right at the -start—unless he could get that other headquarters outfit, too, and get -them before they reported in detail to Boskone.</p> - -<p>In his room, then, he sat and thought, harder and more intensely -than he had ever thought before. No ordinary method of tracing would -do. It might be anywhere on the planet, and it certainly would have -no connection whatever with the thionite gang. It would be a small -outfit; just a few men, but under smart direction. Their purpose would -be to watch the business end of the organization, but not to touch it -save in an emergency. All that the two groups would have in common -would be recognition signals, so that the reserves could take over in -case anything happened to Bominger—as it already had. They had him, -Kinnison, cold—What to do? <i>What to do?</i></p> - -<p>The Lens. That must be the answer—it <i>had</i> to be. The Lens—what was -it, really, anyway? Simply an aggregation of crystalloids. Not really -alive; just a pseudolife, a sort of a reflection of his own life—he -wondered—great Klono's brazen teeth and tail, could <i>that</i> be it? An -idea had struck him, an idea so stupendous in its connotations and -ramifications that he gasped, shuddered, and almost went faint at the -shock. He started to reach for his Lens, then forced himself to relax -and shot a thought to Base.</p> - -<p>"Gerrond! Send me a portable spy-ray block, quick!"</p> - -<p>"But that would give everything away!" protested the vice-admiral. -"That's why we haven't been using them."</p> - -<p>"Are you telling me?" the Lensman demanded. "Shoot it along—I'll -explain while it's on the way." He went on to tell the Base commander -everything that he thought it well for him to know, concluding: "So -you see, it's a virtual certainty that I am already as wide open as -intergalactic space, and that nothing but fast and sure moves will do -us a bit of good."</p> - -<p>The block arrived, and as soon as the messenger had departed Kinnison -set it going. He was now the center of a sphere into which no spy-ray -beam could penetrate. He was also an object of suspicion to anyone -using a spy ray, but that fact made no difference, then. He snatched -off his shoe, took out his Lens, and tossed that ultra-precious -fabrication across the room. Then, just as though he still wore it, he -directed a thought at Winstead.</p> - -<p>"All serene, Lensman?" he asked, quietly.</p> - -<p>"Everything's on the beam," came instant reply. "Why?"</p> - -<p>"Just checking, is all." Kinnison did not specify exactly what it was -that he was checking!</p> - -<hr class="tb"> - -<p>He then did something which, so far as he knew, no Lensman had ever -before even thought of doing. Although he felt stark naked without his -Lens, he hurled a thought three quarters of the way across the Galaxy -to that dread planet Arisia; a thought narrowed down to the exact -pattern of that gigantic, fearsome Brain who had been his mentor and -his sponsor.</p> - -<p>"Ah, 'tis Kimball Kinnison, of Earth," that entity responded, in -precisely the same modulation it had employed once before. "You have -perceived, then, youth, that the Lens is not the supremely important -thing you have supposed it to be?"</p> - -<p>"I ... you ... I mean—" The flustered Lensman, taken completely aback, -was cut off by a sharp rebuke.</p> - -<p>"Stop! You are thinking muddily—conduct ordinarily inexcusable! Now, -youth, to redeem yourself, you will explain the phenomenon to me, -instead of asking me to explain it to you. I realize that you have -just discovered another facet of the Cosmic Truth, I know what a shock -it has been to your immature mind; hence for this once it may be -permissible for me to overlook your crime. But strive not to repeat the -offense; for I tell you again in all possible seriousness—I cannot -urge upon you too strongly the fact—that in clear and precise thinking -lies your only safeguard through that which you are attempting. -Confused, wandering thought will assuredly bring disaster inevitable -and irreparable."</p> - -<p>"Yes, sir," Kinnison replied meekly; a small boy reprimanded by his -teacher. "It must be this way. In the first stage of training the Lens -is a necessity; just as is the crystal ball or some other hypnotic -object in a séance. In the more advanced stage the mind is able to work -without aid. The Lens, however, may be—in fact, it must be—endowed -with uses other than that of a symbol of identification; uses about -which I as yet know nothing. Therefore, while I can work without it, I -should not do so except when it is absolutely necessary, as its help -will be imperative if I am to advance to any higher stage. It is also -clear that you were expecting my call. May I ask if I am on time?"</p> - -<p>"You are—your progress has been highly satisfactory. Also, I note with -approval that you are not asking for help in your admittedly difficult -present problem."</p> - -<p>"I know that it wouldn't do me any good—and why." Kinnison grinned -wryly. "But I'll bet that Worsel, when he comes up for his second -treatment, will know on the spot what it has taken me all this time to -find out."</p> - -<p>"You deduce truly. He did."</p> - -<p>"What? He has been back there already? And you told me—"</p> - -<p>"What I told you was true and is. His mind is more fully developed and -more responsive than yours; yours is of vastly greater latent capacity, -capability, and force—" and the line of communication snapped.</p> - -<p>Calling a conveyance, Kinnison was whisked to Base, the spy-ray -block full on all the way. There, in a private room, he put his -heavily-insulated Lens and a full spool of tape into a ray-proof -container, sealed it, and called in the Base commander.</p> - -<p>"Gerrond, here is a package of vital importance," he informed him. -"Among other things, it contains a record of everything I have done to -date. If I don't come back to claim it myself, please send it to Prime -Base for personal delivery to Port Admiral Haynes. Speed will be no -object, but safety very decidedly of the essence."</p> - -<p>"QX—we'll send it in by special messenger."</p> - -<p>"Thanks a lot. Now I wonder if I could use your visiphone a minute? I -want to talk to the zoo."</p> - -<p>"Certainly."</p> - -<p>"Zoological Gardens?" and the image of an elderly, white-bearded man -appeared upon the plate. "Lensman Kinnison of Tellus—Unattached. Have -you as many as three oglons, caged together?"</p> - -<p>"Yes. In fact, we have four of them in one cage."</p> - -<p>"Better yet. Will you please send them over here to Base at once? -Vice-admiral Gerrond, here, will confirm."</p> - -<p>"It is most unusual, sir—" the gray-beard began, but broke off at a -curt word from Gerrond. "Very well, sir," he agreed, and disconnected.</p> - -<p>"Oglons?" the surprised commander demanded. "<i>Oglons!</i>"</p> - -<hr class="tb"> - -<p>For the oglon, or Radeligian cateagle, is one of the fiercest, most -intractable beasts of prey in existence; it assays more concentrated -villainy and more sheerly vicious ferocity to the gram than any other -creature known to science. It is not a bird, but a winged mammal; and -is armed not only with the gripping, tearing talons of the eagle, but -also with the heavy, cruel, needle-sharp fangs of the wildcat. And its -mental attitude toward all other forms of life is anti-social to the -nth degree.</p> - -<p>"Oglons." Kinnison confirmed, shortly. "I can handle them."</p> - -<p>"You can, of course. But—" Gerrond stopped. This Gray Lensman was -forever doing amazing, unprecedented, incomprehensible things. But, so -far, he had produced eminently satisfactory results, and he could not -be expected to spend all his time in explanations.</p> - -<p>"But you think I'm screwy, huh?"</p> - -<p>"Oh, no, Kinnison, I wouldn't say that. I only ... well ... after -all, there isn't much real evidence that we didn't mop up one hundred -percent."</p> - -<p>"Much? Real evidence? There isn't any," the Tellurian assented, -cheerfully enough. "But you've got the wrong slant entirely on these -people. You are still thinking of them as gangsters, desperadoes, -renegade scum of our own civilization. They are not. They are just as -smart as we are; some of them are smarter. Perhaps I am taking too many -precautions; but, if so, there is no harm done. On the other hand, -there are two things at stake which, to me at least, are extremely -important; this whole job of mine and my life: and remember this—the -minute I leave this Base both of those things are in your hands."</p> - -<p>To that, of course, there could be no answer.</p> - -<p>While the two men had been talking and while the oglons were being -brought out, two trickling streams of men had been passing, one into -and one out of the spy ray shielded confines of Base. Some of these men -were heavily bearded, some were shaven clean, but all had two things -in common. Each one was human in type and each one in some respect or -other resembled Kimball Kinnison.</p> - -<p>"Now remember, Gerrond," the Gray Lensman said impressively as he was -about to leave. "They're probably right here in Ardith, but they may be -anywhere on the planet. Keep a spy ray on me wherever I go, and trace -theirs if you can. That will take some doing, as the head one is bound -to be an expert. Keep those oglons at least a mile—thirty seconds -flying time—away from me; get all the Lensmen you can on the job; -keep a cruiser and a speedster hot, but not too close. I may need one -of them, or all, or none of them, I can't tell; but I do know this—if -I need anything at all, I'll need it fast. Above all, Gerrond, by the -Lens you wear, do nothing whatever, no matter what happens around me or -to me, until I give you the word. QX?"</p> - -<p>"QX, Gray Lensman. Clear ether!"</p> - -<p>Kinnison took a ground-cab to the mouth of the narrow street upon which -was situated his dock-walloper's mean lodging. This was a desperate, -a fool-hardy trick—but in its very boldness, in its insolubly -paradoxical aspects, lay its strength. Probably Boskone could solve its -puzzles, but—he hoped—this ape, not being Boskone, couldn't. And, -paying off the cabman, he thrust his hands into his tattered pockets -and, whistling blithely if a bit raucously through his stained teeth, -he strode off down the narrow way as though he did not have a care in -the world. But he was doing the finest job of acting of his short -career; even though, for all he really knew, he might not have any -audience at all. For, inwardly, he was strung to highest tension. His -sense of perception, sharply alert, was covering the full hemisphere -around and above him; his mind was triggered to jerk any muscle of his -body into instantaneous action.</p> - -<hr class="tb"> - -<p>Meanwhile, in a heavily guarded room, there sat a manlike being, -faintly but definitely blue; not only as to eyes, but also as to hair, -teeth, and complexion. For two hours he had been sitting at his spy -ray plate, studying with ever-growing uneasiness the human beings so -suddenly and so surprisingly numerously having business at the Patrol's -Base. For minutes he had been studying minutely a man in a ground-cab, -and his uneasiness reached panic heights.</p> - -<p>"It <i>is</i> the Lensman!" he burst out. "It's <i>got</i> to be, Lens or no -Lens. Who else would have the cold nerve to go back there when he knows -that he has exposed himself?"</p> - -<p>"Well, get him, then," advised his companion. "All set, aren't you?"</p> - -<p>"But it <i>can't</i> be!" the chief went on, reversing himself in -mid-flight. "A Lensman without a Lens is unthinkable, and invisible -Lens is preposterous. And this fellow has not now, and never has had, -a mind-ray machine. He hasn't got <i>anything</i>! And besides, the Lensman -we're after wouldn't think of doing a thing like this—he always -disappears the instant a job is finished, whether or not there is any -chance of his having been discovered."</p> - -<p>"Well, drop him and chase somebody else, then," the lieutenant advised, -unfeelingly.</p> - -<p>"But there's nobody nearly enough like him!" snarled the chief, in -desperation. He was torn by doubt and indecision. This whole situation -was a mess—it didn't add up right, from any possible angle. "It's -got to be him—it <i>can't</i> be anybody else. I've checked and rechecked -him. It <i>is</i> him, and not a double. He thinks that he's safe enough; he -doesn't suspect that we're here at all. Besides, his only good double, -Fordyce—and <i>he's</i> not good enough to stand the inspection I just gave -him—hasn't appeared anywhere."</p> - -<p>"Probably inside Base yet. Maybe this is a better double. Perhaps this -<i>is</i> the real Lensman pretending he isn't, or maybe the real Lensman -is slipping out while you're watching the man in the cab," the junior -suggested, helpfully.</p> - -<p>"Shut up!" the superior yelled. He started to reach for a switch, but -paused, hand in air.</p> - -<p>"Go ahead. That's it, call District and toss it into their laps, if -it's too hot for you to handle. I think myself that whoever did this -job is a warm number—plenty warm."</p> - -<p>"And get my ears bunted off with that 'your report is neither complete -nor conclusive' of his?" the chief sneered. "And get reduced for -incompetence besides? No, we've got to do it ourselves, and do it -right—but that man there isn't the Lensman—he can't be!"</p> - -<p>"Well, you'd better make up your mind—you haven't got all day. And nix -on that 'we' stuff. It's <i>you</i> that's got to do it—you're the boss, -not me," the underling countered, callously. For once, he was really -glad that he was not the one in command. "And you'd better get busy and -do it, too."</p> - -<p>"I'll do it," the chief declared, grimly. "There's a way."</p> - -<p>There was a way. One only. He must be brought in alive and compelled to -divulge the truth. There was no other way.</p> - -<p>The blue man touched a stud and spoke. "Don't kill him—bring him -in alive. If you kill him even accidentally, I'll kill both of you, -myself."</p> - -<hr class="tb"> - -<p>The Gray Lensman made his carefree way down the alleylike thoroughfare, -whistling inharmoniously and very evidently at peace with the Universe.</p> - -<p>It takes something, friends, to walk knowingly into a trap; without -betraying emotion or stress even while a blackjack, wielded by a strong -arm, is descending toward the back of your head. Something of quality, -something of fiber. But whatever it took, Kinnison in ample measure had.</p> - -<p>He did not wink, flinch, or turn an eye as the billy came down. Only -as it touched his hair did he act, exerting all his marvelous muscular -control to jerk forward and downward, with the weapon and ahead of it, -to spare himself as much as possible of the terrific blow.</p> - -<hr class="chap"> - -<div class="figcenter"> - <img src="images/illus7.jpg" alt=""> - <div class="caption"> - <p><i>The Lensman, fully aware, yet did not wink, flinch, or -turn an eye as the billy came down.</i></p> - </div> -</div> - -<hr class="chap"> - -<p>The blackjack crunched against the base of the Lensman's skull in a -shower of coruscating constellations. He fell. He lay there, twitching -feebly.</p> - -<hr class="chap"> - -<p class="ph1">VIII.</p> - - -<p>As has been said, Kinnison rode the blow of the blackjack forward and -downward, thus robbing it of some of its power. It struck him hard -enough so that the thug did not suspect the truth; he thought that he -had all but taken the Lensman's life. And, for all the speed with which -the Tellurian had yielded before the blow, he was hurt; but he was not -stunned. Therefore, although he made no resistance when the two bullies -rolled him over, lashed his feet together, tied his hands behind him, -and lifted him into a car, he was fully conscious throughout the -proceedings.</p> - -<p>When the cab was perhaps half an hour upon its way the Lensman -struggled back, quite realistically, to consciousness.</p> - -<p>"Take it easy, pal," the larger of his thought-screened captors -advised, dandling the blackjack suggestively before his eyes. "One yelp -out of you, or a signal, if you've got one of them Lenses, and I bop -you another one."</p> - -<p>"What the blinding blue hell's coming off here?" demanded the -dock-walloper, furiously. "Wha'd'ya think you're doing, you -lop-eared—" and he cursed the two, viciously and comprehensively.</p> - -<p>"Shut up or he'll knock you kicking," the smaller thug advised from the -driver's seat, and Kinnison subsided. "Not that it bothers me any, but -you're making too much noise."</p> - -<p>"But what's the matter?" Kinnison asked, more quietly. "What'd you slug -me for and drag me off? I ain't done nothing and I ain't got nothing."</p> - -<p>"I don't know nothing," the big agent replied. "The boss will tell you -all you need to know when we get to where we're going. All I know is -the boss says to bop you easylike and bring you in alive if you don't -act up. He says to tell you not to yell and not to use no Lens. If you -yell we burn you out. If you use any Lens, the boss he's got his eyes -on all the bases and space-ports and everything, and if any help starts -to come this way he'll tell us and we burn you out. Then we buzz off. -We can kill you and flit before any help can get near you, he says."</p> - -<p>"Your boss ain't got the brains of a fontema," Kinnison growled. He -knew that boss, wherever he was, could hear every word. "Hell's hinges, -if I was a Lensman you think I'd be walloping junk on a dock? Use your -head, cully, if you got one."</p> - -<p>"I wouldn't know nothing about that," the other returned, stolidly.</p> - -<p>"But I ain't got no Lens!" the dock-walloper stormed, in exasperation. -"Look at me—frisk me! You'll see I ain't!"</p> - -<p>"All that ain't none of my dish." The thug was entirely unmoved. "I -don't know nothing and I don't do nothing except what the boss tells -me, see? Now take it easy, all nice and quietlike. If you don't," and -he flicked the blackjack lightly against the Lensman's knee, "I'll -put out your landing-lights. I'll lay you like a mat, and I don't mean -maybe. See?"</p> - -<p>Kinnison saw, and relapsed into silence. The automobile rolled along. -And, flitting industriously about upon its delivery duties, but never -much more or less than one measured mile distant, a panel job pursued -its devious way. Oddly enough, its chauffeur was a Lensman. Here and -there, high in the heavens, were a few airplanes, gyros, and copters; -but they were going peacefully and steadily about their business—even -though most of them happened to have Lensmen as pilots.</p> - -<p>And, not at Base at all, but high in the stratosphere and so thoroughly -screened that a spy-ray observer could not even tell that his gaze was -being blocked, Base's swiftest cruiser, Lensman-commanded, rode poised -upon flare-baffled, softly hissing under jets. And, equally high and -as adequately protected against observation, a keen-eyed Lensman sat -at the controls of a speedster, jazzing her muffled jets and peering -eagerly through a telescopic sight. As far as the Patrol was concerned, -everything was on the trips.</p> - -<p>The car approached the gates of a suburban estate and stopped. It -waited. Kinnison knew that the Boskonian within was working his every -beam, alert for any sign of Patrol activity; knew that if there were -any such sign the car would be off in an instant. But there was no -activity. Kinnison sent a thought to Gerrond, who relayed micro-metric -readings of the objective to various Lensmen. Still everyone waited. -Then the gate opened of itself, the two thugs jerked their captive out -of the car to the ground, and Kinnison sent out his signal.</p> - -<hr class="tb"> - -<p>Base remained quiet, but everything else erupted at once. The airplanes -wheeled, cruiser and speedster plummeted downward at maximum blast. -The panel job literally fell open, as did the cage within it, and four -ravening cateagles, with the silent ferocity of their kind, rocketed -toward their goal.</p> - -<p>Although the oglons were not as fast as the flying ships they did not -have nearly as far to go, wherefore they got there first. The thugs -had no warning whatever. One instant everything was under control; in -the next the noiselessly arrowing destroyers struck their prey with -the mad fury that only a striking cateagle can exhibit. Barbed talons -dug viciously into eyes, faces, mouths; tearing, rending, wrenching; -fierce-driven fangs tore deeply, savagely into defenseless throats.</p> - -<p>Once each the thugs screamed in mad, lethal terror, but no warning was -given; for by that time every building upon that pretentious estate had -disappeared in the pyrotechnic flare of detonating duodec. The pellets -were small, of course—the gunners did not wish either to destroy the -nearby residences or to injure Kinnison—but they were powerful enough -for the purpose intended. Mansion and outbuildings disappeared, and not -even the most thoroughgoing spy-ray search revealed the presence of -anything animate or structural where those buildings had been.</p> - -<p>The panel job drove up and Kinnison, perceiving that the cateagles -had done their work, sent them back into their cage. The Radeligian -Lensman, after securely locking cage and truck, cut the Earthman's -bonds.</p> - -<p>"QX, Kinnison?" he asked.</p> - -<p>"QX, Barknett—thanks," and the two Lensmen, one in the panel truck and -the other in the gangsters' car, drove back to Base. There Kinnison -recovered his package.</p> - -<p>"This has got me all of a soapy lather, but you have called the turn -on every play yet," Winstead told the Tellurian, later. "Is this all -of the big shots, do you think, or are there some more of them around -here?"</p> - -<p>"Not around here, I'm pretty sure," Kinnison replied. "No, two main -lines is all they would have had, I think—this time. Next time—"</p> - -<p>"There won't be any next time," Winstead declared.</p> - -<p>"Not on this planet, no. Knowing what to expect, you fellows can handle -anything that comes up. I was thinking then of my next step."</p> - -<p>"Oh. But you'll get 'em, Gray Lensman!"</p> - -<p>"I hope so"—soberly.</p> - -<p>"Luck, Kinnison!"</p> - -<p>"Clear ether, Winstead!" and this time the Tellurian really did flit.</p> - -<p>As his speedster ripped through the void Kinnison did more thinking, -but he was afraid that his Arisian mentor would have considered -the product muddy, indeed. He couldn't seem to get to the first -check station. One thing was limpidly clear; this line of attack or any -very close variation of it would never work again. He'd have to think -up something new. So far, he had got away with his stuff because he had -kept one lap ahead of them, but how much longer could he manage to keep -up the pace?</p> - -<p>Bominger had been no mental giant, of course; but this other lad -was nobody's fool and this next higher-up, with whom he had had an -interview via Bominger, would certainly prove to be a really shrewd -number.</p> - -<p>"'The higher the fewer,'" he repeated to himself the old saying, -adding, "and in this case, the smarter." He had to put out some jets, -but where he was going to get the fuel he had no idea.</p> - -<hr class="tb"> - -<p>Again the trip to Tellus was uneventful, and the Gray Lensman, the -symbol of his rank again flashing upon his wrist, sought interview with -Haynes.</p> - -<p>"Send him in, certainly—send him in!" Kinnison heard the communicator -crackle, and the receptionist passed him along. He paused in surprise, -however, at the doorway of the office, for Chief Surgeon Lacy and a -Posenian were in conference with the Port Admiral.</p> - -<p>"Come in, Kinnison," Haynes invited. "Lacy wants to see you a minute, -too. Dr. Phillips—Lensman Kinnison, Unattached. His name is not -Phillips, of course; that is merely one we gave him in self-defense. -His real name is utterly unpronounceable."</p> - -<p>Phillips, the Posenian, was as tall as Kinnison, and heavier. His -figure was somewhat human in shape, but not in detail. He had four arms -instead of two, each arm had two opposed hands, and each hand had two -thumbs, one situated about where a little finger would be expected. He -had no eyes, not even vestigial ones. He had two broad, flat noses and -two toothful mouths; one of each in what would ordinarily be called the -front of his round, shining, hairless head; the other in the back. Upon -the sides of his head were large, volute, highly dirigible ears. And, -like most races having the faculty of perception instead of that of -sight, his head was relatively immobile, his neck being short, massive, -and tremendously strong.</p> - -<p>"You look well, very well," Lacy reported, after feeling and prodding -vigorously the members which had been in splints and casts so long. -"Have to take a picture, of course, before saying anything definite. -No, we won't, either, now. Phillips, look at his"—an interlude of -technical jargon—"and see what kind of a recovery he has made." Then, -while the Posenian was examining Kinnison's interior mechanisms, the -Chief Surgeon went on:</p> - -<p>"Wonderful diagnosticians and surgeons, these Posenians—can see into -the patient without taking him apart. In another few centuries every -doctor will have to have the sense of perception. Phillips is doing a -research in neurology—more particularly a study of the neural synapse -and the proliferation of neural dendrites—"</p> - -<p>"La—cy-y-y!" Haynes drawled the word in reproof. "I've told you a -thousand times to talk English when you're talking to me. How about it, -Kinnison?"</p> - -<p>"It might be more comprehensible, although we must admit that any -scientist likes to speak with precision, which he cannot do in the -ordinary language of the layman."</p> - -<p>"Right, boy—surprisingly and pleasingly right!" Lacy exclaimed. "Why -can't you adopt that attitude, Haynes, and learn enough words so that -you can understand what a man is talking about? But to reduce it to -monosyllabic simplicity, Phillips is studying a thing that has baffled -us for centuries—yes, for millennia. The lower forms of cells are able -to regenerate themselves; wounds heal, bones knit. Higher types, such -as nerve cells, regenerate imperfectly, if at all; and the highest -type, the brain cells, do not do so under any conditions." He turned a -reproachful gaze upon Haynes. "This is terrible. Those statements are -pitiful—inadequate—false. Worse than that—practically meaningless. -What I wanted to say, and what I'm going to say, is that—"</p> - -<p>"Oh, no you aren't, not in this office," his old friend interrupted. -"We got the idea perfectly. The question is, why can't human beings -repair nerves or spinal cords, or grow new ones? If such a worthless -beastie as a starfish can grow a whole new body to one leg, including -a brain, if any, why can't a really intelligent victim of simple -infantile paralysis—or a ray—recover the use of a leg that is -otherwise in perfect shape?"</p> - -<p>"Well, that's something like it, but I hope you can aim closer than -that at a battleship," Lacy grunted. "We'll buzz off now, Phillips, and -leave these two war horses alone."</p> - -<hr class="tb"> - -<p>"Here is my report in detail." Kinnison placed the package upon the -Port Admiral's desk as soon as the room was sealed behind the visitors. -"I talked to you direct about most of it—this is for the record."</p> - -<p>"Of course. Mighty glad you found Medon, for our sake as well as -theirs. They have things that we need, badly."</p> - -<p>"Where did they put them? I suggested a sun near Sol, so as to have -them handy to Prime Base."</p> - -<p>"Right next door—Alpha Centauri. Didn't get to do much scouting, did -you?"</p> - -<p>"I'll say we didn't. Boskonia owns that Galaxy; lock, stock, and -barrel. Maybe some other independent planets—bound to be, of course; -probably a lot of them—but it's too dangerous, hunting them at this -stage of the game. But at that, we did enough, for the time being. We -proved our point. Boskone, if there is any such being, is certainly in -the Second Galaxy. However, it will be a long time before we're ready -to carry the war there to him, and in the meantime we've got a lot to -do. Check?"</p> - -<p>"To nineteen decimals."</p> - -<p>"It seems to me, then, that while you are rebuilding our first-line -ships, super-powering them with Medonian insulation and conductors, -I had better keep on tracing Boskone along the line of drugs. I have -proved to my own satisfaction that they are back of almost all of that -drug business."</p> - -<p>"And in some ways their drugs are more dangerous to Civilization than -their battleships. More insidious and, ultimately, more fatal."</p> - -<p>"I'm convinced of it. And since I am perhaps as well equipped as any -of the other Lensmen to cope with that particular problem—" Kinnison -paused, questioningly.</p> - -<p>"That certainly is no overstatement," the Port Admiral replied, dryly. -"You're the <i>only</i> one equipped to cope with it."</p> - -<p>"None of the other boys except Worsel, then? I heard that a couple—"</p> - -<p>"They thought that they had a call, but they didn't. All they had was a -wish. They came back."</p> - -<p>"Too bad—but I can see how that would be. A man has to know exactly -what he needs, and his brain must be ready to take it, or it burns -it out. It almost does, anyway—mind is a funny thing. But that isn't -getting us anywhere. Can you take time to let me talk at you a few -minutes?"</p> - -<p>"I certainly can. You have what is perhaps the most important -assignment in the Galaxy, and I would like to know more about it, if -it's anything you can pass on."</p> - -<p>"Nothing that need be sealed from any Lensman. The main object of all -of us, as you know, is to push Boskonia out of this Galaxy. From a -military standpoint they practically <i>are</i> out. Their drug syndicate, -however, is very decidedly in, and getting in deeper all the time. -Therefore, we next push the zwilniks out. They have peddlers and such -small fry, who deal with distributors and so on. These, as it were, -form the bottom layer. Above them are the secret agents, the observers, -and the wholesale handlers; runners and importers. All these folks -are directed and controlled by one man, the boss of each planetary -organization. Thus, Bominger was the boss of all zwilnik activities on -the whole planet of Radelix.</p> - -<p>"In turn the planetary bosses report to, and are synchronized and -controlled by, a Regional Director, who supervises the activities of a -couple of hundred or so planetary outfits. I got a line on the one over -Bominger, you know—Prellin, the Kalonian. By the way, you knew, didn't -you, that Helmuth was a Kalonian, too?"</p> - -<p>"I got it from the tape. Smart people, they must be, but not my idea of -good neighbors."</p> - -<p>"I'll say not. Well, that's all I really <i>know</i> of their organization. -It seems logical to suppose, though, that the structure is coherent -all the way up. If so, the Regional Directors would be under some -higher-up, possibly a Galactic Director, who in turn might be under -Boskone himself—or one of his cabinet officers, at least. Perhaps the -Galactic Director might even be a cabinet officer in their government, -whatever it is?"</p> - -<p>"An ambitious program you've got mapped out for yourself. How are you -figuring on swinging it?"</p> - -<hr class="tb"> - -<p>"That's the rub—I don't know," Kinnison confessed, ruefully. "But if -it's done at all, that's the way I've got to go about it. Any other way -would take a thousand years and more men than we'll ever have. This way -works fine, when it works at all."</p> - -<p>"I can see that—lop off the head and the body dies," Haynes agreed.</p> - -<p>"That's the way it works—especially when the head keeps detailed -records and books covering the activities of all the members of his -body. With Bominger and the others gone, and with full transcripts -of his accounts, the boys mopped up Radelix in a hurry. From now on -it will be simple to keep it clean, except of course, for the usual -bootleg trickle, and that can be reduced to a minimum. Similarly, if we -can put this Prellin away and take a good look at his ledgers, it will -be easy to clear up his two hundred planets. And so on."</p> - -<p>"Very clear, and quite simple—in theory." The older man was thoughtful -and frankly dubious. "In practice, difficult in the extreme."</p> - -<p>"But necessary," the younger insisted.</p> - -<p>"I suppose so," Haynes assented finally. "Useless to tell you not to -take chances—you'll have to—but for all of our sakes, if not for your -own, be as careful as you can."</p> - -<p>"I'll do that, chief. I think a lot of me, really. You know that story -about the guy who was all right in his place, but the place hadn't been -dug yet? Well, I don't want anybody digging my proper place for a long -time to come."</p> - -<p>Haynes laughed, but the concern did not leave his features. "Anything -special you want done?" he asked.</p> - -<p>"Yes, very special," Kinnison surprised him by answering in the -affirmative. "You know that the Medonians developed a scrambler for -a detector-nullifier. Hotchkiss and the boys developed a new line of -attack on that—against long-range stuff we're probably safe—but -they haven't been able to do a thing on electromagnetics. Well, the -Boskonians, beginning with Prellin, are going to start wondering what -has been happening. Then, if I succeed in getting Prellin, they are -bound to start doing things. One thing they will do will be to fix up -their headquarters so that they will have about five hundred percent -overlap on their electros. Perhaps they will have outposts, too, close -enough together to have the same thing there—possibly two or three -hundred even on visuals."</p> - -<p>"In that case, I would say that you'd stay out."</p> - -<p>"Not necessarily. What do electros work on?"</p> - -<p>"Iron, I suppose—they did when I went to school last."</p> - -<p>"The answer, then, is to build me a speedster that is inherently -indetectable—absolutely non-ferrous. Berylumin and other alloys for -all the structural parts—"</p> - -<p>"But you've got to have silicon-steel cores for your electrical -equipment!"</p> - -<p>"I was coming to that. Have you? I was reading in the 'Transactions' -the other day that force fields had been used in big units, and were -more efficient. Some of the smaller units, instruments and so on, might -have to have some iron, but wouldn't it be possible to so saturate -those small pieces with a dense field of detector frequencies that they -wouldn't react?"</p> - -<p>"I don't know. Never thought of it. Would it?"</p> - -<p>"I don't know, either—I'm not telling you, I'm just making -suggestions. I do know one thing, however. We've got to keep ahead of -them—think of things first and oftenest, and be ready to abandon them -for something else as soon as we have used them once."</p> - -<p>"Except for those primary projectors." Haynes grinned wryly. "They -can't be abandoned—even with Medonian power we haven't been able to -develop a screen that will stop them cold. We've got to keep them -secret from Boskone—and in that connection I want to compliment you -on the suggestion of having Velantian Lensmen as mind readers wherever -those projectors are even being thought of."</p> - -<p>"You caught spies, then? How many?"</p> - -<p>"Not many—three or four in each Base—but enough to have done the -damage. Now, I believe, for the first time in history, we can be <i>sure</i> -of our entire personnel."</p> - -<p>"I think so. The Arisian said that the Lens was enough, if we used it -properly. That's up to us."</p> - -<p>"But how about visuals?" Haynes was still worrying, and to good purpose.</p> - -<hr class="tb"> - -<p>"Well, we have a black coating now that is ninety-nine percent -absorptive, and I don't need ports or windows. At that, though, one -percent reflection would be enough to give me away at a critical time. -How'd it be to put a couple of the boys on that job? Have them put a -decimal point after the ninety-nine and see how many nines they can -tack on behind it?"</p> - -<p>"That's a thought, Kinnison, and they have lots of time to work on it -while the engineers are trying to fill your specifications as to a -speedster. But you're right, dead right, in everything you have said. -We—or rather, you—have got to out-think them; and it certainly is -up to us to do everything that can be done to build the apparatus to -put your thoughts into practice. And it is not at some vague time in -the future that Boskone is going to start thinking seriously about you -and what you have done. It is now; or even more probably, a week or so -ago. In fact, if there were any way of learning the truth, I think we -should find that they have begun acting already, instead of waiting -until you abate the nuisance which is Prellin, the Kalonian. But you -haven't said a word yet about the really big job you have in mind."</p> - -<p>"I've been putting that off until the last." The Gray Lensman's voice -held obscure puzzlement. "The fact is that I simply can't get a tooth -into it—can't get a grip in it anywhere. I don't know enough about -math or physics. Everything comes out negative for me; not only -inertia, but also force, velocity, and even mass itself. Final results -always contain an 'i', too, the square root of minus one. I can't -get rid of it, and I don't see how it can be built into any kind of -apparatus. It may not be workable at all, but before I give up the idea -I would like to call a conference, if it's QX with you and the Council."</p> - -<p>"Certainly it is QX with us. You're forgetting again, aren't you, -that you're a Gray Lensman?" Haynes' voice held no reproof, he was -positively beaming with a super-fatherly pride.</p> - -<p>"Not exactly." Kinnison blushed, almost squirmed. "I'm just too much -of a cub to be sticking my neck out so far, that's all. The idea -may be—probably is—wilder than a Radeligian cateagle. The only -kind of a conference that could even begin to handle it would cost a -young fortune, and I don't want to spend that much money on my own -responsibility."</p> - -<p>"To date your ideas have worked out well enough so that the Council is -backing you one hundred percent," the older man said, dryly. "Expense -is no object." Then, his voice changing markedly, "Kim, have you any -idea at all of the financial resources of the Patrol?"</p> - -<p>"Very little, sir, if any, I'm afraid," Kinnison confessed.</p> - -<p>"Here on Tellus alone we have an expendible reserve of over ten -thousand million credits. With the restriction of government to its -proper sphere and its concentration into our organization, resulting -in the liberation of man-power into wealth-producing enterprise, -and especially with the enormous growth of inter-world commerce, -world-income increased to such a point that taxation could be reduced -to a minimum; and the lower the taxes the more flourishing business -became and the greater the income.</p> - -<p>"Now the tax rate is the lowest in recorded history. The total income -tax, for instance, in the highest bracket, is only three point five -nine two percent. At that, however, if it had not been for the recent -slump, due to Boskonian interference with inter-systemic commerce, we -would have had to reduce the tax rate again to avoid serious financial -difficulty due to the fact that too much of the galactic total of -circulating credit would have been concentrated in the expendable funds -of the Galactic Patrol. So don't even think of money. Whether you want -to spend a thousand credits, a million, or a thousand million; go -ahead."</p> - -<p>"Thanks, chief; glad you explained. I'll feel better now about spending -money that doesn't belong to me. Now if you'll give me, for about -a week, the use of the librarian in charge of science files and a -galactic beam, I'll quit bothering you."</p> - -<p>"I'll do that." The Port Admiral touched a button and in a few minutes -a trimly attractive blonde entered the room. "Miss Hostetter, this is -Lensman Kinnison, Unattached. Please turn over your regular duties to -an assistant and work with him until he releases you. Whatever he says, -goes; the sky's the limit."</p> - -<hr class="tb"> - -<p>In the Library of Science Kinnison outlined his problem briefly to his -new aide, concluding:</p> - -<p>"I want only about fifty, as a larger group could not co-operate -efficiently. Are your lists arranged so that you can skim off the top -fifty?"</p> - -<p>"Such a group can be selected, I think." The girl stood for a moment, -lower lip held lightly between white teeth. "That is not a standard -index, but each scientist has a rating upon his card. I can set the -acceptor ... no, the rejector would be better ... to throw out all the -cards above any given rating. If we take out all ratings over seven -hundred we will have only the highest of the geniuses."</p> - -<p>"How many, do you suppose?"</p> - -<p>"I have only a vague idea—a couple of hundred, perhaps. If too many, -we can run them again at a higher level, say seven ten. But there won't -be very many, since there are only two galactic ratings higher than -seven fifty. There will be duplications, too—such people as Sir Austin -Cardynge will have two or three cards in the final rejects."</p> - -<p>"QX—we'll want to hand-pick the fifth, anyway. Let's go!"</p> - -<p>Then for hours, bale after bale of cards went through the machine; -thousands of records per minute. Occasionally one card would flip out -into a rack, rejected. Finally:</p> - -<p>"That's all, I think. Mathematicians, physicists," the librarian -ticked off upon pink fingers. "Astronomers, philosophers, and this new -classification, which has not been named yet."</p> - -<p>"The H.T.T.'s." Kinnison glanced at the label, lightly lettered in -pencil, fronting the slim packet of cards. "Aren't you going to run -them through, too?"</p> - -<p>"No. These are the two I mentioned a minute ago—the only ones rating -over seven hundred fifty."</p> - -<p>"A choice pair, eh? Sort of a <i>crème de la crème</i>? Let's look 'em -over," and he extended his hand. "What do the initials stand for?"</p> - -<p>"I'm awfully sorry, sir, really," the girl flushed in embarrassment as -she relinquished the cards in high reluctance. "If I'd had any idea, -we wouldn't have dared—we call you, among ourselves, the 'High-Tension -Thinkers.'"</p> - -<p>"Us!" It was the Lensman's turn to flush. Nevertheless, he took the -packet and read sketchily the facer: "Class XIX—Unclassifiable at -present—lack of adequate methods—minds of range and scope far -beyond any available indices—Ratings above high genius (750)—yet -no instability—power beyond any heretofore known—assigned rating -tentative and definitely minimum."</p> - -<p>He then read the cards.</p> - -<p>"Worsel, Velantia, eight hundred five."</p> - -<p>And:</p> - -<p>"Kimball Kinnison, Tellus, nine hundred twenty-five!"</p> - -<hr class="chap"> - -<p class="ph1">IX.</p> - - -<p>The Port Admiral was eminently correct in supposing that Boskone, -whoever or whatever he or it might be, was already taking action upon -what the Tellurian Lensman had done. For, even as Kinnison was at work -in the Library of Science, a meeting which was indirectly to affect him -no little was being called to order.</p> - -<p>In the immensely distant Second Galaxy was that meeting being held; -upon the then planet Jarnevon of the Eich; within that sullen fortress -already mentioned briefly. Presiding over it was the indescribable -entity known to history as Eichlan; or, more properly, Lan of the Eich.</p> - -<p>"Boskone is now in session," that entity announced to the eight -other like monstrosities who in some fashion indescribable to man -were stationed at the long, low, wide bench of stonelike material -which served as a table of State. "Nine days ago each of us began to -search for whatever new facts might bear upon the activities of the -as-yet-entirely-hypothetical Lensman who, Helmuth believed, was the -real force back of our recent intolerable reverses in the Tellurian -Galaxy.</p> - -<p>"As First of Boskone I will report as to the military situation. As you -know, our positions there became untenable with the fall of our Grand -Base and all our mobile forces were withdrawn. In order to facilitate -reorganization, co-ordinating ships were sent out. Some of these ships -went to planets held in toto by us. Not one of these vessels has been -able to report any pertinent facts whatever. Ships approaching bases -of the Patrol, or encountering Patrol ships of war in space, simply -ceased communicating. Even their automatic recorders, tuned to my desk -as commander-in-chief, ceased to function without transmitting any -intelligible data, indicating complete destruction of those ships. -A cascade system, in which one ship followed another at long range -and with analytical instruments set to determine the nature of any -beam or weapon employed, was attempted. The enemy, however, threw out -blanketing zones of tremendous power; and we lost six more vessels -without obtaining the desired data. These are the facts, all negative. -Theorizing, deduction, summation, and integration will as usual, come -later. Eichmil, Second of Boskone, will now report."</p> - -<p>"My facts are also entirely negative," the Second began. "As soon as -our operations upon the planet Radelix began to be really productive of -results, a contingent of Tellurian narcotic agents arrived; which may -or may not have included the Lensman—"</p> - -<p>"Stick to facts for the time being," Eichlan ordered, curtly.</p> - -<p>"Shortly thereafter a minor agent, a female instructed to wear a -thought-screen at all times, lost her usefulness by suffering a mental -disorder which incapacitated her quite seriously. Then another agent, -also a female, this time one of the third order and who had been very -useful up to that time, ceased reporting. A few days later Bominger, -the Planetary Director, failed to report, as did the Planetary -Observer; who, as you know, was entirely unknown to, and had no -connection with, the operating staff. Reports from other sources, such -as importers and shippers—these, I believe, are here admissible as -facts—indicate that our entire personnel upon Radelix has been put to -death. No unusual developments have occurred upon any other planet, nor -has any significant fact, however small, been discovered."</p> - -<p>"Eichnor, Third of Boskone."</p> - -<p>"Also negative. Our every source of information from within the bases -of the Patrol has been shut off. Every one of our representatives—some -of whom have been reporting regularly for many years—has been silent, -and every effort to reach any of them has failed."</p> - -<p>"Eichsnap, Fourth of Boskone."</p> - -<p>"Utterly negative. We have been able to find no trace whatever of the -planet Medon, or of any one of the twenty-one warships investing it at -the time of its disappearance."</p> - -<p>And so on, through nine reports, while the tentacles of the mighty -First of Boskone played intermittently over the keys of a complex -instrument or machine before him.</p> - -<p>"We will now reason, theorize, and draw conclusions," the First -announced, and each of the organisms fed his ideas and deductions into -the machine. It whirred briefly, then ejected a tape, which Eichlan -took up and scanned narrowly.</p> - -<hr class="tb"> - -<p>"Rejecting all conclusions having a probability of less than -ninety-five percent," he announced, "we have: First, a set of -three probabilities of a value of ninety-nine and ninety-nine -one-hundredths—virtual certainties—that some one Tellurian Lensman is -the prime mover behind what has happened; that he has acquired a mental -power heretofore unknown to his race; and that he has been in large -part responsible for the development of the Patrol's new and formidable -weapons. Second, a probability of ninety-nine percent that he and his -organization are no longer on the defensive, but have assumed the -offensive. Third, one of ninety-seven percent that it is not primarily -Tellus which is an obstacle, even though the Galactic Patrol and -Civilization did originate upon that planet, but Arisia; that Helmuth's -report was at least partially true. Fourth, one of ninety-five and -one half percent that the Lens is also concerned in the disappearance -of the planet Medon. There is a lesser probability, but still of some -ninety-four percent, that that same Lensman is involved here.</p> - -<p>"I will interpolate here that the vanishment of that planet is a much -more serious matter than it might appear, on the surface, to be. In -situ, it was a thing of no concern—gone, it becomes an affair of -almost vital import. To issue orders impossible of fulfillment, as -Helmuth did when he said 'Comb Trenco, inch by inch,' is easy. To comb -this Galaxy star by star for Medon would be an even more difficult and -longer task; but what can be done is being done.</p> - -<p>"To return to the conclusions, they point out a state of things which -I do not have to tell you is really grave. This is the first major -setback which the culture of the Boskone has encountered since it began -its rise, thousands of years ago. You are familiar with that rise; how -we of the Eich took over in turn a city, a race, a planet, a solar -system, a region, a galaxy. How we extended our sway into the Tellurian -Galaxy, as a preliminary to the extension of our authority throughout -all the populated galaxies of the macro-cosmic Universe.</p> - -<p>"You know our creed; to the victor the power. He who is strongest and -fittest shall survive and shall rule. This so-called Civilization -which is opposing us, which began upon Tellus but whose driving force -is that which dwells upon Arisia, is a soft, weak, puny-spirited -thing indeed to resist the mental and material power of our culture. -Myriads of beings upon each planet, each one striving for power and, -so striving, giving of that power to him above. Myriads of planets, -each, in return for our benevolently despotic control, delegating -and contributing power to the Eich. All this power, delegated to the -thousands of millions of the Eich of this planet, culminates in and is -wielded by the nine of us who comprise Boskone.</p> - -<p>"Power! Our forefathers thought that control of one planet was enough. -Later it was declared that mastery of a galaxy, if realized, would -sate ambition. We of Boskone, however, now know that our power shall -be limited only by the bounds of the Material Cosmic All—every world -that exists throughout space shall and must pay homage and tribute to -Boskone! What, gentlemen, is the sense of this meeting?"</p> - -<p>"Arisia must be visited!" There was no need of integrating this -thought; it was dominant and unanimous.</p> - -<p>"I would advise caution, however," the Eighth of Boskone amended -his ballot. "We are an old race, it is true, and able; we have -demonstrated our superiority over every other race of our Galaxy, much -more conclusively than the Tellurians have shown their supremacy on -theirs, I cannot help but believe, however, that in Arisia there exists -an unknown quality, an 'x' which we as yet are unable to evaluate. -It must be borne in mind that Helmuth, while not of the Eich, was, -nevertheless, an able being; yet he was handled so mercilessly there -that he could not render a complete or conclusive report of his -expedition, then or ever. With these thoughts in mind I suggest that -no actual landing be made, but that the torpedo be launched from a -distance."</p> - -<p>"The suggestion is eminently sound," the First approved. "As to -Helmuth, he was, for an oxygen-breather, fairly able. He was however, -mentally soft, as are all such. Do you, our foremost psychologist, -believe that any existent or conceivable mind could break yours, with -no application whatever of physical force or device, as Helmuth's -reports seemed to indicate that his was broken? I use the word 'seemed' -advisedly, for I do not believe that Helmuth reported the actual truth. -In fact, I was about to replace him with an Eich, however unpleasant -such an assignment would be to any of our race, because of that -weakness."</p> - -<p>"No," agreed the Eighth. "I do not believe that there exists in the -Universe a mind of sufficient power to break mine. It is a truism that -no mental influence, however powerful, can affect a strong, definitely -and positively opposed will. For that reason I voted against the -use of thought-screens by our agents. Such screens expose them to -detection and can be of no real benefit. Physical means were—must have -been—used first, and, after physical subjugation, the screens were, of -course, useless."</p> - -<hr class="tb"> - -<p>"I am not sure that I agree with you entirely," the Ninth put in. "We -have here cogent evidence that there have been employed mental forces -of a type or pattern with which we are entirely unfamiliar. While it is -the consensus of opinion that the importance of Helmuth's report should -be minimized, it seems to me that we have enough corroborative evidence -to indicate that this mentality may be able to operate without material -aid. If so, rigid screening should be retained, as offering the only -possible safeguard from such force."</p> - -<p>"Sound in theory, but in practice dubious," the psychologist countered. -"If there were any evidence whatever that the screens had done any -good I would agree with you. But have they? Screening failed to save -Helmuth or his base; and there is nothing to indicate that the screens -impeded, even momentarily, the progress of the suppositious Lensman -upon Radelix. You speak of 'rigid' screening. The term is meaningless. -Perfectly effective screening is impossible. If, as we seem to be -doing, we postulate the ability of one mind to control another -without physical, bodily contact—or is the idea at all far fetched, -considering what I myself have done to the minds of many of our -agents?—the Lensman can work through any unshielded mentality whatever -to attain his ends. As you know, Helmuth deduced, too late, that it -must have been through the mind of a dog that the Lensman invaded Grand -Base."</p> - -<p>"Poppycock!" snorted the Seventh. "Or, if not, we can kill the dogs—or -screen their minds, too," he sneered.</p> - -<p>"Admitted," the psychologist returned, unmoved. "You might conceivably -kill all the animals that run and all the birds that fly. You cannot, -however, destroy all life in any locality at all extended, clear -down to the worms in their burrows and the termites in their hidden -retreats; and the mind has not yet existed which is keen enough to draw -a line of demarcation and say 'here begins intelligent life.'"</p> - -<p>"This discussion is interesting, but futile," put in Eichlan, -forestalling a scornful reply. "It is more to the point, I think, to -discuss that which must be done; or, rather, who is to do it, since the -thing itself admits of only one solution—an atomic bomb of sufficient -power to destroy every trace of life upon that accursed planet. Shall -we send someone, or shall some of us ourselves go? To overestimate a -foe is at worst only an unnecessary precaution; to underestimate this -one may well be fatal. Therefore, it seems to me, that the decision in -this matter should lie with our psychologist. I will, however, if you -prefer, integrate our various conclusions."</p> - -<p>Recourse to the machine was unnecessary; it was agreed by all that -Eichamp, the Eighth of Boskone, should decide.</p> - -<p>"My decision will be evident," that worthy said, measuredly, "when I -say that I myself, for one, am going. The situation is admittedly a -serious one. Moreover, I believe, to a greater extent than do the rest -of you, that there is a certain amount of truth in Helmuth's version of -his experiences. My mind is the only one in existence of whose power -I am absolutely certain; the only one which I definitely <i>know</i> will -not give way before any conceivable mental force, whatever its amount -or whatever its method of application. I want none with me save of the -Eich, and even those I will examine carefully before permitting them -aboard ship with me."</p> - -<p>"You decide as I thought," said the First. "I also shall go. My mind -will hold, I think."</p> - -<p>"It will hold—in your case examination is unnecessary," agreed the -psychologist.</p> - -<p>"And I! And I!" arose what amounted to a chorus.</p> - -<p>"No," came curt denial from the First. "Two are enough to operate all -machinery and weapons. To take any more of the Boskone would weaken us -here injudiciously; well you know how many are working, and in what -fashions, for seats at this table. To take any weaker mind, even of -the Eich, might conceivably be to court disaster. We two should be -safe; I because I have proven repeatedly my right to hold the title of -First of this Council, the rulers and masters of the dominant race of -the Universe; Eichamp because of his unparalleled knowledge, of all -intelligence. Our vessel is ready. We go."</p> - -<hr class="tb"> - -<p>As has been indicated, none of the Eich were, or ever had been, -cowards. Tyrants they were, it is true, and dictators of the harshest, -sternest, and most soulless kind; callous and merciless they were; -cold as the rocks of their frigid world and as utterly ruthless and -remorseless as the fabled Juggernaut; but they were as logical as they -were hard. He, who of them all was best fitted to do anything, did it -unquestioningly and, as a matter of course; did it with the calmly -emotionless efficiency of the machine which in actual fact he was. -Therefore, it was the First and the Eighth of Boskone who went.</p> - -<p>Through the star-studded purlieus of the Second Galaxy the black, -airless, lightless vessel sped; through the reaches, vaster and more -tenuous far, of intergalactic space; into the Tellurian Galaxy; up to a -solar system shunned then as now, by all uninvited intelligences—dread -and dreaded Arisia.</p> - -<p>Not close to the planet did even the two of Boskone venture; but -stopped at the greatest distance at which a torpedo could be directed -surely against the target. But even so the vessel of the Eich had -punctured a screen of mental force; and as Eichlan extended a tentacle -toward the firing mechanism of the missiles, watched in as much -suspense as they were capable of feeling by the planet-bound seven of -Boskone, a thought as penetrant as a needle and yet as binding as a -cable tempered steel drove into his brain.</p> - -<p>"Hold!" That thought commanded, and Eichlan held, as did also his -fellow Boskonian.</p> - -<p>Both remained rigid, unable to move any single voluntary muscle; while -the other seven of the Council looked on in uncomprehending amazement. -Their instruments remained dead—since those mechanisms were not -sensitive to thought, to them nothing at all was occurring. Those -seven leaders of the Eich knew that something was happening; something -dreadful, something untoward, something very decidedly not upon the -program they had helped to plan. They, however, could do nothing about -it; they could only watch and wait.</p> - -<p>"Ah, 'tis Lan and Amp of the Eich," the thought resounded within the -minds of the helpless twain. "Truly, the Elders are correct. My mind is -not yet competent, for, although I have had many facts instead of but -a single one upon which to cogitate, and no dearth of time in which to -do so, I now perceive that I have erred grievously in my visualization -of the Cosmic All. You do, however, fit nicely into the now enlarged -Scheme, and I am really grateful to you for furnishing new material -with which for many cycles of time to come, I shall continue to build.</p> - -<p>"Indeed, I believe that I shall permit you to return unharmed to your -own planet. You know the warning we gave Helmuth, your minion, hence -your lives are forfeit for violating knowingly the privacy of Arisia; -but wanton or unnecessary destruction is not conducive to mental -growth. You are, therefore, at liberty to depart. I repeat to you the -instructions given your underling: do not return, either in person or -by any form whatever of proxy."</p> - -<p>The Arisian had as yet exerted scarcely a fraction of his power; -although the bodies of the two invaders were practically paralyzed, -their minds had not been punished. Therefore the psychologist said, -coldly:</p> - -<p>"You are not now dealing with Helmuth, nor with any other weak, -mindless oxygen-breather, but with the <i>Eich</i>," and, by sheer effort of -will, he moved toward the controls.</p> - -<p>"What boots it?" the Arisian compressed upon the Eighth's brain a -searing force which sent shrieking waves of pain throughout all nearby -space. Then, taking over the psychologist's mind, he forced him to move -to the communicator panel, upon whose plate could be seen the other -seven of Boskone, gazing in wonder.</p> - -<p>"Set up planetary coverage," he directed, through Eichamp's organs of -speech, "so that each individual member of the entire race of the Eich -can understand what I am about to transmit." There was a brief pause, -then the deep, measured voice rolled on:</p> - -<p>"I am Eukonidor of Arisia, speaking to you through this mass -of undead flesh which was once your chief psychologist, Eichamp, the -Eighth of that high council which you call Boskone. I had intended to -spare the lives of these two simple creatures, but I perceive that -such action would be useless. Their minds and the minds of all you who -listen to me are warped, perverted, incapable of reason. They and you -would have misinterpreted the gesture completely; would have believed -that I did not slay them only because I could not do so. Some of you -would have offended again and again, until you were so slain; you can -be convinced of such a fact only by an unmistakable demonstration of -superior force. Force is the only thing you are able to understand. -Your one aim in life is to gain material power; greed, corruption, and -crime are your chosen implements.</p> - -<p>"You consider yourselves hard and merciless. In a sense, and according -to your abilities you are, although your minds are too callow to -realize that there are depths of cruelty and of depravity which you -cannot even faintly envision.</p> - -<p>"You love and worship power. Why? To any thinking mind it should be -clear that such a lust intrinsically is, and forever must by its -very nature be, futile. For, even if any one of you could command -the entire material Universe, what good would it do him? None. What -would he have? Nothing. Not even the satisfaction of accomplishment, -for that lust is in fact insatiable—it would then turn upon itself -and feed upon itself. I tell you as a fact that there is only one -power which is at one and the same time illimitable and yet finite; -insatiable yet satisfying; one which, while eternal, yet invariably -returns to its possessor the true satisfaction of real accomplishment -in exact ratio to the effort expended upon it. That power is the power -of the mind. You, being so backward and so wrong of development, -cannot understand how this can be, but if any one of you will -concentrate upon one single fact, or a small object, such as a pebble -or the seed of a plant or other creature, for as short a period of -time as one hundred of your years, you will begin to perceive its -truth.</p> - -<p>"You boast that your planet is old. What of that? We of Arisia dwelt -in turn upon a thousand planets, from planetary youth to cosmic old -age, before we became independent of the chance formation of such -celestial bodies.</p> - -<p>"You prate that you are an ancient race. Compared to us you are -sheerly infantile. We of Arisia did not originate upon a planet formed -during the recent interpassage of these two galaxies, but upon one -which came into being in an antiquity so distant that the figure in -years would be entirely meaningless to your minds. We were of an age -to your mentalities starkly incomprehensible when your most remote -ancestors began to wriggle about in the slime of your parent world.</p> - -<p>"'Do the men of the Patrol know—?' I perceive the question in your -minds. They do not. None save a few of the most powerful of their -minds has the slightest inkling of the truth. To reveal any portion -of it to Civilization as a whole would blight that Civilization -irreparably. Though Seekers after Truth in the best sense, they are -essentially juvenile and their life spans are ephemeral indeed. The -mere realization that there is in existence such a race as ours would -place upon them such an inferiority complex as would make further -advancement impossible. In your case such a course of events is not -to be expected. You will close your minds to all that has happened, -declaring to yourselves that it was impossible and that therefore, it -could not have taken place and did not. Nevertheless, you will stay -away from Arisia henceforth.</p> - -<p>"But to resume. You consider yourselves long-lived. Know then, -insects, that your life span of a thousand of your years is but a -moment. I, myself, have already lived eleven thousand such lifetimes, -and I am but a youth—a mere Guardian, not yet to be entrusted with -really serious thinking.</p> - -<p>"I have spoken overlong; the reason for my prolixity being that I -do not like to see the energy of a race so misused, so corrupted to -material conquest for its own sake. I would like to set your minds -upon the Way of Truth, if perchance such a thing should be possible. I -have pointed out that Way; whether or not you follow it is for you to -decide. Indeed, I fear that most of you, in your short-sighted pride, -have already cast my message aside; refusing point-blank to change -your habits of thought. It is, however, in the hope that some few of -you will perceive the Way and will follow it by abandoning your planet -and its Eich before it is too late, that I have discoursed at such -length.</p> - -<p>"Whether or not you change your habits of thought, I advise you to -heed this, my warning. Arisia does not want and will not tolerate -intrusion. As a lesson, watch these two violators of our privacy -destroy themselves."</p> - -<p>The giant voice ceased. Eichlan's tentacles moved toward the controls. -The vast torpedo launched itself.</p> - -<p>But instead of hurtling toward distant Arisia it swept around in a -mighty circle and struck in direct central impact the great cruiser of -the Eich. There was an appalling crash, a space-wracking detonation, -a flare of incandescence incredible and indescribable as the energy -calculated to disrupt—almost to volatilize—a world expended itself -upon the insignificant mass of one Boskonian battleship and upon the -unresisting texture of the void.</p> - -<hr class="chap"> - -<p class="ph1">X.</p> - - -<p>Considerably more than the stipulated week passed before Kinnison was -done with the librarian and with the long-range communicator beam, -but eventually he succeeded in enlisting the aid of the fifty-three -most eminent scientists and thinkers of all the planets of Galactic -Civilization. From all over the Galaxy were they selected; from -Vandemar and Centralia and Alsakan; from Chickladoria and Radelix; from -the solar systems of Rigel and Sirius and Antares. Millions of planets -were not represented at all; and of the few which were, Tellus alone -had more than one delegate.</p> - -<p>This was necessary, Kinnison explained carefully to each of the chosen. -Sir Austin Cardynge, the man whose phenomenal brain had developed a -new mathematics to handle the positron and the negative energy levels, -was the one who would do the work; he himself was present merely as -a co-ordinator and observer. The meeting place, even, was not upon -Tellus, but upon Medon, the newly acquired and hence entirely neutral -planet. For the Gray Lensman knew well the minds with which he would -have to deal.</p> - -<p>They were all the geniuses of the highest rank, but in all too many -cases their stupendous mentalities merged altogether too closely upon -insanity for any degree of comfort. Even before the conclave assembled -it became evident that jealousy was to be rife and rampant; and after -the initial meeting, at which the problem itself was propounded, it -required all of Kinnison's ability, authority, and drive, and all of -Worsel's vast diplomacy and tact, to keep those mighty brains at work.</p> - -<p>Time after time, some essential entity, his dignity outraged and his -touchy ego infuriated by some real or fancied insult, stalked off -in high dudgeon to return to his own planet; only to be coaxed or -bullied, or even mentally man-handled by Kinnison or Worsel, or both, -into returning to his task.</p> - -<hr class="chap"> - -<div class="figcenter"> - <img src="images/illus8.jpg" alt=""> - <div class="caption"> - <p><i>Time after time some essential scientist stalked off in -high dudgeon, with Kinnison trailing, soothing ruffled ego.</i></p> - </div> -</div> - -<hr class="chap"> - -<p>Nor were those insults all, or even mostly, imaginary. Quarreling and -bickering were incessant, violent flare-ups and passionate scenes of -denunciation and vituperation were of almost hourly occurrence. Each -of those minds had been accustomed to world-wide adulation, to the -unquestioned acceptance as gospel of his every idea or pronouncement, -and to have to submit his work to the scrutiny and to the unworshipful -criticisms of lesser minds—actually to have to give way, at times, -to those inferior mentalities—was a situation quite definitely -intolerable.</p> - -<p>But at length most of them began to work together, as they appreciated -the fact that the problem before them was one which none of them singly -had been able even partially to solve; and Kinnison let the others, the -most fanatically non-co-operative, go home. The progress began—and -none too soon. The Gray Lensman had lost twenty-five pounds of weight, -and even the iron-thewed Worsel was a wreck. He could not fly, he -declared, because his wings buckled in the middle; he could not crawl, -because his belly-plate clashed against his backbone!</p> - -<p>And finally the thing was done; reduced to a set of equations which -could be written upon a single sheet of paper. It is true that those -equations would have been meaningless to almost anyone then alive, -since they were based upon a system of mathematics which had been -brought into existence at that very meeting, but Kinnison had taken -care of that.</p> - -<p>No Medonian had been allowed in the Conference—the admittance of one -to membership would have caused a massed exodus of the high-strung, -temperamental maniacs working so furiously there—but the Tellurian -Lensman had had recorded every act, almost every thought, of every -one of those geniuses. Those records had been studied for weeks, not -only by Wise of Medon and his staff, but also by a corps of the less -brilliant, but infinitely better balanced scientists of the Patrol -proper.</p> - -<p>"Now you fellows can really get to work." Kinnison heaved a sigh of -profound relief as the last member of the Conference figuratively shook -the dust of Medon off his robe as he departed homeward. "I'm going to -sleep for a week. Call me, will you, when you get the model done?"</p> - -<hr class="tb"> - -<p>This was sheerest exaggeration, of course, for nothing could have -kept the Lensman from watching the construction of that first -apparatus. He watched the erection of a spherical shell of loosely -latticed truss-work some twenty feet in diameter. He watched the -installation, at its six cardinal points, of atomic exciters, each -capable of transforming ten thousand pounds per hour of substance into -pure energy. He knew that those exciters were driving their intake -screens at a ratio of at least twenty thousand to one; that energy -equivalent to the annihilation of at least six hundred thousand tons -per hour of material was being hurled into the center of that web from -the six small mechanisms which were in fact, super-Bergenholms. Nor -is that word adequate to describe them. They were engines at whose -power the late Dr. Bergenholm himself would have quailed; demons -whose fabrication would have been utterly impossible without Medonian -conductors and insulation.</p> - -<p>He watched the construction of a conveyor and a chute and looked -on intently while a hundred thousand tons of refuse—rocks, sand, -concrete, scrap iron, loose metal, débris of all kinds—were dropped -into that innocuous-appearing sphere, only to vanish as though they had -never existed.</p> - -<p>"But we ought to be able to see it by this time, I should think!" -Kinnison protested once.</p> - -<p>"Not yet, Kim," Master Technician LaVerne Thorndyke informed him. "Just -forming the vortex—microscopic yet. I haven't the faintest idea of -what is going on in there; but man, dear man, <i>am</i> I glad that I'm here -to help make it go on!"</p> - -<p>"But <i>when</i>?" demanded the Lensman. "How soon will you know whether -it's going to work or not? I want to do a flit."</p> - -<p>"You can flit any time—now, if you like," the technician told him, -brutally. "We don't need <i>you</i> any more—you've done your bit. It's -working now. If it wasn't, do you think we could pack all that stuff -into that little space? But we'll have it done long before you'll need -it."</p> - -<p>"But I want to see it work, you big lug!" Kinnison retorted, only half -playfully.</p> - -<p>"Come back in three-four days—maybe a week; but don't expect to see -anything but a hole."</p> - -<p>"That's exactly what I want to see, a hole in space," and that was -precisely what, a few days later, the Lensman did see.</p> - -<p>The spherical framework was unchanged, the machines were still carrying -easily their incredible working load. Material—any and all kinds of -stuff—was still disappearing; instantaneously, invisibly, quietly, -with no flash or fury to mark its passing.</p> - -<p>But at the center of that massive sphere there now hung poised a—a -<i>something</i>. Or was it a nothing? Mathematically, it was a sphere, or -rather a negasphere, about the size of a baseball; but the eye, while -it could see something, could not perceive it analytically. Nor could -the mind envision it in three dimensions, for it was not essentially -three-dimensional in nature. Light sank into the thing, whatever it -was, and vanished. The peering eye could see nothing whatever of shape -or of texture; the mind behind the eye reeled away before infinite -vistas of nothingness.</p> - -<p>Kinnison hurled his extrasensory perception into it and jerked -back, almost stunned. It was neither darkness nor blackness, he -decided, after he recovered enough poise to think coherently. It -was worse than that—worse than anything imaginable—an infinitely -vast and yet non-existent realm of the total absence of everything -whatever—<i>absolute negation</i>!</p> - -<p>"That's it, I guess," the Lensman said then. "Might as well stop -feeding it now."</p> - -<p>"We would have to stop soon, in any case," Wise replied, "for your -available waste material is becoming scarce. It will take the substance -of a fairly large planet to produce that which you require. You have, -perhaps, a planet in mind which is to be used for the purpose?"</p> - -<p>"Better than that. I have in mind the material of just such a planet, -but already broken up into sizes convenient for handling."</p> - -<p>"Oh, the asteroid belt!" Thorndyke exclaimed. "Fine! Kill two birds -with one stone, huh? Build this thing and at the same time clear out -the menaces to inert interplanetary navigation? But how about the -miners?"</p> - -<p>"All covered. The ones actually in development will be let alone. -They're not menaces, anyway, as they all have broadcasters. The tramp -miners we send—at Patrol expense and grubstake—to some other system -to do their mining. But there's one more point before we flit. Are you -sure that you can shift to the second stage without an accident?"</p> - -<p>"Positive. Build another one around it, mount new Bergs, exciters, and -screens on it, and let this one, machines and all, go in to feed the -kitty—whatever it is," the technician finished.</p> - -<p>"QX. Let's go, fellows!"</p> - -<hr class="tb"> - -<p>Two huge Tellurian freighters were at hand; and, holding the small -framework between them in a net of tractors and pressors, they set off -blithely toward Sol. They took a couple of hours for the journey—and -there was no hurry, and in the handling of this particular freight -caution was decidedly of the essence.</p> - -<p>Arrived at destination, the crews tackled with zest and zeal this new -game. Tractors lashed out, seizing chunks of iron—</p> - -<p>"Pick out the little ones, men," cautioned Kinnison. "Nothing over -about ten feet in section-dimension will go into this frame. Better -wait for the second frame before you try to handle the big ones."</p> - -<p>"We can cut 'em up," Thorndyke suggested. "What've we got these -shear-planes for?"</p> - -<p>"QX if you like. Just so you keep the kitty fed."</p> - -<p>"We'll feed her!" and the game went on.</p> - -<p>Chunks of débris—some rock, but mostly solid meteoric -nickel-iron—shot toward the vessels and the ravening sphere, becoming -inertialess as they entered a wide-flung zone. Pressors seized them -avidly, pushing them through the interstices of the framework, holding -them against the voracious screen. As they touched the screen they -disappeared; no matter how fast they were driven the screen ate them -away, silently and unspectacularly, as fast as they could be thrown -against it. A weird spectacle indeed, to see a jagged fragment of solid -iron, having a mass of thousands of tons, drive against that screen -and disappear! For it vanished, utterly, along a geometrically perfect -spherical surface. From the opposite side the eye could see the mirror -sheen of the metal at the surface of disintegration! It was as though -the material were being shoved out of our familiar three-dimensional -space into another universe—which, as a matter of cold fact, may have -been the case.</p> - -<p>For not even the men who were doing the work made any pretense of -understanding what was happening to that iron. Indeed, the only -entities who did have any comprehension of the phenomenon—the -forty-odd geniuses whose mathematical wizardry had made it -possible—thought of it and discussed it, not in the limited, -three-dimensional symbols of everyday existence, but only in the -language of high mathematics; a language in which few indeed, are able -to really and readily to think.</p> - -<p>And while the crews became more and more expert at the new technique, -so that metal came in faster and faster—huge, hot-sliced bars of iron -ten feet square and a quarter of a mile long were being driven into -that enigmatic sphere of extinction—an outer framework a hundred and -fifty miles in diameter was being built. Nor, contrary to what might -be supposed, was a prohibitive amount of metal or of labor necessary -to fabricate that mammoth structure. Instead of six there were six -cubed—two hundred and sixteen—working stations, complete with -generators and super-Bergenholms and screen generators, each mounted -upon a massive platform; but, instead of being connected together and -supported by stupendous beams and trusses of metal, those platforms -were linked by infinitely stronger bonds of pure force. It took a lot -of ships to do the job, but the technicians of the Patrol had at call -enough floating machine shops and to spare.</p> - -<p>When the sphere of negation grew to be about a foot in apparent -diameter it had been found necessary to surround it with a screen -opaque to all visible light, for to look into it long or steadily then -meant insanity. Now the opaque screen was sixteen feet in diameter, -nearing dangerously the sustaining framework, and the outer frame was -ready. It was time to change.</p> - -<p>The Lensman held his breath, but the Medonians and the Tellurian -technicians did not turn a hair as they mounted their new stations and -tested their apparatus.</p> - -<p>"Ready." "Ready." "Ready." Station after station reported: -then, as Thorndyke threw in the master switch, the primary -sphere—invisible now, through distance, to the eye, but plain upon the -visiplates—disappeared; a mere morsel to those new, gigantic forces.</p> - -<p>"Swing into it, boys!" Thorndyke yelled into his transmitter. "We don't -have to feed her with a teaspoon any more. Let her have it!"</p> - -<hr class="tb"> - -<p>And "let her have it" they did. No more cutting up of the larger -meteorites; asteroids ten, fifteen, twenty miles in diameter, along -with hosts of smaller stuff, were literally hurled through the black -screen into the even lusher blackness of that which was inside it, -without complaint from the quietly humming motors.</p> - -<p>"Satisfied, Kim?" Master Technician Thorndyke asked.</p> - -<p>"Uh-<i>huh</i>!" the Lensman assented, vigorously. "Nice! Slick, in fact," -he commended. "I'll buzz off now, I guess."</p> - -<p>"Might as well—everything's on the green. Clear ether, spacehound!"</p> - -<p>"Same to you, big fella. I'll be seeing you, or sending you a thought. -There's Tellus, right over there. Funny, isn't it, doing a flit to a -place you can actually see before you start?"</p> - -<p>The trip to Earth was scarcely a hop, even in a supply-boat. To Prime -Base the Gray Lensman went, where he found that his new non-ferrous -speedster was done; and during the next few days he tested it out -thoroughly. It did not register at all, neither upon the regular, -long-range ultra-instruments nor upon the short-range emergency -electros. Nor could it be seen in space, even in a telescope at -point-blank range. True, it occulted an occasional star; but since -even the direct rays of a searchlight failed to reveal its shape to the -keenest eye—the Lensman chemists who had worked out that ninety-nine -point nine nine percent absolute black coating had done a wonderful -job—the chance of discovery through that occurrence was very slight.</p> - -<p>"QX, Kim?" the Port Admiral asked. He was accompanying the Gray Lensman -on a last tour of inspection.</p> - -<p>"Fine, chief. Couldn't be better—thanks a lot."</p> - -<p>"Sure you're non-ferrous yourself?"</p> - -<p>"Absolutely. Not even an iron nail in my shoes."</p> - -<p>"What is it, then? You look worried. Want something expensive?"</p> - -<p>"You hit the thumb, admiral, right on the nail. The trouble is not only -that it's expensive; I'm afraid that probably we'll never have any use -for it."</p> - -<p>"Better build it, anyway. Then if you want it you'll have it, and if -you don't want it we can always use it for something. What is it?"</p> - -<p>"A nutcracker. There are a lot of cold planets around, aren't there, -that aren't good for anything?"</p> - -<p>"Thousands of them—perhaps millions."</p> - -<p>"The Medonians put Bergenholms on their planet and flew it from -Lundmark's Nebula to here in a few weeks. Why wouldn't it be a sound -idea to have the planetographers pick out a couple of useless worlds -which, at some points in their orbits, have diametrically opposite -velocities, to within a degree or two?"</p> - -<p>"You've got something there, my boy. It shall be done, and at once. A -thing like that is very much worth having, just for its own sake, if we -never have any use for it. Anything else?"</p> - -<p>"Not a thing in the universe. Clear ether, chief!"</p> - -<p>"Light landings, Kinnison!" and gracefully, effortlessly, the -dead-black sliver of semi-precious metal lifted herself away from -Earth.</p> - -<hr class="tb"> - -<p>Through Bominger, the Radeligian Big Shot, Kinnison had had a long and -eminently satisfactory interview with Prellin, the Regional Director -of all surviving Boskonian activities. Thus he knew where the latter -was, even to the address, and knew the name of the firm which was -his alias—Ethan D. Wembleson & Sons, Inc., 4627 Boulevard Dezalies, -Cominoche, Quadrant Eight, Bronseca. That name was Kim's first shock, -for that firm was one of the largest and most conservative houses -in galactic trade; one having an unquestioned AAA1 rating in every -mercantile index.</p> - -<p>However, that was the way they worked, Kinnison reflected, as his -speedster reeled off the parsecs. It wasn't far to Bronseca—easy -Lens distance—he'd better call somebody there and start making -arrangements. He had heard about the planet, although he'd never been -there. Somewhat warmer than Tellus, but otherwise very Earthlike. -Millions of Tellurians lived there and liked it.</p> - -<p>His approach to the planet Bronseca was characterized by all possible -caution, as was his visit to Cominoche, the capital city. He found -that 4627 Boulevard Dezalies was a structure covering an entire city -block and some eighty stories high, owned and occupied exclusively by -Wembleson's. No visitors were allowed except by appointment. His first -stroll past it showed him that an immense cylinder, comprising almost -the whole interior of the building, was shielded by thought-screens. He -rode up and down in the elevators of nearby buildings—no penetration. -He visited a dozen offices in the neighborhood upon various errands, -choosing his time with care so that he would have to wait in each an -hour or so in order to see his man.</p> - -<p>These leisurely scrutinies of his objective failed to reveal a single -fact of value. Ethan D. Wembleson & Sons, Inc., did a tremendous -business, but every ounce of it was legitimate! That is, the files in -the outer offices covered only legitimate transactions, and the men -and women busily at work there were all legitimately employed. And the -inner offices—vastly more extensive than the outer, to judge by the -number of employees entering in the morning and leaving at the close of -business—were sealed against his prying, every second of every day.</p> - -<p>He tapped in turn the minds of dozens of those clerks, but drew only -blanks. As far as they were concerned, there was nothing "queer" going -on anywhere in the organization. The "Old Man"—Howard Wembleson, a -grandnephew or something of Ethan—had developed a complex lately that -his life was in danger. Scarcely left the building—not that he had any -need to, as he had always had palatial quarters there—and then only -under heavy guard.</p> - -<p>A good many thought-screened persons came and went, but a careful study -of them and their movements convinced the Gray Lensman that he was -wasting his time.</p> - -<p>"No soap," he reported to a Lensman at Bronseca's Base. "Might as well -try to stick a pin quietly into a cateagle. He's been told that he's -the next link in the chain, and he's got the jitters right. I'll bet -he's got a dozen loose observers, instead of only one. I'll save time, -I think, by tracing another line. I have thought before that my best -bet is in the asteroid dens instead of on the planets. I let them talk -me out of it—it's a dirty job and I've got to establish an identity of -my own, which will be even dirtier—but it looks as though I'll have to -go back to it."</p> - -<p>"But the others are warned, too," suggested the Bronsecan. "They'll -probably be just as bad. Let's blast it open and take a chance on -finding the data you want."</p> - -<p>"No," Kinnison said, emphatically. "Not a chance in the universe that -there's anything there that would do me a bit of good on the big hunt. -The others are probably warned, yes, but since they aren't on my direct -line to the throne, they probably aren't taking it as seriously as this -Prellin—or Wembleson—is. Or if they are, they won't keep it up as -long. They can't, and get any joy out of life at all.</p> - -<p>"And you can't say a word to Prellin about his screens, either," the -Tellurian went on in reply to a thought. "They're legal enough; just as -much so as spy-ray blocks. Every man has a right to privacy. Just one -question here, or just one suspicious move, is apt to blow everything -into a cocked hat. You fellows keep on working along the lines we laid -out and I'll try another line. If it works, I'll come back and we'll -open this can the way you want to. That way, we may be able to get the -low-down on about four hundred planetary organizations at one haul."</p> - -<hr class="tb"> - -<p>Thus it came about that Kinnison took his scarcely-used indetectable -speedster back to Prime Base; and that, in a solar system prodigiously -far removed from both Tellus and Bronseca, there appeared another tramp -meteor-miner.</p> - -<p>Peculiar people, these toilers in the interplanetary voids; flotsam and -jetsam; for the most part the very scum of space. Some solar systems -contain vastly greater amounts of asteroidal and meteoric débris than -did ours of Sol; others somewhat less; but all have at least some. -In the main this material is either nickel-iron or rock, but some of -these fragments carry prodigious values in platinum, osmium, and other -noble metals, and occasionally there are discovered diamonds and other -gems of tremendous size and value. Hence, in the asteroid belts of -every solar system there are to be found those universally despised, -but nevertheless bold and hardy souls who, risking life and limb from -moment to moment though they are, yet live in hope that the next lump -of cosmic detritus will prove to be a bonanza.</p> - -<p>Some of these men are the sheer misfits of life. Some are petty -criminals, fugitives from the justice of their own planets, but not of -sufficient importance to be upon the "wanted" lists of the Patrol. Some -are of those who for some reason or other—addiction to drugs, perhaps, -or the overwhelming urge occasionally to go on a spree—are unable or -unwilling to hold down the steady jobs of their more orthodox brethren. -Still others, and these are many, live that horridly adventurous life -because it is in their blood; like the lumberjacks who in ancient times -dwelt upon Tellus, they labor tremendously and unremittingly for weeks, -only and deliberately to "blow in" the fruits of their toil in a few -wild days and still wilder nights of hectic, sanguine, and lustful -debauchery in one or another of the spacemen's hells of which every -inhabited solar system has its quota.</p> - -<p>But, whatever their class, they have much in common. They all live for -the moment only, from hand to mouth. They all are intrepid spacemen. -They have to be—all others die during their first venture. They all -live dangerously, violently. They are men of red and gusty passions, -and they have, if not an actual contempt, at least a loud-voiced -scorn of the law in its every phase and manifestation. "Law ends with -atmosphere" is the galaxy-wide creed of the clan, and it is a fact that -no law save that of the ray-gun is even yet really enforced in the -badlands of the asteroid belts.</p> - -<p>Indeed, the meteor miners as a matter of course, take their innate -lawlessness with them into their revels in the crimson-lit resorts -already referred to. In general the nearby Planetary Police adopt -a laissez faire attitude, particularly since the asteroids are not -within their jurisdictions, but independent worlds, each with its own -world-government. If they kill a dozen or so of each other and of the -bloodsuckers who batten upon them, what of it? If everybody in those -hells could be killed at once, the Universe would be that much better -off!—and if the Galactic Patrol is compelled, by some unusually -outrageous performance, to intervene in the revelry, it comes in, -not as single policemen, but in platoons or in companies of armed, -full-armored infantry going to war!</p> - -<p>Such, then, were those among whom Kinnison chose to cast his lot, in a -new effort to get in touch with the Galactic Director of the drug ring.</p> - -<hr class="chap"> - -<p class="ph1">XI.</p> - - -<p>Although Kinnison left Bronseca, abandoning that line of attack -completely—thereby, it might be thought, forfeiting all the work -he had theretofore done upon it—the Patrol was not idle, nor was -Prellin-Wembleson of Cominoche, the Boskonian Regional Director, -neglected. Lensman after Lensman came and went, unobtrusively, but -grimly determined. There came Tellurians, Manarkans, Borovans; Lensmen -of every human breed, any of whom might have been, as far as the -minions of Boskone knew, the one foe whom they had such good cause to -fear.</p> - -<p>Rigellian Lensmen came also, and Poenians, and Ordoviks; -representatives, in fact, of almost every available race possessing any -type or kind of extrasensory perception, came to test out their skill -and cunning. Even Worsel of Velantia came, hurled for days his mighty -mind against those screens, and departed.</p> - -<p>Whether or not business went on as usual no one could say, but the -Patrol was certain of three things. First, that while the Boskonians -might be destroying some of their records, they were moving none away, -by air, land, or tunnel; second, that there was no doubt in any zwilnik -mind that the Lensmen were there to stay until they won, in one way or -another; and third, that Prellin's life was not a happy one!</p> - -<p>And while his brothers of the Lens were so efficiently pinch-hitting -for him—even though they were at the same time trying to show him -up and thereby win kudos for themselves—in mentally investing the -Regional stronghold of Boskone, Kinnison was establishing an identity -as a wandering hellion of the asteroid belts.</p> - -<p>There would be no slips this time. He would <i>be</i> a meteor miner -in every particular, down to the last, least detail. To this end -he selected his equipment with the most exacting care. It must be -thoroughly adequate and dependable, but neither new nor of such -outstanding quality or amount as to cause comment.</p> - -<p>His ship, a stubby, powerful space-tug with an oversized air -lock, was a used job—hard-used, too—some ten years old. She was -battered, pitted, and scarred; but it should be noted here, perhaps -parenthetically, that when the technicians finished their rebuilding -she was actually as stanch as a battleship. His space-armor, Spalding -drills, DeLameters, tractors and pressors, and "spee-gee"—torsion -specific-gravity apparatus—were of the same grade. All bore -unmistakable evidence of years of hard use, but all were in perfect -working condition. In short, his outfit was exactly that which -a successful meteor miner—even such a one as he was going to -become—would be expected to own.</p> - -<p>He cut his own hair, and his whiskers, too, with ordinary shears, as -was good technique. He learned the polyglot of the trade; the language -which, made up of words from each of hundreds of planetary tongues, -was and is the everyday speech of human or near-human meteor miners, -wherever found. By "near-human" is meant a six-place classification -of A A point A A A A—meaning erect, bifurcate, warm-blooded, -oxygen-breathing, bilaterally duo-symmetrical, and possessing eyes. -For, even in meteor-mining, like has a tendency to run with, and -especially to play with, like. Thus, warm-blooded oxygen-breathers -find neither welcome nor enjoyment in a pleasure-resort operated by -and for such a race, say, as the Trocanthers, who are cold-blooded, -quasi-reptilian beings who abhor light of all kinds and who breath a -gaseous mixture not only paralyzingly cold in temperature but also -chemically fatal to man.</p> - -<p>Above all, he had to learn how to drink strong liquors and how to take -drugs, for he knew that no drink that had ever been distilled, and -no drug, with the possible exception of thionite, could enslave the -mind he then had. Thionite was out, anyway. It was too scarce and too -expensive for meteor miners; they simply didn't go for it. Hadive, -heroin, opium, nitrolabe, bentlam—that was it, bentlam. He could get -it anywhere, all over the Galaxy, and it was very much in character. -Easy to take, potent in results, and not as damaging—if you didn't -become a real addict—to the system as most of the others. He would -become a bentlam-eater.</p> - -<hr class="tb"> - -<p>Bentlam, known also to the trade by such nicknames as "benny," -"benweed," "happy-sleep," and others, is a shredded, moistly fibrous -material of about the same consistency and texture as fine-cut chewing -tobacco. Through his friends in Narcotics the Gray Lensman obtained a -supply of "the clear quill, first chop, in the original tins" from a -prominent bootlegger, and had it assayed for potency.</p> - -<p>The drinking problem required no thought; he would learn to drink, and -apparently to like, anything and everything that would pour. Meteor -miners did.</p> - -<p>Therefore, coldly, deliberately, dispassionately, and with as complete -a detachment as though he were calibrating a burette or analyzing an -unknown solution, he set about the task. He determined his capacity -as impersonally as though his physical body were a volumetric flask; -he noted the effect of each measured increment of high-proof beverage -and of habit-forming drug as precisely as though he were studying a -chemical reaction in which he himself was not concerned save as a -purely scientific observer.</p> - -<p>He detested the stuff. Every fiber of his being rebelled at the -sensations evoked—the loss of co-ordination and control, the -inflation, the aggrandizement, the falsity of values, the sheer -hallucinations—nevertheless he went through with the whole program, -even to the extent of complete physical helplessness for periods of -widely varying duration. And when he had completed his researches he -was thoroughly well informed.</p> - -<p>He knew to a nicety, by feel, how much active principle he had -taken, no matter how strong, how weak, or how adulterated the liquor -or the drug had been. He knew to a fraction how much more he could -take; or, having taken too much, almost exactly how long he would be -incapacitated. He learned for himself what was already widely known, -that it was better to get at least moderately illuminated before taking -the drug; that bentlam rides better on top of liquor than vice versa. -He even determined roughly the rate of increase with practice of his -tolerances. Then, and only then, did he begin working as a meteorite -miner.</p> - -<p>Working in an asteroid belt of one solar system might have been enough, -but the Gray Lensman took no chances at all of having his new identity -traced back to its source. Therefore he worked, and caroused, in five; -approaching step-wise to the solar system of Borova which was his goal.</p> - -<p>Arrived at last, he gave his chunky space-boat the average velocity of -an asteroid belt just outside the orbit of the fourth planet, shoved -her down into it, turned on his Bergenholm, and went to work. His first -job was to "set up"; to install in the extra-large air lock, already -equipped with duplicate controls, his tools and equipment. He donned -space-armor, made sure that his DeLameters were sitting pretty—all -meteor miners go armed as routine, and the Lensman had altogether too -much at stake in any case to forgo his accustomed weapons—pumped the -air of the lock back into the body of the ship, and opened the outer -port. For meteor miners do not work inside their ships. It takes too -much time to bring the metal in through the air locks. It also wastes -air, and air is precious; not only in money, although that is no minor -item, but also because no small ship, stocked for a six-weeks' run, can -carry any more air than is really needed.</p> - -<p>Set up, he studied his electros and flicked his tractor beams out -to a passing fragment of metal, which flashed up to him, almost -instantaneously. Or, rather, the inertialess tugboat flashed across -space to the comparatively tiny, but inert, bit of metal which he was -about to investigate. With expert ease Kinnison clamped the meteorite -down and rammed into it his Spalding drill, the tool which in one -operation cuts out and polishes a cylindrical sample exactly one inch -in diameter and exactly one inch long. Kinnison took the sample, -placed it in the jaw of his spee-gee, and cut his Berg. Going inert -in an asteroid belt is dangerous business, but it is only one of a -meteor miner's hazards and it is necessary; for the torsiometer is -the quickest and simplest means of determining the specific gravity -of metal out in space, and no torsion instrument will work upon -inertialess matter.</p> - -<p>He read the scale even as he turned on the Berg. Seven point nine. -Iron. Worthless. Big operators could use it—the asteroid belts had -long since supplanted the mines of the worlds as sources of iron—but -it wouldn't do him a bit of good. Therefore, tossing it aside, he -speared another. Another, and another. Hour after hour, day after -day; the back-breaking, lonely labor of the meteor miner. But very -few of the bona-fide miners had the Gray Lensman's physique or his -stamina, and not one of them all had even a noteworthy fraction of his -brain. And brain counts, even in meteor-mining. Hence Kinnison found -pay-metal; quite a few really good, although not phenomenally dense, -pieces.</p> - -<hr class="tb"> - -<p>Then one day there happened a thing which, if it was not in actual -fact premeditated, was as mathematically improbable, almost, as the -formation of a planetary solar system; an occurrence that was to -exemplify in startling and hideous fashion the doctrine of tooth and -fang which is the only law of the asteroid belts. Two tractor beams -seized, at almost the same instant, the same meteor! Two ships, -flashing up to zone contact in the twinkling of an eye, the inoffensive -meteor squarely between them! And in the air lock of the other tug -there were two men, not one; two men already going for their guns with -the practiced ease of space-hardened veterans to whom the killing of a -man was the veriest bagatelle!</p> - -<hr class="chap"> - -<div class="figcenter"> - <img src="images/illus9.jpg" alt=""> - <div class="caption"> - <p><i>In the air lock of the other meteor miner, two men—not -one—were going for their DeLameters</i>—</p> - </div> -</div> - -<hr class="chap"> - -<p>They must have been hijackers, killing and robbing as a business, -Kinnison concluded, afterward. Bona-fide miners almost never work two -to a boat, and the fact that they actually beat him to the draw, and -yet were so slow in shooting, argued that they had not been taken by -surprise, as had he. Indeed, the meteor itself, the bone of contention, -might very well have been a bait.</p> - -<p>He could not follow his natural inclination to let go, to let them -have it. The tale would have spread far and wide, branding him as a -coward and a weakling. He would have had to kill, or been killed by, -any number of lesser bullies who would have attacked him on sight. Nor -could he have taken over their minds quickly enough to have averted -death. One, perhaps, but not two; he was no Arisian. These thoughts, -as has been intimated, occurred to him long afterward. During the -actual event there was no time to think at all. Instead, he acted; -automatically and instantaneously.</p> - -<p>Kinnison's hands flashed to the worn grips of his DeLameters, sliding -them from the leather and bringing them to bear at the hip with one -smoothly flowing motion that was a marvel of grace and speed. But, fast -as he was, he was almost too late. Four bolts of lightning blasted, -almost as one. The two desperadoes dropped, cold; the Lensman felt a -stab of agony sear through his shoulder and the breath whistled out of -his mouth and nose as his spacesuit collapsed. Gasping terribly for air -that was no longer there, holding onto his senses doggedly and grimly, -he made shift to close the outer door of the lock and to turn a valve. -He did not lose consciousness—quite—and as soon as he recovered -the use of his muscles he stripped off his suit and examined himself -narrowly in a mirror.</p> - -<p>Eyes, plenty bloodshot. Nose, bleeding copiously. Ears bleeding, but -not too badly; drums not ruptured, fortunately—he had been able to -keep the pressure fairly well equalized. Felt like some internal -bleeding, but he could see nothing really serious. He hadn't breathed -space long enough to do any permanent damage, he guessed.</p> - -<p>Then, baring his shoulder, he treated the wound with Zinmaster -burn-dressing. This was no trifle, but at that, it wasn't so bad. No -bone gone—it'd heal in two or three weeks. Lastly, he looked over his -suit. If he'd only had his G-P armor on—but that, of course, was out -of the question. He had a spare suit, but he'd rather—Fine, he could -replace the burned section easily enough. QX.</p> - -<p>He donned his other suit, re-entered the air lock, neutralized the -screens, and crossed over; where he did exactly what any other meteor -miner would have done. He divested the bloated corpses of their -spacesuits and shoved them off into space. He then ransacked the ship, -transferring from it to his own, as well as four heavy meteors, every -other item of value which he could move and which his vessel could -hold. Then inerting her, he gave her a couple of notches of drive -and cut her loose, for so a real miner would have done. It was not -compunction or scruple that would have prevented any miner from taking -the ship, as well as the supplies. Ships were registered, and otherwise -were too hot to be handled except by organized criminal rings.</p> - -<p>As a matter of routine he tested the meteor which had been the -innocent cause of all this strife—or had it been a bait?—and found -it worthless iron. Also as routine he kept on working. He had almost -enough metal now, even at Miners' Rest prices, for a royal binge, but -he couldn't go in until his shoulder was well. And a couple of weeks -later he got the shock of his life.</p> - -<hr class="tb"> - -<p>He had brought in a meteor; a mighty big one, over four feet in its -smallest diameter. He sampled it, and as soon as he cut the Berg and -flicked the sample experimentally from hand to hand, his skilled -muscles told him that that metal was astoundingly dense. Heart racing, -he locked the test-piece into the spee-gee; and that vital organ -almost stopped beating entirely as the indicator needle went up and -up and up—stopping at a full twenty-two, and the scale went only to -twenty-four!</p> - -<p>"Klono's brazen hoofs and diamond-tipped horns!" he ejaculated. -He whistled stridently through his teeth, then measured his find -as accurately as he could. Then, speaking aloud, "Just about -thirty thousand kilograms of something noticeably denser than pure -platinum—thirty million credits or I'm a Zabriskan fontema's maiden -aunt. What to do?"</p> - -<p>This find, as well it might, gave the Gray Lensman pause. It upset his -calculations. It was unthinkable to take that meteor to such a fence's -hide-out as Miners' Rest. Men had been murdered, and would be again, -for a thousandth of its value. No matter where he took it, there would -be publicity galore, and that wouldn't do. If he called a Patrol ship -to take the white elephant off his hands he might be seen; and he had -put in too much work on this identity to jeopardize it. He would have -to bury it, he guessed—he had maps of the System, and the fourth -planet was close by.</p> - -<p>He cut off a chunk of a few pounds' weight and made a nugget—a tiny -meteor—of it, then headed for the planet, a plainly visible disk some -fifteen degrees from the Sun. He had a fairly large-scale chart of the -System, with notes. Borova IV was uninhabited, except by low forms -of life, and by outposts. Cold. Atmosphere thin—good, that meant no -clouds. No oceans. No volcanic activity. Very good! He'd look it over, -and the first striking landmark he saw, from one diameter out, would be -his cache.</p> - -<p>He circled the planet once at the equator, observing a formation of -five mighty peaks arranged in a semicircle, cupped toward the world's -north pole. He circled it again, seeing nothing as prominent, and -nothing else resembling it at all closely. Scanning his plate narrowly, -to be sure nothing was following him, he drove downward in a screaming -dive toward the middle mountain.</p> - -<p>It was an extinct volcano, he discovered, with a level-floored crater -more than a hundred miles in diameter. Practically level, that is, -except for a smaller cone which reared up in the center of that vast, -desolate plain of craggy, tortured lava. Straight down into the cold -vent of the inner cone the Lensman steered his ship; and in its exact -center he dug a hole and buried his treasure. He then lifted his -tugboat fifty feet and held her there, poised on her raving underjets, -until the lava in the little crater again began sluggishly to flow, and -thus to destroy all evidence of his visit. This detail attended to, he -shot out into space and called Haynes, to whom he reported in full.</p> - -<p>"I'll bring the meteor in when I come—or do you want to send somebody -out here after it? It belongs to the Patrol, of course."</p> - -<p>"No, it doesn't, Kim—it belongs to you."</p> - -<p>"Huh? Isn't there a law that any discoveries made by any employees of -the Patrol belong to the Patrol?"</p> - -<p>"Nothing as broad as that, that I know of. Certain scientific -discoveries, by scientists assigned to an exact research, yes. But -you're forgetting again that you're an Unattached Lensman, and as -such are accountable to no one in the Universe. Even the ten percent -treasure-trove law couldn't touch you. Besides, your meteor is not in -that category, as you are its first owner, as far as we know. If you -insist I will mention it to the Council, but I know in advance that the -Patrol can claim none of it, even if we wanted to—which we definitely -do not."</p> - -<p>"QX, chief—thanks," and the connection was broken.</p> - -<p>There, that was that. He had got rid of the white elephant, yet it -wouldn't be wasted. If the zwilniks got him, the Patrol would dig it -up; if he lived long enough to retire to a desk job he wouldn't have to -take any more of the Patrol's money as long as he lived. Financially, -he was all set.</p> - -<p>And physically, he was all set for his first real binge as a -meteor miner. His shoulder and arm were as good as new. He had a lot -of metal; enough so that its proceeds would finance, not only his -next venture into space, but also a really royal celebration in any -spaceman's resort, even the one he had already picked out.</p> - -<p>For the Lensman had devoted a great deal of thought to that item. For -his purpose, the bigger the resort the better. The man he was after -would not be a small operator, nor would he deal directly with such. -Also, the big kingpins did not murder drugged miners for their ships -and outfits, as the smaller ones sometimes did. The big ones realized -that there was more long-pull profit in repeat business.</p> - -<p>Therefore, Kinnison set his course toward the great asteroid Euphrosyne -and its festering hell-hole, Miners' Rest. Miners' Rest, to all highly -moral citizens the disgrace not only of a solar system but of a sector; -the very name of which was—and is—a byword and a hissing to the -blue-noses of twice a hundred inhabited and civilized worlds.</p> - -<hr class="chap"> - -<div class="figcenter"> - <img src="images/illusc3.jpg" alt=""> -</div> - -<hr class="chap"> - -<p class="ph1">XII.</p> - - -<p>As has been implied, Miners' Rest was the biggest, widest-open, least -restrained joint in that entire sector of the Galaxy. And through the -underground activities of his fellows of the Patrol, Kinnison knew -that of all the king-snipes of that lawless asteroid, the man called -Strongheart was the big shot.</p> - -<hr class="chap"> - -<div class="figcenter"> - <img src="images/illus10.jpg" alt=""> -</div> - -<hr class="chap"> - -<p>Therefore, the Lensman landed his battered craft at Strongheart's dock, -loaded the equipment of the hijacker's boat into a hand truck, and went -in to talk to Strongheart himself. "Supplies—Equipment—Metal—Bought -and Sold" the sign read; but to any experienced eye it was evident that -the sign was conservative indeed; that it did not cover Strongheart's -business, by half. There were dance halls, there were long and ornate -bars, there were rooms in plenty devoted to various games of so-called -chance, and most significant, there were scores of the unmistakable -cubicles in which the basest passions and lusts of man were satisfied.</p> - -<p>"Welcome, stranger! Glad to see you. Have a good trip?" The divekeeper -always greeted new customers effusively. "Have a drink on the house!"</p> - -<p>"Business before pleasure," Kinnison replied, tersely. "Pretty good, -yes. Here's some stuff I don't need any more that I aim to sell. -What'll you gimme for it?"</p> - -<p>The dealer inspected the suits and instruments, then bored a keen stare -into the miner's eyes; a scrutiny under which Kinnison neither flushed -nor wavered.</p> - -<p>"Two hundred and fifty credits for the lot," Strongheart decided.</p> - -<p>"Best you can do?"</p> - -<p>"Tops. Take it or leave it."</p> - -<p>"QX, they're yours. Gimme it."</p> - -<p>"Why, this just starts our business, don't it? Ain't you got cores? -Sure you have."</p> - -<p>"Yeah, but not for no"—doubly and unprintably qualified—"damn robber. -I like a louse, but you suit me altogether too damn well. Them suits -alone, just as they lay, are worth a thousand."</p> - -<p>"So what? For why go to insult me, a business man? Sure I can't give -what that stuff is worth—who could? You ought to know how I got to get -rid of hot goods. You killed, ain't it, the guys what owned it, so how -could I treat it except like it's hot? Now be your age—don't burn out -no jets," as the Lensman turned with a blistering, sizzling deep-space -oath. "I know they shot first, they always do, but how does that change -things? But keep your shirt on yet. I don't tell nobody nothing. For -why should I? How could I make any money on hot goods if I talk too -much with my mouth, huh? But on cores, that's something else again. -Meteors is legitimate merchandise, and I pay you as much as anybody, -maybe more."</p> - -<p>"QX," and Kinnison tossed over his cores. He had sold the bandits' -spacesuits and equipment deliberately, in order to minimize further -killing.</p> - -<p>This was his first visit to Miners' Rest, but he intended to become an -habitue of the place; and before he would be accepted as a "regular" -he knew that he would have to prove his quality. Buckoes and bullies -would be sure to try him out. This way was much better. The tale would -spread; and any gunman who had drilled two hijackers, dead-center -through the face-plates, was not one to be challenged lightly. He might -have to kill one or two, but not many, nor frequently.</p> - -<p>And the fellow was honest enough in his buying of the metal. His -Spaldings cut honest cores—Kinnison put micrometers on them to -be sure of that fact. He did not under-read his torsiometer, and -he weighed the meteors upon certified balances. He used Galactic -Standard average-value-density tables, and offered exactly half of the -calculated average value; which, Kinnison knew, was fair enough. By -taking his metal to a mint or rare-metals station of the Patrol, any -miner could get the precise value of any meteor, as shown by detailed -analysis. However, instead of making the long trip and waiting—and -paying—for the exact analyses, the miners usually preferred to take -the "fifty-percent-of-average-density-value" which was the customary -offer of the outside dealers.</p> - -<hr class="tb"> - -<p>Then, the meteors unloaded and hauled away. Kinnison dickered with -Strongheart concerning the supplies he would need during his next trip; -the hundred-and-one items which are necessary to make a tiny spaceship -a self-contained, self-sufficient, warm and inhabitable worldlet in the -immense and unfriendly vacuity of space. Here, too, the Lensman was -overcharged shamelessly; but that, too, was routine. No one would, or -could be expected to, do business in any such place as Miners' Rest in -any sane or ordinary percentage of profit.</p> - -<p>When Strongheart counted out to him the net proceeds of the voyage, -Kinnison scratched reflectively at his whiskery chin.</p> - -<p>"That ain't hardly enough, I don't think, for the real, old-fashioned, -stem-winding bender I was figuring on," he ruminated. "I been out a -long time and I was figuring on doing the thing up brown. Have to let -go of my nugget, too, I guess. Kinda hate to—been packing it around -quite a while—but here she is." He reached into his kit-bag and tossed -over the lump of really precious metal. "Let you have it for fifteen -hundred credits."</p> - -<p>"Fifteen hundred! An idiot you must be, or you should think I'm one, I -don't know?" Strongheart yelped, as he juggled the mass lightly from -hand to hand. "Two hundred, you mean ... well two fifty, then, but -that's an awful high bid, mister, believe me. I tell you, I couldn't -give my own mother over three hundred—I'd lose money on the goods. -You ain't tested it, what makes you think it's such a much?"</p> - -<p>"No, and I notice you ain't testing it, neither," Kinnison countered. -"Me and you both know metal well enough so we don't need to test no -such nugget as that. Fifteen hundred or I flit to a mint and get full -value for it. I don't have to stay here, you know, by all the nine -hells of Valeria. There's millions of other places where I can get just -as drunk and have just as good a time as I can here."</p> - -<p>There ensued howls of protest, but Strongheart finally yielded, as the -Lensman had known that he would. He could have forced him higher, but -fifteen hundred was enough.</p> - -<p>"Now, sir, just the guarantee and you're all set for a lot of fun." -Strongheart's anguish had departed miraculously upon the instant of -the deal's closing. "We take your keys, and when your money's gone -and you come back to get 'em, to sell your supplies or your ship or -whatever, we takes you, without hurting you a bit more than we have -to, and sober you up, quick as scat. A room here, whenever you want -it, included. Padded, sir, very nice and comfortable—you can't hurt -yourself, possibly. We been in business here for years, with perfect -satisfaction. Not one of our customers—and we got hundreds who never -go nowhere else—have we ever let sell any of the stuff he had laid in -for his next trip, and we never steal none of his supplies, neither. -Only two hundred credits for the whole service, sir. Cheap, sir—very, -<i>very</i> cheap at the price."</p> - -<p>"Um-m-m"—Kinnison again scratched meditatively, this time at the nape -of his neck—"I'll take your guarantee, I guess, because sometimes, -when I get to going real good, I don't know just exactly when to -stop. But I won't need no padded cell. Me, I don't never get violent. -I always taper off on twenty-four units of bentlam. That gives me -twenty-four hours on the shelf, and then I'm all set for another -stretch out in the ether. You couldn't get me no benny, I don't -suppose, and if you could it wouldn't be no damn good."</p> - -<p>This was the critical instant, the moment the Lensman had been -approaching so long and so circuitously. Mind was already reading mind, -Kinnison did not need the speech which followed.</p> - -<p>"Twenty-four units!" Strongheart exclaimed. That was a heroic dose—but -the man before him was of heroic mold. "Sure of that?"</p> - -<p>"Sure I'm sure; and if I get cut weight or cut quality I cut the guy's -throat that peddles it to me. But I ain't out. I got a few good jolts -left. Guess I'll use my own, and when it gets gone go buy some from a -fella I know that's about half honest."</p> - -<p>"Don't handle it myself," this, the Lensman knew, was at least -partially true, "but I know a man who has a friend who can get it. -Good stuff, too, in the original tins; special import from Corvina II. -That'll be four hundred altogether. Gimme it and you can start your -helling around."</p> - -<p>"Whatja mean, four hundred?" Kinnison snorted. "Think I'm just blasting -off about having some left, huh? Here's two hundred for your guarantee, -and that's all I want out of you."</p> - -<p>"Wait a minute. Jet back, miner!" Strongheart had thought that the -newcomer was entirely out of his drug, and could therefore be charged -eight prices for it. "How much do you get it for, mostly, the clear -quill?"</p> - -<p>"One credit per unit—twenty-four for the jolt," Kinnison replied -tersely and truly. That was the prevailing price charged by retail -peddlers. "I'll pay you that, and I don't mean twenty-five, neither."</p> - -<p>"QX, gimme it. You don't need to be afraid of being bumped off or -rolled here, neither. We got a reputation, we have."</p> - -<p>"Yeah, I been told you run a high-class joint," Kinnison agreed, -amiably. "That's why I'm here. But you wanna be mighty sure that the -ape don't gyp me on the dose—looky here!"</p> - -<hr class="tb"> - -<p>As the Lensman spoke he shrugged his shoulders and the divekeeper -leaped backward with a shriek; for faster than sight two ugly -DeLameters had sprung into being in the miner's huge, dirty paws and -were pointing squarely at his midriff!</p> - -<p>"Put 'em away!" Strongheart yelled.</p> - -<p>"Look 'em over first," and Kinnison handed them over, butts first. -"These ain't like them buzzards' cap-pistols what I sold you. These are -my own, and they're hot and tight. You know guns, don't you? Look 'em -over, pal—real close."</p> - -<p>The renegade did know weapons, and he studied these two with care, -from the worn, rough-checkered grips and full-charged magazines to the -burned, scarred, deeply-pitted orifices. Definitely and unmistakably -they were weapons of terrific power; weapons, withal, which had seen -hard and frequent service; and Strongheart personally could bear -witness to the blinding speed of this miner's draw.</p> - -<p>"And remember this," the Lensman went on. "I never yet got so drunk -that anybody could take my guns away from me, and if I don't get a full -jolt of benny I get mighty peevish."</p> - -<p>The publican knew that—it was a characteristic of the drug—and he -certainly did not want that miner running amuck with those two weapons -in his highly capable hands. He would, he assured him, get his full -dose.</p> - -<p>And, for his part, Kinnison knew that he was reasonably safe, even in -this hell of hells. As long as he was active he could take care of -himself, in any kind of company, and he was fairly certain that he -would not be slain, during his drug-induced physical helplessness, -for the value of his ship and supplies. This one visit had yielded -Strongheart a profit of four or five times what he had left, and each -subsequent visit should yield a similar amount.</p> - -<p>"The first drink's on the house, always," Strongheart derailed his -guest's train of thought. "What'll it be? Tellurian ain't you—whiskey?"</p> - -<p>"Uh-huh. Close, though—Aldebaran II. Got any good old Aldebaranian -bolega?"</p> - -<p>"No, but we got some good old Tellurian whiskey, about the same thing."</p> - -<p>"QX—gimme a shot." He poured a stiff three fingers, downed it at a -gulp, shuddered ecstatically, and emitted a wild yell. "Yip-yip-yipee! -I'm Wild Bill Williams, the ripping, roaring, ritoo-dolorum from -Aldebaran II, and this is my night to howl. Whee ... yow ... -owrie-e-e!" Then, quieting down, "This rotgut wasn't never within a -million parsecs of Tellus, but it ain't bad—not bad at all. Got the -teeth and claws of holy old Klono himself—goes down your throat just -like swallowing a mad Radeligian cateagle. Clear ether, pal, I'll be -back shortly."</p> - -<p>For his first care was to tour the entire Rest, buying scrupulously one -good stiff drink, of whatever first came to hand, at each hot spot as -he came to it.</p> - -<p>"A good-will tour," he explained joyously to Strongheart upon his -return. "Got to do it, pal, to keep 'em from calling down the curse of -Klono on me, but I'm going to do all my serious drinking right here."</p> - -<p>And he did. He drank various and sundry beverages, mixing them with a -sublime disregard for consequences which surprised even the hard-boiled -booze fighters assembled there. "Anything that'll pour," he declared, -loud and often, and acted accordingly. Potent or mild; brewed, -fermented, or distilled; loaded, cut, or straight, all one. "Down the -hatch!" and down it went. Here was a two-fisted drinker whose like had -not been seen for many a day, and his fame spread throughout the Rest.</p> - -<hr class="chap"> - -<div class="figcenter"> - <img src="images/illus11.jpg" alt=""> - <div class="caption"> - <p><i>Miners' Rest was a meeting place for a dozen races of -meteor miners—and Kim, with free-flowing liquor, made friends with -them all!</i></p> - </div> -</div> - -<hr class="chap"> - -<p>Being a "happy jag," the more he drank the merrier he became. He -bestowed largess hither and yon, in joyous abandon. He danced blithely -with the hostesses and tipped them extravagantly. He did not gamble, -explaining frequently and painstakingly that that wasn't none of his -dish; he wanted to have fun with his money.</p> - -<p>He fought, even, without anger or rancor; but gayly, laughing with -Homeric gusto the while. He missed with terrific swings that would -have felled a horse had they landed; only occasionally getting in, as -though by chance, a paralyzing punch. Thus he accumulated an entirely -unnecessary mouse under each eye and a sadly bruised nose.</p> - -<p>However, his good humor was, as is generally the case in such -instances, quite close to the surface, and was prone to turn into -passionate anger with less real cause even than the trivialities which -started the friendly fist-fights. During various of these outbursts of -wrath he smashed four chairs, two tables, and assorted glassware.</p> - -<p>But only once did he have to draw a deadly weapon—the news, as he -had known it would, had spread abroad that with a DeLameter he was -nobody to monkey with—and even then he didn't have to kill the guy. -Just winging him—a little bit of a burn through his gun-arm—had been -enough.</p> - -<hr class="tb"> - -<p>So it went for days. And finally, it was an immense relief that the -hilariously drunken Lensman, his money gone to the last millo, went -roistering up the street with a two-quart bottle in each hand; swigging -now from one, then from the other; inviting bibulously the while -any and all chance comers to join him in one last, fond drink. The -sidewalk was not wide enough for him, by half; indeed, he took up most -of the street. He staggered and reeled, retaining any semblance of -balance only by a miracle and by his rigorous spaceman's training.</p> - -<p>He threw away one empty bottle, then the other. Then, as he strode -along, so purposefully and yet so futilely, he sang. His voice was -not particularly musical, but what it lacked in quality of tone it -more than made up in volume. Kinnison had a really remarkable voice, -a bass of tremendous power, timbre, and resonance; and, pulling out -all the stops, in tones audible for two thousand yards against the -wind, he poured out his zestfully lusty reveler's soul. His song was -a deep-space chanty that would have blistered the ears of any of the -gentler spirits who had known him as Kimball Kinnison, of Earth; but -which, in Miners' Rest, was merely a humorous and sprightly ballad.</p> - -<p>Up the full length of the street he went. Then back, as he put it, to -"Base." Even if this final bust did make him sicker at the stomach than -a ground-gripper going free for the first time, the Lensman reflected, -he had done a mighty good job. He had put Wild Bill Williams, meteor -miner, of Aldebaran II, on the map in a big way. It wasn't a faked and -therefore fragile identity, either; it was solidly, definitely his own.</p> - -<p>Staggering up to his friend Strongheart he steadied himself -with two big hands upon the latter's shoulders and breathed a -forty-thousand-horsepower breath into his face.</p> - -<p>"I'm boiled like a Tellurian hoot-owl," he announced, still happily. -"When I'm this stewed I can't say 'partic-hic-hicu-lar-ly' without -hick-hicking, but I would partic-hic-hicularly just like one more -quart. How about me borrowing a hundred on what I'm going to bring in -next time, or selling you—"</p> - -<p>"You've had plenty, Bill. You've had lots of fun. How about a good -chew of sleep-happy, huh?"</p> - -<p>"That's a thought!" the miner exclaimed eagerly. "Lead me to it!"</p> - -<hr class="tb"> - -<p>A stranger came up unobtrusively and took him by one elbow. Strongheart -took the other, and between them they walked him down a narrow hall and -into a cubicle. And while he walked flabbily along Kinnison studied -intently the brain of the newcomer. <i>This</i> was what he was after!</p> - -<p>The ape had had a screen; but it was such a nuisance he took it off -for a rest whenever he came here. No Lensman on Euphrosyne! They had -combed everybody, even this drunken bum here. This was one place that -no Lensman would ever come to; or, if he did, he wouldn't last long. -Kinnison had been pretty sure that Strongheart would be in cahoots with -somebody bigger than a peddler, and so it had proved. This guy knew -plenty, and the Lensman was taking the information—all of it. Six -weeks from now, eh? Just right—time to find enough metal for another -royal binge here. And during that binge he would really do things.</p> - -<p>Six weeks. Quite a while ... but ... QX. It would take some time yet, -anyway, probably, before the Regional Directors would, like this -fellow, get over their scares enough to relax a few of their most -irksome precautions. And, as has been intimated, Kinnison, while -impatient enough at times, could hold himself in check like a cat -watching a mouse hole whenever it was really necessary.</p> - -<p>Therefore, in the cell, he seated himself upon the bunk and seized -the packet from the hand of the stranger. Tearing it open, he stuffed -the contents into his mouth; and, eyes rolling and muscles twitching, -he chewed vigorously; expertly allowing the potent juice to trickle -down his gullet just fast enough to keep his head humming like a swarm -of angry bees. Then, the cud sucked dry, he slumped down upon the -mattress, physically dead to the world for the ensuing twenty-four G-P -hours.</p> - -<p>He awakened; weak, flimsy, and supremely wretched. He made heavy going -to the office, where Strongheart returned to him the keys of his boat.</p> - -<p>"Feeling low, sir." It was a statement, not a question.</p> - -<p>"I'll say so," the Lensman groaned. He was holding his spinning head, -trying to steady the gyrating universe. "I'd have to look up—'way, -'way up, with a number nine visiplate—to see a snake's belly in a -swamp. Make that damn cat quit stomping his feet, can't you?"</p> - -<p>"Too bad, but it won't last long." The voice was unctuous enough, but -totally devoid of feeling. "Here's a pickup—you need it."</p> - -<p>The Lensman tossed off the potion, without thanks, as was good -technique in those parts. His head cleared miraculously, although the -stabbing ache remained.</p> - -<p>"Come in again next time. Everything's been on the green, ain't it, -sir?"</p> - -<p>"Uh-huh, very nice," the Lensman admitted. "Couldn't ask for better. -I'll be back in five or six weeks, if I have any luck at all."</p> - -<p>As the battered but stanch and powerful meteorboat floated slowly -upward a desultory conversation was taking place in the dive he -had left. At that early hour business was slack to the point of -nonexistence, and Strongheart was chatting idly with a bartender and -one of the hostesses.</p> - -<p>"If more of the boys was like him, we wouldn't have no trouble at all," -Strongheart stated with conviction. "Nice, quiet, easygoing—why, he -didn't hardly damage a thing, for all his fun."</p> - -<p>"Yeah, but at that maybe it's a good gag nobody riled him up too much," -the barkeep opined. "He could be rough if he wanted to, I bet a quart. -Drunk or sober, he's chain lightning with them DeLameters."</p> - -<p>"He's so refined, such a perfect gentleman," sighed the woman. "He's -nice." To her, he had been. She had had plenty of credits from the big -miner, without having given anything save smiles and dances in return. -"Them two guys he drilled must have needed killing, or he wouldn't have -burned 'em."</p> - -<p>And that was that. As the Lensman had intended, Wild Bill Williams was -an old, known, and highly respected resident of Miners' Rest!</p> - -<hr class="tb"> - -<p>Out among the asteroids again; more muscle-tearing, back-breaking, -lonesome labor. Kinnison did not find any more fabulously rich -meteors—such things happen only once in a hundred lifetimes—but he -was getting his share of heavy stuff. Then one day when he had about -half a load there came, screaming in upon the emergency wave, a call -for help; a call so loud that the ship broadcasting it must be very -close indeed. Yes, there she was, right in his lap; startlingly large -even upon the low-power plates of his spacetramp.</p> - -<hr class="chap"> - -<div class="figcenter"> - <img src="images/illus12.jpg" alt=""> -</div> - -<hr class="chap"> - -<p>"Help! Spaceship <i>Hyperion</i>, position—" a rattling string of numbers. -"Bergenholm dead, meteorite screens practically disabled, intrinsic -velocity throwing us into the asteroids. Any spacetugs, any vessels -with tractors—hurry!"</p> - -<p>At the first word Kinnison had shoved his blast-lever full over. A few -seconds of free flight, a minute of inert maneuvering that taxed to the -utmost his Lensman's skill and powerful frame, and he was within the -liner's air lock.</p> - -<p>"I know something about Bergs!" he snapped. "Take this boat of mine and -pull! Are you evacuating passengers?" he shot at the mate as they ran -toward the engine room.</p> - -<p>"Yes, but afraid we haven't boats enough—overloaded," was the gasped -reply.</p> - -<p>"Use mine—fill 'er up!" If the mate was surprised at such an offer -from the despised spacerat he did not show it. There were many more -surprises in store.</p> - -<p>In the engine room Kinnison brushed aside a crew of helplessly futile -gropers and threw in switch after switch. He looked. He listened. Above -all, he pried into that sealed monster of power with all his sense of -perception. How glad he was now that he and Thorndyke had struggled -so long and so furiously with a balky Bergenholm on that trip to -tempestuous Trenco! For as a result of that trip he <i>did</i> know Bergs, -with a sure knowledge.</p> - -<p>"Number four lead is shot somewhere," he reported. "Must be burned off -where it clears the pilaster. Careless overhaul last time—got to take -off the lower port third cover. No time for wrenches—get me a cutting -beam, and get the lead out of your pants!"</p> - -<p>The beam was brought on the double and the Lensman himself blasted -away the designated cover. Then, throwing an insulated plate over the -red-hot casing he lay on his back—"Hand me a light!"—and peered -briefly upward into the bowels of the Gargantuan mechanism.</p> - -<p>"I thought so," he grunted. "Piece of four-oh stranded, eighteen inches -long. Ditmars number six clip ends, spaced to twenty inches between -hole-centers. Myerbeer insulation on center section, doubled. Snap it -up! One of you other fellows, bring me a short, heavy screwdriver and a -Ditmars six wrench!"</p> - -<p>The technicians worked fast and in a matter of seconds the stuff was -there. The Lensman labored briefly but hugely; and much more surely -than if he were dependent upon the rays of the hand-lamp to penetrate -the smoky, steamy, greasy murk in which he toiled. Then:</p> - -<p>"QX—give her the juice!" he snapped.</p> - -<p>They gave it, and to the stunned surprise of all, she took it. The -liner again was free!</p> - -<p>"Kind of a jury-rigging I gave it, but it'll hold long enough to -get you into port, sir," he reported to the captain in his sanctum, -saluting crisply. He was in for it now, he knew, as the officer stared -at him. But he <i>couldn't</i> have let that shipload of passengers get -ground up into hamburger. Anyway, there was no way out.</p> - -<hr class="tb"> - -<p>In apparent reaction he turned pale and trembled, and the officer -hastily took from his medicinal stores a bottle of choice brandy.</p> - -<p>"Here, drink this," he directed, proffering the glass:</p> - -<p>Kinnison did so. More, he seized the bottle from the captain's hand and -drank that, too—all of it—a draft which would have literally turned -him inside out a few months since. Then, to the captain's horrified -disgust, he took from his filthy dungarees a packet of bentlam and -began to chew it, idiotically blissful. Thence, and shortly, into -oblivion.</p> - -<p>"Poor devil—you poor, poor devil," the commander murmured, and had him -put into a bunk.</p> - -<p>When he had come to and had had his pickup, the captain came and -regarded him soberly.</p> - -<p>"You were a man once. An engineer, and a crackerjack; or I'm an oiler's -pimp," he said levelly.</p> - -<p>"Maybe," Kinnison replied, white and weak. "I'm all right yet, except -once in a while—"</p> - -<p>"I know," the captain frowned. "No cure?"</p> - -<p>"Not a chance. Tried dozens. So—" and the Lensman spread out his hands -in a hopeless gesture.</p> - -<p>"Better tell me your name, anyway—your real name. That'll let your -planet know that you aren't—"</p> - -<p>"Better not," the sufferer shook his aching head. "Folks think I'm -dead. Better let them keep on thinking so. Williams is the name, sir; -William Williams, of Aldebaran II."</p> - -<p>"As you say."</p> - -<p>"How far are we from where I boarded you?"</p> - -<p>"Close. Less than half a billion miles. This, the second, is our home -planet: your asteroid belt is just outside the orbit of the fourth."</p> - -<p>"I can hop it in an hour, easy. Guess I'll buzz off."</p> - -<p>"As you say," the officer agreed, again. "But we'd like to—" and he -extended a sheaf of currency.</p> - -<p>"Rather not, sir, thanks. You see, the longer it takes me to earn -another stake, the longer it'll be before—"</p> - -<p>"I see. Thanks, anyway, for us all," and captain and mate helped the -derelict embark. They scarcely looked at him, scarcely dared look at -each other, but—</p> - -<p>Kinnison, for his part, was almost content. This story, too, would get -around. It would be in Miners' Rest before he got back there, and it -would help—help a lot.</p> - -<p>He did not see how he could possibly, or ever, let those officers know -the truth, even though he realized full well that at that very moment -they were thinking, pityingly:</p> - -<p>"The poor devil—the poor, brave devil!"</p> - -<hr class="chap"> - -<p class="ph1">XIII.</p> - - -<p>The Gray Lensman went back to his mining with a will and with -unimpaired vigor, for his distress aboard the ship he had rescued had -been sheerest acting. One small bottle of good brandy was scarcely a -cocktail to the physique that had stood up under quart after quart of -the crudest, wickedest, fieriest beverage known to space; that tiny -morsel of bentlam—scarcely half a unit—affected him no more than a -lozenge of licorice.</p> - -<hr class="chap"> - -<div class="figcenter"> - <img src="images/illus13.jpg" alt=""> -</div> - -<hr class="chap"> - -<p>Three weeks. Twenty-one days, each of twenty-four G-P hours. At the -end of that time, he had learned from the mind of the zwilnik that -the Boskonian director of this, the Borovan solar system, would visit -Miners' Rest, to attend some kind of a meeting. His informant did not -know what the meeting was to be about, and he was not unduly curious -about it. Kinnison, however, did and was.</p> - -<p>The Lensman knew, or at least very shrewdly suspected, that that -meeting was to be a regional conference of big-shot zwilniks; he was -intensely curious to know all about everything that was to take place; -and he was determined to be present.</p> - -<p>Three weeks was lots of time. In fact, he should be able to complete -his quota of heavy metal in two, or less. It was there, there was no -question of that. Right out there were the meteors, unaccountable -thousands of millions of them, and a certain proportion of them carried -values. The more and the harder he worked, the more of these worthwhile -wanderers of the void he would find. Therefore he labored long, hard, -and rapidly, and his store of high-test meteors grew apace.</p> - -<p>To such good purpose did he use beam and Spalding drill that he was -ready more than a week ahead of time. That was QX—he'd much rather be -early than late. Something might have happened to hold him up—things -did happen, too often—and he had to be at that meeting!</p> - -<p>Thus it came about that, a few days before the all-important date, -Kinnison's battered treasure-hunter blasted herself down to her second -landing at Strongheart's dock. This time the miner was welcomed, not as -a stranger, but as a friend of long standing.</p> - -<p>"Hi, Wild Bill!" Strongheart yelled at sight of the big spacehound. -"Right on time, I see—glad to see you! Luck, too, I hope—lots of -luck, and all good, I bet me—ain't it?"</p> - -<p>"Ho, Strongheart!" the Lensman roared in return, pommeling the -divekeeper affectionately. "Had a good trip, yeah—a fine trip. Struck -a rich sector—twice as much as I got last time. Told you I'd be back -in five or six weeks, and made it in five weeks and four days."</p> - -<p>"Keeping tab on the days, huh?"</p> - -<p>"I'll say I do. With a thirst like mine a guy can't do nothing else—I -tell you all my guts're dryer than any desert on the whole of Mars. -Well, what're we waiting for? Check this plunder of mine in and let me -get to going places and doing things!"</p> - -<p>The business end of the visit was settled with neatness and dispatch. -Dealer and miner understood each other thoroughly, each knew what could -and what could not be done to the other. The meteors were tested and -weighed. Supplies for the ensuing trip were bought. The guarantee and -twenty-four units of benny—QX. No argument. No hysterics. No bickering -or quarreling or swearing. Everything on the green, all the way. -Gentlemen and friends. Kinnison turned over his keys, accepted a thick -sheaf of currency, and, after the first formal drink with his host, -set out upon the self-imposed, superstitious tour of the other hot -spots which would bring him favor—or at least would avert the active -disfavor—of Klono, his spaceman's deity.</p> - -<hr class="tb"> - -<p>This time, however, that tour took longer. Upon his first ceremonial -round he had entered each saloon in turn, had bought one drink of -whatever was nearest, had tossed it down, and had gone on to the next -place; unobserved and inconspicuous. Now, how different it all was! -Wherever he went he was the center of attention.</p> - -<p>Men who had met him before flung themselves upon him with whoops of -welcome; men who had never seen him clamored to drink with him; women, -whether or not they knew him, fawned upon him and brought into play -their every lure and wile. For not only was this man a hero and a -celebrity of sorts; he was a lucky—or a skillful—miner whose every -trip resulted in wads of money big enough to clog the under jets of a -Valerian freighter! Moreover, when he was lit up he threw it around -regardless, and he was getting stewed as fast as he could swallow. -Let's keep him here—or, if we can't do that, let's go along, wherever -he goes!</p> - -<p>This, too, was strictly according to the Lensman's expectations. -Everybody knew that he did not do any serious drinking glass by glass -at the bar, but bottle by bottle; that he did not buy individual drinks -for his friends, but let them drink as deeply as they would from -whatever container chanced then to be in hand; and his vast popularity -gave him a sound excuse to begin his bottle-buying at the start instead -of waiting until he got back to Strongheart's. He bought, then, several -or many bottles and tins in each place, instead of a single drink. And, -since everybody knew for a fact that he was a practically bottomless -drinker, who was even to suspect that he barely moistened his gullet -while the hangers-on were really emptying the bottles, flasks, and -flagons?</p> - -<p>And during his real celebration at Strongheart's, while he drank -enough, he did not drink too much. He waxed exceedingly happy and -frolicsome, as before. He was as profligate, as extravagant in tips. He -had the same sudden flashes of hot anger. He fought enthusiastically -and awkwardly, as Wild Bill Williams did, although only once or twice, -that time; and he did not have to draw his DeLameters at all—he was so -well known and so beloved! He sang as loudly and as raucously, and with -the same good taste in madrigals.</p> - -<p>Therefore, when the infiltration of thought-screened men warned him -that the meeting was about to be called Kinnison was ready. He was in -fact cold sober when he began his tuneful, last-two-bottles trip up -the street, and he was almost as sober when he returned to "Base," -empty of bottles and pockets, to make the usual attempt to obtain more -money from Strongheart and to compromise by taking his farewell chew of -bentlam instead.</p> - -<hr class="chap"> - -<div class="figcenter"> - <img src="images/illus15.jpg" alt=""> - <div class="caption"> - <p><i>As any man should under that mighty dose of bentlam, -Kim passed out—physically. But his mind reached out, even while the -attendants carried his dulled body out—</i></p> - </div> -</div> - -<hr class="chap"> - -<p>Nor was he unduly put out by the fact that both Strongheart and the -zwilnik were now wearing screens. He had taken it for granted that -they might be, and had planned accordingly. He seized the packet as -avidly as before, chewed its contents as ecstatically, and slumped down -as helplessly and as idiotically. That much of the show, at least, -was real. Twenty-four units of that drug will paralyze <i>any</i> human -body, make it assume the unmistakable pose and stupefied mien of the -bentlam-eater. But Kinnison's mind was not an ordinary one; the dose -which would have rendered any bona-fide miner's brain as helpless as -his body did not affect the Lensman's new equipment at all. Alcohol and -bentlam together were bad, but the Lensman was sober. Therefore, if -anything, the drugging of his body only made it easier to dissociate -his new mind from it. Furthermore, he need not waste any thought in -making it act. There was only one way it could act, now, and Kinnison -let his new senses roam abroad without even thinking of the body he was -leaving behind him.</p> - -<hr class="tb"> - -<p>In view of the rigorous orders from higher-up the conference room -was heavily guarded by screened men; no one except old and trusted -employees were allowed to enter it, and they were also protected. -Nevertheless, Kinnison got in, by proxy.</p> - -<p>A clever pickpocket brushed against a screened waiter who was about to -enter the sacred precincts, lightning fingers flicking a switch. The -waiter began to protest—then forgot what he was going to say, even as -the pickpocket forgot completely the deed he had just done. The waiter -in turn was a trifle clumsy in serving a certain big shot, but earned -no rebuke thereby; for the latter forgot the offense almost instantly. -Under Kinnison's control the director fumbled at his screen-generator -for a moment, loosening slightly a small but important resister. That -done, the Lensman withdrew delicately and the meeting was an open book.</p> - -<p>"Before we do anything," the director began, "show me that all your -screens are on." He bared his own—it would have taken an expert -service man an hour to find that it was not functioning perfectly.</p> - -<p>"Poppycock!" snorted the zwilnik. "Who in all the hells of space thinks -that a Lensman would—or <i>could</i>—come to Euphrosyne?"</p> - -<p>"No one can tell what this particular Lensman can or can't do, and -nobody knows what he is doing until just before he dies. Hence the -strictness. You've searched everybody here, of course?"</p> - -<p>"Everybody," Strongheart averred, "even the drunks and dopes. The whole -building is screened, besides the screens we're wearing."</p> - -<p>"The dopes don't count, of course, provided they're really doped." No -one, except the Gray Lensman himself, could possibly conceive of a -Lensman being—not seeming to be, but actually <i>being</i>—a drunken sot, -to say nothing of being a confirmed addict of any drug. "By the way, -who is this Wild Bill Williams that I've been hearing about?"</p> - -<p>Strongheart and his friend looked at each other and laughed.</p> - -<p>"I checked up on him early," the zwilnik chuckled. "He isn't the -Lensman, of course, but I thought at first he might be an agent. We -frisked him and his ship thoroughly—no dice—and checked back on him -as a miner, four solar systems back. He's clean, anyway; this is his -second bender here. He's been guzzling everything in stock for a week, -getting more pie-eyed every day, and Strongheart and I just put him to -bed with twenty-four units of benny. You know what <i>that</i> means, don't -you?"</p> - -<p>"Your own benny or his?" the director asked.</p> - -<p>"My own. That's why I know he's clean. All the other dopes are, too. -The drunks we gave the bum's rush, like you told us to."</p> - -<p>"QX. I don't think there's any danger, myself—I think that the -hot-shot Lensman they're afraid of is still working Bronseca—but these -orders not to take any chances at all come from 'way, 'way up."</p> - -<p>"How about this new system they're working on, that nobody knows his -boss any more?" asked the zwilnik. "Hooey, I call it."</p> - -<p>"Not ready yet," the director answered. "They haven't been able to -invent one that is safe enough for them and yet will handle the volume -of work that has to be done. In the meantime, we're using these books. -Cumbersome, but absolutely safe, they say, unless and until the enemy -gets onto the idea. Then one group will go into the lethal chambers of -the Patrol and the rest of us will use something else. Some say that -this code can't be cracked without the key; others say any code can be -read in time. Anyway here's your orders. Pass them along. Give me your -stuff and we'll have supper and a few drinks."</p> - -<p>They ate. They drank. They enjoyed an evening and a night of high -revelry and low dissipation, each to his taste; each secure in the -knowledge that his thought-screen was one-hundred-percent effective -against the one enemy he really feared. Indeed, the screens were that -effective—then. The Lensman, having learned from the director all that -he knew, had restored the generator to full efficiency in the instant -of his relinquishment of control.</p> - -<p>Although the heads of the zwilniks, and therefore their minds, were -secure against Kinnison's prying, the books of record were not. And, -though his body was lying helpless, inert upon a drug-fiend's cot, his -sense of perception read those books; if not as readily as though they -were in his hands and open, yet readily enough. And, far off in space, -a power-brained Lensman yclept Worsel, recorded upon imperishable -metal a detailed account, including names, dates, facts, and figures, -of all the doings of all the zwilniks of a solar system!</p> - -<p>The information was coded, it is true; but, since Kinnison knew the -key, it might just as well have been printed in English. To the later -consternation of Narcotics, however, that tape was sent in under -Lensman's seal—the spool could not be opened until the Gray Lensman -gave the word.</p> - -<hr class="tb"> - -<p>In twenty-four hours Kinnison recovered from the effects of his -debauch. He got his keys from Strongheart. He left the asteroid. He -knew the mighty intellect with whom he had next to deal, he knew where -that entity was to be found; but, sad to say, he had positively no idea -at all as to what he was going to do or how he was going to do it.</p> - -<p>Wherefore it was that a sense of relief tempered, with no small degree, -the natural apprehension he felt upon receiving an insistent call from -Port Admiral Haynes. Truly this must be something really extraordinary, -for while during the long months of his service Kinnison had called the -chief of staff scores of times, Haynes had never before lensed him.</p> - -<p>"Kinnison! Haynes calling!" the message beat into his consciousness.</p> - -<p>"Kinnison acknowledging Haynes, sir!" the Gray Lensman thought back.</p> - -<p>"Am I interrupting anything important?"</p> - -<p>"No, sir, not at all. I'm just doing a little flit."</p> - -<p>"A situation has come up which we feel you should study, not only in -person, but also without advance information or preconceived ideas. Is -it at all possible for you to come into Prime Base immediately?"</p> - -<p>"Yes, sir, eminently so. In fact, a little time right now might do me -good in two ways—let me mull a job over, and let a nut mellow down to -a point where maybe I can crack it. At your orders, sir!"</p> - -<p>"Not orders, Kinnison!" the old man reprimanded him sharply. "No one -gives unattached Lensmen orders. We request or suggest, but you are the -sole judge as to where your greatest usefulness lies."</p> - -<p>"Please believe, sir, that your requests are orders, to me," Kinnison -replied in all seriousness. Then, more lightly, "Your calling me in -suggests an emergency, and traveling in this miner's scow of mine is -just a trifle faster than going afoot. How about sending out something -with some legs to pick me up?"</p> - -<p>"The <i>Dauntless</i>, for instance?"</p> - -<p>"Oh—you've got her rebuilt already?"</p> - -<p>"Yes."</p> - -<p>"I'll bet she's a sweet clipper! She was a mighty slick stepper before; -now she must have more legs than a centipede!"</p> - -<p>And so it came about that in a region of space entirely empty of all -other vessels as far as ultrapowerful detectors could reach, the -<i>Dauntless</i> met Kinnison's tugboat. The two went inert and maneuvered -briefly, then the immense warship engulfed her tiny companion and -flashed away.</p> - -<p>"Hi, Kim, you old son-of-a-space-flea!" A general yell arose at sight -of him, and irrepressible youth rioted, regardless of Regs, in this -reunion of old comrades-in-arms who were yet scarcely more than boys in -years.</p> - -<p>"His Nibs says for you to call 'im, Kim, when we're about an hour -out from Prime Base," Commander Maitland informed his classmate -irreverently, as the <i>Dauntless</i> neared the Solarian System.</p> - -<p>"Plate or Lens?"</p> - -<p>"Didn't say—as you like, I suppose."</p> - -<p>"Plate then, I guess—don't want to butt in."</p> - -<p>In a few moments chief of staff and Gray Lensman were in image -face-to-face.</p> - -<p>"How are you making out, Kinnison?" The Port Admiral studied the young -man's face intently, gravely, line by line. Then, upon his Lens, "We -heard about the shows you put on, clear over here on Tellus. A man -can't drink and dope the way you did without suffering consequences. -I've been wondering if even you can fight it off. How about it? How do -you feel now?"</p> - -<p>"Some craving, of course," Kinnison replied, shrugging his shoulders. -"That can't be helped—you can't make an omelette without breaking -eggs. However, I can assure you as a fact that it's nothing I can't -lick. I've got it pretty well boiled out of my system already."</p> - -<p>"Mighty glad to hear that, son. Only Ellison and I know who Wild -Bill Williams really is. You had us scared stiff for a while." Then, -speaking aloud:</p> - -<p>"I would like to have you come to my office as soon as is convenient -after you land."</p> - -<p>"I'll be there, chief, two minutes after we hit the bumpers," and he -was.</p> - -<p>"Right of way, Norma?" he asked, waving an airy salute at the -attractive young woman in Haynes' outer office.</p> - -<p>"Go right in, Lensman Kinnison, he's waiting for you," and opening the -door for him, she stood aside as he strode into the sanctum.</p> - -<hr class="tb"> - -<p>The Port Admiral returned the younger man's punctilious salute, then -the two shook hands warmly before Haynes referred to the third man in -the room.</p> - -<p>"Navigator Xylpic, this is Lensman Kinnison, unattached. Sit down, -please; this may take some time. Now, Kinnison, I want to tell you that -ships have been disappearing, right and left, disappearing without -sending out an alarm or leaving a trace. Convoying makes no difference, -as the escorts also disappear—"</p> - -<p>"Any with the new projectors?" Kinnison flashed the question via -Lens—this was nothing to talk about aloud.</p> - -<p>"No," came the reassuring thought in reply. "Every one bottled up tight -until we find out what it's all about. Sending out the <i>Dauntless</i> -after you was the only exception."</p> - -<p>"Fine. You shouldn't have taken even that much chance." This interplay -of thought took but an instant; Haynes went on with scarcely a break in -his voice:</p> - -<p>"—with no more warning or report than the freighters and liners they -are supposed to be protecting. Automatic reporting also fails—the -instruments simply stop sending. The first and only sign of light—if -it <i>is</i> such a sign; which, frankly, I doubt—came shortly before I -called you in, when Xylpic here came to me with a tall story."</p> - -<p>Kinnison looked then at the stranger. Pink. Unmistakably a -Chickladorian—pink all over. Bushy hair, triangular eyes, teeth, -skin; all that same peculiar color. Not the flush of red blood showing -through translucent skin, but opaque pigment; the brick-reddish pink so -characteristic of the near-humanity of that planet.</p> - -<p>"We have investigated this Xylpic thoroughly." Haynes went on, -discussing the Chickladorian as impersonally as though he were upon his -home planet instead of there in the room, listening. "The worse of it -is that the man is absolutely honest—or at least, he himself believes -that he is—in telling this yarn. Also, except for this one thing—this -obsession, fixed idea, hallucination, call it what you like; it seems -incredible that it <i>can</i> be a fact—he not only seems to be, but -actually <i>is</i>, absolutely sane.</p> - -<p>"Now, Xylpic, tell Kinnison what you have told the rest of us. And -Kinnison, I hope that you can make sense of it—none of the rest of us -can."</p> - -<p>"QX. Go ahead, I'm listening." But Kinnison did far more than listen. -As the fellow began to talk the Gray Lensman insinuated his mind -into that of the Chickladorian. He groped for moments, seeking the -wave-length; then he, Kimball Kinnison, was actually reliving with the -pink man an experience which harrowed his very soul.</p> - -<p>"The Second Navigator of a Radeligian vessel died in space, and when -it landed on Chickladoria I took the berth. About a week out, the -whole crew went mad, all at once. The first I knew of it was when the -pilot on duty beside me left his board, picked up a stool, and smashed -the automatic recorder. Then he went inert and neutralized all the -controls.</p> - -<p>"I yelled at him, but he didn't answer me, and all the men in the -control room acted funny. They just milled around like men in a trance. -I buzzed the captain, but he didn't acknowledge either. Then the men -around me left the control room and went down the companionway toward -the main lock. I was scared—my skin prickled and the hair on the -back of my neck stood straight up—but I followed along, quite a ways -behind, to see what they were going to do. The captain, all the rest -of the officers, and the whole crew joined them in the lock. Everybody -was acting kind of crazy, and as if they were in an awful hurry to get -somewhere.</p> - -<p>"I didn't go any nearer—I wasn't going to go out into space without a -suit on. I went back into the control room to get at a spy ray, then -changed my mind. That was the first place they would come to if they -boarded us, as they probably would—other ships had disappeared in -space, plenty of them. Instead, I went over to a lifeboat and used its -spy. And I tell you, sirs, there was nothing there—nothing at all!" -The stranger's voice rose almost to a shriek, his mind quivered in an -ecstasy of horror.</p> - -<p>"Steady, Xylpic, steady," the Gray Lensman said, quietingly. -"Everything you've said so far makes sense. It all fits right into the -matrix. Nothing to go off the beam about, at all."</p> - -<p>"What! You believe me!" the Chickladorian stared at Kinnison in -amazement, an emotion very evidently shared by the Port Admiral.</p> - -<p>"Yes," the man in gray leather asserted. "Not only that, but I have a -very fair idea of what's coming next. G. A."</p> - -<hr class="tb"> - -<p>"The men walked out into space." The pink man offered this information -diffidently, although positively—an oft-repeated but starkly -incredible statement. "They did not float outward, sirs, they <i>walked</i>; -and they acted as if they were breathing air, not space. And as they -walked they sort of faded out; became thin, mistylike. This sounds -crazy, sir"—to Kinnison alone—"I thought then maybe I was cuckoo, and -everybody around here thinks I am now, too. Maybe I <i>am</i> nuts, sir—I -don't know."</p> - -<hr class="chap"> - -<div class="figcenter"> - <img src="images/illus14.jpg" alt=""> - <div class="caption"> - <p><i>"I saw them walk out of the ship into space—but as -though they walked on something, something invisible. And they walked -into that ghost-ship, the hell-ship from nowhere—"</i></p> - </div> -</div> - -<hr class="chap"> - -<p>"I do. You aren't," Kinnison said, calmly.</p> - -<p>"Well, and here comes the worst of it, they walked around just as -though they were in a ship, growing fainter all the time. Then some -of them lay down and something began to <i>skin</i> one of them—skin him -alive, sir—but there was nothing there at all. I ran, then. I got into -the fastest lifeboat on the far side and gave her all the oof she'd -take. That's all, sir."</p> - -<p>"Not quite all, Xylpic, unless I'm badly mistaken. Why didn't you tell -the rest of it while you were at it?"</p> - -<p>"I didn't dare to, sir. If I'd told any more they would have <i>known</i> I -was crazy instead of just thinking so—" He broke sharply, his voice -altering strangely as he went on: "What makes you think there was -anything more, sir? Do you—" The question trailed off into silence.</p> - -<p>"I do. If what I think happened really did happen, there was -more—quite a lot more—and worse. Wasn't there?"</p> - -<p>"I'll say there was!" The navigator almost exploded in relief. "Or -rather, I think now that there was. But I can't describe any of it very -well—everything was getting fainter all the time, and I thought that I -must be imagining most of it."</p> - -<p>"You weren't imagining a thing—" the Lensman began, only to be -interrupted by Haynes.</p> - -<p>"Hell's jingling bells!" that worthy almost shouted. "If you know what -it was, tell me!"</p> - -<p>"Think I know, but not quite sure yet—got to check it. Can't get -it from him—he's told everything he really knows. He didn't really -see anything, it was practically invisible. Even if he had tried to -describe the whole performance you wouldn't have recognized it. Nobody -could have, except Worsel and I, and possibly Van Buskirk. I'll tell -you the rest of what actually happened and Xylpic can tell us if it -checks." His features grew taut, his voice became hard and chill. "I -saw it done, once. Worse, I heard it. Saw it and heard it, clear and -plain. Also, I knew what it was all about, so I can describe it a lot -better than Xylpic possibly can.</p> - -<p>"Every man of that crew was killed by torture. Some were flayed alive, -as Xylpic said; then they were carved up, slowly and piecemeal. Some -were stretched, pulled apart by chains and hooks, on racks. Others -twisted on frames. Boiled, little by little. Picked apart, bit by bit. -Gassed. Eaten away by corrosives, one molecule at a time. Pressed out -flat, as though between two plates of glass. Whipped. Scourged. -Beaten gradually to a pulp. Other methods, lots of them—indescribable. -All slow, though, and extremely painful. Greenish-yellow light, showing -the aura of each man as he died. Beams from somewhere—possibly -invisible—consuming the auras. Check, Xylpic?"</p> - -<p>"Yes, sir, it checks!" The Chickladorian exclaimed in profound relief; -then added, carefully: "That is, that's the way the torture was, -exactly, sir, but there was something funny, a difference, about their -fading away. I can't describe what was funny about it, but it didn't -seem so much that they became invisible as that they went away, sir, -even though they didn't go any place."</p> - -<p>"That's due to the way that system of invisibility works. Got to -be—nothing else will fit into—"</p> - -<p>"The Overlords of Delgon!" Haynes rasped, sharply. "But if that's a -true picture, how in all the hells of space did this Xylpic, alone of -all the ship's personnel, get away clean? Tell me that!"</p> - -<p>"Simple!" the Gray Lensman snapped back as sharply. "The rest were -all Radeligians—he was the only Chickladorian aboard. The Overlords -simply didn't know that he was there. They didn't feel him at all. -Chickladorians think on a wave nobody else in the Galaxy uses—you must -have noticed that when you felt of him with your Lens. It took me half -a minute to synchronize with him.</p> - -<p>"As for his escape, that makes sense, too. The Overlords are slow -workers and when they're playing that game they really concentrate on -it—they don't pay any attention to anything else. By the time they got -done and were ready to take over the ship, he could be almost anywhere."</p> - -<p>"But he says that there was no ship there—nothing at all!" Haynes -protested.</p> - -<p>"Invisibility isn't hard to understand," Kinnison countered. "We've -almost got it ourselves—we undoubtedly could have it as good as that, -with a little more work on it. There was a ship there, beyond question. -Close. Hooked on with magnets, and with a spacetube, lock to lock.</p> - -<p>"The only peculiar part of it, and the bad part, is something you -haven't mentioned yet. What would the Overlords—if, as we must assume, -some of them got away from Worsel and his crew—be doing with a ship? -They never had any spaceships that I ever knew anything about, nor any -other mechanical devices requiring any advanced engineering skill. -Also, and most important, they never did and never could invent or -develop such an invisibility apparatus as that."</p> - -<hr class="tb"> - -<p>Kinnison fell silent, and while he frowned in thought Haynes dismissed -the Chickladorian, with orders that his every want be supplied.</p> - -<p>"What do you deduce from those facts?" the Port Admiral presently asked.</p> - -<p>"Plenty," the Gray Lensman said, darkly. "I smell a rat. In fact, it -stinks to high Heaven. Boskone."</p> - -<p>"You may be right," the chief of staff conceded. It was hopeless, he -knew, for him to try to keep up with this man's mental processes. "But -why, and above all, how?"</p> - -<p>"'Why' is easy. They both owe us a lot, and want to pay us in full. -Both hate us all to pieces. 'How' is immaterial. One found the other, -some way. They're together, just as sure as hell's a mantrap, and -that's what matters. It's bad. Very, <i>very</i> bad, believe me."</p> - -<p>"Orders?" asked Haynes. He was a big man; big enough to ask -instructions from anyone who knew more than he did—big enough to make -no bones of such asking.</p> - -<p>"One does not give orders to the Port Admiral," Kinnison mimicked him -lightly, but meaningly. "One may request, perhaps, or suggest, but—"</p> - -<p>"Skip it! I'll take a club to you yet, you young hellion! You said -you'd take orders from me. QX—I'll take 'em from you. What are they?"</p> - -<p>"No orders yet, I don't think—" Kinnison ruminated. "No ... not until -after we investigate. I'll have to have Worsel and Van Buskirk; we're -the only three who have had experience. We'll take the <i>Dauntless</i>, I -think—it'll be safe enough. Thought-screens will stop the Overlords -cold, and a scrambler will take care of the invisibility business if -they use the same principle we do, and they very probably do."</p> - -<p>"Safe enough, then, you think, to let traffic resume, if they're -protected with screens?"</p> - -<p>"I wouldn't say so. They've got Boskonian superdreadnoughts now to use -if they want to, and that's something else to think about. Another week -or so won't hurt much—better wait until we see what we can see. I've -been wrong once or twice before, too, and I may be again."</p> - -<p>He was. Although his words were conservative enough, he was practically -certain in his own mind that he knew all the answers. But how wrong -he was—how terribly, how tragically wrong! For even his mentality -had not as yet envisaged the incredible actuality; his deductions and -perceptions fell far, far short of the appalling truth!</p> - -<hr class="chap"> - -<p class="ph1">XIV.</p> - - -<p>The fashion in which the Overlords of Delgon had come under the ægis -of Boskone, while obscure for a time, was in reality quite simple and -logical; for upon distant Jarnevon the Eich had profited signally -from Eichlan's disastrous raid upon Arisia. Not exactly in the sense -suggested by Eukonidor, the Arisian guardian, it is true, but profited -nevertheless. They had learned that thought, hitherto considered only -a valuable adjunct to achievement, was actually an achievement in -itself; that it could be used as a weapon of surpassing power.</p> - -<p>Eukonidor's homily, as he more than suspected at the time, might as -well never have been uttered, for all the effect it had upon the life -or upon the purpose in life of any single member of the race of the -Eich. Eichmil, who had been Second of Boskone, was now First; the -others were advanced correspondingly; and a new Eighth and Ninth had -been chosen to complete the roster of the council which was Boskone.</p> - -<p>"The late Eichlan," Eichmil stated harshly after calling the new -Boskone to order—which event took place within a day after it became -apparent that the two bold spirits had departed to a bourne from which -there was to be no returning—"erred seriously, in fact fatally, in -underestimating an opponent, even though he himself was prone to harp -upon the danger of that very thing.</p> - -<p>"We are agreed that our objectives remain unchanged; and also that -greater circumspection must be used until we have succeeded in -discovering the hitherto unsuspected potentialities of pure thought. -We will now hear from one of our new members, the Ninth, also a -psychologist, who most fortunately had been studying this situation -even before the inception of the expedition which yesterday came to -such a catastrophic end."</p> - -<p>"It is clear," the Ninth of Boskone began, "that Arisia is at -present out of the question. Perceiving the possibility of some such -dénouement—an idea to which I repeatedly called the attention of my -predecessor psychologist, the late Eighth—I have been long at work -upon certain alternative measures.</p> - -<p>"Consider, please, that we learned first of the thought-screens from -Helmuth; who was then of the opinion that they were first used in the -Tellurian Galaxy by the natives of Velantia. This belief was amended -later, in discredited reports, to one that said devices did in fact -originate upon Arisia. This later conclusion we may now accept as -a fact, since the Arisians could and did break such screens by the -application of mental forces either of greater magnitude than they -could withstand or of some new and as yet unknown composition or -pattern.</p> - -<p>"Such screens were, however, and probably still are, used largely and -commonly upon the planet Velantia. Therefore they must have been both -necessary and adequate. The deduction is, I believe, defensible that -they were used as a protection against entities who were, and who -still may be, employing against the Velantians the weapons of pure -thought which we wish to investigate and to acquire.</p> - -<p>"I propose, then, that I and a few others of my selection continue this -research, not upon Arisia, but upon Velantia and perhaps elsewhere."</p> - -<p>To this suggestion there was no demur and a vessel set out forthwith. -The visit to Velantia was simple and created no untoward disturbance -whatever. In this connection it must be remembered that the natives -of Velantia, then in the early ecstasies of discovery by the Galactic -Patrol and the consequent acquisition of inertialess flight, were -fairly reveling in visits to and from the widely-variant peoples of -the planets of hundreds of other suns. It must be borne in mind that, -since the Eich were, if anything, physically more like the Velantians -than were the men of Tellus, the presence of a group of such entities -upon the planet would create no more interest or comment than that of -a group of human beings. Therefore that fateful visit went unnoticed -at the time, and as it was only by long and arduous research, after -Kinnison had deduced that some such visit must have been made, that it -was shown to have been an actuality.</p> - -<p>Space forbids any detailed account of what the Ninth of Boskone and -his fellows did, although that story of itself would be no mean epic. -Suffice it to say, then, that they became well acquainted with the -friendly Velantians; they studied and they learned. Particularly did -they seek information concerning the noisome Overlords of Delgon, -although the natives did not care to dwell at any length upon the -subject.</p> - -<p>"Their power is broken," they were wont to inform the questioners, with -airy flirtings of tail and wing. "Every known cavern of them, and not -a few hitherto unknown caverns, have been blasted out of existence. -Whenever one of them dares to obtrude his mentality upon any one of us -he is at once hunted down and slain. Even if they are not all dead, -as we think, they certainly are no longer a menace to our peace and -security."</p> - -<hr class="tb"> - -<p>Having secured all the information available upon Velantia, the Eich -went to Delgon, where they devoted all the power of their admittedly -first-grade minds and all the not inconsiderate resources of their ship -to the task of finding and uniting the remnants of what had once been a -flourishing race, the Overlords of Delgon.</p> - -<p>The Overlords! That monstrous, repulsive, amoral race which, not -excepting even the Eich themselves, achieved the most universal -condemnation ever to have been given in the long history of the -Galactic Union. The Eich, admittedly deserving of the fate which was -theirs, had and have their apologists. The Eich were wrong-minded, all -admit. They were anti-social, blood-mad, obsessed with an insatiable -lust for power and conquest which nothing except complete extinction -could extirpate. Their evil attributes were legion. They were, however, -brave. They were organizers par excellence. They were, in their own -fashion, creators and doers. They had the courage of their convictions -and followed them to the bitter end.</p> - -<p>Of the Overlords, however, nothing good has ever been said. They were -debased, cruel, perverted to a degree starkly unthinkable to any -normal intelligence, however housed. In their native habitat they had -no weapons, nor need of any. Through sheer power of mind they reached -out to their victims, even upon other planets, and forced them to -come to the gloomy caverns in which they had their being. There the -victims were tortured to death in numberless unspeakable fashions, and -while they died the captors <i>fed</i>, ghoulishly, upon the departing life -principle of the sufferer.</p> - -<p>The mechanism of that absorption is entirely unknown; nor is there -any adequate evidence as to what end was served by it in the economy -of that horrid race. That these orgies were not essential to their -physical well-being is certain, since many of the creatures survived -for a long time after the frightful rites were rendered impossible.</p> - -<p>Be that as it may, the Eich sought out and found many surviving -Overlords. The latter tried to enslave the visitors and to bend them -into their hideously sadistic purposes, but to no avail. Not only were -the Eich protected by thought-screens; they had minds of a fierce -power almost, if not quite, equal to the Overlord's own. And, after -these first overtures had been made and channels of communication -established, the alliance was a natural.</p> - -<p>Much has been said and written of the binding power of love. That, -and other noble emotions, have indeed performed wonders. It seems to -this historian, however, that all too little has been said of the -effectiveness of pure hate as a cementing material. Probably for good -and sufficient moral reasons; perhaps because—and for the best—its -application has been of comparatively infrequent occurrence. Here, -in the case in hand, we have history's best example of two entirely -dissimilar peoples working efficiently together under the urge, not of -love or of any other lofty sentiment, but of sheer, stark, unalloyed -and corrosive, but common, hate.</p> - -<p>Both hated civilization and everything pertaining to it. Both wanted -revenge; wanted it with a searing, furious need almost tangible; -a gnawing, burning lust which neither countenanced palliation nor -brooked denial. And above all, both hated vengefully, furiously, -esuriently—every way except blindly—an as yet unknown and -unidentified wearer of the million-times accursed Lens of the Galactic -Patrol!</p> - -<p>The Eich were hard, ruthless, cold; not even having such words in their -language as "conscience," "mercy," or "scruple." Their hatred of the -Lensman was then a thing of an intensity unknowable to any human mind. -Even that emotion, however, grim as it was and fearsome, paled beside -the passionately vitriolic hatred of the Overlords of Delgon for the -being who had been the Nemesis of their race.</p> - -<p>And when the sheer mental power of the Overlords, unthinkably great as -it was and operative withal in a fashion sheerly incomprehensible to us -of civilization, was combined with the ingenuity, resourcefulness, and -drive, as well as with the scientific ability of the Eich, the results -would in any case have been portentous indeed.</p> - -<p>In this case they were more than portentous, and worse. Those -prodigious intellects, fanned into fierce activity by fiery blasts of -hatred, produced a thing incredible.</p> - -<hr class="chap"> - -<p class="ph1">XV.</p> - - -<p>Before the <i>Dauntless</i> was serviced for the flight into the unknown -Kinnison changed his mind. He was vaguely troubled about the trip. It -was nothing as definite as a "hunch"; hunches are, the Gray Lensman -knew, the results of the operation of an extrasensory perception -possessed by all of us in greater or lesser degree. It was probably -not an obscure warning to his super-sense from another, more pervasive -dimension. It was, he thought, a repercussion of the doubt in Xylpic's -mind that the fading out of the men's bodies had been due to simple -invisibility.</p> - -<p>"I think I'd better go alone, chief," he informed the Port Admiral one -day. "I'm not quite as sure as I was as to just what they've got."</p> - -<p>"What difference does that make?" Haynes demanded.</p> - -<p>"Lives," was the terse reply.</p> - -<p>"<i>Your</i> life is what I'm thinking about. You'll be safer with the big -ship, you can't deny that."</p> - -<p>"We-ll, perhaps. But I don't want—"</p> - -<p>"What you want is immaterial."</p> - -<p>"How about a compromise? I'll take Worsel and Van Buskirk. When the -Overlords hypnotized him that time it made Bus so mad that he's been -taking treatments from Worsel. Nobody can hypnotize him now, Worsel -says, not even an Overlord."</p> - -<p>"No compromise. I can't order you to take the <i>Dauntless</i>, since your -authority is transcendent. You can take anything you like. I can, -however, and shall, order the <i>Dauntless</i> to ride your tail wherever -you go."</p> - -<p>"QX, I'll have to take her then." Kinnison's voice grew somber. "But -suppose half the crew don't get back—and that I do?"</p> - -<p>"Isn't that what happened on the <i>Brittania</i>?"</p> - -<p>"No," came flat answer. "We were all taking the same chance then—it -was the luck of the draw. This is different."</p> - -<p>"How different?"</p> - -<p>"I've got better equipment than they have. I'd be a murderer, cold."</p> - -<p>"Not at all, no more than then. You had better equipment then, too, -you know, although not as much of it. Every commander of men has that -same feeling when he sends men to death. But put yourself in my place. -Would you send one of your best men, or let him go alone on a highly -dangerous mission when more men or ships would improve his chances? -Answer that, honestly."</p> - -<p>"Probably I wouldn't," Kinnison admitted, reluctantly.</p> - -<p>"QX. Take all the precautions you can—but I don't have to tell you -that. I know you will."</p> - -<hr class="tb"> - -<p>Therefore it was the <i>Dauntless</i> in which Kinnison set out a day or two -later. With him were Worsel and Van Buskirk, as well as the vessel's -full operating crew of Tellurians. As they approached the region of -space in which Xylpic's vessel had been attacked every man in the crew -got his armor in readiness for instant use, checked his side arms, and -took his emergency battle station. Kinnison turned then to Worsel.</p> - -<p>"How d'you feel, fellow old snake?" he asked.</p> - -<p>"Scared," the Velantian replied, sending a rippling surge of power the -full length of the thirty-foot-long cable of supple, although almost -steel-hard flesh that was his body. "Scared to the tip of my tail. Not -that they can treat me as they did before—we three, at least, are safe -from their minds—but at what they will <i>do</i>. Whatever it is to be, it -will not be what we expect. They certainly will not do the obvious."</p> - -<p>"That's what's clogging my jets." The Lensman agreed. "As a flapper -told me once, I'm getting the screaming meamies."</p> - -<p>"That's what you mugs get for being so brainy," Van Buskirk put in. -With a flick of his massive wrist he brought his thirty-pound spaceax -to the "ready" as lightly as though it were a Tellurian dress saber. -"Bring on your Overlords—squish! Just like that!" and a whistling -sweep of his atrocious weapon was illustration enough.</p> - -<p>"May be something in that, too, Bus," he laughed. Then, to the -Velantian, "About time to tune in one of 'em, I guess."</p> - -<p>He was in no doubt whatever as to Worsel's ability to reach them. He -knew that that incredibly powerful mind, without Lens or advanced -Arisian instruction, had been able to cover eleven solar systems: he -knew that, with his present ability, Worsel could cover half of space!</p> - -<p>Although every fiber of his being shrieked protest against contact with -the hereditary foe of his race, the Velantian put his mind en rapport -with the Overlords and sent out his thought. He listened for seconds, -motionless, then glided across the room to the thought-screened pilot -and hissed directions. The pilot altered his course sharply and gave -her the gun.</p> - -<p>"I'll take her over now," Worsel said, presently. "It'll look better -that way—more as though they had us all under control."</p> - -<p>He cut the Bergenholm, then set everything on zero—the ship hung, -inert and practically motionless, in space. Simultaneously twenty -unscreened men—volunteers—dashed toward the main air lock, overcome -by some intense emotion.</p> - -<p>"Now! Screens on! Scramblers!" Kinnison yelled; and at his words a -thought-screen enclosed the ship; high-powered scramblers—within whose -fields no invisibility apparatus could hold—burst into action. Then -the vessel was, right beside the <i>Dauntless</i>, a Boskonian in every line -and member!</p> - -<p>"Fire!"</p> - -<p>But even as she appeared, before a firing-stud could be pressed, the -enemy craft almost disappeared again; or rather, she did not really -appear at all, except as the veriest wraith of what a good, solid ship -of space-alloy ought to be. She was a ghost ship, as unsubstantial -as fog. Mist, tenuous, immaterial; the shadow of a shadow. A dream -ship, built of the gossamer of dreams, manned by figments of horror -recruited from sheerest nightmare. Not invisibility this time, Kinnison -knew with a profound shock. Something else—something entirely -different—something utterly incomprehensible. Xylpic had said it as -nearly as it could be put into understandable words—the Boskonian ship -was <i>leaving</i>, although it was standing still! It was monstrous—it -<i>couldn't be done</i>!</p> - -<p>Then, at a range of only feet instead of the usual "point-blank" range -of hundreds of miles, the tremendous secondaries of the <i>Dauntless</i> -cut loose. At such a ridiculous range as that—why, the screens -themselves kept anything farther away from them than that ship -was—they <i>couldn't</i> miss. Nor did they; but neither did they hit. -Those ravening beams went through and through the tenuous fabrication -which should have been a vessel, but they struck nothing whatever. They -went <i>past</i>—entirely harmlessly past—both the ship itself and the -wraithlike but unforgettable figures which Kinnison recognized at a -glance as Overlords of Delgon. His heart sank with a thud. He knew when -he had had enough; and this was altogether too much.</p> - -<p>"Go free!" he rasped. "Give 'er the oof!"</p> - -<p>Energy poured into and through the great Bergenholm, but nothing -happened; ship and contents remained inert. Not exactly inert, either, -for the men were beginning to feel a new and unique sensation.</p> - -<p>Energy raved from the driving jets, but still nothing happened. There -was none of the thrust, none of the reaction of an inert start; there -was none of the lashing, quivering awareness of speed which affects -every mind, however hardened to free flight, in the instant of change -from rest to a motion many times faster than that of light.</p> - -<p>"Armor! Thought-screens! Emergency stations all!" Since they could not -run away from whatever it was that was coming, they would face it.</p> - -<hr class="tb"> - -<p>And something was happening now, there was no doubt of that. Kinnison -had been seasick and airsick and spacesick. Also, since cadets must -learn to be able to do without artificial gravity, pseudo-inertia, and -those other refinements which make space liners so comfortable, he had -known the nausea and the queasily terrifying endless-fall sensations of -weightlessness, as well as the even worse outrages of the sensibilities -incident to inertialessness in its crudest, most basic applications. He -thought that he was familiar with all the untoward sensations of every -mode of travel known to science. This, however, was something entirely -new.</p> - -<p>He felt as though he were being compressed; not as a whole, but atom -by atom. He was being twisted—cork-screwed in a monstrously obscure -fashion which permitted him neither to move from his place nor to -remain where he was. He hung there, poised, for hours—or was it for -a thousandth of a second? At the same time he felt a painless, but -revolting transformation progress in a series of waves throughout his -entire body; a rearrangement, a writhing, crawling distortion, an -incomprehensibly impossible extrusion of each ultimate corpuscle of his -substance in an unknowable and non-existent direction!</p> - -<p>As slowly—or as rapidly—as the transformation had waxed, it waned. -He was again free to move. As far as he could tell, everything was -almost as before. The <i>Dauntless</i> was about the same; so was the -almost-invisible ship attached to her so closely. There was, however, a -difference. The air seemed thick—familiar objects were seen blurrily, -dimly—distorted—outside the ship there was nothing except a vague -blur of grayness—no stars, no constellations.</p> - -<p>A wave of thought came beating into his brain. He had to leave the -<i>Dauntless</i>. It was most vitally important to go into that dimly-seen -companion vessel without an instant's delay! And even as his mind -instinctively reared a barrier, blocking out the intruding thought, he -recognized it for what it was—the summons of the Overlords!</p> - -<p>But how about the thought-screens, he thought in a semidaze, then -reason resumed accustomed sway. He was no longer in space—at least, -not in the space he knew. That new, indescribable sensation had been -one of <i>acceleration</i>—when they attained constant velocity it stopped. -Acceleration—velocity—in what? To what? He did not know. Out of space -as he knew it, certainly. Time was distorted, unrecognizable. Matter -did not necessarily obey the familiar laws. Thought? QX—thought, lying -in the subether, probably was unaffected. Thought-screen generators, -however, being material might not—in fact, did not—work. Worsel, Van -Buskirk, and he did not need them, but those other poor devils—</p> - -<p>He looked at them. The men—all of them, officers and all—had thrown -off their armor, thrown away their weapons, and were again rushing -toward the lock. With a smothered curse Kinnison followed them, as did -the Velantian and the giant Dutch-Valerian. Into the lock. Through it, -into the almost invisible spacetube, which, he noticed, was floored -with a much denser-appearing substance. The air felt heavy; dense, -like water, or even more like metallic mercury. It breathed, however, -QX. Into the Boskonian ship, along corridors, into a room which was -precisely such a torture chamber as Kinnison had described. There they -were, ten of them; ten of the dragonlike, reptilian Overlords of Delgon!</p> - -<hr class="tb"> - -<p>They moved slowly, sluggishly, as did the Tellurians, in that thick, -dense medium which was not, could not be, air. Ten chains were thrown, -like pictures in slow motion, about ten human necks; ten entranced men -were led unresistingly to anguished doom. This time the Gray Lensman's -curse was not smothered—with a blistering deep-space oath he pulled -his DeLameter and fired—once, twice, thrice. No soap—he knew it, -but he had to try. Furious, he launched himself. His taloned fingers, -ravening to tear, went past, not around, the Overlord's throat; and the -scimitared tail of the reptile, fierce-driven, apparently went through -the Lensman, screens, armor, and brisket, but touched none of them in -passing. He hurled a thought a more disastrous bolt by far than he -had sent against any mind since he had learned the art. In vain—the -Overlords, themselves masters of mentality, could not be slain or even -swerved by any forces at his command.</p> - -<p>Kinnison reared back then in thought. There must be some ground, some -substance common to the planes or dimensions involved, else they could -not be here. The deck, for instance, was as solid to his feet as it -was to the enemy. He thrust out a hand at the wall beside him—it -was not there. The chains, however, held his suffering men, and the -Overlords held the chains. The knives, also and the clubs, and the -other implements of torture being wielded with such peculiarly horrible -slowness.</p> - -<p>To think was to act. He leaped forward, seized a maul, and made as -though to swing it in terrific blow; only to stop, shocked. The maul -did not move! Or rather, it moved, but <i>so</i> slowly, as though he were -hauling it through putty! He dropped the handle, shoving it back, and -received another shock, for it kept on coming under the urge of his -first mighty heave—kept coming, knocking him aside as it came!</p> - -<p>Mass! Inertia! The stuff must be a hundred times as dense as platinum!</p> - -<p>"Bus!" he flashed a thought to the staring Valerian. "Grab one of these -clubs here—a little one, even <i>you</i> can't swing a big one—and get to -work!"</p> - -<p>As he thought, he leaped again; this time for a small, slender knife, -almost a scalpel, but with a long, keenly thin blade. Even though it -was massive as a dozen broadswords he could swing it and he did so; -plunging lethally as he swung. A full-arm sweep—razor-edge shearing, -crunching through plated, corded throat—grisly head floating one way, -horrid body the other!</p> - -<p>Then an attack in waves of his own men! The Overlords knew what was -toward. They commanded their slaves to abate the nuisance, and the Gray -Lensman was buried under an avalanche of furious, although unarmed, -humanity.</p> - -<p>"Chase 'em off me, will you, Worsel?" Kinnison pleaded. "You're husky -enough to handle 'em all—I'm not. Hold 'em off while Bus and I polish -off this crowd, huh?" And Worsel did so.</p> - -<p>Van Buskirk, scorning Kinnison's advice, had seized the biggest thing -in sight, only to relinquish it sheepishly—he might as well have -attempted to wield a bridge-girder! He finally selected a tiny bar, -only half an inch in diameter and scarcely six feet long; but he found -that even this sliver was more of a bludgeon than any spaceaxe he had -ever swung.</p> - -<p>Then the armed pair went joyously to war, the Tellurian with his knife, -the Valerian with his magic wand. When the Overlords saw that a fight -to the finish was inevitable they also seized weapons and fought with -the desperation of the cornered rats they were. This, however, freed -Worsel from guard duty, since the monsters were fully occupied in -defending themselves. He seized a length of chain, wrapped six feet -of tail in an unbreakable anchorage around a torture rack, and set -viciously to work.</p> - -<p>Thus again the intrepid three, the only minions of civilization -theretofore to have escaped alive from the clutches of the Overlords -of Delgon, fought side by side. Van Buskirk particularly was in his -element. He was used to a gravity almost three times Earth's; he was -accustomed to enormously heavy, almost viscous air. This stuff, thick -as it was, tasted infinitely better than the vacuum that Tellurians -liked to breathe. It let a man <i>use</i> his strength; and the gigantic -Dutchman waded in happily, swinging his frightfully massive weapon -with devastating effect. <i>Crunch! Splash! THWUCK!</i> When that bar -struck it did not stop. It went through; blood, brains, smashed heads -and dismembered limbs flying in all directions. And Worsel's lethal -chain, driven irresistibly at the end of the twenty-five-foot lever of -his free length of body, clanked, hummed, and snarled its way through -reptilian flesh. And, while Kinnison was puny indeed in comparison with -his two brothers-in-arms, he had selected a weapon which would make his -skill count; and his wicked knife stabbed, sheared, and trenchantly bit.</p> - -<p>And thus, instead of dealing out death, the Overlords died.</p> - -<hr class="chap"> - -<p class="ph1">XVI.</p> - - -<p>The carnage over, Kinnison made his way to the control board, which was -more or less standard in type. There were, however some instruments new -to him; and these he examined with care, tracing their leads throughout -their lengths with his sense of perception before he touched a switch. -Then he pulled out three plungers, one after the other.</p> - -<p>There was a jarring <i>thunk!</i> and a reversal of the inexplicable, -sickening sensations he had experienced previously. They ceased; the -ships, solid now and still locked side by side, lay again in open, -familiar space.</p> - -<p>"Back to the <i>Dauntless</i>," Kinnison directed, tersely, and they went; -taking with them the bodies of the slain patrolmen. The ten who had -been tortured were dead; twelve more had perished under the mental -forces or the physical blows of the Overlords. Nothing could be done -for any of them save to take their remains back to Tellus.</p> - -<p>"What do we do with this ship? Let's burn her out, huh?" asked Van -Buskirk.</p> - -<p>"Not on Tuesdays—the College of Science would fry me to a crisp in my -own lard if I did," Kinnison retorted. "We take her in, as is. Where -are we, Worsel? Have you and the navigator found out yet?"</p> - -<p>"'Way, 'way out—almost out of the Galaxy," Worsel replied, and one of -the computers recited a string of numbers, then added, "I don't see how -we could have come so far in that short a time."</p> - -<p>"How much time was it—got any idea?" Kinnison asked, pointedly.</p> - -<p>"Why, by the chronometers—Oh—" the man's voice trailed off.</p> - -<p>"You're getting the idea. Wouldn't have surprised me much if we'd been -clear out of the known universe. Hyperspace is funny that way, they -say. Don't know a thing about it myself, except that we were in it for -a while, but that's enough for me."</p> - -<p>Back to Tellus they drove at the highest practicable speed, and at -Prime Base scientists swarmed over and throughout the Boskonian vessel. -They tore down, rebuilt, measured, analyzed, tested, and conferred.</p> - -<p>"They got some of it. All of it, they say, except the stuff that is of -real importance," Thorndyke reported to his friend Kinnison one day. -"Old Cardynge is mad as a cateagle about your report of that vortex, -or tunnel, or whatever it was. He says your lack of appreciation of the -simplest fundamentals is something pitiful, or words to that effect. -He's going to blast you to a cinder as soon as he gets hold of you."</p> - -<p>"Vell, ve can't all be first violiners in der orchestra, some of us got -to push vind through der trombone," Kinnison quoted, philosophically. -"I done my darnedest. How's a guy going to report accurately on -something he can't hear, see, feel, smell, taste, or sense? But I heard -that they've solved that thing of the interpenetrability of the two -kinds of matter. What's the low-down on that?"</p> - -<p>"Cardynge says it's simple. Maybe it is, but I'm a technician myself, -not a mathematician. As near as I can get it, the Overlords and their -stuff were treated or conditioned with an oscillatory wave of some -kind, so that under the combined action of the fields generated by -the ship and the shore station all their substance was rotated almost -out of space. Not out of space, exactly, either, more like, say, very -nearly one hundred eighty degrees out of phase; so that two bodies—one -untreated, our stuff—could occupy the same place at the same time -without perceptible interference. The failure of either force, such as -your cutting the ship's generators, would relieve the strain."</p> - -<p>"It did more than that—it destroyed the vortex ... but it might, at -that," the Lensman went on, thoughtfully. "It could very well be that -only that one special force, exerted in the right place relative to -the home-station generator, could bring the vortex into being. But how -about that heavy stuff, common to both planes, or phases, of matter?"</p> - -<p>"Synthetic, they say. Not as dense as it appears—that's due largely to -field-action, too. They're working on it now."</p> - -<p>"Thanks for the dope. I've got to flit—got a date with Haynes. I'll -see Cardynge later and let him get it off his chest," and the Lensman -strode away toward the Port Admiral's office.</p> - -<hr class="tb"> - -<p>Haynes greeted him cordially; then, at sight of the storm signals -flying in the Gray Lensman's eyes, he sobered.</p> - -<p>"QX," he said, wearily. "If we have to go over this again, unload it, -Kim."</p> - -<p>"Twenty-two good men," Kinnison said, harshly. "I murdered them. Just -as surely, if not quite as directly, as though I brained them with a -spaceaxe."</p> - -<p>"In one way, if you look at it fanatically enough, yes," the older man -admitted, much to Kinnison's surprise. "I am not asking you to look at -it in a broader sense, because you probably can't—yet. Some things you -can do alone; some things you can do even better alone than with help. -I have never objected; nor shall I ever object to your going alone -on such missions, however dangerous they may be. That is, and will -be, your job. What you are forgetting in the luxury of giving way to -your emotions is that the Patrol comes first. The Patrol is of vastly -greater importance than the lives of any man or group of men in it."</p> - -<p>"But I know that, sir," protested Kinnison. "I—"</p> - -<p>"You have a peculiar way of showing it, then," the Admiral broke in. -"You say that you killed twenty-two men. Admitting it for the moment, -which would you say was better for the Patrol—to lose those twenty-two -good men in a successful and productive operation, or to lose the life -of one Unattached Lensman without gaining any information or any other -benefit whatever thereby?"</p> - -<p>"Why ... I—If you look at it that way, sir—" Kinnison still knew that -he was right, but in that form the question answered itself.</p> - -<p>"That is the only way it can be looked at," the old man returned, -flatly. "No heroics on your part, no maudlin sentimentality. Now, as a -Lensman, is it your considered judgment that it is best for the Patrol -that you traverse that hyperspatial vortex alone, or with all the -resources of the <i>Dauntless</i> at your command?"</p> - -<p>Kinnison's face was white and strained. He could not lie to the Port -Admiral. Nor could he tell the truth, for the dying agonies of those -fiendishly tortured boys still wracked him to the core.</p> - -<p>"But I can't order men into any such death as that," he broke out, -finally.</p> - -<p>"You must," Haynes replied, inexorably. "Either you take the ship as -she is or else you call for volunteers—and you know what that would -mean."</p> - -<p>Kinnison did, too well. The surviving personnel of the two -<i>Brittanias</i>, the full present complement of the <i>Dauntless</i>, -the crews of every other ship in Base, practically everybody on -the Reservation—Haynes himself certainly, even Lacy and old von -Hohendorff, everybody, even or especially if they had no business on -such a trip as that—would volunteer; and every man jack of them would -yell his head off at being left out. Each would have a thousand reasons -for going.</p> - -<p>"QX, I suppose. You win." Kinnison submitted, although with ill grace, -rebelliously. "But I don't like it, nor any part of it. It clogs my -jets."</p> - -<p>"I know it, Kim," Haynes put a hand upon the boy's shoulder, tightening -his fingers. "We all have to do it, it's part of the job. But remember -always, Lensman, that the Patrol is not an army of mercenaries or -conscripts. Any one of them—just as would you yourself—would go out -there, <i>knowing</i> that it meant death in the torture chamber of the -Overlords, if in so doing he knew that he could help to end the torture -and the slaughter of non-combatant men, women, and children that is -now going on."</p> - -<hr class="tb"> - -<p>Kinnison walked slowly back to the Field; silenced, but not convinced. -There was something screwy somewhere, but he couldn't—</p> - -<p>"Just a moment, young man!" came a sharp, irritated voice. "I have been -looking for you. At what time do you propose to set out for that which -is being so loosely called the 'hyperspatial vortex'?"</p> - -<p>He pulled himself out of his abstraction to see Sir Austin Cardynge. -Testy, irascible, impatient, and vitriolic of tongue, he had always -reminded Kinnison of a frantic hen attempting to mother a brood of -ducklings.</p> - -<p>"Hi, Sir Austin! Tomorrow—hour fifteen. Why?" The Lensman had too much -on his mind to be ceremonious with this mathematical nuisance.</p> - -<p>"Because I find that I must accompany you, and it is most damnably -inconvenient, sir. The Society meets Tuesday week, and that ass -Weingarde will—"</p> - -<p>"Huh?" Kinnison ejaculated. "Who told you that you had to go along, or -that you even <i>could</i>, for that matter?"</p> - -<p>"Don't be a fool, young man!" the peppery scientist advised. "It should -be apparent even to your feeble intelligence that after your fiasco, -your inexcusable negligence in not reporting even the most elementary -vectorial-tensorial analysis of that extremely important vortex, -someone with at least a rudimentary brain should—"</p> - -<p>"Hold on, Sir Austin!" Kinnison interrupted the harangue, "Do you mean -to say that you want to come along just to study the mathematics of -that damn—"</p> - -<p>"<i>Just</i> to study it!" shrieked the old man, almost tearing his hair. -"You dolt—you blockhead! My God, why should anything with such a -brain be permitted to live? Don't you even know, Kinnison, that in -that vortex lies the solution of one of the greatest problems in all -science?"</p> - -<p>"Never occurred to me," the Lensman replied, unruffled by the old man's -acid fury. He had had weeks of it, at the Conference.</p> - -<p>"It is imperative that I go." Sir Austin was still acerbic, but the -intensity of his passion was abating. "I must analyze those fields, -their patterns, interactions and reactions, myself. Unskilled -observations are useless, as you learned to your sorrow, and this -opportunity is priceless—possibly it is unique. Since the data must be -not only complete but also entirely authoritative, I myself must go. -That is clear, is it not, even to you?"</p> - -<p>"No. Hasn't anybody told you that everybody aboard is simply flirting -with the undertaker?"</p> - -<p>"Nonsense! I have subjected the affair, every phase of it, to a rigid -statistical analysis. The probability is significantly greater than -zero—oh, ever so much greater, almost point one nine, in fact—that -the ship will return, with my notes."</p> - -<p>"But listen, Sir Austin," Kinnison explained patiently. "You won't have -time to study the generators at the other end, even if the folks there -felt inclined to give us the chance. Our object is to blow the whole -thing clear out of space."</p> - -<p>"Of course, of course—certainly! The mere generating mechanisms are -immaterial. Analyses of the forces themselves are the sole desiderata. -Vectors—tensors—performance of mechanisms in reception—ethereal and -subethereal phenomena—propagation—extinction—phase angles—complete -and accurate data upon hundreds of such items—slighting even one -would be calamitous. Having this material, however, the mechanism -of energization becomes a mere detail—complete solution and design -inevitable, absolute—childishly simple."</p> - -<p>"Oh," the Lensman was slightly groggy under the barrage. "The ship may -get back, but how about you, personally?"</p> - -<p>"What difference does that make?" Cardynge snapped fretfully. "Even if, -as is theoretically probable, we find that communication is impossible, -my notes have a very good chance—very good indeed—of getting back. -You do not seem to realize, young man, that to science that data is -<i>necessary</i>. It is <i>so</i> evident that the persons or beings who are -operating it do not know, or are at least not utilizing, one percent of -its potentialities. They stumbled upon it—blundered into it—someone -with at least a rudimentary knowledge of science must analyze it, so -that the Conference may exhaust its real possibilities."</p> - -<p>Kinnison looked down at the wispy little man in surprise. Here was -something he had never suspected. Cardynge was a scientific wizard, -he knew. That he had a phenomenal mind there was no shadow of doubt, -but the Lensman had never thought of him as being physically brave. It -was not merely courage, he decided. It was something bigger—better. -Transcendent. An utter selflessness, a devotion to science so complete -that neither physical welfare nor even life itself could be given any -consideration whatever.</p> - -<p>"You think, then, that this data is worth sacrificing the lives of -four hundred men, including yours and mine, to get?" Kinnison asked, -earnestly.</p> - -<p>"Certainly, or a hundred times that many," Cardynge snapped, testily. -"You heard me say, did you not, that this opportunity is priceless, and -may very well be unique?"</p> - -<p>"QX, you can come," and Kinnison went on into the <i>Dauntless</i>.</p> - -<hr class="tb"> - -<p>Kinnison went to bed wondering. Maybe the chief was right. He woke up, -still wondering. Perhaps he was taking himself too seriously. Perhaps -he was, as Haynes had more than intimated, indulging in mock heroics.</p> - -<p>He prowled about. The two ships of space were still locked together. -They would fly together to and along that dread tunnel, and he had to -see that everything was on the green.</p> - -<p>He went into the wardroom. One young officer was thumping the piano -right tunefully and a dozen others were rending the atmosphere with -joyous song. In that room any formality or "as you were" signal was -unnecessary; the whole bunch fell upon their commander gleefully and -with a complete lack of restraint, in a vociferous hilarity very -evidently neither forced nor assumed.</p> - -<p>Kinnison went on with his tour. "What was it?" he demanded of himself. -Haynes didn't feel guilty. Cardynge was worse—he would kill forty -thousand men, including the Lensman and himself, without batting an -eye. These kids didn't give a damn. Their fellows had been slain by the -Overlords, the Overlords had in turn been slain. All square—QX. Their -turn next? So what? Kinnison himself did not want to die—he wanted to -live—but if his number came up that was part of the game.</p> - -<p>What was it, this willingness to give up life itself for an -abstraction? Science, the Patrol, Civilization—notoriously ungrateful -mistresses. Why? Some inner force—some compensation defying sense, -reason, or analysis?</p> - -<p>Whatever it was, he had it, too. Why deny it to others? What in all the -nine hells of Valeria was he griping about?</p> - -<p>"Maybe <i>I'm</i> nuts!" he concluded, and gave the word to blast off.</p> - -<p>To blast off—to find and to traverse wholly that awful hypertube, at -whose far terminus there would be lurking no man knew what.</p> - -<hr class="chap"> - -<p class="ph1">XVII.</p> - - -<p>Out in space Kinnison called the entire crew to a mass meeting, in -which he outlined to them as well as he could that which they were -about to face.</p> - -<p>"The Boskonian ship will undoubtedly return automatically to her dock," -he concluded. "That there is probably docking space for only one ship -is immaterial, since the <i>Dauntless</i> will remain free. That ship is -not manned, as you know, because no one knows what is going to happen -when the fields are released in the home dock. Consequences may be -disastrous to any foreign, untreated matter within her. Some signal -will undoubtedly be given upon landing, although we have no means of -knowing what that signal will be and Sir Austin has pointed out that -there can be no communication between that ship and her base until her -generators have been cut.</p> - -<p>"Since we also will be in hyperspace until that time, it is clear -that the generator must be cut from within the vessel. Electrical -and mechanical relays are out of the question. Therefore two of our -personnel will keep alternate watches in her control room, to pull -the necessary switches. I am not going to order any man to such a -duty, nor am I going to ask for volunteers. If the man on duty is -not killed outright—this is a distinct possibility, although not -a probability—speed in getting back here will be decidedly of the -essence. It seems to me that the best interests of the Patrol will be -served by having the two fastest members of our force on watch. Time -trials from the Boskonian panel to our air lock are, therefore, now in -order."</p> - -<p>This was Kinnison's device for taking the job himself. He was, he knew, -the fastest man aboard, and he proved it. He negotiated the distance in -seven seconds flat, over half a second faster than any other member of -the crew. Then:</p> - -<p>"Well, if you small, slow runts are done playing creepie-mousie, get -out of the way and let folks run that really can," Van Buskirk boomed. -"Come on, Worsel, I see where you and I are going to get ourselves a -job."</p> - -<p>"But see here, you can't!" Kinnison protested, aghast. "I said members -of the crew."</p> - -<p>"No, you didn't," the Valerian contradicted. "You said 'two of our -personnel,' and if Worsel and I ain't personnel, what are we? We'll -leave it to Sir Austin."</p> - -<p>"Indubitably 'personnel,'" the arbiter decided, taking a moment from -the apparatus he was setting up. "Your statement that speed is a prime -requisite is also binding."</p> - -<p>Whereupon the winged Velantian flew and wriggled the distance in two -seconds, and the steel-thewed Dutch-Valerian ran it in three!</p> - -<p>"You big, knot-headed Valerian ape!" Kinnison hissed a malevolent -thought; not as the expedition's commander to a subordinate, but as an -outraged friend speaking plainly to friend. "You knew I wanted that job -myself, you clunker—damn your thick, hard crust!"</p> - -<p>"Well, so did I, you poor, spindly little Tellurian wart, and so did -Worsel," the giant warrior shot back in kind. "Besides it's for the -good of the Patrol—you said so yourself! Comb <i>that</i> out of your -whiskers, half-portion!" he added, with a wide and toothy grin, as he -swaggered away, lightly brandishing his ponderous mace.</p> - -<p>The run to the point in space where the vortex had been was made on -schedule. Switches drove home, most of the fabric of the enemy vessel -went out of phase, the voyagers experienced the weirdly uncomfortable -acceleration along an impossible vector, and the familiar firmament -disappeared into an impalpable but impenetrable murk of featureless, -textureless gray.</p> - -<p>Sir Austin was in his element. Indeed, he was in the seventh heaven of -rapture as he observed, recorded, and calculated. He chuckled over his -interferometers, he clucked over his meters, now and again he emitted -shrill whoops of triumph as a particularly abstruse bit of knowledge -was torn from its lair. He strutted, he gloated, he practically purred -as he recorded upon the tape still another momentous conclusion or -a gravid equation, each couched in terms of such incomprehensibly -formidable mathematics that no one not a member of the Conference of -Scientists could even dimly perceive its meaning.</p> - -<p>Cardynge finished his work; and, after doing everything that could be -done to insure the safe return to Science of his priceless records, -he simply preened himself. He wasn't like an old hen, after all, -Kinnison decided. More like a lean, gray tomcat. One that has just -eaten the canary and, contemplatively smoothing his whiskers, is full -of pleasant, if somewhat sanguine visions of what he is going to do to -those other felines at that next meeting.</p> - -<p>Time wore on. A long time? Or a short? Who could tell? What possible -measure of that unknown and intrinsically unknowable concept exists -or can exist in that fantastic region of—hyperspace? Interspace? -Pseudospace? Call it what you like.</p> - -<hr class="tb"> - -<p>Time, as has been said, wore on. The ships arrived at the enemy base, -the landing signal was given. Worsel, on duty at the time, recognized -it for what it was—with his brain that was a foregone conclusion. He -threw the switches, then flew and wriggled as even he had never done -before, hurling a thought as he came.</p> - -<p>And as the Velantian, himself in the throes of weird deceleration, tore -through the thinning atmosphere, the queasy Gray Lensman watched the -development about them of a forbiddingly inimical scene.</p> - -<p>They were materializing upon a landing field of sorts, a smooth and -level expanse of black igneous rock. Two suns, one hot and close, one -pale and distant, cast the impenetrable shadows so characteristic of -an airless world. Dwarfed by distance, but still massively, craggily -tremendous, there loomed the encircling rampart of the volcanic crater -upon whose floor the fortress lay.</p> - -<p>And what a fortress! New—raw—crude—but fanged with armament of -might. There was the typically Boskonian dome of control, there were -powerful ships of war in their cradles, there beside the <i>Dauntless</i> -was very evidently the power plant in which was generated the cryptic -force which made interdimensional transit an actuality. But, and here -was the saving factor which the Lensman had dared only half hope to -find, those ultrapowerful defensive mechanisms were mounted to resist -attack from without, not from within. It had not occurred to the foe, -even as a possibility, that the Patrol might come upon them in panoply -of war through their own hyperspatial tube!</p> - -<p>Kinnison knew that it was useless to assault that dome. He could, -perhaps, crack its screens with his primaries, but he did not have -enough stuff to reduce the whole establishment and therefore could not -use the primaries at all. Since the enemy had been taken completely by -surprise, however, he had a lot of time—at least a minute, perhaps a -trifle more—and in that time the old <i>Dauntless</i> could do a lot of -damage. The power plant came first; that was what they had come out -here to get.</p> - -<p>"All secondaries fire at will!" Kinnison barked into his microphone. -He was already at his conning board, every man of the crew was at his -station. "All of you who can reach twenty-seven, three-oh-eight, hit -it—hard. The rest of you do as you please."</p> - -<p>Every beam which could be brought to bear upon the powerhouse, and -there were plenty of them, flamed out practically as one. The -building stood for an instant, starkly outlined in a raging inferno -of incandescence, then slumped down flabbily; its upper, nearer parts -flaring away in clouds of sparklingly luminous vapor even as its -lower members flowed sluggishly together in streams of molted metal. -Deeper and deeper bored the frightful beams; foundations, subcellars, -structural members and Gargantuan mechanisms uniting with the obsidian -of the crater's floor to form a lake of bubbling, frothing lava.</p> - -<p>"QX—that's good!" Kinnison snapped. "Scatter your stuff, fellows—hit -'em!"</p> - -<p>Kinnison then spoke to Henderson, his chief pilot. "Lift us up a bit, -Hen, to give the boys a better sight. Be ready to flit, fast; all -hell's going to be out for noon any second now!"</p> - -<p>Ships—warships of Boskone's mightiest—caught cold. Some crewless; -some half-manned; none ready for the stunning surprise attack of the -Patrolmen. Through and through them the ruthless beams tore; leaving, -not ships, but nondescript masses of half-fused metal. Hangars, machine -shops, supply depots suffered the same fate; a good third of the -establishment became a smoking, smoldering heap of junk.</p> - -<p>Then, one by one, the fixed-mount weapons of the enemy, by dint of -what Herculean efforts can only be surmised, were brought to bear -upon the bold invader. Brighter and brighter flamed her prodigiously -powerful defensive screens. Number One faded out; crushed flat by -the hellish energies of Boskone's projectors. Number Two flared into -ever more spectacular pyrotechnics, until soon even its tremendous -resources of power became inadequate—blotchily, in discrete areas, -clinging to existence when all the might of its Medonian generators and -transmitters, it, too, began to fall.</p> - -<p>"Better we flit, Hen, while we're all in one piece—right now," -Kinnison advised the pilot then. "And I don't mean loaf, either. Let's -see you burn a hole in the ether."</p> - -<p>Henderson's fingers swept over his board, depressing to maximum and -locking down key after key. Blast after blast flared from her jets of -energies of an intensity almost to pale the brilliance of the madly -warring screens, and to Boskone's observers the immense Patrol raider -vanished from all ken.</p> - -<hr class="tb"> - -<p>At that drive, the <i>Dauntless</i> incomprehensible maximum, there was -little danger of pursuit: for, as well as being the biggest and the -most powerfully armed, she was also the fastest thing in space.</p> - -<p>Out in open intergalactic space—safe—discipline went by the board as -though on signal and all hands joined in a release of pent-up emotion. -Kinnison threw off his armor and, seizing the scandalized and highly -outraged Cardynge, spun him around in dizzying, though effortless -circles.</p> - -<p>"Didn't lose a man—NOT A MAN!" he yelled, exuberantly.</p> - -<p>He plucked the now idle Henderson from his board and wrestled with -him, only to drift lightly away, ahead of a tremendous slap aimed at -his back by Van Buskirk. Inertialessness takes most of the edge off -rough housing, but the performance did relieve the tension and soon the -ebullient youths quieted down.</p> - -<p>The enemy base was located well outside the Galaxy. Not, as Kinnison -had feared, in the Second Galaxy, but in a star cluster not too far -removed from the first. Hence the flight to Prime Base did not take -long.</p> - -<p>Sir Austin Cardynge was more like a self-satisfied tomcat than ever as -he gathered up his records, gave a corps of aides minute instructions -regarding the packing of his equipment, and set out, figuratively -but very evidently licking his chops, rehearsing the scene in which -he would confound his allegedly learned fellows, especially that -insufferable puppy, that upstart Weingarde.</p> - -<p>"And that's that," Kinnison concluded his informal report to Haynes. -"They're all washed up, there, at least. Before they can rebuild, you -can wipe out the whole nest. If there should happen to be one or two -more such bases, the boys know now how to handle them. I think I'd -better be getting back onto my own job, don't you?"</p> - -<p>"Probably so," Haynes thought for moments, then continued: "Can you use -help, or can you work better alone?"</p> - -<p>"I've been thinking about that. The higher the tougher, and it might -not be a bad idea at all to have Worsel standing by in my speedster; -close by and ready all the time. He's pretty much of an army himself, -mental and physical. QX?"</p> - -<p>"Can do," and thus it came about that the good ship <i>Dauntless</i> flew -again, this time out Borova way; her sole freight a sleek black -speedster and a rusty, battered meteor-tug, her passengers a sinuous -Velantian and a husky Tellurian.</p> - -<p>"Sort of a thin time for you, old man, I'm afraid." Kinnison -leaned unconcernedly against the towering pillar of his friend's -tail, whereupon four or five grotesquely stalked eyes curled out -at him speculatively. To these two, each other's appearance and -shape were neither repulsive nor strange. They were friends, in -the deepest, truest sense. "He's so hideous that he's positively -distinguished-looking," each had boasted more than once of the other to -friends of his own race.</p> - -<p>"Nothing like that." The Velantian flashed out a leather wing and -flipped his tail aside in a playfully unsuccessful attempt to catch the -Earthman off balance. "Some day, if you ever learn really to think, you -will discover that a few weeks' solitary, undisturbed and concentrated -thought is a rare treat. To have such an opportunity in the line of -duty makes it a pleasure unalloyed."</p> - -<p>"I always did think that you were slightly screwy at times, and now I -know it," Kinnison retorted, unconvinced. "Thought is—or should be—a -means to an end, not an end in itself; but if that's your idea of a -wonderful time I'm glad to be able to give it to you."</p> - -<hr class="tb"> - -<p>They disembarked carefully in far space, the complete absence of -spectators assured by the warship's fullest reach of detectors, and -Kinnison again went down to Miners' Rest. Not, this time, to carouse. -Miners were not carousing there. Instead, the whole asteroid was -buzzing with news of the fabulously rich finds which were being made in -the distant solar system of Tressilia.</p> - -<p>Kinnison had known that the news would be there, for it was at his -instructions that those rich meteors had been placed there to be -found. Tressilia III was the home of the Regional Director with whom -the Gray Lensman had important business to transact; he had to have a -solid reason, not a mere excuse, for Bill Williams to leave Borova for -Tressilia.</p> - -<p>The lure of wealth, then as ever, was stronger even than that of drink -or of drug. Miners came to revel, but instead they outfitted in haste -and hied themselves to the new Klondike. Nor was this anything out -of the ordinary. Such stampedes occurred every once in a while, and -Strongheart and his minions were not unduly concerned. They'd be back, -and in the meantime there was the profit on a lot of metal and an -excess profit due to the skyrocketing prices of supplies.</p> - -<p>"You too, Bill?" Strongheart asked without surprise.</p> - -<p>"I'll tell the Universe!" came ready answer. "If there's metal there, -I'll find it, pal." In making this declaration he was not boasting, he -was merely voicing a simple truth. By this time the meteor belts of -a hundred solar systems knew for a fact that Wild Bill Williams, of -Aldebaran II could find metal if metal was there to be found.</p> - -<p>"If it's a bloomer, Bill, come back," the divekeeper urged. "Come back -anyway when you've worked it a couple of drunks."</p> - -<p>"I'll do that, Strongheart old pal, I sure will," the Lensman agreed, -amiably enough. "You run a nice joint here and I like it."</p> - -<p>Thus Kinnison went to the asteroid belts of Tressilia and there Bill -Williams found rich metal. Or, more precisely, he dumped out into -space and then recovered a very special meteor indeed—one in whose -fabrication Kinnison's own treasure-trove had played a leading part. He -did not find it the first day, of course, nor during the first week—it -would be a trifle smelly to have even Wild Bill strike it rich too -soon—but after a decent interval of time.</p> - -<p>His Tressilian find had to be very much worth while, far too much so -to be left to chance; for Edmund Crowninshield, the Regional Director, -inhabited no such rawly obvious dive as Miners' Rest. He catered only -to the upper crust; meteor miners and other similar scum were never -permitted to enter his door.</p> - -<p>When Kinnison repaired the Bergenholm of the Borovan spaceliner he had, -by sheerest accident, laid the groundwork of a perfect approach, and -now he was taking advantage of the circumstance. That incident had been -reported widely: it was well known that Wild Bill Williams had been a -gentleman once. If he should strike it rich—really rich—what would be -more natural than that he should forsake the noisesome space hells he -had been wont to frequent in favor of such gilded palaces of sin as the -Crown-On-Shield?</p> - -<p>In due time, then, Kinnison "found" his special meteor, which was big -enough and rich enough so that any miner would have taken it to a -Patrol station instead of to a space robber. He disposed of his whole -load by analysis; then, with more money in the bank than William -Williams had ever dreamed of having, he hesitated visibly before -embarking upon one of the gorgeous, spectacular sprees from which he -had derived his nickname. He hesitated; then, with an effort apparent -to all observers, he changed his mind.</p> - -<p>He had been a gentleman once, he would be again. He had his hair cut, -he had himself shaved every day. Manicurists dug away and scrubbed -away the ingrained grime from his hardened, meteor-miner's paws. His -nails, even, became pink and glossy. He bought clothes, including the -full-dress shorts, barrel-top jacket, and voluminous cloak of the -Aldebaranian gentleman, and wore them with easy grace.</p> - -<p>And in the meantime he was drinking steadily. He drank, however, only -the choicest beverages; decorously and—for him—sparingly. Thus, -while he was seldom what could be called strictly sober, he was never -really drunk. He shunned low resorts, living in the best hotels and -frequenting only the finest taverns. The finest, that is, with one -exception, the Crown-On-Shield. Not only did he not go there, he never -spoke of or would discuss the place. It was as though for him it did -not exist.</p> - -<p>Occasionally he escorted—oh, so correctly!—a charming companion to -supper or to the theater, but ordinarily he was alone. Alone by choice. -Aloof, austere, possibly not quite sure of himself. He rebuffed all -attempts to inveigle him into any one of the numerous cliques with -which the "upper crust" abounded. He waited for what he knew would come.</p> - -<hr class="tb"> - -<p>Underlings of gradually increasing numbers and importance came to him -with invitations to the Crown-On-Shield, but he refused them all; -curtly, definitely, and without giving reason or excuse. In the light -of what he was going to do there he could not be seen in the place -unless and until it was clear to all that the visit was not of his -design. Finally Crowninshield himself met the ex-miner as though by -accident.</p> - -<p>"Why haven't you been out to our place, Mr. Williams?" he asked, -heartily.</p> - -<p>"Because I didn't want to, and don't want to," Kinnison replied, flatly -and definitely.</p> - -<p>"But why?" demanded the Boskonian Director, this time in genuine -surprise. "It's getting talked about—<i>everybody</i> comes to the -Crown!—people are wondering why you never even look in on us."</p> - -<p>"You know who I am, don't you?" The Lensman's voice was coldly level, -uninflected.</p> - -<p>"Certainly. William Williams, formerly of Aldebaran II."</p> - -<p>"No. Wild Bill Williams, meteor miner. The Crown-On-Shield boasts that -it does not solicit the patronage of men of my profession. If I go -there, some dim-wit will start blasting off about miners. Then you'll -have the job of mopping him up off the floor with a sponge and the -Patrol will be after me with a speedster. Thanks just the same, but -none of that for me."</p> - -<p>"Oh, is <i>that</i> all?" Crowninshield smiled in relief. "Perhaps a natural -misapprehension, Mr. Williams, but you are entirely mistaken. It is -true that practicing miners do not find our society congenial, but -you are no longer a miner and we never refer to any man's past. As an -Aldebaranian gentleman we would welcome you. And, in the extremely -remote contingency to which you refer, I assure you that you would not -have to act. Any guest so boorish would be expelled."</p> - -<p>"In that case I would really enjoy spending a little time with you. It -has been a long time since I associated with persons of breeding," he -explained, with engaging candor.</p> - -<p>"I'll have a boy see to the transfer of your things," and thus the Gray -Lensman allowed the zwilnik to persuade him to visit the one place in -the Universe where he most ardently wished to be.</p> - -<p>For days in the new environment everything went on with the utmost -decorum and circumspection, but Kinnison was not deceived. They would -feel him out some way, just as effectively if not as crassly as did -the zwilniks of Miners' Rest. They would have to—this was Regional -Headquarters. At first he had been suspicious of thionite, but since -the high-ups were not wearing anti-thionite plugs in their nostrils, he -wouldn't have to either.</p> - -<p>Then one evening a girl—young, pretty, vivacious—approached him, a -pinch of purple powder between her fingers. As the Gray Lensman he knew -that the stuff was not thionite, but as William Williams he did not.</p> - -<p>"<i>Do</i> have a tiny smell of thionite, Mr. Williams!" she urged, -coquettishly, and made as though to blow it into his face.</p> - -<p>Williams reacted strangely, but instantaneously. He ducked with -startling speed and the flat of his palm smacked ringingly against the -girl's cheek. He did not slap her hard—it looked and sounded much -worse than it really was—the only actual force was in the follow-up -push that sent her flying across the room.</p> - -<p>"Whatja mean, you? You can't slap girls around like that here!" and the -chief bouncer came at him with a rush.</p> - -<p>This time the Lensman did not pull his punch. He struck with everything -he had, from heels to fingertips. Such was the sheer brute power of -the blow that the bouncer literally somersaulted the length of the -room, bringing up with a crash against the distant wall; so accurate -was its placement that the victim, while not killed outright, would be -unconscious for many hours to come.</p> - -<p>Others turned then, and paused; for Williams was not running away; he -was not even giving ground. Instead, he stood lightly poised upon the -balls of his feet, knees bent the veriest trifle, arms hanging at -ready, eyes as hard and as cold as the iron meteorites of the space he -knew so well.</p> - -<p>"Any others of you damn zwilniks want to make a pass at me?" he -demanded, and a concerted gasp arose: the word "zwilnik" was in those -circles far worse than a mere fighting word. It was absolutely taboo: -it was <i>never</i>, under any circumstance, uttered.</p> - -<p>Nevertheless, no action was taken. At first the cold arrogance, the -sheer effrontery of the man's pose held them in check; then they -noticed one thing and remembered another, the combination of which gave -them most emphatically to pause.</p> - -<p>No garment, even by the most deliberate intent, could possibly have -been designed as a better hiding place for DeLameters than the -barrel-topped full-dress jacket of Aldebaran II; and—</p> - -<p>Mr. William Williams, poised there in steel-spring readiness for -action; so coldly self-confident; so inexplicably, so scornfully -derisive of that whole roomful of men not a few of whom he knew must be -armed; was also the Wild Bill Williams, meteor miner, who was widely -known as the fastest and deadliest performer with twin DeLameters who -had ever infested space!</p> - -<hr class="chap"> - -<p class="ph1">XVIII.</p> - - -<p>Edmund Crowninshield sat in his office and seethed quietly, the -all-pervasive blueness of the Kalonian brought out even more -prominently than usual by his mood. His plan to find out whether or not -the ex-miner was a spy had backfired, badly. He had had reports from -Euphrosyne that the fellow was not—<i>could</i> not be—a spy, and now his -test had confirmed that conclusion, too thoroughly by far. He would -have to do some mighty quick thinking and perhaps some salve-spreading -or lose him. He certainly didn't want to lose a client who had over a -quarter of a million credits to throw away, and who could not possibly -resist his cravings for alcohol and bentlam much longer! But curse him, -what had the fellow meant by having a kit-bag built of indurite, with a -lock on it that not even his cleverest artists could pick!</p> - -<p>"Come in," he called, unctuously, in answer to a tap. "Oh, it's you! -What did you find out?"</p> - -<p>"Janice isn't hurt. He didn't make a mark on her—just gave her a shove -and scared hell out of her. But Clovis was nudged, believe me. He's -still out—will be for hours, the doctor says. What a sock that guy's -got! Clovis looks like he'd been hit with a Valerian maul."</p> - -<p>"You're sure he was armed?"</p> - -<p>"Must have been. Typical gun fighter's crouch. He was ready, not -bluffing, believe me. The man don't live that could bluff a roomful of -us like that. He was betting that he could whiff us all before we could -get a gun out, and I wouldn't wonder if he was right."</p> - -<p>"QX. Beat it, and don't let anyone come near here except Williams."</p> - -<p>Therefore the ex-miner was the next visitor.</p> - -<p>"You wanted to see me, Crowninshield, before I flit." Kinnison was -fully dressed, even to his flowing cloak, and he was carrying his own -kit. This, in an Aldebaranian, implied the extremest height of dudgeon.</p> - -<p>"Yes, Mr. Williams, I wish to apologize for the house. However," -somewhat exasperated, "it does seem that you were abrupt, to say the -least, in your reaction to a childish prank."</p> - -<p>"Prank!" The Aldebaranian's voice was decidedly unfriendly. "Sir, to me -thionite is no prank. I don't mind nitrolabe or heroin, and a little -bentlam now and then is good for a man, but when anyone comes around me -with thionite I object, sir, vigorously, and I don't care who knows it."</p> - -<p>"Evidently. But that wasn't really thionite—we would never permit -it—and Miss Carter is an exemplary young lady—"</p> - -<p>"How was I to know it wasn't thionite?" Williams demanded. "And as for -your Miss Carter, as long as a woman acts like a lady I treat her like -a lady, but if she acts like a zwilnik—"</p> - -<p>"Please, Mr. Williams—"</p> - -<p>"—I treat her like a zwilnik, and that's that."</p> - -<p>"Mr. Williams, please! Not that word, ever!"</p> - -<p>"No? A planetary idiosyncrasy, perhaps?" The ex-miner's towering wrath -abated into curiosity. "Now that you mention it, I do not recall having -heard it lately, nor hereabouts. For its use please accept my apology."</p> - -<p>Oh, this was better. Crowninshield was making headway. The big -Aldebaranian didn't even know thionite when he saw it, and he had a -rabid fear of it.</p> - -<p>"There remains, then, only the very peculiar circumstance of your -wearing arms here in a quiet hotel—"</p> - -<p>"Who says I was armed?" Kinnison demanded.</p> - -<p>"Why ... I ... it was assumed—" The proprietor was flabbergasted.</p> - -<p>The visitor threw off his coat and removed his jacket, revealing a -shirt of sheer glamorette through which could be plainly seen his -hirsute chest and the smooth, bronzed skin of his brawny shoulders. -He strode over to his kit-bag, unlocked it, and took out a double -DeLameter harness, complete with instruments. He donned the -contraption, put on jacket and cloak—open, now, this latter—shrugged -his shoulders a few times to settle the new burden into its wonted -position, and turned again to the hotelkeeper.</p> - -<p>"This is the first time that I have worn this hardware since I came -here," he said, quietly. "Having the name, however, you may take -it upon the very best of authority that I will be armed during the -remaining minutes of my visit here. With your permission, I shall leave -now."</p> - -<p>"Oh, no, that won't do, sir, really." Crowninshield was almost abject -at the prospect. "We should be desolated. Mistakes will happen, -sir—planetary prejudices—misunderstandings. Give us a little more -time to get really acquainted, sir—" and thus it went.</p> - -<p>Finally Kinnison let himself be mollified into staying on. With true -Aldebaranian mulishness, however, he wore his armament, proclaiming to -all and sundry his sole reason therefor: "An Aldebaranian gentleman, -sir, keeps his word; however lightly or under whatever circumstances -given. I said that I would wear these things as long as I stay here; -therefore wear them I must and I shall. I will leave here any time, -sir, gladly; but while here I remain armed, every minute of every day."</p> - -<p>And he did. He never drew them, was always and in every way a -gentleman. Nevertheless, the zwilniks were always uncomfortably -conscious of the fact that those grim, formidable portables were -there—always there and always ready. The fact that they themselves -went armed with weapons deadly enough was all too little reassurance.</p> - -<hr class="tb"> - -<p>Always the quintessence of good behavior, Kinnison began to relax his -barriers of reserve. He began to drink—to buy, at least—more and -more. He had taken regularly a little bentlam; now, as though his will -to moderation had begun to go down, he took larger and larger doses. It -was not a significant fact to any one, except himself, that the nearer -drew the time for a certain momentous meeting the more he apparently -drank and the larger the doses of bentlam became.</p> - -<p>Thus it was a purely unnoticed coincidence that it was upon the -afternoon of the day during whose evening the conference was to be -held that Williams' quiet and gentlemanly drunkenness degenerated -into a noisy and obstreperous carousal. As a climax he demanded—and -obtained—the twenty-four units of bentlam which, his host knew, -comprised the highest-ceiling dose of the old, unregenerate mining -days. They gave him the Titanic jolt, undressed him, put him carefully -to bed upon a soft mattress covered with silken sheets and forgot him.</p> - -<p>Before the meeting every possible source of interruption or spying was -checked, rechecked, and guarded against; but no one even thought of -suspecting the free-spending, hard-drinking, drug-soaked Williams. How -could they?</p> - -<p>And so it came about that the Gray Lensman attended that meeting also; -as insidiously and as successfully as he had the one upon Euphrosyne. -It took longer, this time, to read the reports, notes, orders, -addresses, and so on, for this was a Regional meeting, not merely a -local one. However, the Lensman had ample time and was a fast reader -withal; and in Worsel he had an aide who could tape the stuff as fast -as he could send it in. Wherefore, when the meeting broke up Kinnison -was well content. He had forged another link in his chain—was one link -nearer to Boskone, his goal.</p> - -<p>As soon as Kinnison could walk without staggering he sought out his -host. He was ashamed, embarrassed, bitterly and painfully humiliated; -but he was still—or again—an Aldebaranian gentleman. He had made -a resolution, and gentlemen of that planet did not take their -gentlemanliness lightly.</p> - -<p>"First, Mr. Crowninshield, I wish to apologize, most humbly, most -profoundly, sir, for the fashion in which I have outraged your -hospitality." He could slap down a girl and half-kill a guard without -loss of self-esteem, but no gentleman, however inebriated, should -descend to such depths of commonness and vulgarity as he had plumbed -here. Such conduct was inexcusable. "I have nothing whatever to say in -defense or palliation of my conduct. I can only say that in order to -spare you the task of ordering me out, I am leaving."</p> - -<p>"Oh, come, Mr. Williams, that is not at all necessary. Anyone is apt to -take a drop too much occasionally. Really, my friend, you were not at -all offensive, we have not even entertained the thought of your leaving -us." Nor had he. The ten thousand credits which the Lensman had thrown -away during his spree would have condoned behavior a thousand times -worse; but Crowninshield did not refer to that.</p> - -<p>"Thank you for your courtesy, sir, but I remember some of my actions, -and I blush with shame," the Aldebaranian rejoined, stiffly. He was -not to be mollified. "I could never look your other guests in the -face again. I think, sir, that I can still be a gentleman; but until -I am certain of the fact—until I know I can get drunk as a gentleman -should—I am going to change my name and disappear. Until a happier -day, sir, good-by."</p> - -<p>Nothing could make the stiff-necked Williams change his mind, and leave -he did, scattering five-credit notes abroad as he departed. However, -he did not go far. As he had explained so carefully to Crowninshield, -William Williams did disappear—forever, Kinnison hoped; he was all -done with him—but the Gray Lensman made connections with Worsel.</p> - -<p>"Thanks, old man," Kinnison shook one of the Velantian's gnarled, hard -hands, even though Worsel never had had much use for that peculiarly -human gesture. "Nice work. I won't need you for a while now, but I -probably will later. If I succeed in getting the data I'll Lens it to -you as usual for record—I'll be even less able than usual, I imagine, -to take recording apparatus with me. If I can't get it I'll call you -anyway, to help me make other arrangements. Clear ether, big fella!"</p> - -<p>"Luck, Kinnison," and the two Lensmen went their separate ways; Worsel -to Prime Base, the Tellurian on a long flit indeed. He had not been -surprised to learn that the Galactic Director was not in the Galaxy -proper, but in a star cluster; nor at the information that he whom -he sought was one Jalte, a Kalonian. Boskone, Kinnison thought, was -a highly methodical sort of a chap—he marked out the best way to do -anything, and then stuck by it through thick and thin.</p> - -<hr class="tb"> - -<p>Kinnison was almost wrong there, for not long afterward Boskone was -called in session and that very question was discussed seriously and at -length.</p> - -<p>"Granted that the Kalonians are good executives," the new Ninth of -Boskone argued. "They are strong of mind and do produce results. It -cannot be claimed, however, that they are in any sense comparable to us -of the Eich. Eichlan was thinking of replacing Helmuth, but he put off -acting until it was too late.</p> - -<p>"There are many factors to consider," the First replied, gravely. "The -planet is uninhabitable save for warm-blooded oxygen-breathers. The -base is built for such, and such is the entire personnel. Years of time -went into the construction there. One of us could not work efficiently -alone, insulated against its heat and its atmosphere. If the whole dome -were conditioned for us, we must needs train an entire new organization -to man it. Then, too, the Kalonians have to work well in hand and, -with all due respect to you and the others of your mind, it is by no -means certain that even Eichlan could have saved Helmuth's base had -he been there. Eichlan's own doubt upon this point had much to do -with his delay in acting. In the end it comes down to efficiency, and -some Kalonians are efficient. Jalte is one. And, while it may seem as -though I am boasting of my own selection of directors, please note that -Prellin, the Kalonian director upon Bronseca, seems to have been able -to stop the advance of the Patrol."</p> - -<p>"'Seems to' may be too exactly descriptive for comfort," said another, -darkly.</p> - -<p>"That is always a possibility," was conceded, "but whenever that -Lensman has been able to act, he has acted. Our keenest observers -can find no trace of his activities elsewhere, with the possible -exception of the misfunctioning of the experimental hyperspatial tube -of our allies of Delgon. Some of us have from the first considered -that venture ill-advised, premature; and its seizure by the Patrol -smacks more of their able mathematical physicists than of a purely -hypothetical, superhuman Lensman. Therefore, it seems logical to assume -that Prellin has stopped him. Our observers report that the Patrol -is loath to act illegally without evidence, and no evidence can be -obtained. Business was hurt, but Jalte is reorganizing as rapidly as -may be."</p> - -<p>"I still say that the Galactic Base should be rebuilt and manned by -the Eich," Nine insisted. "It is our sole remaining Grand Headquarters -there, and since it is both the brain of the peaceful conquest and the -nucleus of our new military organization, it should not be subjected to -any unnecessary risk."</p> - -<p>"And you will, of course, be glad to take that highly important -command, man the dome with your own people, and face the Lensman—if -and when he comes—backed by the forces of the Patrol?"</p> - -<p>"Why ... ah ... no," the Ninth managed. "I am of so much more use -here—"</p> - -<p>"That's what we all think," the first said, cynically. "While I would -like very much to welcome that hypothetical Lensman here, I do not care -to meet him upon any other planet. I really believe, however, that -any change in our organization would weaken it seriously. Jalte is -capable, energetic, and is as well informed as is any of us as to the -possibilities of invasion by the Lensman or his Patrol. Beyond asking -him whether he needs anything, and sending him everything he may wish -of supplies and of reinforcements, I do not see how he can improve -matters."</p> - -<p>But even before the question was asked, Kinnison's blackly invisible, -indetectable speedster was well within the star cluster. The -guardian fortresses were closer spaced by far than Helmuth's had -been. Electromagnetics had a three hundred percent overlap; ether -and subether alike were suffused with vibratory fields in which -nullification of detection was impossible, and the observers were alert -and keen. To what avail? The speedster was non-ferrous, intrinsically -indetectable; the Lensman slipped through the net with ease.</p> - -<p>Sliding down the edge of the world's black shadow he felt for the -expected thought-screen, found it, dropped cautiously through it, and -poised there; observing during one whole rotation. This had been a -fair, green world—once. It had had forests. It had once been peopled -by intelligent, urban dwellers, who had had roads, works, and other -evidences of advancement. But the cities had been melted down into -vast lakes of lava and slag. Cold now for years, cracked, fissured, -weathered; yet to Kinnison's probing sense they told tales of horror, -revealed all too clearly the incredible ferocity and ruthlessness -with which the conquerors had wiped out all the population of a -world. What had been roads and works were jagged ravines and craters -of destruction. The forests of the planet had been burned, again and -again; only a few charred stumps remaining to mark where a few of the -mightiest monarchs had stood. Except for the Boskonian base the planet -was a scene of desolation and ravishment indescribable.</p> - -<p>"They'll pay for that, too, the fiends," Kinnison gritted, and directed -his attention toward the base. Forbidding indeed it loomed; thrice -a hundred square miles of massively banked offensive and defensive -armament, with a central dome of such colossal mass as to dwarf even -the stupendous fabrications surrounding it. Typical Boskonian layout, -Kinnison thought, very much like Helmuth's Grand Base. Fully as large -and as strong, or stronger—but he had cracked that one and he was -pretty sure that he could crack this. Exploringly he sent out his sense -of perception; nor was he surprised to find that the whole aggregation -of structures was screened. He had not thought that it would be as easy -as that!</p> - -<p>He did not need to get inside the dome this time, as he was not going -to work directly upon the personnel. Inside the screen anywhere would -do. But how to get there? The ground all around the thing was flat, -as level as molten lava would cool, and every inch of it was bathed -in the white glare of floodlights. They had observers, of course, and -photo-cells, which were worse.</p> - -<p>Approach then, either through the air or upon the ground, did not -look so promising. That left only underground. They got water from -somewhere—wells, perhaps—and their sewage went somewhere unless -they incinerated it, which was highly improbable. There was a river -over there, he'd see if there wasn't a trunk sewer running into it -somewhere. There was. There was also a place within easy flying -distance to hide his speedster, an overhanging bank of smooth black -rock. The risk of his being seen was nil, anyway, for the only -intelligent life left upon the planet inhabited the Boskonian fortress -and did not leave it.</p> - -<p>Donning his space-black, indetectable armor, Kinnison flew down the -river to the sewer's mouth. He lowered himself into the placid stream -and against the sluggish current of the sewer he made his way. The -drivers of his suit were not as efficient in water as they were in air -or in space, and in the dense medium his pace was necessarily slow. But -he was in no hurry. It was fast enough—in a few hours he was beneath -the stronghold.</p> - -<hr class="tb"> - -<p>He then began his study of the dome. It was like Helmuth's in some -ways, entirely different from it in others. There were fully as many -firing-stations, each with its operators ready at signal to energize -and to direct the most terrifically destructive agencies known to the -science of the time. There were fewer visiplates and communicators, -fewer catwalks; but there were vastly more individual offices and -there were ranks and tiers of filing cabinets. There would have to be; -this was headquarters for the organized illicit commerce of an entire -galaxy. There, in the familiar center, sat at his great desk Jalte the -Kalonian, and beside him there sparkled the peculiar globe of force -which the Lensman now knew was an intergalactic communicator.</p> - -<p>"Ha!" Kinnison exclaimed triumphantly, if inaudibly, to himself, "the -real boss of the outfit—Boskone—is in the Second Galaxy!"</p> - -<p>He would have to wait until that communicator went into action, if -it took a month. But in the meantime there was plenty to do. Those -cabinets at least were not thought-screened, they held all the really -vital secrets of the drug ring, and it would take many days to transmit -the information which the Patrol must have if it were to make a -one-hundred-percent clean-up of the whole zwilnik organization.</p> - -<p>He called Worsel, and, upon being informed that the recorders were -ready, he started in. Characteristically, he began with Prellin of -Bronseca, and memorized the data covering that wight as he transmitted -it. The next one to go down upon the steel tape was Crowninshield -of Tressilia. Having exhausted all the filed information upon the -organization controlled by those two Regional Directors, he took the -rest of them in order.</p> - -<p>He had finished his real task and had practically finished a detailed -survey of the entire Base when the force-ball communicator burst into -activity. Knowing approximately the analysis of the beam and exactly -its location in space, it took only seconds for Kinnison to tap it; -but the longer the interview went on the more disappointed the Lensman -grew. Orders, reports, discussions of broad matters of policy—it was -simply a conference between two high executives of a vast business firm.</p> - -<p>"I assume from lack of mention that <i>the</i> Lensman has made no further -progress," Eichmil concluded.</p> - -<p>"Not so far as our best men can discover," Jalte replied, carefully, -and Kinnison grinned like the Cheshire cat in his secure, if -uncomfortable, retreat. It tickled his vanity immensely to be referred -to so matter-of-factly as <i>the</i> Lensman, and he felt very smart and -cagy indeed to be within a few hundred feet of Jalte as the Boskonian -uttered the words. "Lensmen by the score are still working Prellin's -base in Cominoche. Some twelve of these—human or approximately -so—have been returning again and again. We are checking those with -care, because of the possibility that one of them may be the one we -want, but as yet I can make no conclusive report."</p> - -<p>The connection was broken, and the Lensman's brief thrill of elated -self-satisfaction died away.</p> - -<p>"No soap," he growled to himself in disgust. "I've <i>got</i> to get into -that guy's mind, some way or other!"</p> - -<p>How could he make the approach? Every man in the Base wore a -head-screen, and they were mighty careful. No dogs or other pet -animals. There were few birds, but it would smell very cheesy indeed -to have a bird flying around, pecking at screen generators. To anyone -with half a brain that would tell the whole story, and these folks were -really smart. What, then?</p> - -<hr class="tb"> - -<p>There was a nice spider up there in a corner. Big enough to do light -work, but not big enough to attract much, if any, attention. Did -spiders have minds? The power pack and the generator set were both -open, being on Jalte's belt, while the screen itself was radiated from -a collar-antenna round his neck. He would see what he could do.</p> - -<p>The spider had more of a mind than he had supposed, and he got into it -easily enough. She could not really think at all, and at the starkly -terrible savagery of her tiny ego the Lensman actually winced, but -at that she had redeeming features. She was willing to work hard and -long for a comparatively small return of food. He could not fuse his -mentality with hers smoothly, as he could do in the case of creatures -of greater brain power, but he could handle her after a fashion. At -least she knew that certain actions would result in nourishment.</p> - -<p>Through the insect's compound eyes the room and all its contents were -weirdly distorted, but the Lensman could make them out well enough to -direct her efforts. She crawled along the ceiling and dropped upon a -silken rope to Jalte's belt. She could not pull the plug of the power -pack—it loomed before her eyes, a gigantic metal pillar as immovable -as the Rock of Gibraltar—therefore she scampered on and began to -explore the mazes of the set itself. She could not see the thing as a -whole, it was far too immense a structure for that; so Kinnison, to -whom the device was no larger than a hand, directed her to the first -grid lead.</p> - -<p>A tiny thing, thread-thin in gross; yet to the insect it was an -ordinary cable of stranded soft-metal wire. Her powerful mandibles -pried loose one of the component strands and with very little effort -pulled it away from its fellows beneath the head of a binding screw. -The strand bent easily, and as it touched the metal of the chassis the -thought-screen vanished.</p> - -<p>Instantly Kinnison insinuated his mind into Jalte's and began to dig -for knowledge. Eichmil was his chief—Kinnison knew that already. His -office was in the Second Galaxy, on the planet Jarnevon. Jalte had been -there—co-ordinates so and so, courses such and such—Eichmil reported -to Boskone—</p> - -<p>The Lensman stiffened. Here was the first positive evidence he had -found that his deductions were correct—or even that there really <i>was</i> -such an entity as Boskone! He bored anew.</p> - -<p>Boskone was not a single entity, but a council—probably of the Eich, -the natives of Jarnevon—weird impressions of coldly intellectual -reptilian monstrosities, horrific, indescribable—Eichmil must know -exactly who and where Boskone was. Jalte did not.</p> - -<p>Kinnison finished his research and abandoned the Kalonian's mind -as insidiously as he had entered it. The spider opened the short, -restoring the screen to usefulness. Then, before he did anything else, -the Lensman directed his small ally to a whole family of young grubs -just under the cover of his manhole. Lensmen paid their debts, even to -spiders.</p> - -<p>Then, with a profound sigh of relief, he dropped down into the sewer. -The submarine journey to the river was made without incident, as was -the flight to his speedster. Night fell, and through its blackness -there darted the even blacker shape which was the Lensman's little -ship. Out into intergalactic space she flashed, and homeward. And as -she flew the Tellurian scowled.</p> - -<p>He had gained much, but not enough by far. He had hoped to get all the -data on Boskone, so that he could storm Headquarters in the van of -Civilization's armada, invincible in its newly-devised might.</p> - -<p>No soap. Before he could do that he would have to scout Jarnevon—in -the Second Galaxy—alone. Alone? Better not. Better take the flying -snake along. Good old dragon. That was a mighty long flit to be doing -alone, and one with some mightily high-powered opposition at the other -end of it.</p> - -<hr class="chap"> - -<div class="figcenter"> - <img src="images/illusc4.jpg" alt=""> -</div> - -<hr class="chap"> - -<p class="ph1">XIX.</p> - - -<p>"Before you go anywhere; or, rather, whether you go anywhere or not, we -want to knock down that Bronsecan base of Prellin's," Haynes declared -to Kinnison in no uncertain voice. "It's a Galactic scandal, the way -we've been letting them thumb their noses at us. Everybody in space -thinks that the Patrol has gone soft all of a sudden. When are you -going to let us smack them down? Do you know what they've done now?"</p> - -<p>"No. What?"</p> - -<p>"Gone out of business. We've been watching then so closely that -they couldn't do any queer business—goods, letters, messages, or -anything—so they closed up the Bronseca branch entirely. 'Unfavorable -conditions,' they said. Locked up tight—telephones disconnected, -communicators cut, everything."</p> - -<p>"Hm-m-m. In that case we'd better take 'em, I guess. No harm done, -anyway, now—maybe all the better. Let Boskone think that our strategy -failed and we had to fall back on brute force."</p> - -<p>"You say it easy. You think that it'll be a push-over, don't you?"</p> - -<p>"Sure—why not?"</p> - -<p>"You noticed the shape of their screens?"</p> - -<p>"Roughly cylindrical"—in surprise. "They're hiding a lot of stuff, of -course, but they can't possibly—"</p> - -<p>"I'm afraid that they can, and will. I've been checking up on the -building. Ten years old. Plans and permits QX except for the fact that -nobody knows whether or not the inside of the building resembles the -plans in any particular."</p> - -<p>"Klono's whiskers!" Kinnison was aghast, his mind racing. "How could -that be, chief? Inspectors—builders—contractors—workmen?"</p> - -<p>"The city inspector who had the job came into money later, retired, -and nobody has seen him since. Nobody can locate a single builder or -workman who saw it constructed. No competent inspector has been in -it since. Cominoche is lax—all cities are, for that matter—with an -outfit as big as Wembleson's, that carries its own insurance, does its -own inspecting, and won't allow outside interference. Wembleson's isn't -alone in that attitude—they're not all zwilniks, either."</p> - -<p>"You think that it's really fortified, then?"</p> - -<p>"Sure of it. That's why we ordered a gradual, but complete, evacuation -of the city, beginning a couple of months ago."</p> - -<p>"How could you?" Kinnison was growing more surprised by the minute. -"The businesses—the houses—the expense!"</p> - -<p>"Martial law—the Patrol takes over in emergencies, you know. -Businesses moved, and mostly carrying on very well. People ditto—very -nice temporary camps, lake and river cottages, and so on. As for -expense, the Patrol pays damages. We'll pay for rebuilding the whole -city if we have to—much rather that than leave that Boskonian base -standing there untouched."</p> - -<p>"What a mess! Never thought of it that way, but you're right, as usual. -They wouldn't be there at all unless they thought—but they must know, -chief, that they can't hold off the stuff that you can bring to bear."</p> - -<p>"Probably betting that we won't destroy our own city to get them—if -so, they're wrong. Or possibly they hung on a few days too long."</p> - -<p>"How about the observers?" Kinnison asked. "They have four auxiliaries -there, you know."</p> - -<p>"That's strictly up to you." Haynes was unconcerned. "Smearing that -base is the only thing I insist on. We'll wipe out the observers or let -them observe and report, whichever you say; but that base goes—it has -been there far too long already."</p> - -<p>"Be nicer to let them alone," Kinnison decided. "We're not supposed to -know anything about them. You won't have to use the primaries, will -you?"</p> - -<p>"No. It's a fairly large building, as business blocks go, but it lacks -a lot of being big enough to be a first-class base. We can burn the -ground out from under all its foundations with our secondaries."</p> - -<p>He called an adjutant. "Get me Sector 19." Then, as the seamed, scarred -face of an old Lensman appeared upon a plate:</p> - -<p>"You can go to work on Cominoche now, Parker. Twelve maulers. Twenty -heavy caterpillars and about fifty units of Q-type screen, remote -control. Supplies and service. Have them muster all available -fire-fighting apparatus. If desirable, import some—we want to save as -much of the place as we can. I'll come over in the <i>Dauntless</i>."</p> - -<p>He glanced at Kinnison, one eye-brow raised quizzically.</p> - -<p>"I feel as though I rate a little vacation; I think I'll go and watch -this," he commented. "Got time to come along?"</p> - -<p>"I think so. It's more or less on my way to Lundmark's Nebula."</p> - -<hr class="tb"> - -<p>Upon Bronseca, then, as the <i>Dauntless</i> ripped her way through -protesting space, there converged structures of the void from a dozen -nearby systems; each ship emblazoned with the device of ray-emitting -intertwined spirals which is the emblem of the Galactic Patrol. There -came maulers; huge, ungainly flying fortresses of stupendous might. -There came transports, bearing the commissariat and the service units. -Vast freighters, under whose unimaginable mass the Gargantuanly braced -and latticed and trussed docks yielded visibly and groaningly, crushed -to a standstill and disgorged their varied cargoes.</p> - -<p>What Haynes had so matter-of-factly referred to as "heavy" caterpillars -were all of that; and the mobile screens were even heavier. Clanking -and rumbling, but with their weight so evenly distributed over huge, -flat treads that they sank only a foot or so into even ordinary ground, -they made their ponderous way along Cominoche's deserted streets.</p> - -<p>What thoughts seethed within the minds of the Boskonians can only be -imagined. They knew that the Patrol had landed in force, but what could -they do about it? At first, when the Lensmen began to infest the place, -they could have fled in safety; but at that time they were too certain -of their immunity to abandon their richly established position. Even -now, they would not abandon it until that course became absolutely -necessary.</p> - -<p>They could have destroyed the city, true; but it was not until after -the non-combatant inhabitants had unobtrusively moved out that that -course suggested itself as a desirability. Now the destruction of -property would be a gesture worse than meaningless; it would be a waste -of energy which would all too certainly be needed—badly and soon.</p> - -<p>Hence, as the Patrol's land forces ground clangorously into position -the enemy made no demonstration. The mobile screens were in place, -surrounding the doomed section with a wall of force to protect the rest -of the city from the hellish energies so soon to be unleashed. The -heavy caterpillars, mounting projectors quite comparable in size and -power with the warships' own—weapons similar in purpose and function -to the railway-carriage coast-defense guns of an earlier day—were -likewise ready. Far back of the line, but still too close, as they -were to discover later, heavily armored men crouched at their remote -controls behind their shields; barriers both of hard-driven, immaterial -fields of force and of solid, grounded, ultrarefrigerated walls of the -most refractory materials possible of fabrication. In the sky hung the -maulers, poised stolidly upon the towering pillars of flame erupting -from their under jets.</p> - -<p>Cominoche, Bronseca's capital city, witnessed then what no one there -present had ever expected to see; the warfare designed for the -illimitable reaches of empty space being waged in the very heart of its -business district!</p> - -<p>For Port Admiral Haynes had directed the investment of this minor -stronghold almost as though it were a regulation base, and with good -reason. He knew that from their coigns of vantage afar four separate -Boskonian observers were looking on, charged with the responsibility -of recording and reporting everything that transpired, and he wanted -that report to be complete and conclusive. He wanted Boskone, whoever -and wherever he might be, to know that when the Galactic Patrol started -a thing, that thing it finished; that the mailed fist of civilization -would not spare an enemy base simply because it was so located within -one of humanity's cities that its destruction must inevitably result -in severe property damage. Indeed, the chief of staff had massed there -thrice the force necessary; specifically and purposely to drive that -message home.</p> - -<p>At the word of command there flamed out, almost as one, a thousand -lances of energy intolerable. Masonry, brickwork, steel, glass, and -chromium trim disappeared; flaring away in sparkling, hissing vapor -or cascading away in brilliantly mobile streams of fiery, corrosive -liquid. Disappeared, revealing the unbearably incandescent surface of -the Boskonian defensive screen.</p> - -<p>Full-driven, that barrier held, even against the titanic thrusts of the -maulers above and of the heavy defense guns below. Energy rebounded -in scintillating torrents, shot off in blinding streamers, released -itself in bolts of lightning hurling themselves frantically to ground.</p> - -<hr class="chap"> - -<div class="figcenter"> - <img src="images/illus17.jpg" alt=""> - <div class="caption"> - <p><i>The fury of the beams rebounded in scintillating -torrents, shot off in blinding streamers</i>—</p> - </div> -</div> - -<hr class="chap"> - -<p>Nor was that superbly disguised citadel designed for defense alone. -Knowing now that the last faint hope of continuing in business upon -Bronseca was gone, and grimly determined to take full toll of the hated -Patrol, the defenders in turn loosed their beams. Five of them shot -out simultaneously, and five of the panels of mobile screen flamed -instantly into eye-tearing violet. Then black. These were not the -comparatively feeble, antiquated rays which Haynes had expected, but -were the output of up-to-the-minute, first-line space artillery!</p> - -<p>Defenses down, it took but a blink of time to lick up the caterpillars. -On, then, the destroying beams tore, each in a direct line for a -remote-control station. Through tremendous edifices of masonry and -steel they drove, the upper floors collapsing into the cylinders of -annihilation only to be consumed almost as fast as they could fall.</p> - -<p>"All screen-control stations, back, fast!" Haynes directed crisply. -"Back, dodging! Put your screens on automatic block until you get back -beyond effective range. Spy-ray men! See if you can locate the enemy -observers directing fire!"</p> - -<p>But no matter how far back they went, Boskonian beams still sought -them out in grimly persistent attempts to slay. Their shielding fields -blazed white, their refractories wavered in the high blue as the -overdriven refrigerators strove mightily to cope with the terrific -load. The operators, stifling, almost roasting in their armor of -proof, shook sweat from the eyes they could not reach as they drove -themselves and their mechanisms on to even greater efforts; cursing -luridly, fulminantly the while at carrying on a space war in the hotly -reeking, the hellishly reflecting and heat-retaining environment of a -metropolis!</p> - -<p>And all around the embattled structure, within the Patrol's now -partially open wall of screen, spread holocaust supreme; holocaust -spreading wider and wider during each fractional split second. In an -instant, it seemed, nearby buildings burst into flame. The fact that -they were fireproof meant nothing whatever. The air inside them, heated -in moments to a point far above the ignition temperature of organic -material, fed furiously upon furniture, rugs, drapes, and whatever -else had been left in place. Even without such adventitious aids the -air itself, expanding tremendously, irresistibly, drove outward before -it the glass of windows and the solid brickwork of walls. And as they -fell, glass and brick ceased to exist as such. Falling, they fused; -coalescing and again splashing apart as they descended through the -inferno of annihilatory vibrations in an appalling rain which might -very well have been sprinkled from the hottest middle of the central -core of hell itself. And in this fantastically potent, this incredibly -corrosive flood the ground itself, the metaled pavement, the sturdily -immovable foundations of skyscrapers, dissolved as do lumps of sugar -in boiling coffee. Dissolved, slumped down, flowed away in blindingly -turbulent streams. Super-structures toppled into disintegration, each -discrete particle contributing as it fell to the utterly indescribable -fervency of the whole.</p> - -<p>More and more panels of mobile screen went down. They were not designed -to stand up under such heavy projectors as "Wemblesons" mounted, and -the Boskonians blasted them down in order to get at the remote-control -operators back of them. Swath after swath of flaming ruin was cut -through the Bronsecan capital as the enemy gunners tried to follow the -dodging caterpillar tractors.</p> - -<p>"Drop down, maulers!" the commander-in-chief ordered. "Low enough so -that your screens touch ground. Never mind damage—they'll blast the -whole city if we don't stop those beams. Surround him!"</p> - -<p>Down the maulers came, ringwise; mighty protective envelopes -overlapping; down until the screens bit ground. Now the caterpillar and -mobile-screen crews were safe; powerful as Prellin's weapons were, they -could not break through those maulers' screens.</p> - -<p>Now holocaust waxed doubly infernal. The wall was tight, the only -avenue of escape of all that fiercely radiant energy straight upward; -and adding to the furor were the flaring under jets—themselves -destructive agents by no means to be despised!</p> - -<p>Inside the screens, then, raged pure frenzy. At the line raved the -maulers' prodigious lifting blasts. Out and away, down every avenue -of escape, swept torrents of superheated air at whose touch anything -and everything combustible burst into flame. But there could be no -fire-fighting—yet. Outlying fires, along the lines of destruction -previously cut, yes; but personal armor has never been designed to -enable life to exist in such an environment as that near those screens -then was.</p> - -<p>"Burn out the ground under them!" came the order. "Tip them over—slag -them down!"</p> - -<p>Sharply downward angled twoscore of the beams which had been expending -their energies upon Boskone's radiant defenses. Downward into the -lake of lava which had once been pavement. That lake had already -been seething and bubbling; emitting momently bursts of lambent -flame. Now it leaped into a frenzy of its own; a transcendent fury of -volatilization. High-explosive shells by the hundred dropped also into -the incandescent mess, hurling the fiery stuff afar; deepening and -broadening the sulphurous moat.</p> - -<p>"Deep enough," Haynes spoke into his microphone. "Tractors and -pressors as assigned—tip him over."</p> - -<p>The intensity of the bombardment did not slacken, but from the maulers -to the north there reached out pressors, from those upon the south came -tractors; each a beam of terrific power, each backed by all the mass -and all the driving force of a veritable flying fortress.</p> - -<p>Slowly that which had been a building leaned from the perpendicular, -its inner defensive screen still intact.</p> - -<p>"Chief?" From his post as observer, Kinnison flashed a thought to -Haynes. "Are you beginning to think any funny thoughts about that ape -down there?"</p> - -<p>"No. Are you? What?" asked the port admiral, surprised.</p> - -<p>"Maybe I'm nuts, but it wouldn't surprise me if he'd start doing a flit -pretty quick. I've got a CRX tracer on him, just in case, and it might -be smart to caution Henderson to keep up on his toes."</p> - -<p>"Your diagnosis—'nuts'—is correct, I think," came the answering -thought; but the port admiral followed the suggestion, nevertheless.</p> - -<hr class="tb"> - -<p>And none too soon. Deliberately, grandly, the Colossus was leaning -over, bowing in stately fashion toward the awful lake in which it -stood. But only so far. Then there was a flash, visible even in the -inferno of energies already there at war, and the already coruscant -lava was hurled to all points of the compass as the full-blast drive of -a superdreadnought was cut loose beneath its surface!</p> - -<p>To the eye the thing simply and instantly disappeared; but not to the -ultra-vision of the observers' plates, and especially not to the CRX -tracers attached by Kinnison and by Henderson. They held, and the chief -pilot, already warned, was on the trail as fast as he could punch his -keys.</p> - -<p>Through atmosphere, through stratosphere, into interplanetary space -flew pursued and pursuer at ever-increasing speed. The <i>Dauntless</i> -overtook her proposed victim fairly easily. The Boskonian was fast, but -the Patrol's new flier was the fastest thing in space. But tractors -would not hold against the now universal standard equipment of shears, -and the heavy secondaries served only to push the fleeing vessel along -all the faster. And the dreadful primary beams could not be used—yet.</p> - -<p>"Not yet," cautioned the admiral. "Don't get too close—wait until -there's nothing detectable in space."</p> - -<p>Finally an absolutely empty region was entered, the word to close up -was given, and Prellin drank of the bitter cup which so many commanders -of vessels of the Patrol had had to drain—the gallingly fatal -necessity of engaging a ship which was both faster and more powerful -than his own. The Boskonian tried, of course. His beams raged out at -full power against the screens of the larger ship, but without effect. -Three primaries lashed out as one. The fleeing vessel, structure and -contents, ceased to be. The <i>Dauntless</i> returned to the torn and -ravaged city.</p> - -<p>The maulers had gone. The lumbering caterpillars—what were left -of them—were clanking away; reeking, smoking hot in every plate -and member. Only the firemen were left, working like Trojans with -explosives, rays, water, carbon-dioxide snow, clinging and smothering -chemicals; anything and everything which would isolate, absorb, or -dissipate any portion of the almost incalculable heat energy so -recently and so profligately released.</p> - -<p>Fire apparatus from four planets was at work. There were pumpers, -ladder trucks, hose and chemical trucks. There were men in heavily -insulated armor. Vehicles and men alike were screened against the -specific wave lengths of heat; and under the direction of a fire -marshal in his red speedster high in air they fought methodically and -efficiently the conflagration which was the aftermath of battle. They -fought, and they were winning.</p> - -<p>And then it rained. As though the heavens themselves had been outraged -by what had been done, they opened and rain sluiced down in level -sheets. It struck hissingly the nearby structures, but it did not touch -the central area at all. Instead, it turned to steam in mid-air, and, -rising or being blown aside by the tempestuous wind, it concealed the -redly glaring, raw wound beneath a blanket of crimson fog.</p> - -<p>"Well, that is that," the port admiral said slowly. His face was grim -and stern. "A good job of clean-up—expensive, but worth the price. So -be it to every pirate base and every zwilnik hide-out in the Galaxy! -Henderson, land us at Cominoche Spaceport."</p> - -<hr class="tb"> - -<p>And from four other cities of the planet four Boskonian observers, -each unknown to all the others, took off in four spaceships for four -different destinations. Each had reported fully and accurately to Jalte -everything that had transpired until the two fliers had faded into -the distance. Then, highly elated—and probably, if the truth could -be known, no little surprised as well—at the fact that he was still -alive, each had left Bronseca at maximum blast.</p> - -<p>The Galactic director had done all that he could, which was little -enough. At the Patrol's first warlike move he had ordered a squadron -of Boskone's ablest fighting craft to Prellin's aid. It was almost -certainly a useless gesture, he knew as he did it. Gone were the days -when pirate bases dotted the Tellurian Galaxy; only by a miracle could -those ships reach the Bronsecan's line of flight in time to be of -service.</p> - -<p>Nor could they. The howl of interfering vibrations which was smothering -Prellin's communicator beam snapped off into silence while the would-be -rescuers were many hours away. For minutes, then, Jalte sat immersed -in thought at his great desk in the Center, his normally bluish face -turning a sickly green, before he called the planet Jarnevon to report -to Eichmil, his chief.</p> - -<p>"There is, however, a bright side to the affair," he concluded. -"Prellin's records were destroyed with him. Also, there are two -facts—that the Patrol had to use such force as practically to -destroy the city of Cominoche, and that our four observers escaped -unmolested—which furnish conclusive proof that the vaunted Lensman -failed completely to penetrate with his mental powers the defenses we -have been using against him."</p> - -<p>"Not conclusive proof," Eichmil rebuked him harshly. "Not proof at all, -in any sense—scarcely a probability. Indeed, the display of force may -very well mean that he has already attained his objective. He may have -allowed the observers to escape, to lull our suspicions. You yourself -are probably the next in line. How certain are you that your own base -has not already been invaded?"</p> - -<p>"Absolutely certain, sir." Jalte's face, however, turned a shade -greener at the thought.</p> - -<p>"You use the term 'absolutely' very loosely—but I hope that you are -right. Use all the men and all the equipment we have sent you to make -sure that it remains impenetrable."</p> - -<hr class="chap"> - -<p class="ph1">XX.</p> - - -<p>In their nonmagnetic, practically invisible speedster, Kinnison and -Worsel entered the terra incognita of the Second Galaxy and approached -the solar system of the Eich, slowing down to a crawl as they did so. -They knew as much concerning dread Jarnevon, the planet which was their -goal, as did Jalte, from whom the knowledge had been acquired; but that -was all too little.</p> - -<hr class="chap"> - -<div class="figcenter"> - <img src="images/illus18.jpg" alt=""> -</div> - -<hr class="chap"> - -<p>They knew that it was the fifth planet out from the Sun and that it -was bitterly cold. It had an atmosphere, but one containing no oxygen; -one poisonous to oxygen-breathers. It had no rotation—or rather, its -day coincided with its year—and its people dwelt upon its eternally -dark hemisphere. If they had eyes, a point upon which there was doubt, -they did not operate upon the frequencies ordinarily referred to as -"visible" light. In fact, about the Eich as persons or identities -they knew next to nothing. Jalte had seen them, but either he did not -perceive them clearly or else his mind could not retain their true -likeness; his only picture of the Eichlan physique being a confusedly -horrible blur.</p> - -<hr class="chap"> - -<div class="figcenter"> - <img src="images/illus19.jpg" alt=""> -</div> - -<hr class="chap"> - -<p>"I'm scared, Worsel," Kinnison declared. "Scared purple, and the closer -we come the more scared I get."</p> - -<p>And he was scared. He was afraid as he had never before been, in all -his short life. He had been in dangerous situations before, certainly; -not only that, he had been wounded almost unto death. In those -instances, however, peril had come upon him suddenly. He had reacted -to it automatically, having had little if any time to think about it -beforehand.</p> - -<p>Never before had he gone into a place in which he knew in advance -that the advantage was all upon the other side; from which his chance -of getting out alive was so terrifyingly small. It was worse, much -worse, than going into that vortex. There, while the road was strange, -the enemy was known to be one whom he had conquered before; and -furthermore, he had had the <i>Dauntless</i>, its eager young crew, and the -scientific self-abnegation of old Cardynge to back him. Here he had the -speedster and Worsel—and Worsel was just as scared as he was.</p> - -<p>The pit of his stomach felt cold, his bones seemed bits of rubber -tubing. Nevertheless, the two Lensmen were going in. That was their -job. They had to go in, even though they knew that the foe was at least -their equal mentally, was overwhelmingly their superior physically, and -was upon his own ground.</p> - -<p>"So am I," Worsel admitted. "I'm scared to the tip of my tail. I have -one advantage over you, however—I've been that way before." He was -referring to the time when he had gone to Delgon, abysmally certain -that he would not return. Nor would he have returned save for Kinnison -and Van Buskirk. "What is fated, happens. Shall we prepare?"</p> - -<p>They had spent many hours in discussion of what could be done, and in -the end had decided that the only possible preparation was to make sure -that if Kinnison failed, his failure would not bring disaster to the -Patrol.</p> - -<p>"Might as well. Come in; my mind's wide open."</p> - -<p>The Velantian insinuated his mind into Kinnison's and the Earthman -slumped down, unconscious. Then for many minutes Worsel wrought within -the plastic brain. Finally:</p> - -<p>"Thirty seconds after you leave me these inhibitions will become -operative. When I release them your memory and your knowledge will be -exactly as they were before I began to operate," he thought, slowly, -intensely, clearly. "Until that time you know nothing whatever of any -of these matters. No mental search, however profound; no truth drug, -however potent; no probing, even of the subconscious, will or can -discover them. They do not exist. They never have existed. They shall -not exist until I so allow. These other matters have been, are, and -shall be the facts until that instant. Kimball Kinnison, awaken!"</p> - -<p>The Tellurian came to, not knowing that he had been out. Nothing had -occurred; for him no time whatever had elapsed. He could not perceive -even that his mind had been touched.</p> - -<p>"Sure it's done, Worsel? I can't find a thing!" Kinnison, who had -himself operated upon so many minds as tracelessly, could scarcely -believe that his own had been tampered with.</p> - -<p>"It is done. If you could detect any trace of the work it would have -been poor work, and wasted."</p> - -<hr class="tb"> - -<p>The speedster dropped as nearly as the Lensmen dared toward Jarnevon's -tremendous primary base. They did not know whether they were being -observed or not. For all they knew, these incomprehensible beings might -be able to see or to sense them as plainly as though their ship were -painted with radium and were landing openly, with searchlights ablaze -and with bells a-clang. Muscles tense, ready to hurl their tiny flier -away at the slightest alarm, they wafted downward.</p> - -<p>Through the screens they dropped. Power off, even to the gravity pads; -thought, even, blanketed to zero. Nothing happened. They landed. They -disembarked. Foot by foot they made their cautious way forward.</p> - -<hr class="chap"> - -<div class="figcenter"> - <img src="images/illus16.jpg" alt=""> -</div> - -<hr class="chap"> - -<p>In essence the plan was simplicity itself. Worsel would accompany -Kinnison until both were within the thought-screens of the dome. Then -the Tellurian would get, some way or other, the information the Patrol -had to have, and the Velantian would get it back to Prime Base. If the -Gray Lensman could go, too, well and good. After all, there was no -real reason to think that he couldn't—he was merely playing safe, on -general principles. If, however, worst came to worst, well—</p> - -<p>They arrived.</p> - -<p>"Now remember, Worsel, no matter what happens to me, or around me, you -stay out. Don't come in after me. Help me all you can with your mind, -but not otherwise. Take everything I get, and at the first sign of -danger you flit back to the speedster and give her the oof, whether I'm -around or not. Check?"</p> - -<p>"Check," Worsel agreed, quietly. Kinnison's was the harder part. Not -because he was the leader, but because he was the better qualified. -They both knew it. The Patrol came first. It was bigger, vastly more -important than any being or any group of beings in it.</p> - -<p>The man strode away and in thirty seconds underwent a weird and -striking mental transformation. Three quarters of his knowledge -disappeared so completely that he had no inkling that he had ever -had it. A new name, a new personality were his, so completely and -indisputably his that he had no faint glimmering of a recollection that -he had ever been otherwise.</p> - -<p>He was wearing his Lens. It could do no possible harm, since it was -almost inconceivable that the Eich could be made to believe that any -ordinary agent could have penetrated so far, and the fact should not -be revealed to the foe that any Lensman could work without his -Lens. That would explain far too much of what had already happened. -Furthermore, it was a necessity in the only really convincing rôle -which Kinnison could play in the event of his capture.</p> - -<p>He would not think into that base until he was far enough away from -Worsel so that the Velantian's hiding place, if it were not already -known, would not be revealed. He did not then know that such a being as -Worsel existed; he did not think into the stronghold simply because he -was not yet close enough to work efficiently.</p> - -<p>Closer he crept. Closer. There were pits beneath the pavement, he -observed, big enough to hold a speedster. Traps. He avoided them. There -were various mechanisms within the blank walls he skirted. More traps. -He avoided them. Photo-cells, trigger beams, invisible rays, networks. -He avoided them all. Close enough.</p> - -<hr class="tb"> - -<p>Delicately he sent out a mental probe, and almost in the instant of its -sending, cables of steel came whipping from afar. He perceived them as -they came, but he was unable to dodge them all. His projectors flamed -briefly, only to be sheared away. The cables wrapped about his limbs, -binding him fast. Helpless, he was carried through the atmosphere, -into the dome, through an air lock into a chamber housing much grimly -unmistakable apparatus. And in the council room, where the nine of -Boskone and one armored Delgonian Overlord held meeting, a communicator -buzzed and snarled.</p> - -<hr class="chap"> - -<div class="figcenter"> - <img src="images/illus20.jpg" alt=""> - <div class="caption"> - <p><i>At the first faint touch of Kim's mind, the Eich -reacted. Tentacles like steel whips lashed out to bind and hold him, to -drag him into the frowning fortress</i>—</p> - </div> -</div> - -<hr class="chap"> - -<p>"Ah!" exclaimed Eichmil. "Our visitor has arrived and is awaiting us in -the Delgonian hall of question. Shall we meet again, there?"</p> - -<p>They did so; they of the Eich armored against the poisonous oxygen, the -Overlord naked. All wore screens.</p> - -<p>"Earthling, we are glad indeed to see you here," the First of Boskone -welcomed the prisoner. "For a long time we have been anxious indeed—"</p> - -<p>"I don't see how that can be," the Lensman blurted. "I just graduated. -My first big assignment, and I have failed," he ended bitterly.</p> - -<p>A start of surprise swept around the circle. Could this be?</p> - -<p>"He is lying," Eichmil decided. "You of Delgon, take him out of his -armor." The Overlord did so, the Tellurian's struggles meaningless -to the reptile's superhuman strength. "Release your screen and see -whether or not you can make him tell the truth."</p> - -<p>After all, the man might not be lying. The fact that he could -understand a strange language meant nothing at all. All Lensmen could.</p> - -<p>"But in case he <i>should</i> be the one we seek—" The Overlord hesitated.</p> - -<p>"We will see to it that no harm comes to you—"</p> - -<p>"We cannot," the Ninth—the psychologist—broke in. "Before any -screen is released I suggest that we question him verbally, under the -influence of the drug which renders it impossible for any warm-blooded -oxygen breather to tell anything except the complete truth."</p> - -<p>The suggestion, so eminently sensible, was adopted forthwith.</p> - -<p>"Are you the Lensman who has made it possible for the Patrol to drive -us out of the Tellurian Galaxy?" came the sharp demand.</p> - -<p>"No," was the flat and surprising reply.</p> - -<p>"Who are you, then?"</p> - -<p>"Philip Morgan, class of—"</p> - -<p>"Oh, this will take forever!" snapped the Ninth. "Let me question him. -Can you control minds at a distance and without previous treatment?"</p> - -<p>"If they are not too strong, yes. All of us specialists in psychology -can do that."</p> - -<p>"Go to work upon him, Overlord!"</p> - -<p>The now fully reassured Delgonian snapped off his screen and a battle -of wills ensued which made the subether boil. For Kinnison, although he -no longer knew what the truth was, still possessed a large part of his -mental power, and the Delgonian's mind, as has already been made clear, -was a capable one indeed.</p> - -<p>"Desist!" came the command. "Earthman, what happened?"</p> - -<p>"Nothing," Kinnison replied truthfully. "Each of us could resist the -other; neither could penetrate or control."</p> - -<p>"Ah!" and nine Boskonian screens snapped off. Since the Lensman could -not master one Delgonian, he would not be a menace to the massed minds -of the nine of Boskone, and the questioning need not wait upon the -slowness of speech. Thoughts beat into Kinnison's brain from all sides.</p> - -<hr class="tb"> - -<p>This power of mind was relatively new, yes. He did not know what it -was. He went to Arisia, fell asleep, and woke up with it. A refinement, -he thought, of hypnotism. Only advanced students in psychology could do -it. He knew nothing except by hearsay of the old <i>Brittania</i>—he was -a cadet then. He had never heard of Blakeslee, or of anything unusual -concerning any one hospital ship. He did not know who had scouted -Helmuth's base, or put the thionite into it. He had no idea who it -was who had killed Helmuth. As far as he knew, nothing had ever been -done about any Boskonian spies in Patrol bases. He had never happened -to hear of the planet Medon, or of anyone named Bominger, or Madame -Desplaines, or Prellin. He was entirely ignorant of any unusual weapons -of offense—he was a psychologist, not an engineer or a physicist. No, -he was not unusually adept with DeLameters—</p> - -<p>"Hold on!" Eichmil commanded. "Stop questioning him, everybody! Now, -Lensman, instead of telling us what you do not know, give us positive -information, in your own way. How do you work? I am beginning to -suspect that the man we really want is a director, not an operator."</p> - -<p>This was a more productive line. Lensmen, hundreds of them, each -worked upon a definite assignment. None of them had ever seen or ever -would see the man who issued orders. He had not even a name, but was -a symbol—Star A Star. They received orders through their Lenses, -wherever they might be in space. They reported back to him in the -same way. Yes, Star A Star knew what was going on in that room. He was -reporting constantly—</p> - -<p>A knife descended viciously. Blood spurted. The stump was dressed, -roughly but effectively. They did not wish their victim to bleed to -death when he died, and he was not to die in any fashion—yet.</p> - -<p>And in the instant that Kinnison's Lens went dead, Worsel, from his -safely distant nook, reached out direct to the mind of his friend, -thereby putting his own life in jeopardy. He knew that there was an -Overlord in that room, and the grue of a thousand helplessly sacrificed -generations of forebears swept his sinuous length at the thought, -despite his inward certainty of the new powers of his mind. He knew -that of all the entities in the Universe, the Delgonians were most -sensitive to the thought vibrations of Velantians. Nevertheless, he did -it.</p> - -<p>He narrowed the beam down to the smallest possible coverage, -employed a frequency as far as possible from that ordinarily used by -the Overlords, and continued to observe. It was risky, but it was -necessary. It was beginning to appear as though the Earthman might not -be able to escape, and he must not die in vain.</p> - -<p>"Can you communicate now?" In the ghastly chamber the relentless -questioning went on.</p> - -<p>"I cannot communicate."</p> - -<p>"It is well. In one way I would not be averse to letting your Star A -Star know what happens when one of his minions dares to spy upon the -Council of Boskone itself, but the information is as yet a trifle -premature. Later, he shall learn—"</p> - -<p>Kinnison did not consciously thrill at that thought. He did not know -that the news was going beyond his brain; that he had achieved his -goal. Worsel, however, did; and Worsel thrilled for him. The Gray -Lensman had finished his job; all that was left to do was to destroy -this world and the power of Boskone would be broken. Kinnison could -die, now, content.</p> - -<p>But no thought of leaving entered Worsel's mind. He would, of course, -stand by as long as there remained the slightest shred of hope, or -until some development threatened his ability to leave the planet with -his priceless information. And the pitiless inquisition went on.</p> - -<hr class="tb"> - -<p>Star A Star had sent him to investigate their planet, to discover -whether or not there was any connection between it and the zwilnik -organization. He had come alone, in a speedster. No, he could not tell -them even approximately where the speedster was. It was so dark, and -he had come such a long distance on foot. In an hour or so, though, it -would start sending out a thought signal which he could detect—</p> - -<p>"But you must have some ideas about this Star A Star!" This director -was the man they wanted so desperately to get. They believed implicitly -in this figment of a Lensman director. Fitting in so perfectly with -their own ideas of efficient organization, it was more convincing by -far than the actual truth would have been. They knew now that he would -be hard to find. They did not now insist upon facts; they wanted every -possible crumb of surmise. "You must have wondered who and where Star A -Star is? You must have tried to trace him?"</p> - -<p>Yes, he had tried, but the problem could not be solved. The Lens was -non-directional, and the signals came in at practically the same -strength, anywhere in the Galaxy. They were, however, very much fainter -out here. That might be taken to indicate that Star A Star's office -was in a star cluster, well out in either the zenith or the nadir -direction—</p> - -<p>The victim sucked dry, eight of the Council departed, leaving Eichmil -and the Overlord with the Lensman.</p> - -<p>"What you have in mind to do, Eichmil, is childish. Your basic idea is -excellent, but your technique is pitifully inadequate."</p> - -<p>"What could be worse?" Eichmil demanded. "I am going to dig out his -eyes, smash his bones, flay him alive, roast him, cut him up into a -dozen pieces, and send him back to his Star A Star with a warning that -every creature he sends into this Galaxy will be treated the same way. -What would <i>you</i> do?"</p> - -<p>"You of the Eich lack finesse," the Delgonian sighed. "You have no -subtlety, no conception of the nicer possibilities of torture, either -of an individual or of a race. For instance, to punish Star A Star -adequately this man must be returned to him alive, not dead."</p> - -<p>"Impossible! He dies—<i>here</i>!"</p> - -<p>"You misunderstand me. Not alive as he is now—but not entirely dead. -Bones broken, yes, and eyes removed; but those minor matters are but -a beginning. If I were doing it, I should then apply several of these -devices here, successively; but none of them to the point of complete -incompatibility with life. I should inoculate the extremities of his -four limbs with an organism which grows—shall we say—unpleasantly? -Finally, I should extract his life force and consume it—as you know, -that essence is a rarely satisfying delicacy with us—taking care to -leave just enough to maintain a bare existence. I would then put what -is left of him aboard his ship, start it toward the Tellurian Galaxy, -and send notice to the Patrol as to its exact course and velocity."</p> - -<p>"But they would find him <i>alive</i>!" Eichmil stormed.</p> - -<p>"Exactly. For the fullest vengeance they must, as I have said. Which is -worse, think you? To find a corpse, however dismembered, and to dispose -of it with full military honors, or to find and to have to take care -of for a full lifetime a something that has not enough intelligence -even to swallow food placed in its mouth? Remember also that the -organism will be such that they themselves will be obliged to amputate -all four of the creature's limbs to save its life."</p> - -<p>While thinking thus the Delgonian shot out a slender tentacle which, -slithering across the floor, flipped over the tiny switch of a small -mechanism in the center of the room. This entirely unexpected action -surprised Worsel. He had been debating for minutes whether or not to -release the Gray Lensman's inhibitions. He would have done so instantly -if he had had any warning of what the Delgonian was about to do. Now it -was too late.</p> - -<p>"I have set up a thought-screen about the room. I do not wish to share -this titbit with any of my fellows, as there is not enough to divide," -the monster explained, parenthetically. "Have you any suggestions as to -how my plan may be improved?"</p> - -<p>"No. You have shown that you understand torture better than we do."</p> - -<p>"I should, since we Overlords have practiced it as a fine art since our -beginnings as a race. Do you wish the pleasure of co-operating with me -in the work?"</p> - -<p>"I do not torture for pleasure. Since you do, you may carry out the -procedure as outlined. All I require is the assurance that he will be a -warning and an object lesson to Star A Star of the Galactic Patrol."</p> - -<p>"I can assure you definitely that he will be both. More, I will show -you the results when I have finished with him. Or, if you like, I would -be glad to have you stay and look on—you will find the spectacle -interesting, entertaining and highly instructive."</p> - -<p>"No, thanks—that is, not if you are sure that you can handle him -alone."</p> - -<p>"Handle him! This pitiful weakling?" The Overlord snorted -contemptuously. "I could handle seven like him. He is on the verge of -fainting already. Observe, please, his reaction to the fungus-culture -injections."</p> - -<p>Four times the Delgonian rammed the needle home; and, true to -prediction, Kinnison's body went limp in its shackles.</p> - -<p>"Ah, yes; a weak race, physically—very weak," Eichmil observed, as he -left the room; and the Overlord, alone with his victim, cast off the -chains in order to stretch the Lensman out upon one of the sinister -machines so close at hand.</p> - -<hr class="tb"> - -<p>But Kinnison had not fainted. He had not allowed himself to feel the -hurt of the knife, of the needle, nor of the injected fluid. Never -before had he been more coldly, intently alert than in this, the -climactic minute of his life. The full of his powers he did not have, -perhaps, yet even now he was better equipped, mentally and physically, -than the Kinnison of even a short year ago, able to establish a nerve -block that would permit full and unshaken concentration on every move -of offense and defense he might make, whatever frightful toll of pain -and injury the inhumanly powerful, semireptilian Delgonian might -inflict in the struggle that the Lensman now proposed. Thus, upon the -first instant of opportunity, he exploded into action with a violence -which took even the trigger-nerved Overlord entirely by surprise.</p> - -<p>In practically one motion he rolled, ducked, gathered himself together -and launched a kick behind which there was the driving force of every -ounce of his powerful body and the concentrated urge of every cell of -his brain. It struck its mark squarely—the hard toe of the Lensman's -heavy boot crashed squarely against the Overlord's plated neck at the -exact base of the skull. That kick would have pulped any human or -near-human head—it would have slain a horse—it staggered momentarily -even the reptilianly armored monstrosity which was the Delgonian.</p> - -<p>Kinnison went leaping across the room toward a rack of implements and -weapons, only to be buried in mid-course beneath a hurtling avalanche -of fury. For a moment man and monster stood poised, almost en tableau, -then they crashed to the floor together—talons and fingers clawing, -gouging at eyes; wings, feet, hard-gnarled hands, scimitared tail, -balled fist, boots and teeth wreaking every ultimate possibility of -damage. Against the frightfully armed and naturally armored body of the -Delgonian, human physical weapons and human strength were near useless; -but, insulated against the agony of snapping bones and bludgeon blows -of the mighty tail by that hard-held nerve block, the Lensman's -furiously active mind had a goal—a vaguely understood goal—toward -which he directed the deadly struggle he could not control or hope to -win—</p> - -<p>Upon and over the thought-screen generator rolled the madly warring -pair, and as the delicate mechanism disintegrated it ceased to function.</p> - -<p>Worsel's prodigious mentality had been beating ceaselessly against -that screen ever since its erection, and in the very instant of its -fall Kinnison became again the Gray Lensman of old. And in the next -instant both of those mighty minds—the two most powerful then known -to civilization—had hurled themselves against that of the Delgonian. -Bitter though the ensuing struggle was, it was brief. Nothing short of -an Arisian mentality could have withstood the venomous intensity, the -berserk power, of that concerted and synchronized attack.</p> - -<p>Brain half burned out, the Overlord wilted; and, docility itself, he -energized the communicator.</p> - -<p>"Eichmil? The work is done. Thoroughly done, and well."</p> - -<p>"So soon?"</p> - -<p>"Yes. I was hungry—and, as I intimated, Tellurians are much too weak -to furnish any real sport. Do you wish to inspect what is left of -the Lensman?" This question was safe enough; Worsel knew exactly how -Kinnison had fared during his whirlwind bodily encounter with the -frightfully armed, heavily armored engine of destruction which was the -Delgonian.</p> - -<p>"No." Eichmil, as a high executive, was accustomed to delegating far -more important matters to competent underlings. "If you say that it is -well done, that is sufficient."</p> - -<p>"Clear the way for me, then, please," the Overlord requested. Then, -picking up the hideously mangled thing that was Kinnison's body, he -incased it in its armor and, donning his own, wriggled boldly away with -his burden. "I go to place this residuum within its ship and to return -it to Star A Star."</p> - -<p>"You will be able to find the speedster?"</p> - -<p>"Certainly. He was to find it. Whatever he could have done, I, working -through the cells of his brain, can likewise do."</p> - -<p>"Can you handle him alone, Kinnison?" Worsel asked presently. "Can you -hold out until you reach the boat?"</p> - -<p>"Yes, to both. I can handle him—we softened him down plenty. I will -last—I'll make myself last, long enough."</p> - -<p>"I go, then, lest they be observing with spy rays."</p> - -<p>To the black flier the completely subservient Delgonian then bore his -physically disabled master, and carefully he put him aboard. Worsel -helped openly there, for he had put out screens against all forms of -intrusion. The vessel took off and the Overlord wriggled blithely back -toward the dome. He was full of the consciousness of a good job, well -done. He even felt the sensation of repletion concomitant with having -consumed much vital force!</p> - -<p>"I hate to let him go!" Worsel's thought was a growl of baffled fury. -"It gripes me to the tail to let him think that he has done everything -he set out to do; that he will never even know how he got those bruises -and contusions. I wanted—I still want—to tear him apart for what he -has done to you, my friend."</p> - -<p>"Thanks, old snake." Kinnison's thought came faintly. "Just temporary. -He's living on borrowed time. He'll get his. You've got everything -under control, haven't you?"</p> - -<p>"On the green. Why?"</p> - -<p>"Because I can't hold this nerve block any longer.... It hurts.... I'm -sick.... I think I'm going to—"</p> - -<p>He fainted. More, he plunged parsecs deep into the blackest depths of -oblivion as outraged nature took the toll she had been so long denied.</p> - -<p>Worsel hurled a call to Earth, then turned to his maimed and horribly -broken companion. He applied splints to the shattered limbs, he dressed -and bandaged the hideous wounds and the raw sockets which had once held -eyes, he ministered to the raging, burning thirst. Whenever Kinnison's -mind wearied he held for him the nerve block, the priceless anodyne -without which the Gray Lensman must have died from sheerest agony.</p> - -<p>"Why not allow me, friend, to relieve you of all consciousness until -help arrives?" the Velantian asked pityingly.</p> - -<p>"Can you do it without killing me?"</p> - -<p>"If you so allow, yes. If you offer any resistance, I do not believe -that any mind in the Universe could."</p> - -<p>"I won't resist you. Come in," and Kinnison's suffering ended.</p> - -<p>But kindly Worsel could do nothing about the fantastically atrocious -growths which were transforming the Earthman's legs and arms into -monstrosities out of nightmare.</p> - -<p>He could only wait—wait for the skilled assistance which he knew must -be so long in coming.</p> - -<hr class="chap"> - -<p class="ph1">XXI.</p> - - -<p>When Worsel's hard-driven call impinged upon the port admiral's -lens, Haynes dropped everything to take the report himself. -Characteristically Worsel sent first and Haynes first recorded a -complete statement of the successful mission to Jarnevon. Last came -personalities, the tale of Kinnison's ordeal and of his present plight.</p> - -<p>"Are they following you in force, or can't you tell?"</p> - -<p>"Nothing has been detectable, and at the time of our departure there -had been no suggestion of any such action," Worsel replied carefully.</p> - -<p>"We'll come in force, anyway, and fast. Keep him alive until we meet -you," Haynes urged, and disconnected.</p> - -<p>It was an unheard-of occurrence for the port admiral to turn over his -very busy and extremely important desk to a subordinate without notice -and without giving him detailed instructions, but Haynes did it now.</p> - -<p>"Take charge of everything, Southworth!" he snapped. "I'm called -away—emergency. Kinnison found Boskone—got away—hurt—I'm going -after him in the <i>Dauntless</i>. Taking the new flotilla with me. Time -indefinite—probably a few weeks."</p> - -<p>He strode toward the communicator desk. The <i>Dauntless</i> was, as always, -completely serviced and ready for any emergency. Where was that fleet -of her sister ships, on its shakedown cruise? He'd shake them down! -They had with them the new hospital ship, too—the only Red Cross ship -in space that could leg it, parsec for parsec, with the <i>Dauntless</i>.</p> - -<p>"Get me Navigations.... Figure best point of rendezvous for the -<i>Dauntless</i> and Flotilla ZKD, both at full blast, en route to -Lundmark's Nebula. Fifteen minutes departure. Figure approximate time -of meeting with speedster, also at full blast, leaving that nebula -hour nine fourteen today. Correction! Cancel speedster meeting; we -can compute that more accurately later. Advise adjutant. Vice-Admiral -Southworth will send order, through channels. Get me Base Hospital.... -Lacy, please.... Kinnison's hurt, sawbones, bad. I'm going out after -him. Coming along?"</p> - -<p>"Yes. How about—"</p> - -<p>"On the green. Flotilla ZKD, including your new -two-hundred-million-credit hospital, is going along. Slip twelve, -<i>Dauntless</i>, eleven and one half minutes from now. Hipe!" And the -surgeon general "hiped."</p> - -<p>Two minutes before the scheduled take-off Base Navigations called the -chief navigating officer of the <i>Dauntless</i>.</p> - -<p>"Course to rendezvous with Flotilla ZKD latitude three fifty-four dash -thirty longitude nineteen dash forty-two time approximately twelve dash -seven dash twenty-six place one dash three dash oh outside arbitrary -galactic rim check and repeat," rattled from the speaker without pause -or punctuation. Nevertheless, the chief navigator got it, recorded it, -checked and repeated it.</p> - -<p>"Figures only approximations because of lack of exact data on -variations in density of medium and on distance necessarily lost in -detouring stars," the speaker chattered on. "Suggest instructing your -second navigator to communicate with navigating officers Flotilla -ZKD at time twelve dash oh dash oh to correct courses to compensate -unavoidably erroneous assumptions in computation Base Navigations off."</p> - -<p>"I'll say he's off—'way off!" growled the second. "What does he think -I am—a complete nitwit? Pretty soon he'll be telling me that two plus -two equals four point oh."</p> - -<hr class="tb"> - -<p>The fifteen-second warning bell sounded. Every man came to the ready at -his post, and precisely upon the designated second the superdreadnought -blasted off. For six miles she rose inert upon her under jets, -sirens and flaring lights clearing her way. Then she went free, her -needle prow slanted sharply upward, her full battery of main driving -projectors burst into action, and to all intents and purposes she -vanished.</p> - -<p>The Earth fell away from her at an incredible rate, dwindling away into -invisibility in less than a minute. In two minutes the Sun itself was -merely a bright star, in five it had merged indistinguishably into the -sharply defined, brilliantly white belt of the Milky Way.</p> - -<p>Hour after hour, day after day, the <i>Dauntless</i> hurtled through space, -swinging almost imperceptibly this way and that to avoid the dense -ether in the neighborhood of suns through which the designated course -would have led; but never leaving far or for long the direct line, -almost exactly in the equatorial plane of the Galaxy, between Tellus -and the place of meeting. Behind her the Milky Way clotted, condensed, -gathered itself together; before her and around her the stars began -rapidly to thin out. Finally there were no more stars in front of her. -She had reached the "arbitrary rim" of the Galaxy, and the second -navigator plugged into Communications.</p> - -<p>"Please get me Flotilla ZDK, Flagship Navigations," he requested; and, -as a clean-cut young face appeared upon his plate: "Hi, Harvey, old -spacehound! Fancy meeting you out here! It's a small Universe, ain't -it? Say, did that crumb back there at Base tell you, too, to be sure -and start checking course before you overran the rendezvous? If he was -singling me out to make that pass at, I'm going to take steps, and not -through channels, either."</p> - -<p>"Yeah, he told me the same. I thought it was funny, too—an oiler's boy -would know enough to do that without being told. We figured maybe he -was jittery on account of us meeting the admiral or something. What's -burned out all the jets, Paul, to get the big brass hats 'way out here -and all dithered up, and to pull us offa the cruise this way? Must be -a hell of an important flit! You're computing the Old Man himself; you -oughta know something. What's all this about a speedster that we're -going to escort? Spill it—give us the dope!"</p> - -<p>"I don't know a thing, Harvey, honest, any more than you do. -They didn't put out a word. Well, we'd better be getting onto -the course—'to compensate unavoidably erroneous assumptions in -computation,'" he mimicked caustically. "What do you read on my lambda? -Fourteen—three—oh point six—decrement—"</p> - -<p>The conversation became a technical jargon; because of which, however, -the courses of the flying spaceships changed subtly. The flotilla -swung around, through a small arc of a circle of prodigious radius, -decreasing by a tenth its driving force. Up to it the <i>Dauntless</i> -crept; through it and into the van. Then again in cone formation, but -with fifty-five units instead of fifty-four, the flotilla screamed -forward at maximum blast.</p> - -<p>Well before the calculated time of meeting the speedster a Velantian -Lensman who knew Worsel well put himself en rapport with him and -sent a thought out far ahead of the flying squadron. It found its -goal—Lensmen of that race, as has been brought out, have always been -extraordinarily capable communicators—and once more the course was -altered slightly. In due time Worsel reported that he could detect the -fleet, and shortly thereafter:</p> - -<p>"Worsel says to cut your drive to zero," the Velantian transmitted. -"He's coming up. He's close. He's going to go inert and start driving. -We're to stay free until we see what his intrinsic velocity is. Watch -for his flare."</p> - -<p>It was a weird sensation, this of knowing that a speedster—quite a -sizable chunk of boat, really—was almost in their midst, and yet -having all their instruments, even the electros, register empty space.</p> - -<p>There it was! The flare of the driving blast, a brilliant streamer of -fierce white light, sprang into being and drifted rapidly away to one -side of their course. When it had attained a safe distance:</p> - -<p>"All ships of the flotilla except the <i>Dauntless</i> go inert," Haynes -directed. Then, to his own pilot, "Back us off a bit, Henderson, and do -the same," and the new flagship also went inert.</p> - -<p>"How can I get onto the <i>Pasteur</i> the quickest, Haynes?" Lacy demanded.</p> - -<p>"Take a gig," the admiral grunted. "Strapped down, you can use as much -acceleration as you like. Three G's is all we can use without warning -and preparation."</p> - -<hr class="tb"> - -<p>There followed a curious and fascinating spectacle, for the hospital -ship had an intrinsic velocity entirely different from that of either -Kinnison's speedster or Lacy's powerful gig. The <i>Pasteur</i>, gravity -pads cut to zero, was braking down by means of her under jets at a -conservative one point four gravities, since hospital ships were not -allowed to use the brutal inert accelerations employed as a matter of -course by ships of war.</p> - -<p>The gig was on her brakes at five gravities, all that Lacy wanted to -take—but the speedster! Worsel had put his patient into a pressure -pack and had hung him on suspension, and was "balancing her down on her -tail" at everything he could stand—a full eleven gravities!</p> - -<p>But even at that, the gig first matched the velocity of the hospital -ship. The intrinsics of those two were at least of the same order -of magnitude, since both had come from the same galaxy. Therefore, -Lacy boarded the Red Cross vessel and was escorted to the office of -the chief nurse while Worsel was still blasting at eleven G's—fifty -thousand miles distant then and getting farther away by the second—to -kill the speedster's Lundmarkian intrinsic velocity. Nor could the -tractors of the warships be of any assistance—the speedster's own -vicious jets were fully capable of supplying more acceleration than -even unhuman Worsel could endure!</p> - -<p>"How do you do, Dr. Lacy? Everything is ready." Clarrissa MacDougall -met him, hand outstretched. Her saucy white cap was worn as jerkily -cocked as ever; perhaps even more so, now that it was emblazoned with -the cross-surmounted wedge which is the insignia of sector chief nurse. -Her flaming hair was as gorgeous, her smile was as radiant, her bearing -as confidently—Kinnison has said of her more than once that she is the -only person he has ever known who can strut sitting down!—as calmly -poised. "I'm very glad to see you, doctor. It's been quite a while—" -Her voice died away, for the man was looking at her with an expression -defying analysis.</p> - -<p>For Lacy was thunderstruck. If he had ever known it—and he must -have—he had forgotten completely that MacDougall had this ship. This -was awful—terrible!</p> - -<p>"Oh, yes ... yes, of course. How do you do? Mighty glad to see you -again. How's everything going?" He pumped her hand vigorously, thinking -frantically the while what he would—what he <i>could</i>—say next. "Oh, by -the way, who is to be in charge of the operating room?"</p> - -<p>"Why, I am, of course," she replied in surprise. "Who else would be?"</p> - -<p>"<i>Anyone</i> else," he wanted to say, but did not—then. "Why, that isn't -at all necessary. I would suggest—"</p> - -<p>"You'll suggest nothing of the kind!" She stared at him intently; -then, as she realized what his expression really meant—she had never -before seen such a look of pitying anguish upon his usually sternly -professional face—her own turned white and both hands flew to her -throat.</p> - -<p>"Not Kim, Lacy!" she gasped. Gone now was everything of poise, of -insouciance, which had so characterized her a moment before. She who -had worked unflinchingly upon all sorts of dismembered, fragmentary, -maimed and mangled men was now a pleading, stricken, desperately -frightened girl. "Not Kim—please! Oh, merciful God, don't let it be -my Kim!"</p> - -<p>"You <i>can't</i> be there, Mac." He did not need to tell her. She knew; he -knew that she knew. "Somebody else—<i>anybody</i> else."</p> - -<p>"No!" came the hot negative, although the blood drained completely from -the chief nurse's face, leaving it as white as the immaculate uniform -she wore. Her eyes were black, burning holes. "It's my job, Lacy, in -more ways than one. Do you think that I would <i>ever</i> let anyone else -work on <i>him</i>?" she finished passionately.</p> - -<p>"You'll have to," he declared. "I didn't want to tell you this, but -he's a ghastly mess. Altogether too much so for any woman, to say -nothing of one who loves him." This, from a surgeon of Lacy's long and -wide experience, was an unthinkable statement. Nevertheless:</p> - -<p>"All the more reason why I've got to do it. No matter what shape he's -in, I'll let no one else work on my Kim."</p> - -<p>"I say no. That's an order—official!"</p> - -<p>"Damn such orders!" she flamed. "There's nothing back of it—you know -that as well as I do!"</p> - -<p>"See here, young woman—"</p> - -<p>"Do you think that you can get away with ordering me not to perform -the very duties I have taken an oath to do?" she stormed. "And even -if it were not my job, I'd come in and work on him if I had to get a -torch and cut the ship apart, plate by plate, to do it! The only way -you can keep me out of that operating room, Lacy, is to have about ten -of your men put me into a strait jacket—and if you do that I'll have -you kicked out of the service bodily. You know that I could and that I -would!"</p> - -<p>"QX, MacDougall, you win." She had him there. This girl could and would -do exactly that. "But if you faint, I swear that I'll make you wish—"</p> - -<p>"You know me better than that, doctor." She was cold now as a woman of -marble. "If he dies, I'll die, too, right then. But if he lives, I'll -stand by as long as I can do a single thing, however small, to help."</p> - -<p>"You would, at that," the surgeon admitted. "Probably you would be -able to hold together better than anyone else could. But there'll be -after-effects in your case, you know."</p> - -<p>"I know." Her voice was bleak. "I'll live through them—if Kim lives." -She became all nurse in the course of a breath. White, cold, inhuman; -strung to highest tension and yet placidly calm, as only a truly loving -woman in life's great crises can be. "You have had reports on him, -doctor. What is your provisional diagnosis?"</p> - -<p>"Something like elephantiasis, only worse, affecting both arms and both -legs. Drastic amputations indicated. Eye sockets require attention. -Various multiple and compound fractures. Punctured and incised wounds. -Traumatism, ecchymosis, extensive extravasations, œdema. Profound -systemic shock, of course. The prognosis, however, seems to be -distinctly favorable, as far as we can tell."</p> - -<p>"Oh, I'm glad of that!" she breathed, the woman for a moment showing -through the armor of the nurse. She had not dared even to think of -prognosis. Then she had a thought. "Is that really true, or are you -just giving me a shot in the arm?" she demanded.</p> - -<p>"The truth—strictly," he assured her. "Worsel has an excellent sense -of perception, and he has reported fully and clearly. Kinnison's mind, -brain, and spine are not affected in any way, and we should be able to -save his life. That is the one good feature of the whole thing."</p> - -<hr class="tb"> - -<p>The speedster finally matched the velocity of the hospital ship. -She went free, flashed up to the <i>Pasteur</i>, inerted, and maneuvered -briefly. The larger vessel engulfed the smaller. The Gray Lensman was -carried into the operating room. The anæsthetist approached the table -and Lacy was stunned at a thought from Kinnison.</p> - -<hr class="chap"> - -<div class="figcenter"> - <img src="images/illus21.jpg" alt=""> - <div class="caption"> - <p><i>They wheeled Kim out of the speedster, grim Worsel's -vast strength gentle to help him into the hospital ship.</i></p> - </div> -</div> - -<hr class="chap"> - -<p>"Never mind the anæsthetic, Dr. Lacy. You can't make me unconscious -without killing me. Go ahead with your work. I'll hold a nerve block -while you're doing what has to be done. I can do it perfectly—I've had -lots of practice."</p> - -<p>"But we can't, man!" Lacy exclaimed. "You've got to be under a general -for this job—we can't have you conscious. You're raving, I think. It -will work, surely; it always has. Let us try it, anyway, won't you?"</p> - -<p>"Sure. It'll save me the trouble of holding the block, even though it -won't do anything else. Go ahead."</p> - -<p>The attendant physician did so, with the same cool skill and to the -same end point as in thousands of similar and successful undertakings. -At its conclusion: "Gone now, aren't you, Kinnison?" Lacy asked, -through his Lens.</p> - -<p>"No," came the surprising reply. "Physically, it worked. I can't feel a -thing and I can't move a muscle, but mentally I am as wide awake as I -ever was."</p> - -<p>"But you shouldn't be!" Lacy protested. "Perhaps you were right, at -that—we can't give you much more without danger of collapse. But -you've <i>got</i> to be unconscious! Isn't there some way in which you can -be made so?"</p> - -<p>"Yes, there is. But why do I have to be unconscious?" Kinnison asked -curiously.</p> - -<p>"To avoid mental shock—seriously damaging," the surgeon explained. "In -your case particularly the mental aspect is much graver than the purely -physical one."</p> - -<p>"Maybe you're right but you can't do it with drugs. Call Worsel; he has -done it before. He had me unconscious most of the way over here, except -when he had to give me a drink or something to eat. He's the only man -this side of Arisia who can operate on my mind."</p> - -<p>Worsel came. "Sleep, my friend," he commanded, gently but firmly. -"Sleep profoundly, body and mind, with no physical or mental -sensations, no consciousness, no perception even of the passage of -time. Sleep until someone having authority to do so bids you awaken."</p> - -<p>And Kinnison slept; so deeply that even Lacy's probing Lens could -elicit no response.</p> - -<p>"He will <i>stay</i> that way?" the surgeon asked in awe.</p> - -<p>"Yes."</p> - -<p>"For how long?"</p> - -<p>"Indefinitely. Until one of you doctors or nurses tells him to wake up, -or until he dies for lack of food or water."</p> - -<p>"We will see to it that he gets nourishment. He would make a much -better recovery if we could keep him in that state until his injuries -are almost healed. Would that do him harm, think you?"</p> - -<p>"None whatever."</p> - -<p>Then the surgeons and the nurses went to work. Lacy was not guilty of -exaggeration when he described Kinnison as being a "ghastly mess." -He was all of that. The job was long and hard. It was heartbreaking, -even for those to whom Kinnison was merely another case, not a beloved -personality. What they had to do they did, and the white marble -chief nurse carried on through every soul-wrenching second, through -every shocking, searing motion of it. She did her part, stoically, -unflinchingly, as efficiently as though the patient upon the table were -a total stranger undergoing a simple appendectomy and not the one man -in her entire universe suffering radical dismemberment. Nor did she -faint—then.</p> - -<hr class="tb"> - -<p>Back in Base Hospital, then, time wore on until Lacy decided that the -Lensman could be aroused from his trance. Clarrissa it was who woke -him up. She had fought for the privilege; first claiming it as a right -and then threatening to commit mayhem upon the person of anyone else -who dared even to think of doing it.</p> - -<p>"Wake up, Kim, dear," she whispered. "The worst of it is over now. You -are getting well."</p> - -<p>The Gray Lensman came to instantly, in full command of every faculty, -knowing everything that had happened up to the instant of his hypnosis -by Worsel. He stiffened, ready to establish again the nerve block -against the intolerable agony to which he had been subjected so long, -but there was no need. His body was, for the first time in untold -æons, free from pain; and he relaxed blissfully, reveling in the sheer -comfort of it.</p> - -<p>"I'm <i>so</i> glad that you're awake, Kim," the nurse went on. "I know -that you can't talk to me—we can't unbandage your jaw until next -week—and you can't think at me, either, because your new Lens -hasn't come yet. But I can talk to you and you can listen. Don't be -discouraged, Kim. Don't let it get you down. I love you just as much as -I ever did, and as soon as you can talk we're going to get married. I -am going to take care of you—"</p> - -<p>"Don't 'poor dear' me, Mac," he interrupted her with a vigorous -thought. "You didn't say it, I know, but you were thinking it. I'm not -half as helpless as you think I am. I can still communicate, and I can -see as well as I ever could, or better. And if you think that I'm going -to let you marry me to take care of me, you're crazy."</p> - -<p>"You're raving! Delirious! Stark, staring mad!" She started back, -then controlled herself with an effort. "Maybe you can think at people -without a Lens—of course you can, since you just did, at me—but you -<i>can't</i> see, Kim, possibly. Believe me, boy, I <i>know</i> that you can't. I -was there—"</p> - -<p>"I can, though," he insisted. "I got a lot of stuff on my second trip -to Arisia that I couldn't let anybody know about then, but I can now. -I've got as good a sense of perception as Tregonsee has—maybe better. -To prove it, you look thin, worn—whittled down to a nub. You've been -working too hard—on me."</p> - -<p>"Deduction," she scoffed. "You would know that I would."</p> - -<p>"QX. How about those roses over there on the table? White ones, yellow -ones, and red ones? With ferns?"</p> - -<p>"You can smell them, perhaps"—dubiously. Then, with more assurance: -"You would know that practically all the flowers known to botany would -be here."</p> - -<p>"Well, I'll count 'em and point 'em out to you, then—or, better, how -about that little gold locket, with 'CM' engraved on it, that you're -wearing under your uniform? I can't smell that, nor the picture in -it—" The man's thought faltered in embarrassment. "<i>My</i> picture! -Klono's whiskers, Mac, where did you get that—and why?"</p> - -<p>"It's a reduction that Admiral Haynes let me have made. I am wearing it -because I love you—I've said that before."</p> - -<p>The girl's entrancing smile was now in full evidence. She knew now that -he <i>could</i> see, that he would never be the helpless hulk which she had -so gallingly thought him doomed to become, and her spirits rose in -ecstatic relief. But he would <i>never</i> take the initiative now. Well, -then, she would; and this was as good an opening as she ever would have -with the stubborn brute. Therefore:</p> - -<p>"More than that, as I said before, I am going to marry you, whether -you like it or not." She blushed a heavenly—and discordant—magenta, -but went on unfalteringly: "And not out of pity, either, Kim, or just -to take care of you. It's older than that—much older."</p> - -<p>"It can't be done, Mac." His thought was a protest to high Heaven at -the injustice of Fate. "I've thought it over out in space a thousand -times—thought until I was black in the face—but I get the same -result every time. It's just simply no soap. You are much too fine a -woman—too splendid, too vital, too much of everything a woman should -be—to be tied down for life to a thing that's half steel, rubber, and -phenoline. It just simply is not on the wheel, that's all."</p> - -<p>"You're full of pickles, Kim." Gone was all her uncertainty and -nervousness. She was calm, poised; glowing with a transcendent inward -beauty. "I didn't really <i>know</i> until this minute that you love me, -too, but I do now. Don't you realize, you big, dumb, wonderful clunker, -that as long as there's one single, little bit of a piece of you left -alive I'll love that piece more than I ever could any other man's -entire being?"</p> - -<p>"But I <i>can't</i>, I tell you!" He groaned the thought. "I can't and -I won't! My job isn't done yet, either, and the next time they'll -probably get me. I <i>can't</i> let you waste yourself, Mac, on a fraction -of a man for a fraction of a lifetime!"</p> - -<p>"QX, Gray Lensman." Clarrissa was serene, radiantly untroubled. She -could make things come out right now; everything was on the green. -"We'll put this back up on the shelf for a while. I'm afraid that I -have been terribly remiss in my duties as a nurse. Patients mustn't be -excited or quarreled with, you know."</p> - -<p>"That's another thing. How come you, a sector chief, to be on ordinary -room duty, and night duty at that?"</p> - -<p>"Sector chiefs assign duties, don't they?" she retorted sunnily. "Now -I'll give you a rub and change some of these dressings."</p> - -<hr class="chap"> - -<p class="ph1">XXII.</p> - - -<p>"Hi, Skeleton-gazer!"</p> - -<p>"Ho, Big Chief Feet-on-the-desk!"</p> - -<p>"I see that your red-headed sector chief is still occupying all -strategic salients in force." Haynes had paused in the surgeon -general's office on his way to another of his conferences with the Gray -Lensman. "Can't you get rid of her or don't you want to?"</p> - -<p>"Don't want to. Couldn't, anyway, probably. The young vixen would tear -down the hospital—she might even resign, marry him out of hand, and -lug him off somewhere. You want him to recover, don't you?"</p> - -<p>"Don't be any more of an idiot than you have to. What a question!"</p> - -<p>"Don't work up a temperature about MacDougall, then. As long as she's -around him—and that's twenty-four hours a day—he'll get everything in -the Universe that he can get any good out of."</p> - -<p>"That's so, too. This other thing's out of our hands now, anyway. -Kinnison can't hold his position long against her and himself -both—overwhelmingly superior force. Just as well, too—civilization -needs more like those two."</p> - -<p>"Check, but the affair isn't out of our hands yet, by any means. We've -got quite a little more fine work to do there, as you'll see, before -it's a really good job. But about Kinnison—"</p> - -<p>"Yes. When are you going to fit arms and legs on him? He should be -practicing with them at this stage of the game, I should think—I was."</p> - -<p>"You <i>should</i> think—but, unfortunately, you don't, about anything -except war," was the surgeon's dry rejoinder. "If you did, you would -have paid more attention to what Phillips has been doing. He is making -the final test today. Come along—your conference with Kinnison can -wait half an hour."</p> - -<p>In the research laboratory which had been assigned to Phillips they -found von Hohendorff with the Posenian. Haynes was surprised to see the -old commandant of cadets, but Lacy quite evidently had known that he -was to be there.</p> - -<p>"Phillips," the surgeon general began, "explain to Admiral Haynes, in -nontechnical language, what you are doing."</p> - -<p>"The original problem was to discover what hormone or other agent -caused proliferation of neural tissue—"</p> - -<p>"Wait a minute; I'd better do it," Lacy broke in. "Anyway, you wouldn't -do yourself justice. The first thing that Phillips found out was that -the problem of repairing damaged nervous tissue was inextricably -involved with several other unknown things, such as the original growth -of such tissue, its relationship to growth in general, the regeneration -of lost members in lower forms, and so on. You see, Haynes, it is a -known fact that nerves do grow, or else they could not exist; and in -some lower forms of life they regenerate. Those facts were all he had, -at first. In higher forms, even during the growth stage, regeneration -does not occur spontaneously. Phillips set out to find out why.</p> - -<p>"The thyroid controls growth, but does not initiate it, he learned. -This fact seemed to indicate that there was an unknown hormone -involved—that certain lower types possess an endocrine gland which -is either atrophied or non-existent in higher types. If the latter, -he was sunk. He reasoned, however, that, since higher types evolved -from lower, the gland in question might very well exist in a vestigial -stage. He studied animals, thousands of them, from the germ upward. He -exhausted the patience of the Posenian authorities; and when they cut -off his appropriation, on the ground that the thing was impossible, he -came here. We gave him carte blanche.</p> - -<p>"The man is a miracle of perseverence, a keen observer, a shrewd -reasoner, and a mechanic par excellence—a born researcher. Therefore, -in time he learned what it must be: to cut it short, the pineal body. -Then he had to find the stimulant. Drugs, chemicals, and spectrum of -radiation; singly and in combination. Years of plugging, with just -enough progress to keep him at it. Visits to other planets peopled -by races human to two places or more; learning everything that had -been done along the line of his problem. When you fellows moved Medon -over here he visited it as a matter of routine, and there he hit -the jackpot. Wise himself is a surgeon, and the Medonians have for -centuries been having warfare and grief enough, steadily and in heroic -doses, to develop the medical and surgical arts no end.</p> - -<p>"They knew how to stimulate the pineal—a combination of drugs and -specific radiations—but their method was dangerous. With Phillips' -fresh viewpoint, his wide, new knowledge, and his mechanical genius, -they worked out a new and highly satisfactory technique. He was going -to try it out on a pirate going into the lethal chamber, but von -Hohendorff heard about it and insisted that it should be tried on him. -Got up on his Unattached Lensman's high horse and won't come down. So -here we are."</p> - -<p>"Hm-m-m—interesting!" The admiral had listened attentively. "You're -pretty sure that it will work, aren't you?"</p> - -<p>"As sure as we can be of anything that hasn't been tried. -Ninety-percent probability, say—certainly not over ninety-five."</p> - -<hr class="tb"> - -<p>"Good enough odds." Haynes turned to the commandant. "What do you mean, -you old reprobate, by sneaking around behind my back and horning in on -my reservation? I rate Unattached, too, you know, and it's mine. You're -out, von."</p> - -<p>"I saw it first and I refuse to relinquish." Von Hohendorff was adamant.</p> - -<p>"You've got to," Haynes insisted. "He isn't your cub any more; he's my -Lensman. Besides, I'm a better test than you are—I've got more parts -to replace than you have."</p> - -<p>"Four or five make just as good a test as a dozen," the commandant -declared.</p> - -<p>"Gentlemen, think!" the Posenian pleaded. "Please consider that the -pineal is actually inside the brain. It is true that I have not been -able to discover any brain injury so far, but the process has not yet -been applied to a reasoning brain and I can offer no assurance whatever -that some obscure injury will not result."</p> - -<p>"What of it?" and the two old Unattached Lensmen resumed their battle, -hammer and tongs. Neither would yield a millimeter.</p> - -<p>"Operate on them both, then, since they are both above law or reason," -Lacy finally ordered in exasperation. "There ought to be a law to -reduce Gray Lensmen to the ranks when they begin to suffer from -ossification of the intellect."</p> - -<p>"Starting with yourself, perhaps?" the admiral shot back, not at all -abashed.</p> - -<p>Haynes relented enough to let von Hohendorff go first, and both were -given the necessary injections. The commandant was then strapped -solidly into a chair; his head was clamped so firmly that he could not -move it in any direction.</p> - -<p>The Posenian swung his needle rays into place; two of them, -diametrically opposed, each held rigidly upon micrometered racks and -each operated by two huge, double, rock-steady hands. The operator -<i>looked</i> entirely aloof—being eyeless and practically headless, it -is impossible to tell from a Posenian's attitude or posture anything -about the focal point of his attention—but the watchers knew that he -was observing in microscopic detail the tiny gland within the old -Lensman's skull.</p> - -<p>Then Haynes. "Is this all there is to it, or do we come back for more?" -he asked, when he was released from his shackles.</p> - -<p>"That's all," Lacy answered. "One stimulation lasts for life, as far as -we know. But if the treatment is successful you'll come back—about day -after tomorrow, I think—to go to bed here. Your spare equipment won't -fit and your stumps may require surgical attention."</p> - -<p>Sure enough, Haynes did come back to the hospital, but not to go to -bed. He was too busy. Instead, he got a wheel chair, and in it he was -taken back to his now-boiling office. And in a few more days he called -Lacy in high exasperation.</p> - -<p>"Know what you've done?" he demanded. "Not satisfied with taking my -perfectly good parts away from me, you've taken my teeth, too. They -don't fit—I can't eat a thing! And I'm hungry as a wolf—I was never -so hungry before in all my life! I <i>can't</i> live on soup, man; I've got -work to do. What are you going to do about it?"</p> - -<p>"<i>Ho-ho-haw!</i>" Lacy roared. "Serves you right—von Hohendorff is taking -it easy here; sitting right on top of the world. Easy, now, sailor, -don't rupture your aorta. I'll send a nurse over with a soft-boiled egg -and a spoon. <i>Teething</i>—at <i>your</i> age—<i>Haw-ho-haw!</i>"</p> - -<p>But it was no ordinary nurse who came, a few minutes later, to see -the port admiral; it was the sector chief herself. She looked at him -pityingly as she trundled him into his private office and shut the -door, thereby establishing complete coverage.</p> - -<p>"I had no idea, Admiral Haynes, that you ... that there—" She paused.</p> - -<p>"That I was so much of a machine-shop rebuild?"—complacently. "Except -in the matter of eyes—which he doesn't need, anyway—our mutual -friend Kinnison has very little on me, my dear. I got so handy with the -replacements that very few people knew how much of me was artificial. -But it's these teeth that are taking all the joy out of life. I'm -hungry, confound it! Have you got anything really satisfying that I can -eat?"</p> - -<p>"I'll say I have!" She fed him; then, bending over, she squeezed him -tight and kissed him emphatically. "You and the commandant are just -perfectly wonderful old darlings, and I love you all to pieces," she -declared. "I think Lacy was simply poisonous to laugh at you the way he -did. Why, you two are the world's greatest heroes! He knew perfectly -well all the time, the lug, that of course you'd be hungry; that you'd -have to eat twice as much as usual while your legs and things were -growing. Don't worry, admiral, I'll feed you until you bulge. I want -you to hurry up with this, so that they'll do it to Kim."</p> - -<p>"Thanks, Mac," and as she wheeled him back into the main office he -considered her anew. A ravishing creature, but sound. Rash, and a bit -stubborn, perhaps; impetuous and head-strong; but clean, solid metal -all the way through. She had what it takes—she qualified. She and -Kinnison would make a mighty fine couple when the lad got some of that -heroic damn nonsense knocked out of his head—but there was work to do.</p> - -<hr class="tb"> - -<p>There was. The Galactic Council had considered thoroughly Kinnison's -reports; its every member had conferred with him and with Worsel at -length. Throughout the First Galaxy the Patrol was at work in all its -prodigious might, preparing to wipe out the menace to civilization -which was Boskone. First-line superdreadnoughts—no others would go -upon that mission—were being built and armed, rebuilt and rearmed.</p> - -<p>Well it was that the Galactic Patrol had previously amassed an almost -inexhaustible supply of wealth, for its "reserves of expendible credit" -were running like water.</p> - -<p>Weapons, supposedly of irresistible power, were made even more -powerful. Screens already "impenetrable" were stiffened into even -greater stubbornness.</p> - -<p>Primary projectors were made to take even higher loads, for longer -times. New and heavier Q-type helices were designed and built. Larger -and more destructive duodec bombs were hurled against already ruined, -torn, and quivering test planets. Uninhabited worlds were being -equipped with super-Bergenholms and with driving projectors. The -negasphere, the most incredible menace to navigation which had ever -existed in space, was being patrolled by a cordon of guard ships.</p> - -<p>And all this activity centered in one vast building and culminated in -one man—Port Admiral Haynes, Galactic councilor and chief of staff. -And Haynes could not get enough to eat because he was cutting a new set -of teeth!</p> - -<p>He cut them, all thirty-two of them. His new limbs grew perfectly, even -to the nails. Hair grew upon what had for years been a shining expanse -of pate. But, much to Lacy's relief, it was old skin, not young, which -covered the new limbs. It was white hair, not brown, that was dulling -the glossiness of Haynes' bald old head. His bifocals, unchanged, were -still necessary if he were to see anything clearly, near or far.</p> - -<p>"Our experimental animals aged and died normally," Lacy explained -graciously, "but I was beginning to wonder if we had rejuvenated you -two, or perhaps endowed you with eternal life. Glad to see that the new -parts have the same physical age as the rest of you—it would be mildly -embarrassing to have to kill two Gray Lensmen to get rid of them."</p> - -<p>"You aren't even as funny as a rubber crutch," Haynes grunted. "When -are you going to give young Kinnison the works? Don't you realize that -we need him?"</p> - -<p>"Pretty soon now—just as soon as we give you and von your -psychological examinations."</p> - -<p>"Bah! That isn't necessary—my brain's QX!"</p> - -<p>"That's what you think, but what do you know about brains? Worsel will -tell us what shape your mind—if any—is in."</p> - -<p>The Velantian put both Haynes and von Hohendorff through a grueling -examination, finding that their minds had not been affected in any way -by the stimulants applied to their pineal glands.</p> - -<p>Then and only then did Phillips operate upon Kinnison; and in his -case, too, the operation was a complete success. Arms and legs and -eyes replaced themselves flawlessly. The scars of his terrible wounds -disappeared, leaving no sign of ever having been.</p> - -<p>He was a little slower, however; somewhat clumsy, and woefully weak. -Therefore, instead of discharging him from the hospital as cured, which -procedure would have restored to him automatically all the rights and -privileges of an Unattached Lensman, the Council decided to transfer -him to a physical-culture camp. A few weeks there would restore to him -entirely the strength, speed, and agility which had formerly been his, -and he would then be allowed to resume active duty.</p> - -<hr class="tb"> - -<p>Just before he left the hospital, Kinnison strolled with Clarrissa out -to a bench in the grounds.</p> - -<p>"—and you're making a perfect recovery," the girl was saying. "You'll -be exactly as you were before. But things between us aren't just as -they were, and they never can be again. You know that, Kim. We've got -unfinished business to transact—let's take it down off the shelf -before you go."</p> - -<p>"Better let it lay, Mac," and all the newfound joy of existence went -out of the man's eyes. "I'm whole, yes, but that angle was really the -least important of all. You never yet have faced squarely the fact that -my job isn't done and that my chance of living through it is just about -one in ten. Even Phillips can't do anything about a corpse."</p> - -<p>"No, and I won't face it, either, unless and until I must." Her reply -was tranquillity itself. "Most of the troubles people worry about in -advance never do materialize. And even if I did, you ought to know that -I ... that any woman would rather ... well, that half a loaf is better -than no bread."</p> - -<p>"QX. I haven't ever mentioned the worst thing. I didn't want to—but if -you've got to have it, here it is," the man wrenched out. "Look at what -I am. A barroom brawler. A rum-dum. A hard-boiled egg. A cold-blooded, -ruthless murderer, even of my own men—"</p> - -<p>"Not that, Kim, ever, and you know it," she rebuked him.</p> - -<p>"What else can you call it?" he grated. "A killer besides; a red-handed -butcher if there ever was one—then, now, and forever. I've got to be. -I can't get away from it. Do you think that you, or any other decent -woman, could stand it to live with me? That you could feel my arms -around you, feel my gory paws touching you, without going sick at the -stomach?"</p> - -<p>"Oh, so <i>that's</i> what's really been griping you all this time!" -Clarrissa was surprised and entirely unshaken. "I don't have to think -about that, Kim—I know. If you were a murderer or had the killer -instinct, that would be different, but you aren't and you haven't. You -are hard, of course. You have to be—but do you think that I would -ever run a temperature over a softy? You brawl, yes—like the world's -champion you are. Anybody you ever killed needed killing, there's no -question of that. You don't do those things for fun; and the fact that -you can drive yourself to do the things that have to be done shows your -true caliber.</p> - -<p>"Nor have you ever thought of the obverse; that you lean over backward -in wielding that terrific power of yours. The Desplaines woman, the -countess—lots of other instances. I respect and honor you more -than any other man I have ever known. Any woman who really knew you -would—<i>she must! And I know!</i> Remember that wide-open two-way put me -<i>in</i> your mind for an instant—long enough—that let me understand -something of the horrible weight you have to carry, something of the -terrible power you must—for civilization—leash or release, direct and -control. <i>I know</i>—no words you may say now can add to or change that -single, full-view understanding I got then.</p> - -<p>"Listen, Kim. Read my mind, all of it. You will know me then, and -understand me better than I can ever explain myself."</p> - -<p>"Have you got a picture of me doing that?" he asked flatly.</p> - -<p>"No, you big, unreasonable clunker, I haven't!" she flared, "and -that's just what's driving me mad!" Then, voice dropping to a whisper, -almost sobbing: "Cancel that, Kim—I didn't mean it. You wouldn't—you -couldn't, I suppose, and still be you, the man I love. But isn't there -something—<i>anything</i>—that will make you understand what I really am?"</p> - -<p>"I know what you are." Kinnison's voice was uninflected, weary. "As I -told you before—the Universe's best. It's what I am that's clogging -the jets. What I have been and what I have to keep on being. I simply -don't rate up, and you'd better lay off me, Mac, while you can. -There's a poem by one of the ancients—Kipling—the 'Ballad of Boh Da -Thone'—that describes it exactly. You wouldn't know it—"</p> - -<p>"You just think that I wouldn't"—nodding brightly. "The only trouble -is that you always think of the wrong verses. Part of it really is -descriptive of you. You know, where all the soldiers of the Black -Tyrone thought so much of their captain?"</p> - -<p>She recited:</p> - -<div class="poetry"> - <div class="stanza"> - <div class="verse">"And worshiped with fluency, fervor, and zeal</div> - <div class="verse">The mud on the boot heels of Crook O'Neil.</div> -</div> -</div> - -<p>"That describes you exactly."</p> - -<p>"You're crazy for the lack of sense," he demurred. "I don't rate like -that."</p> - -<p>"Sure, you do," she assured him. "All the men think of you that way. -And not only men. Women, too, darn 'em—and the very next time that I -catch one of them at it I'm going to kick her cursed teeth out, one by -one!"</p> - -<hr class="tb"> - -<p>Kinnison laughed, albeit a trifle sourly. "You're raving, Mac. -Imagining things. But to get back to that poem, what I was referring to -went like this—"</p> - -<p>"I know how it goes. Listen:</p> - -<div class="poetry"> - <div class="stanza"> - <div class="verse">"But the captain had quitted the long-drawn strife</div> - <div class="verse">And in far Simoorie had taken a wife;</div> - </div> - <div class="stanza"> - <div class="verse">"And she was a damsel of delicate mold,</div> - <div class="verse">With hair like the sunshine and heart of gold.</div> - </div> - <div class="stanza"> - <div class="verse">"And little she knew the arms that embraced</div> - <div class="verse">Had cloven a man from the brow to the waist;</div> - </div> - <div class="stanza"> - <div class="verse">"And little she knew that the loving lips</div> - <div class="verse">Had ordered a quivering life's eclipse,</div> - </div> - <div class="stanza"> - <div class="verse">"And the eyes that lit at her lightest breath</div> - <div class="verse">Had glared unawed in the Gates of Death.</div> - </div> - <div class="stanza"> - <div class="verse">"(For these be matters a man would hide,</div> - <div class="verse">As a general thing, from an innocent bride.)</div> - </div> -</div> - - -<p>"That's what you, mean, isn't it?" she asked quietly.</p> - -<p>"Mac, you know a lot of things that you've got no business knowing." -Instead of answering her question, he stared at her speculatively. "My -sprees and brawls, Dessa Desplaines and the Countess Avondrin, and now -this. Would you mind telling me how you get the stuff?"</p> - -<p>"I'm closer to you than you suspect, Kim, and have been for a long -time. Worsel calls it being 'en rapport,' I believe. You don't need -to think at me—in fact, you have to put up a conscious block to keep -me out. So I know a lot that I shouldn't, but Lensmen aren't the only -ones who don't talk. You have been thinking about that poem a lot—it -worried you—so I went to the library and looked it up. I memorized -most of it."</p> - -<p>"Well, to get the true picture of me you'll have to multiply that by -a thousand. Also, don't forget that loose heads might be rolling onto -your breakfast table almost any morning instead of only once."</p> - -<p>"So what?" she countered evenly. "Do you think that I could sit for -Kipling's portrait of Mrs. O'Neil? Nobody ever called my mold delicate, -and he would have said of me:</p> - -<div class="poetry"> - <div class="stanza"> - <div class="verse">"With hair like a conflagration</div> - <div class="verse">And a heart of solid brass!</div> - </div> -</div> - -<p>"Captain O'Neil's bride, as well as being innocent and ignorant, -strikes me as having been a good deal of a sissy, something of a -weeping willow, and no little of a shrinking violet. Tell me, Kim, do -you think that she would have made good as a sector chief nurse?"</p> - -<p>"No, but that's neither here—"</p> - -<p>"It is, too," she interrupted. "You've got to consider what I did, and -that it's no job for a girl with a weak stomach. Besides, the Boh's -head took the fabled Mrs. O'Neil by surprise. She didn't know that her -husband used to be in the wholesale mayhem-and-killing business. I do.</p> - -<p>"And lastly, you big lug, do you think that I'd be making such -barefaced passes at you—playing the brazen hussy this way—unless I -was very, <i>very</i> certain of the truth?"</p> - -<p>"Huh?" he demanded, blushing furiously. "I thought that you were -running a blazer on me before—you really do <i>know</i>, then, that—" He -would not say it, even then.</p> - -<p>"Of course I know!" She nodded; then, as the man spread his hands -helplessly, she abandoned her attempts to keep the conversation upon a -light level.</p> - -<p>"I know, my dear; there is nothing we can do about it yet." Her voice -was unsteady, her heart in every word. "You have to do your job, and I -honor you for that, too; even if it does take you from me. It will be -easier for you, though, I think, and I <i>know</i> that it will be easier -for me, to have us both know the truth. Whenever you are ready, Kim, -I'll be here—or somewhere—waiting. Clear ether, Gray Lensman!" and, -rising to her feet, she turned back toward the hospital.</p> - -<p>"Clear ether, Chris!" Unconsciously he used the pet name by which he -had thought of her so much. He stared after her for a minute, hungrily. -Then, squaring his shoulders, he strode away.</p> - -<hr class="tb"> - -<p>And upon far Jarnevon Eichmil, the First of Boskone, was conferring -with Jalte via communicator. Long since, the Kalonian had delivered -through devious channels the message of Boskone to an imaginary -director of Lensmen; long since he had transmitted this cryptically -direful reply:</p> - -<p>"Lensman Morgan lives, and so does Star A Star."</p> - -<p>Jalte had not been able to report to his chief any news concerning the -fate of that which the speedster bore, since spies no longer existed -within the reservations of the Patrol. He had learned of no discovery -that any Lensman had made. He could not venture any hypothesis as -to how this Star A Star had heard of Jarnevon or had learned of its -location in space. He was sure of only one thing, and that was a grimly -disturbing fact indeed. The Patrol was re-arming throughout the Galaxy, -upon a scale theretofore unknown. Eichmil's thought was cold:</p> - -<p>"That means but one thing. A Lensman invaded you and learned of us -here—in no other way could knowledge of Jarnevon have come to them."</p> - -<p>"Why me?" Jalte demanded. "If there exists a mind of power sufficient -to break my screens and tracelessly to invade my mind, what of yours?"</p> - -<p>"It is a thing proven by the outcome." The Boskonian's statement was -a calm summation of fact. "The messenger sent against you succeeded; -the one sent against us failed. The Patrol intends and is preparing: -certainly to wipe out our remaining forces within the Tellurian Galaxy; -probably to attack your stronghold; eventually to invade our own -galaxy. It is well—for that reason, in part, was the Lensman Morgan -sent back as he was sent."</p> - -<p>"Let them come!" snarled the Kalonian. "We can and we will hold this -planet forever against anything they can bring through space!"</p> - -<p>"I would not be too sure of that," cautioned the superior. "In fact, -if—as I am beginning to regard as a probability—the Patrol does make -a concerted drive against any significant number of our planetary -organizations, you should abandon your base there and return to -Kalonia, after disbanding and so preserving for future use as many as -possible of the planetary units."</p> - -<p>"Future use? In that case there will be no future."</p> - -<p>"There will be," Eichmil replied, coldly vicious. "We are strengthening -the defenses of Jarnevon to withstand any conceivable assault. If they -do not attack us here of their own free will, we shall compel them to -do so. Then, after destroying their every mobile force, we shall again -take over their galaxy. Arms for that purpose are even now in the -building. Is the matter entirely clear?"</p> - -<p>"It is clear. We shall warn all our groups that such orders may issue; -and we shall prepare to abandon this base if such a step should become -desirable."</p> - -<p>So it was planned: neither Eichmil nor Jalte even suspecting two -startling truths:</p> - -<p>First, that when the Patrol was ready it would strike hard and without -warning, and,</p> - -<p>Second, that it would strike—not low, but high!</p> - -<hr class="chap"> - -<p class="ph1">XXIII.</p> - - -<p>Kinnison played, worked, rested, ate, and slept. He boxed, strenuously -and viciously, with masters of the craft. He practiced with his -DeLameters until he had regained his old-time speed and dead-center -accuracy. He swam for hours at a time, he ran in cross-country races. -He lolled, practically naked, in hot sunshine. And finally, when his -muscles were writhing and rippling as of yore beneath the bronzed satin -of his skin, Lacy answered his insistent demands by coming to see him.</p> - -<p>The Gray Lensman met the flier eagerly, but his face fell when he saw -that the surgeon general was alone.</p> - -<p>"No, MacDougall didn't come—she isn't around any more," he explained -guilefully.</p> - -<p>"Huh?" came the startled query. "How come?"</p> - -<p>"Out in space—out Borova way somewhere. What do you care? After the -way you acted you've got the crust of a rhinoceros to think that—"</p> - -<p>"You're crazy, Lacy! Why, we ... she—It's all fixed up."</p> - -<p>"Funny kind of fixing. Moping around Base, crying her red head off. -Finally, though, she decided that she had some Scotch pride left, and I -let her go aboard again. If she isn't all done with you, she ought to -be." This, Lacy figured, would be good for what ailed the big saphead. -"Come on, and I'll see whether you're fit to go back to work or not."</p> - -<p>He was fit. "QX, lad, flit!" Lacy discharged him informally with a slap -upon the back. "Get dressed and I'll take you back to Haynes—he's been -snapping at me like a turtle ever since you've been out here."</p> - -<p>At Prime Base, Kinnison was welcomed enthusiastically by the admiral.</p> - -<p>"Feel those fingers, Kim!" he exclaimed. "Perfect! Just like the -originals!"</p> - -<p>"Mine, too. They do feel good."</p> - -<p>"It's a pity that you got your new ones so quick. You'd appreciate 'em -much more after a few years without 'em. But to get down to business. -The fleets have been taking off for a couple of weeks—we're to join up -as the line passes. If you haven't anything better to do, I'd like to -have you aboard the <i>Z9M9Z</i>."</p> - -<p>"I don't know of any place I'd rather be, sir—thanks."</p> - -<p>"QX. Thanks should be the other way. You can make yourself mighty -useful between now and zero time." He eyed the young man speculatively.</p> - -<p>Haynes had a special job for him, Kinnison knew. As a Gray Lensman, he -could not be given any military rank or post, and he could not conceive -of the admiral of Grand Fleet wanting him around as an aid-de-camp.</p> - -<p>"Spill it, chief," he invited. "Not orders, of course—I understand -that perfectly. Requests or ... ah-hum ... suggestions."</p> - -<p>"I <i>will</i> crown you with something yet, you whelp!" Haynes snorted, -and Kinnison grinned. These two were very close, in spite of their -disparity in years; and very much of a piece. "As you get older you -will realize that it is good tactics to stick pretty close to Gen Regs. -Yes, I <i>have</i> got a job for you, and it's a nasty one. Nobody else has -been able to handle it, not even two companies of Rigellians. Grand -Fleet Operations."</p> - -<p>"<i>Grand Fleet Operations!</i>" Kinnison was aghast. "Holy ... Klono's ... -brazen ... bowels! What makes you think I've got jets enough to swing -<i>that</i> load, chief?"</p> - -<p>"I haven't any idea whether you can or not. I know, however, that if -you can't, nobody can; and in spite of all the work we've done on the -thing we'll have to operate as a mob, as we did before, and not as a -fleet. If so, I shudder to think of the results."</p> - -<p>"QX. If you'll send for Worsel, we'll try it a fling or two. It'd be a -shame to build a whole ship around an Operations tank and then not be -able to use it; I'll see what I can do. By the way, I haven't seen my -head nurse—Miss MacDougall, you know—any place lately. Have you? I -ought to tell her 'thanks' or something—maybe send her a flower."</p> - -<p>"Nurse? MacDougall? Oh, yes, the redhead. Let me see—did hear -something about her the other day. Married? No, that wasn't it.... She -took a hospital ship somewhere. Alsakan—Vandemar—somewhere; didn't -pay any attention. She doesn't need thanks—or flowers, either—she's -getting paid for her work. Much more important, don't you think, to get -Operations straightened out?"</p> - -<p>"Undoubtedly, sir," Kinnison replied stiffly, and as he went out Lacy -came in.</p> - -<p>The two old conspirators greeted each other with knowing grins. <i>Was</i> -Kinnison taking it big! He was falling, like ten thousand bricks down a -well.</p> - -<p>"Do him good to undermine his position a bit. Too cocky altogether. But -<i>how</i> they suffer!"</p> - -<p>"Check!"</p> - -<hr class="tb"> - -<p>Kinnison rode toward the flagship in a mood which even he could not -have described. He had expected to see her, as a matter of course—he -wanted to see her—confound it, he <i>had</i> to see her! Why did she have -to do a flit now, of all the times on the calendar? She knew that the -fleet was shoving off, and that he'd have to go along—and nobody -knew where she was. When he got back he'd find her if he had to chase -her all over the Galaxy. He'd put an end to this. Duty was duty, of -course—but Chris was CHRIS—and half a loaf <i>was</i> better than no bread!</p> - -<p>He jerked back to reality as he entered the gigantic teardrop which -was technically the <i>Z9M9Z</i>, socially the <i>Directrix</i>, and ordinarily -<i>GFHQ</i>. She had been designed and built specifically to be Grand Fleet -Headquarters, and nothing else. She bore no offensive armament; but -since she had to protect the presiding geniuses of combat, she had -every possible defense.</p> - -<p>Port Admiral Haynes had learned a bitter lesson during the expedition -to Helmuth's base. Long before that relatively small Grand Fleet got -there he was sick to the core, realizing that fifty thousand vessels -simply could not be controlled or maneuvered as a group. If that base -had been capable of an offensive, or even of a real defensive, or if -Boskone could have put their fleets into that star cluster in time, the -Patrol would have been defeated ignominiously; and Haynes, wise old -tactician that he was, knew it only too well.</p> - -<p>Therefore, immediately after the return from that "triumphant" venture, -he gave orders to design and to build, at whatever cost, a flagship -capable of directing efficiently a million combat units.</p> - -<p>The "tank"—the three-dimensional galactic chart which is a necessary -part of every pilot room—had grown and grown as it became evident that -it must be the prime agency in Grand Fleet Operations. Finally, in this -last rebuilding, the tank was seven hundred feet in diameter and eighty -feet thick in the middle—over seventeen million cubic feet of space in -which more than two million tiny lights crawled hither and thither in -hopeless confusion. For, after the technicians and designers had put -that tank into actual service, they had discovered that it was useless. -No available mind had been able either to perceive any situation as -a whole, or to identify with certainty any light or group of lights -needing correction. And as for linking up any particular light with -its individual, blanket-proof communicator in time to issue orders in -space combat—</p> - -<p>Kinnison looked at the tank, then around the full circle of the -million-plug board encircling it. He observed the horde of operators, -each one trying frantically to do something. Next he shut his eyes, the -better to perceive everything at once, and studied the problem for an -hour.</p> - -<p>"Attention, everybody!" he thought then. "Open all circuits—do nothing -at all for a while." He then called Haynes.</p> - -<p>"I think that we can clean up this mess if you'll send over some -Simplex analyzers and the crew of technicians. Helmuth had a sweet -set-up on multiplex controls, and Jalte had some ideas that we can -adapt to fit this tank. If we add them all together, we may have -something."</p> - -<hr class="tb"> - -<p>And by the time Worsel arrived, they did.</p> - -<p>"Red lights are fleets already in motion," Kinnison explained rapidly -to the Velantian. "Greens are fleets still at their bases. Ambers are -the planets the greens took off from—connected, you see, by Ryerson -string-lights. The white star is us, the <i>Directrix</i>. That violet cross -'way over there is Jalte's planet, our first objective. The pink comets -are our free planets, their tails showing their intrinsic velocities. -Being so slow, they had to start long ago. The purple circle is the -negasphere. It's on its way, too. You take that side, I'll take this. -They were supposed to start from the edge of the twelfth sector. The -idea was to make it a smooth, bowl-shaped sweep across the Galaxy, -converging upon the objective, but each of the fleet commanders -apparently wants to run this war to suit himself. Look at that guy -there—he's beating the gun by nine thousand parsecs. Watch me pin his -ears back!"</p> - -<p>He pointed his Simplex at the red light which had so offendingly sprung -into being. There was a whirring click and the number 449276 flashed -above a board. An operator flicked a switch.</p> - -<p>"Grand Fleet Operations!" Kinnison snapped. "Why are you taking off -without orders?"</p> - -<p>"Why, I ... I'll give you the vice-admiral, sir—"</p> - -<p>"No time! Tell your vice-admiral that one more such break will put him -in irons. Land at once! GFO—off!"</p> - -<p>"With around a million fleets to handle, we can't spend much time on -anyone," he thought at Worsel, "but after we get them lined up and get -our Rigellians broken in, it won't be so bad."</p> - -<p>The breaking in did not take long; definite and meaningful orders -flew faster and faster along the tiny, but steel-hard beams of the -communicators.</p> - -<p>"Take off.... Increase drive four point five.... Decrease drive two -point seven.... Change course to—" and so it went, hour after hour and -day after day.</p> - -<p>And with the passage of time came order out of chaos. The red lights -formed a gigantically sweeping, curving wall, its almost imperceptible -crawl representing an actual velocity of almost one hundred parsecs an -hour. Behind that wall blazed a sea of amber, threaded throughout with -the brilliant filaments which were the Ryerson lights. Ahead of it lay -a sparkling, almost solid blaze of green. Closer and closer the wall -crept toward the bright white star.</p> - -<p>And in the "reducer"—the standard, ten-foot tank in the lower -well—the entire spectacle was reproduced in miniature. It was plainer -there, clearer and much more readily seen; but it was so crowded that -details were indistinguishable.</p> - -<p>Haynes stood beside Kinnison's padded chair one day, staring up into -the immense lens and shaking his head. He went down the flight of -stairs to the reducer, studied that, and again shook his head.</p> - -<p>"This is very pretty, but it doesn't mean a thing," he thought at -Kinnison. "It begins to look as though I'm going along just for the -ride. You—or you and Worsel—will have to do the fighting, too, I'm -afraid."</p> - -<p>"Uh-huh," Kinnison demurred. "What do we—or anyone else—know about -tactics, compared to you? You've got to be the brains. That's why we -had the boys rig up the original working model there, for a reducer. On -that you can watch and figure out the gross developments and tell us in -general terms what to do. Knowing that, we will know who ought to do -what, from the big tank here, and we will pass your orders along."</p> - -<p>"Say, that <i>will</i> work, at that!" and Haynes brightened visibly. "Looks -as though a couple of those reds are going to knock our star out of the -tank, doesn't it?"</p> - -<p>"It'll be close in that reducer. They'll probably touch. Close enough -in real space—less than three parsecs."</p> - -<p>The zero hour came and the Tellurian armada of eighty-one sleek -destroyers—eighty superdreadnoughts and the <i>Directrix</i>—spurned Earth -and took its place in that hurtling wall of crimson. Solar system -after solar system was passed; fleet after fleet leaped into the ether -and fitted itself into the smoothly geometrical pattern which GFO was -nursing along so carefully.</p> - -<p>Through the Galaxy the formation swept, and out of it, toward a star -cluster. It slowed its mad pace; the center hanging back, the edges -advancing and folding in.</p> - -<p>"Surround the cluster and close in," the admiral directed; and, under -the guidance now of two hundred Rigellians, civilization's vast Grand -Fleet closed smoothly in and went inert. Drivers flared white as they -fought to match the intrinsic velocity of the cluster.</p> - -<p>"Vice admirals of all fleets, attention! Using secondaries only, fire -at will upon any enemy object coming within range. Engage outlying -structures and such battle craft as may appear. Keep assigned distance -from planet and stiffen cosmic screens to maximum. Haynes—off!"</p> - -<p>From untold millions of projectors there raved out gigantic rods, -knives, and needles of force, under the impact of which the defensive -screens of Jalte's guardian citadels flamed into terrible refulgence. -Duodec bombs were hurled—tight-beam-directed monsters of destruction -which, swinging around in huge circles to attain the highest possible -measure of momentum, flung themselves against Boskone's defenses in -Herculean attempts to smash them down. They exploded; each as it burst -filling all nearby space with blindingly intense violet light and with -flying scraps of metal. Q-type helices, driven with all the frightful -kilowattage possible to Medonian conductors and insulation, screwed in, -biting, gouging, tearing in wild abandon. Shear-planes, hellish knives -of force beside which Tellurian lightning is pale and wan, struck and -struck and struck again—fiendishly, crunchingly.</p> - -<p>But those grimly stolid fortresses could take it. They had been -repowered; their defenses stiffened to such might as to defy, in the -opinion of Boskone's experts, any projectors capable of being mounted -upon mobile bases. And not only could they take it—those formidably -armed and armored planetoids could dish it out as well. The screens of -the Patrol ships flared high into the spectrum under the crushing force -of sheer enemy power. Not a few of those defenses were battered down, -clear to the wall shields, before the unimaginable ferocity of the -Boskonian projectors could be neutralized.</p> - -<hr class="tb"> - -<p>And at this spectacularly frightful deep-space engagement Jalte, -Boskone's galactic director, and through him Eichmil, First of Boskone -itself, stared in stunned surprise.</p> - -<p>"It is insane!" Jalte gloated. "The fools judged our strength by that -of Helmuth; not considering that we, as well as they, would be both -learning and doing during the intervening time. They have a myriad of -ships, but mere numbers will never conquer my outposts, to say nothing -of my works here."</p> - -<p>"They are not fools. I am not sure—" Eichmil cogitated.</p> - -<p>He would have been even less sure could he have listened to a -conversation which was even then being held.</p> - -<p>"QX, Thorndyke?" Kinnison asked.</p> - -<p>"On the green," came instant reply. "Intrinsic, placement, -releases—everything on the green!"</p> - -<p>"Cut!" and the lone purple circle disappeared from tank and from -reducer. The master technician had cut his controls and every pound -of metal and other substance surrounding the negasphere had been -absorbed by that enigmatic volume of nothingness. No connection or -contact with it was now possible; and with its carefully established -intrinsic velocity it rushed engulfingly toward the doomed planet. One -of the mastodonic fortresses which lay in its path vanished utterly, -with nothing save a burst of invisible cosmics to mark its passing. It -approached its goal. It was almost upon the planet before any of the -defenders perceived it; and even then they could neither understand nor -grasp it. All detectors and other warning devices remained static, but:</p> - -<p>"Look! There! Something's <i>coming</i>!" an observer jittered, and Jalte -swung his plate.</p> - -<p>Jalte saw—nothing. Eichmil saw the same thing. There was nothing to -see. A vast, intangible nothing—yet a nothing tangible enough to -occult everything material in a full third of the cone of vision! -Jalte's operators hurled into it their mightiest beams. Nothing -happened. They struck nothing and disappeared. They loosed their -heaviest duodec torpedoes; gigantic missiles whose warheads contained -enough of that frightfully violent detonate to disrupt a world. Nothing -happened—not even an explosion. Not even the faintest flash of light. -Shell and contents alike merely and, oh, so incredibly peaceful, -ceased to exist. There were important bursts of cosmics, but they were -invisible and inaudible; and neither Jalte nor any member of his crew -were to live long enough to realize how terribly they had already been -burned.</p> - -<p>Gigantic pressors shoved against it; beams of power sufficient to -deflect a satellite; beams whose projectors were braced, in steel-laced -concrete down to bedrock, against any conceivable thrust. But this was -<i>negative</i>, not positive, matter—matter negative in every respect -of mass, inertia, and force. To it a push was a pull. Pressors to it -were tractors—at contact they pulled themselves up off their massive -foundations and hurtled into the appalling blackness.</p> - -<hr class="tb"> - -<p>Then the negasphere struck. Or did it? Can nothing strike anything? It -would be better, perhaps, to say that the spherical hyperplane which -was the three-dimensional cross-section of the negasphere began to -occupy the same volume of space as that in which Jalte's unfortunate -world already was. And at the surface of contact of the two the -materials of both disappeared. The substance of the planet vanished; -the incomprehensible nothingness of the negasphere faded away into the -ordinary vacuity of empty space.</p> - -<p>Jalte's base, all the three hundred square miles of it, was taken at -the first gulp. A vast pit opened where it had been, a hole which -deepened and widened with horrifying rapidity. And as the yawning -abyss enlarged itself the stuff of the planet fell into it, in turn to -vanish. Mountains tumbled into it, oceans dumped themselves into it. -The hot, frightfully compressed and nascent material of the planet's -core sought to erupt—but instead of moving, it, too, vanished. Vast -areas of the world's surface crust, tens of thousands of square -miles in extent, collapsed into it, splitting off along crevasses of -appalling depth, and became nothing. The stricken globe shuddered, -trembled, ground itself to bits in paroxysm after ghastly paroxysm of -disintegration.</p> - -<p>What was happening? Eichmil did not know, since his "eye" was destroyed -before any really significant developments could eventuate. He and his -scientists could only speculate and deduce—which, with surprising -accuracy, they did. The officers of the Patrol ships, however, <i>knew</i> -what was going on, and they were scanning with intently narrowed eyes -the instruments which were recording instant by instant the performance -of the new cosmic super-screens which were being assaulted so brutally.</p> - -<p>For, as has been said, the negasphere was composed of negative matter. -Instead of electrons, its building blocks were positrons—the "Dirac -holes" in an infinity of negative energy. Whenever the field of a -positron encountered that of an electron, the two neutralized each -other, giving rise to two quanta of hard radiation. And, since those -encounters were occurring at the rate of countless trillions per -second, there was tearing at the Patrol's defenses a flood of cosmic -rays of an intensity which no spaceship had ever before been called -upon to withstand. But the new screens had been figured with a factor -of safety of five, and they stood up.</p> - -<p>The planet dwindled with soul-shaking rapidity to a moon, to a moonlet, -and finally to a discreetly conglomerate aggregation of meteorites -before the mutual neutralization ceased.</p> - -<p>"Primaries now," Haynes ordered briskly, as the needles of the -cosmic-ray-screen meters dropped back to the points of normal -functioning. The probability was that the defenses of the Boskonian -citadels would now be automatic only, that no life had endured through -that awful flood of lethal radiation; but he was taking no chances. Out -flashed the penetrant super rays and the fortresses, too, ceased to -exist save as the impalpable infradust of space.</p> - -<p>And the massed Grand Fleet of the Galactic Patrol, making its -formation, hurtled outward through the intergalactic void.</p> - -<hr class="chap"> - -<p class="ph1">XXIV.</p> - - -<p>"They are not fools. I am not so sure—" Eichmil had said; and when -the last force-ball, his last means of intergalactic communication, -went dead, the First of Boskone became very unsure indeed. The Patrol -undoubtedly had something new—he himself had had glimpses of it—but -what was it?</p> - -<p>That Jalte's base was gone was obvious. That Boskone's hold upon the -Tellurian Galaxy was gone, followed as a corollary. That the Patrol was -or would soon be wiping out Boskone's regional and planetary units was -a logical inference. Star A Star, that accursed director of Lensmen, -had—must have—succeeded in stealing Jalte's records, to be willing to -destroy out of hand the base which had housed them.</p> - -<p>Nor could Boskone do anything to help the underlings, now that the -long-awaited attack upon Jarnevon itself was almost certainly coming. -Let them come—Boskone was ready. Or was it—quite? Jalte's defenses -had been strong, but they had not withstood that unknown weapon even -for seconds.</p> - -<p>Eichmil called a joint meeting of Boskone and the Academy of Science. -Coldly and precisely he told them everything that he had seen. -Discussion followed.</p> - -<p>"Negative matter beyond a doubt," a scientist summed up the consensus -of opinion. "It has long been surmised that in some other, perhaps -hyperspatial universe there must exist negative matter of mass -sufficient to balance the positive material of the universe we know. -It is conceivable that by hyperspatial explorations and manipulations -the Tellurians have discovered that other universe and have transported -some of its substance into ours."</p> - -<p>"Can they manufacture it?" Eichmil demanded.</p> - -<p>"The probability that such material can be manufactured is exceedingly -small," was the studied reply. "An entirely new mathematics would be -necessary. In all probability they found it already existent."</p> - -<p>"We must find it also, then, and at once."</p> - -<p>"We will try. Bear in mind, however, that the field is large, and do -not be optimistic of an early success. Note, also, that the substance -is not necessary—perhaps not even desirable—in a defensive action."</p> - -<p>"Why not?"</p> - -<p>"Because, by directing pressors against such a bomb, Jalte actually -pulled it into his base, precisely where the enemy wished it to go. -As a surprise attack, against those ignorant of its true nature, such -a weapon would be effective indeed; but against us it will prove a -boomerang. All that is needful is to mount tractor heads upon pressor -bases, and thus drive the bombs back upon those who send them." It did -not occur, even to the coldest scientist of them all, that that bomb -had been of planetary mass. Not one of the Eich suspected that all that -remained of the entire world upon which Jalte's base had stood was a -handful of meteorites.</p> - -<p>"Let them come, then," the First of Boskone announced grimly. "Their -dependence upon a new and supposedly unknown weapon explains what would -otherwise be insane tactics. With that weapon impotent, they cannot -possibly win a long war waged so far from their bases. We can match -them ship for ship, and more; and our supplies and munitions are close -at hand. We will wear them down—blast them out—the Tellurian Galaxy -shall yet be ours!"</p> - -<hr class="tb"> - -<p>Admiral Haynes spent almost every waking hour setting up and knocking -down tactical problems in the practice tank, and gradually his -expression changed from one of strained anxiety to one of pleased -satisfaction. He went over to his sealed-band transmitter, called all -communications officers, and ordered:</p> - -<p>"Each vessel will direct its longest-range detector, at highest -possible power, centrally upon the objective galaxy. The first observer -to find enemy activity will report it instantly to us here. We will -send out a general C. B., at which every vessel will cease blasting -at once, remaining motionless until further orders." He then called -Kinnison.</p> - -<p>"Look here," he directed the attention of the younger man into the -reducer, which now represented intergalactic space, with a portion -of the Second Galaxy filling one edge. "I have a solution, but its -practicability depends upon whether or not it calls for the impossible -from you, Worsel, and your Rigellians. You remarked at the start that I -knew my tactics. I wish that I knew more—or at least could be certain -that Boskone and I agree upon what constitutes good tactics. I feel -quite safe in assuming, however, that we shall meet their Grand Fleet -well outside the Galaxy—"</p> - -<p>"Why?" asked the startled Kinnison. "If I were Eichmil, I'd pull every -ship I had in around Jarnevon and keep it there; they can't force -engagement with us!"</p> - -<p>"Poor tactics. The very presence of their fleet out in space will -force us to engage, and decisively at that. From his viewpoint, if he -defeats us there, that ends it. If he loses, that is only his first -line of defense. His observers will have reported fully. He will have -invaluable data upon which to work, and much time before even his -outlying fortresses can be threatened.</p> - -<p>"From our viewpoint, we cannot refuse battle if his fleet is there. It -would be suicidal for us to enter that Galaxy, leaving intact outside -it a fleet as powerful as that one is bound to be."</p> - -<p>"Why? Harrying us from the rear might be bothersome, but I don't see -how it could be disastrous."</p> - -<p>"Not that. They could, and would, attack Tellus."</p> - -<p>"Oh—I never thought of that. But couldn't they, anyway—two fleets?"</p> - -<p>"No. He knows that Tellus is very strongly held, and that this is no -ordinary fleet. He will have to concentrate everything he has upon -either one or the other—it is almost inconceivable that he would -divide his forces."</p> - -<p>"QX. I said that you're the brains of the outfit, and you are!"</p> - -<p>"Thanks, lad. At the first sign of detection, we stop. They may be -able to detect us, but I doubt it, since we are looking for them with -special instruments. But that's immaterial. What I want to know is, can -you and your crew split the fleet, making two big, hollow hemispheres -of it? Let this group of ambers represent the enemy. Since they know -that we will have to carry the battle to them, they will probably be -in fairly close formation. Set your two hemispheres—the reds—there -and there. Close in, making a sphere, like this—englobing their whole -fleet. Can you do it?"</p> - -<p>Kinnison whistled through his teeth; a long, low, unmelodious whistle. -"Yes—but Klono's brazen claws, chief, suppose they catch you at it?"</p> - -<p>"How can they? If you were using detectors, instead of double-ended, -tight-beam binders, how many of our own vessels could you locate?"</p> - -<p>"That's right, too—less than one percent of them. They couldn't tell -that they were being englobed until long after it was done. They -could, however, globe up inside us—"</p> - -<p>"Yes—and that would give them the tactical advantage of position," -the admiral admitted. "We probably have, however, enough superiority -in firing power, if not in actual tonnage, to make up the difference. -Also, we have speed enough, I think, so that we could retire in good -order. But you are assuming that they can maneuver as rapidly and as -surely as we can, a condition which I do not consider at all probable. -If, as I believe much more likely, they have no better Grand Fleet -Operations than we had in Helmuth's star cluster—if they haven't the -equivalent of you and Worsel and this supertank here—then what?"</p> - -<p>"In that case it'd be just too bad. Just like pushing baby chicks into -a pond." Kinnison saw the possibilities clearly enough after they had -been explained to him.</p> - -<p>"How long will it take you?"</p> - -<p>"With Worsel and both full crews of Rigellians I would guess it at -about ten hours—eight to compute and assign positions and two to get -there."</p> - -<p>"Fast enough—faster than I would have thought possible. Oil up your -calculating machines and Simplexes and get ready."</p> - -<hr class="tb"> - -<p>In due time the enemy fleet was detected and detection was confirmed. -The "Cease Blasting" signal was sent out. Civilization's prodigious -fleet stopped dead, hanging motionless in space with its nearest -units at the tantalizing limit of detectability from the warships -awaiting them. For eight hours two hundred Rigellians stood at whirring -calculators, each solving course-and-distance problems at the rate of -ten per minute. Two hours or less of free flight, and Haynes rejoiced -audibly in the perfection of the two red hemispheres shown in his -reducer. The two immense bowls flashed together, rim to rim. The -sphere began inexorably to contract. Each ship put out a red K6T screen -as a combined battle flag and identification, and the greatest naval -engagement of the age was on.</p> - -<p>It soon became evident that the Boskonians could not maneuver their -forces efficiently. Their fleet was too huge, too unwieldy for their -operations officers to handle. Against an equally uncontrollable mob of -battle craft it would have made a showing, but against the carefully -planned, chronometer-timed attack of the Patrol individual action, -however courageous or however desperate, was useless.</p> - -<p>Each red-sheathed destroyer hurtled along a definite course at a -definite force of drive for a definite length of time. Orders were -strict; no ship was to be lured from course, pace, or time. They could, -however, fight en passant with their every weapon if occasion arose; -and occasion did arise, some thousands of times. The units of Grand -Fleet flashed inward, lashing out with their terrible primaries at -everything in space not wearing the crimson robe of civilization. And -whatever those beams struck did not need striking again.</p> - -<p>The warships of Boskone fought back. Many of the Patrol's defensive -screens blazed hot enough almost to mask the scarlet beacons; some -of them went down. A few Patrol ships were englobed by the concerted -action of two or three subfleet commanders more co-operative or more -farsighted than the rest, and were blasted out of existence by an -overwhelming concentration of power. But even those vessels took toll -with their primaries as they went out; few, indeed, were the Boskonians -who escaped through holes thus made.</p> - -<p>At a predetermined instant each dreadnought stopped, to find herself -one nut of an immense, red-flaming hollow sphere of ships packed almost -screen to screen. And upon signal every primary projector that could -be brought to bear hurled bolt after bolt, as fast as the burned-out -shells could be replaced, into the ragingly incandescent inferno which -that sphere's interior instantly became. For two hundred million -discharges such as those will convert even a very large volume of space -into something utterly impossible to describe.</p> - -<p>The raving torrents of energy subsided and keen-eyed observers swept -the scene of action. Nothing was there except jumbled and tumbling -white-hot wreckage. A few vessels had escaped during the closing in of -the sphere, but none inside it had survived this climactic action—not -one in five thousand of Boskone's massed fleet made its way back to -dark Jarnevon.</p> - -<p>"Maneuver fifty-eight—hipe!" and Grand Fleet shot away. There was no -waiting, no hesitation. Every course and time had been calculated and -assigned.</p> - -<p>Into the Second Galaxy the scarcely diminished armada of the Patrol -hurtled—to Jarnevon's solar system—around it. Once again the crimson -sheathing of civilization's messengers almost disappeared in blinding -coruscance as the outlying fortresses unleashed their mighty weapons; -once again a few ships, subjected to such concentrations of force as to -overload their equipment, were lost; but this conflict, although savage -in its intensity, was brief. Nothing mobile <i>could</i> endure for long -the utterly hellish energies of the primaries, and soon the armored -planetoids, too, ceased to be.</p> - -<hr class="chap"> - -<div class="figcenter"> - <img src="images/illus22.jpg" alt=""> - <div class="caption"> - <p><i>Some ships, attacked on every hand, watched meters -climb, strain against stopping—and saw huge converters, hopelessly -overloaded, vanish in gouts of atomic flame.</i></p> - </div> -</div> - -<hr class="chap"> - -<p>"Maneuver fifty-nine—hipe!" and Grand Fleet closed in upon somber -Jarnevon itself.</p> - -<p>"Sixty!" It rolled in space, forming an immense cylinder; the doomed -planet the midpoint of its axis.</p> - -<p>"Sixty-one!" Tractors and pressors leaped out, from ship to ship -and from ship to shore. The Patrol did not know whether or not the -scientists of the Eich could render their planet inertialess, but now -it made no difference. Planet and fleet were for the time being one -rigid system.</p> - -<p>"Sixty-two—blast!" And against the world-girdling battlements of -Jarnevon there flamed out in all their appalling might the dreadful -beams against which the defensive webs of battleships and of mobile -citadels alike had been so pitifully inadequate.</p> - -<p>But these which they were attacking now were not the limited -installations of a mobile structure. The Eich had at their command -all the resources of a galaxy. Their generators and conductors could -be of any desired number and size. Hence Eichmil, in view of prior -happenings, had strengthened the defenses of his planet to a point -which certain of his fellows derided as being beyond the bounds of -sanity or reason.</p> - -<hr class="tb"> - -<p>Now those unthinkably powerful screens were being tested to the utmost. -Bolt after bolt of quasi-solid lightning struck against them, spitting -mile-long sparks in baffled fury as they raged to ground. Plain and -incased in Q-type helices they came; biting, tearing, gouging. Often -and often, under the thrust of half a dozen at once, local failures -appeared; but these were only momentary, and not even the newly devised -shells of the projectors could stand the load long enough to penetrate -effectively Boskone's indescribably capable defenses. Nor were the -enemies' offensive weapons less capable.</p> - -<p>Rods, cones, planes, and shears of pure force bored, cut, stabbed, and -slashed. Bombs and dirigible torpedoes charged to the skin with duodec -sought out the red-cloaked ships. Beams, sheathed against atmosphere -in Q-type helices, crashed against and through their armor—beams of -an intensity almost to rival that of the Patrol's primary weapons and -of a hundred times their effective aperture. And not singly did those -beams come. Eight, ten, twelve at once they clung to and demolished -dreadnought after dreadnought of the Expeditionary Force.</p> - -<p>Eichmil was well content. "We can hold them and we are burning them -down!" he gloated. "Let them loose their negative-matter bombs! Get the -analysis of those beams—build them! They are burning out projectors, -which means that they cannot keep this up indefinitely. They will have -to retire, what there are left of them, for more munitions; and when -they come back we will blast them out of space!"</p> - -<p>He was wrong. Grand Fleet did not stay there long enough so that even -the projectors of the Eich could destroy more than a few thousands of -ships. For even while the cylinder was forming, Kinnison was in rapid -but careful consultation with Thorndyke, checking intrinsic velocities, -directions, and speeds.</p> - -<p>"QX, Verne—<i>cut</i>!" he yelled.</p> - -<p>Two planets, one well within each end of the combat cylinder, went -inert at the word; resuming instantaneously their diametrically opposed -intrinsic velocities, each of some thirty miles per second. And it was -these two very ordinary, but utterly irresistible planets, instead of -the negative-matter bombs with which the Eich were prepared to cope, -which hurtled then along the axis of the immense tube of warships -toward Jarnevon. Whether or not the Eich could make their planet -inertialess has never been found out. Free or inert, the end would have -been the same.</p> - -<p>"Every Y14M officer of every ship of the Patrol, attention!" Haynes -ordered. "Don't get all tensed up. Take it easy; there's lots of time. -Any time within a second after I give the word will be p-l-e-n-t-y o-f -t-i-m-e—<i>cut</i>!"</p> - -<p>The two worlds rushed together, doomed Jarnevon squarely between them. -Haynes snapped out his order as the three were within two seconds of -contact, and as he spoke all the tractors and all the pressors were -released. The ships of the Patrol were already free—none had been -inert since leaving Jalte's ex-planet—and thus could not be harmed by -flying débris.</p> - -<p>The planets touched. They coalesced, squishingly at first, the -encircling warships drifting lightly away before a cosmically violent -blast of superheated atmosphere; Jarnevon burst open, all the way -around, and spattered; billions upon billions of tons of hot core-magma -being hurled afar in gouts and streamers. The two planets, crashing -through what had been a world, met, crunched, crushed together in -all the unimaginable momentum of their masses and velocities. They -subsided, crashingly. Not merely mountains, but entire halves of worlds -disrupted and fell, in such Gargantuan paroxysms as the eye of man had -never elsewhere beheld. And every motion generated heat. The kinetic -energy of translation of two worlds became heat. Heat added to heat, -piling up ragingly, frantically, unable to escape!</p> - -<p>The masses, still falling upon and through and past themselves and each -other, melted—boiled—vaporized incandescently. The entire mass, the -mass of three fused worlds, began to equilibrate; growing hotter and -hotter as more and more of its terrific motion was converted into pure -heat. Hotter! <i>Hotter!</i> HOTTER!</p> - -<p>And as the Grand Fleet of the Galactic Patrol blasted through -intergalactic space toward the First Galaxy and home, there glowed -behind it a new, small, comparatively cool, and probably short-lived -companion to an old and long-established star.</p> - -<hr class="chap"> - -<p class="ph1">XXV.</p> - - -<p>The uproar of the landing of the Tellurian contingent was over; the -celebration of victory had not yet begun. Haynes had, peculiarly -enough, set a definite time for a conference with Kinnison and the two -of them were in the admiral's private office, splitting a bottle of -fayalin and discussing—apparently—nothing at all.</p> - -<p>"Narcotics has been yelling for you." Haynes finally got around to -business. "But they don't need you to help them clean up the zwilnik -mess; they just want to have the honor of having you work with them—so -I told Ellington, as diplomatically as possible, to take a swan dive -off of an asteroid. Hicks wants you, too; and Spencer and Frelinghuysen -and thousands of others. See that basketful of stuff? All requests -for you, to be submitted to you for your consideration. I submit -'em, thus—into the wastebasket. You see, there's something really -important—"</p> - -<p>"Nix, chief, nix—jet back a minute, please!" Kinnison implored. -"Unless it's something that's got to be done right away, gimme a -break, can't you? I've got a couple of things to do first—stuff to -attend to. Maybe a little flit somewhere, too, I don't know yet."</p> - -<p>"More important than Patrol business?"—dryly.</p> - -<p>"Until it's cleaned up, yes." Kinnison's face burned scarlet and -his eyes revealed the mental effort necessary for him to make that -statement. "The most important thing in the Universe," he finished, -quietly but doggedly.</p> - -<p>"Well, of course I can't give you orders—" Haynes' frown was distinct -with disappointment.</p> - -<p>"Don't, chief—that hurts. I'll be back, honest, as soon as I possibly -can, and I'll do anything you want me to—"</p> - -<p>"That's enough, son." Haynes stood up and grasped Kinnison's -hands—hard—in both his own. "I know. Forgive me for taking you -for this little ride, but you and Mac suffer so! You're so young, -so intense, so insistent upon carrying the entire Cosmos upon your -shoulders—I couldn't help it. You won't have to do much of a flit." He -glanced at his chronometer. "You'll find all your unfinished business -in Room 7295, Base Hospital."</p> - -<p>"Huh? You know, then?" shouted the overjoyed young giant.</p> - -<p>"Who doesn't?" was the admiral's quizzical rejoinder. "There may be a -few members of some backward race somewhere who do not know all about -you and your red-headed sector riot, but I don't happen to know—" He -was addressing empty air.</p> - -<p>Kinnison shot out of the building and, exerting his Gray Lensman's -authority, he did a thing which he had always longed boyishly to do but -which he had never before really considered doing. He whistled, shrill -and piercingly, and waved a Lensed arm, even while he was directing a -Lensed thought at the driver of the fast ground car always in readiness -in front of GHQ.</p> - -<p>"Base Hospital—full emergency blast!" he ordered, and the Jehu obeyed. -That chauffeur loved emergency stuff, and the long, low, wide racer -took off with a deafening roar of unmuffled exhaust and a scream of -tortured, burning rubber.</p> - -<p>"Thanks, Jack—you needn't wait." At the hospital's door Kinnison -rendered tribute to fast service and strode along a corridor. An -express elevator whisked him up to the seventy-second floor, and there -his haste departed completely. This was Nurses' Quarters, he realized -suddenly. He had no more business there than—yes, he did, too. He -found Room 7295 and rapped upon its door. Boldly, he intended, but the -resultant sound was surprisingly small.</p> - -<p>"Come in!" called a clear contralto. Then, after a moment, "<i>Come in!</i>" -more sharply; but the Lensman did not, could not obey the summons. She -might be—dammitall, he <i>didn't</i> have any business on this floor! Why -hadn't he called her up or sent her a thought or something? Why didn't -he think at her now?</p> - -<hr class="tb"> - -<p>The door opened, revealing the mildly annoyed sector chief. At what -she saw, her hands flew to her throat and her eyes widened in starkly -unbelieving rapture.</p> - -<p>"<i>Kim!</i>" she shrieked in ecstasy.</p> - -<p>"Chris—my Chris!" Kinnison whispered unsteadily, and for minutes those -two uniformed minions of the Galactic Patrol stood motionless upon -the room's threshold, strong young arms straining, nurse's crisp and -spotless white crushed unregarded against Lensman's pliant gray.</p> - -<p>"Oh ... I've missed you so terribly, my darling!" Clarrissa crooned. -Her voice, always sweetly rich, was pure music.</p> - -<p>"You don't know the half of it, Chris. This isn't real, I don't think. -It can't be—nothing <i>can</i> feel this good!"</p> - -<p>"You did come back to me—you really did!" she lilted. "I didn't dare -to hope that you could come so soon."</p> - -<p>"I had to." Kinnison drew a deep breath. "I simply couldn't stand it -any longer. It'll be tough sometimes, but you were right—half a loaf -<i>is</i> better than no bread."</p> - -<p>"Of course it is!" She released herself—partially—after the first -transports of their first embrace and eyed him shrewdly. "Tell me, Kim, -did Lacy have a hand in this surprise?"</p> - -<p>"Uh-huh," he denied. "I haven't seen him for ages—but jet back! Haynes -told me—say, what'll you bet that those two old hardheads haven't been -giving us the works?"</p> - -<p>"Who are old hardheads?" Haynes—in person—demanded. So deeply -immersed had Kinnison been in his rapturous delirium that even his -sense of perception was in abeyance; and there, not two yards from the -entranced couple, stood the two old Lensmen!</p> - -<p>The culprits sprang apart, flushing guiltily, but Haynes went on -imperturbably, quite as though nothing out of the ordinary had been -either said or done:</p> - -<p>"We gave you fifteen minutes, then came up to be sure to catch you -before you flited off to the celebration or somewhere. We have matters -to discuss—important matters, but pleasant."</p> - -<p>"QX. Come in, all of you." As she spoke, the nurse stood aside in -invitation. "You know, don't you, that it's exceedingly much contraregs -for nurses to entertain visitors of the opposite sex in their rooms? -Fifty demerits. Most girls never get a chance at even one Gray Lensmen, -and here I've got three!" She giggled infectiously. "Wouldn't it be one -for the book for me to get a hundred and fifty black spots for this? -And to have Surgeon General Lacy, Port Admiral Haynes, and Unattached -Lensman Kimball Kinnison all heaved into the clink to boot? Boy, oh, -boy, ain't we got fun?"</p> - -<p>"Lacy's too old and I'm too moral to be affected by the wiles even of -the likes of you, my dear," Haynes explained equably, as he seated -himself upon the davenport—the most comfortable thing in the room.</p> - -<p>"Old? Moral? Tommyrot!" Lacy glared an "I'll-see-you-later" look at the -admiral, then turned to the nurse. "Don't worry about that, MacDougall. -No penalties accrue—regulations apply only to nurses actually in the -service—"</p> - -<p>"And what—" she started to blaze, but checked herself and her tone -changed instantly. "Go on—you interest me strangely, sir. I'm just -going to love this!" Her eyes sparkled, her voice was vibrant with -unconcealed eagerness.</p> - -<p>"Told you she was quick on the uptake!" Lacy gloated. "Didn't fox her -for a second!"</p> - -<p>"But say—listen—what's this all about, anyway?" Kinnison demanded.</p> - -<p>"Never mind; you'll learn soon enough," from Lacy, and:</p> - -<p>"Kinnison, you are very urgently invited to attend a meeting of the -Galactic Council tomorrow afternoon," from Haynes.</p> - -<p>"Huh? What's up now?" Kinnison protested. His arm tightened about the -girl's supple waist and she snuggled closer, a trace of foreboding -beginning to dim the eagerness in her eyes.</p> - -<p>"Promotion. We want to make you something—galactic co-ordinator, -director, something like that—the job hasn't been named yet. In -plain language, the big shot of the Second Galaxy, formerly known as -Lundmark's Nebula."</p> - -<p>"But, Klono's brazen claws! Chief, I can't swing it—I haven't got jets -enough!"</p> - -<p>"You always yelp about a deficiency of jets whenever a new job is -mentioned, but we notice that you usually deliver the goods. Think it -over for a minute. Who else could we wish such a job as that onto?"</p> - -<p>"Worsel," Kinnison declared without hesitation. "He's—"</p> - -<p>"Balloon juice!" snorted the older man.</p> - -<p>"Well, then ... ah ... er—" He stopped. Clarrissa opened her mouth; -then shut it, ridiculously, without having uttered a word.</p> - -<p>"Go ahead, MacDougall—you are an interested party, you know."</p> - -<p>"No." She shook her spectacular head. "I'm not saying a word or -thinking a thought to sway his decision one way or the other. Besides, -he'd have to flit around as much then as now."</p> - -<p>"Some travel involved, of course," Haynes admitted. "All over that -Galaxy, some in this one, and back and forth between the two. However, -the <i>Dauntless</i>—or something newer, bigger, and faster—will be his -private yacht, and I do not see why it is either necessary or desirable -that his flits be solo."</p> - -<p>"Say, I never thought of that!" Kinnison blurted, and, as thoughts -began to race through his mind of what he could do, with Chris beside -him all the time, to straighten out the mess in the Second Galaxy:</p> - -<p>"Oh, Kim!" Clarrissa squealed in ecstasy, squeezing his arm even -tighter against her side.</p> - -<p>"Hooked!" the surgeon general chortled in triumph.</p> - -<p>"But I'd have to retire!" That thought was the only thorn in Kinnison's -whole wreath of roses. "I wouldn't like that."</p> - -<hr class="tb"> - -<p>"Certainly you wouldn't," Haynes agreed. "But remember that all such -assignments are conditional, subject to approval, and with a very -definite cancellation agreement in case of what the Lensman regards -as an emergency. If a Gray Lensman had to give up his right to serve -the Patrol in any way he considered himself most able, they'd have to -shoot us all before they could make executives out of us. And finally, -I don't see how the job we're talking about can be figured as any sort -of a retirement. You will be as active as you are now—yes, more so, I -think."</p> - -<p>"QX. I'll be there—I'll try it," Kinnison promised.</p> - -<p>"Now for some more news," Lacy announced. "Haynes didn't tell you, but -he has been made president of the Galactic Council. You are his first -appointment. I hate to say anything good about the old scoundrel, -but he has one outstanding ability. He doesn't know much or do much -himself, but he certainly can pick the men who have to do the work for -him!"</p> - -<p>"There's something vastly more important than that," Haynes steered the -acclaim away from himself.</p> - -<p>"Just a minute," Kinnison interposed. "I haven't got this all straight -yet. What was that crack about active nurses a while ago?"</p> - -<p>"Why, Dr. Lacy was just intimating that I had resigned, goose," -Clarrissa chuckled. "I didn't know a thing about it myself, but I -imagine that it must have been just before this conference started. Am -I right, doctor?" she asked innocently.</p> - -<p>"Or tomorrow, or even yesterday—any convenient time will do," Lacy -blandly assented. "You see, young man, MacDougall has been a mighty -busy girl, and wedding preparations take time, too. Therefore, we have -very reluctantly accepted her resignation."</p> - -<p>"Especially, preparations take time when it's going to be such a -wedding as the Patrol is going to stage," Haynes volunteered. "That was -what I was starting to talk about when I was so rudely interrupted."</p> - -<p>"Nix—not in seven thousand years!" Kinnison exploded. "Cancel that, -right now. I won't stand for it. I'll not—"</p> - -<p>"Close the pan, young fellow," the admiral advised him, firmly. -"Bridegrooms are to be seen—just barely visible—but not heard, ever. -A wedding is where the girls really strut their stuff. How about it, -you gorgeous young menace to civilization?"</p> - -<p>"I'll say so!" she exclaimed in high animation. "I'd just <i>love</i> it, -admiral—" She broke off, aghast. Her face fell. "No, I didn't mean -that, really. Kim's right. Thanks a million, just the same, but—"</p> - -<p>"But nothing!" Haynes broke in. "I know what's the matter. Don't try -to fib to an old campaigner, and don't be silly. I said the Patrol -was throwing this wedding—<i>all</i> of it. All you have to do is to -participate in the action. Got any money, Kinnison? On you, I mean."</p> - -<p>"No," in surprise. "What would I be doing with money?"</p> - -<p>"Here's ten thousand credits—Patrol funds. Take it and—"</p> - -<p>"He will not!" the nurse stormed. "No! You can't, Admiral Haynes, -really. Why, a bride has <i>got</i> to buy her own clothes!"</p> - -<p>"She's right, Haynes," Lacy announced. The admiral stared at him in -wrathful astonishment, and even the girl seemed disappointed at her -easy victory. "But listen to this: As surgeon general, et cetera, in -recognition of the unselfish services, et cetera, unflinching bravery -under fire, performance beyond and above requirements or reasonable -expectations, et cetera, et cetera, Sector Chief Nurse Clarrissa -MacDougall, upon the occasion of her separation from the service, is -hereby granted a bonus of ten thousand credits. That goes on the record -as of hour twelve today. Now, you red-headed young spitfire, if you -refuse to accept that bonus, I'll cancel your resignation and put you -back to work! What do you say to that?"</p> - -<p>"I say QX, Dr. Lacy. Thanks a million, both of you—you're perfect -darlings and I love all two of you!" The gaspingly happy girl kissed -them both, then turned to her betrothed.</p> - -<p>"Let's go and walk about ten miles, shall we, Kim? I've got to do -<i>something</i> or I'll explode all over the place!"</p> - -<p>And the tall Lensman—no longer unattached—and the radiant nurse swung -down the hall.</p> - -<p>Side by side, in step, heads up, laughing; a beginning symbolical -indeed of the life which they were to live together.</p> - -<p class="ph1">THE END.</p> - -<hr class="tb"> - -<div class="footnote"> - -<p><a id="Footnote_1" href="#FNanchor_1" class="label">[1]</a> Zwilnik:—any person connected with the illicit drug -traffic. E.E.S.</p> - -</div> - -<div style='display:block; margin-top:4em'>*** END OF THE PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK GRAY LENSMAN ***</div> -<div style='text-align:left'> - -<div style='display:block; margin:1em 0'> -Updated editions will replace the previous one—the old editions will -be renamed. -</div> - -<div style='display:block; margin:1em 0'> -Creating the works from print editions not protected by U.S. copyright -law means that no one owns a United States copyright in these works, -so the Foundation (and you!) can copy and distribute it in the United -States without permission and without paying copyright -royalties. Special rules, set forth in the General Terms of Use part -of this license, apply to copying and distributing Project -Gutenberg™ electronic works to protect the PROJECT GUTENBERG™ -concept and trademark. Project Gutenberg is a registered trademark, -and may not be used if you charge for an eBook, except by following -the terms of the trademark license, including paying royalties for use -of the Project Gutenberg trademark. If you do not charge anything for -copies of this eBook, complying with the trademark license is very -easy. You may use this eBook for nearly any purpose such as creation -of derivative works, reports, performances and research. Project -Gutenberg eBooks may be modified and printed and given away—you may -do practically ANYTHING in the United States with eBooks not protected -by U.S. copyright law. Redistribution is subject to the trademark -license, especially commercial redistribution. -</div> - -<div style='margin-top:1em; font-size:1.1em; text-align:center'>START: FULL LICENSE</div> -<div style='text-align:center;font-size:0.9em'>THE FULL PROJECT GUTENBERG LICENSE</div> -<div style='text-align:center;font-size:0.9em'>PLEASE READ THIS BEFORE YOU DISTRIBUTE OR USE THIS WORK</div> - -<div style='display:block; margin:1em 0'> -To protect the Project Gutenberg™ mission of promoting the free -distribution of electronic works, by using or distributing this work -(or any other work associated in any way with the phrase “Project -Gutenberg”), you agree to comply with all the terms of the Full -Project Gutenberg™ License available with this file or online at -www.gutenberg.org/license. -</div> - -<div style='display:block; font-size:1.1em; margin:1em 0; font-weight:bold'> -Section 1. General Terms of Use and Redistributing Project Gutenberg™ electronic works -</div> - -<div style='display:block; margin:1em 0'> -1.A. By reading or using any part of this Project Gutenberg™ -electronic work, you indicate that you have read, understand, agree to -and accept all the terms of this license and intellectual property -(trademark/copyright) agreement. If you do not agree to abide by all -the terms of this agreement, you must cease using and return or -destroy all copies of Project Gutenberg™ electronic works in your -possession. If you paid a fee for obtaining a copy of or access to a -Project Gutenberg™ electronic work and you do not agree to be bound -by the terms of this agreement, you may obtain a refund from the person -or entity to whom you paid the fee as set forth in paragraph 1.E.8. -</div> - -<div style='display:block; margin:1em 0'> -1.B. “Project Gutenberg” is a registered trademark. It may only be -used on or associated in any way with an electronic work by people who -agree to be bound by the terms of this agreement. There are a few -things that you can do with most Project Gutenberg™ electronic works -even without complying with the full terms of this agreement. See -paragraph 1.C below. There are a lot of things you can do with Project -Gutenberg™ electronic works if you follow the terms of this -agreement and help preserve free future access to Project Gutenberg™ -electronic works. See paragraph 1.E below. -</div> - -<div style='display:block; margin:1em 0'> -1.C. The Project Gutenberg Literary Archive Foundation (“the -Foundation” or PGLAF), owns a compilation copyright in the collection -of Project Gutenberg™ electronic works. Nearly all the individual -works in the collection are in the public domain in the United -States. If an individual work is unprotected by copyright law in the -United States and you are located in the United States, we do not -claim a right to prevent you from copying, distributing, performing, -displaying or creating derivative works based on the work as long as -all references to Project Gutenberg are removed. Of course, we hope -that you will support the Project Gutenberg™ mission of promoting -free access to electronic works by freely sharing Project Gutenberg™ -works in compliance with the terms of this agreement for keeping the -Project Gutenberg™ name associated with the work. You can easily -comply with the terms of this agreement by keeping this work in the -same format with its attached full Project Gutenberg™ License when -you share it without charge with others. -</div> - -<div style='display:block; margin:1em 0'> -1.D. The copyright laws of the place where you are located also govern -what you can do with this work. Copyright laws in most countries are -in a constant state of change. If you are outside the United States, -check the laws of your country in addition to the terms of this -agreement before downloading, copying, displaying, performing, -distributing or creating derivative works based on this work or any -other Project Gutenberg™ work. The Foundation makes no -representations concerning the copyright status of any work in any -country other than the United States. -</div> - -<div style='display:block; margin:1em 0'> -1.E. Unless you have removed all references to Project Gutenberg: -</div> - -<div style='display:block; margin:1em 0'> -1.E.1. The following sentence, with active links to, or other -immediate access to, the full Project Gutenberg™ License must appear -prominently whenever any copy of a Project Gutenberg™ work (any work -on which the phrase “Project Gutenberg” appears, or with which the -phrase “Project Gutenberg” is associated) is accessed, displayed, -performed, viewed, copied or distributed: -</div> - -<blockquote> - <div style='display:block; margin:1em 0'> - This eBook is for the use of anyone anywhere in the United States and most - other parts of the world at no cost and with almost no restrictions - whatsoever. You may copy it, give it away or re-use it under the terms - of the Project Gutenberg License included with this eBook or online - at <a href="https://www.gutenberg.org">www.gutenberg.org</a>. If you - are not located in the United States, you will have to check the laws - of the country where you are located before using this eBook. - </div> -</blockquote> - -<div style='display:block; margin:1em 0'> -1.E.2. If an individual Project Gutenberg™ electronic work is -derived from texts not protected by U.S. copyright law (does not -contain a notice indicating that it is posted with permission of the -copyright holder), the work can be copied and distributed to anyone in -the United States without paying any fees or charges. If you are -redistributing or providing access to a work with the phrase “Project -Gutenberg” associated with or appearing on the work, you must comply -either with the requirements of paragraphs 1.E.1 through 1.E.7 or -obtain permission for the use of the work and the Project Gutenberg™ -trademark as set forth in paragraphs 1.E.8 or 1.E.9. -</div> - -<div style='display:block; margin:1em 0'> -1.E.3. If an individual Project Gutenberg™ electronic work is posted -with the permission of the copyright holder, your use and distribution -must comply with both paragraphs 1.E.1 through 1.E.7 and any -additional terms imposed by the copyright holder. Additional terms -will be linked to the Project Gutenberg™ License for all works -posted with the permission of the copyright holder found at the -beginning of this work. -</div> - -<div style='display:block; margin:1em 0'> -1.E.4. Do not unlink or detach or remove the full Project Gutenberg™ -License terms from this work, or any files containing a part of this -work or any other work associated with Project Gutenberg™. -</div> - -<div style='display:block; margin:1em 0'> -1.E.5. Do not copy, display, perform, distribute or redistribute this -electronic work, or any part of this electronic work, without -prominently displaying the sentence set forth in paragraph 1.E.1 with -active links or immediate access to the full terms of the Project -Gutenberg™ License. -</div> - -<div style='display:block; margin:1em 0'> -1.E.6. You may convert to and distribute this work in any binary, -compressed, marked up, nonproprietary or proprietary form, including -any word processing or hypertext form. However, if you provide access -to or distribute copies of a Project Gutenberg™ work in a format -other than “Plain Vanilla ASCII” or other format used in the official -version posted on the official Project Gutenberg™ website -(www.gutenberg.org), you must, at no additional cost, fee or expense -to the user, provide a copy, a means of exporting a copy, or a means -of obtaining a copy upon request, of the work in its original “Plain -Vanilla ASCII” or other form. Any alternate format must include the -full Project Gutenberg™ License as specified in paragraph 1.E.1. -</div> - -<div style='display:block; margin:1em 0'> -1.E.7. Do not charge a fee for access to, viewing, displaying, -performing, copying or distributing any Project Gutenberg™ works -unless you comply with paragraph 1.E.8 or 1.E.9. -</div> - -<div style='display:block; margin:1em 0'> -1.E.8. You may charge a reasonable fee for copies of or providing -access to or distributing Project Gutenberg™ electronic works -provided that: -</div> - -<div style='margin-left:0.7em;'> - <div style='text-indent:-0.7em'> - • You pay a royalty fee of 20% of the gross profits you derive from - the use of Project Gutenberg™ works calculated using the method - you already use to calculate your applicable taxes. The fee is owed - to the owner of the Project Gutenberg™ trademark, but he has - agreed to donate royalties under this paragraph to the Project - Gutenberg Literary Archive Foundation. Royalty payments must be paid - within 60 days following each date on which you prepare (or are - legally required to prepare) your periodic tax returns. Royalty - payments should be clearly marked as such and sent to the Project - Gutenberg Literary Archive Foundation at the address specified in - Section 4, “Information about donations to the Project Gutenberg - Literary Archive Foundation.” - </div> - - <div style='text-indent:-0.7em'> - • You provide a full refund of any money paid by a user who notifies - you in writing (or by e-mail) within 30 days of receipt that s/he - does not agree to the terms of the full Project Gutenberg™ - License. You must require such a user to return or destroy all - copies of the works possessed in a physical medium and discontinue - all use of and all access to other copies of Project Gutenberg™ - works. - </div> - - <div style='text-indent:-0.7em'> - • You provide, in accordance with paragraph 1.F.3, a full refund of - any money paid for a work or a replacement copy, if a defect in the - electronic work is discovered and reported to you within 90 days of - receipt of the work. - </div> - - <div style='text-indent:-0.7em'> - • You comply with all other terms of this agreement for free - distribution of Project Gutenberg™ works. - </div> -</div> - -<div style='display:block; margin:1em 0'> -1.E.9. If you wish to charge a fee or distribute a Project -Gutenberg™ electronic work or group of works on different terms than -are set forth in this agreement, you must obtain permission in writing -from the Project Gutenberg Literary Archive Foundation, the manager of -the Project Gutenberg™ trademark. Contact the Foundation as set -forth in Section 3 below. -</div> - -<div style='display:block; margin:1em 0'> -1.F. -</div> - -<div style='display:block; margin:1em 0'> -1.F.1. Project Gutenberg volunteers and employees expend considerable -effort to identify, do copyright research on, transcribe and proofread -works not protected by U.S. copyright law in creating the Project -Gutenberg™ collection. Despite these efforts, Project Gutenberg™ -electronic works, and the medium on which they may be stored, may -contain “Defects,” such as, but not limited to, incomplete, inaccurate -or corrupt data, transcription errors, a copyright or other -intellectual property infringement, a defective or damaged disk or -other medium, a computer virus, or computer codes that damage or -cannot be read by your equipment. -</div> - -<div style='display:block; margin:1em 0'> -1.F.2. LIMITED WARRANTY, DISCLAIMER OF DAMAGES - Except for the “Right -of Replacement or Refund” described in paragraph 1.F.3, the Project -Gutenberg Literary Archive Foundation, the owner of the Project -Gutenberg™ trademark, and any other party distributing a Project -Gutenberg™ electronic work under this agreement, disclaim all -liability to you for damages, costs and expenses, including legal -fees. YOU AGREE THAT YOU HAVE NO REMEDIES FOR NEGLIGENCE, STRICT -LIABILITY, BREACH OF WARRANTY OR BREACH OF CONTRACT EXCEPT THOSE -PROVIDED IN PARAGRAPH 1.F.3. YOU AGREE THAT THE FOUNDATION, THE -TRADEMARK OWNER, AND ANY DISTRIBUTOR UNDER THIS AGREEMENT WILL NOT BE -LIABLE TO YOU FOR ACTUAL, DIRECT, INDIRECT, CONSEQUENTIAL, PUNITIVE OR -INCIDENTAL DAMAGES EVEN IF YOU GIVE NOTICE OF THE POSSIBILITY OF SUCH -DAMAGE. -</div> - -<div style='display:block; margin:1em 0'> -1.F.3. LIMITED RIGHT OF REPLACEMENT OR REFUND - If you discover a -defect in this electronic work within 90 days of receiving it, you can -receive a refund of the money (if any) you paid for it by sending a -written explanation to the person you received the work from. If you -received the work on a physical medium, you must return the medium -with your written explanation. The person or entity that provided you -with the defective work may elect to provide a replacement copy in -lieu of a refund. If you received the work electronically, the person -or entity providing it to you may choose to give you a second -opportunity to receive the work electronically in lieu of a refund. If -the second copy is also defective, you may demand a refund in writing -without further opportunities to fix the problem. -</div> - -<div style='display:block; margin:1em 0'> -1.F.4. Except for the limited right of replacement or refund set forth -in paragraph 1.F.3, this work is provided to you ‘AS-IS’, WITH NO -OTHER WARRANTIES OF ANY KIND, EXPRESS OR IMPLIED, INCLUDING BUT NOT -LIMITED TO WARRANTIES OF MERCHANTABILITY OR FITNESS FOR ANY PURPOSE. -</div> - -<div style='display:block; margin:1em 0'> -1.F.5. Some states do not allow disclaimers of certain implied -warranties or the exclusion or limitation of certain types of -damages. If any disclaimer or limitation set forth in this agreement -violates the law of the state applicable to this agreement, the -agreement shall be interpreted to make the maximum disclaimer or -limitation permitted by the applicable state law. The invalidity or -unenforceability of any provision of this agreement shall not void the -remaining provisions. -</div> - -<div style='display:block; margin:1em 0'> -1.F.6. INDEMNITY - You agree to indemnify and hold the Foundation, the -trademark owner, any agent or employee of the Foundation, anyone -providing copies of Project Gutenberg™ electronic works in -accordance with this agreement, and any volunteers associated with the -production, promotion and distribution of Project Gutenberg™ -electronic works, harmless from all liability, costs and expenses, -including legal fees, that arise directly or indirectly from any of -the following which you do or cause to occur: (a) distribution of this -or any Project Gutenberg™ work, (b) alteration, modification, or -additions or deletions to any Project Gutenberg™ work, and (c) any -Defect you cause. -</div> - -<div style='display:block; font-size:1.1em; margin:1em 0; font-weight:bold'> -Section 2. Information about the Mission of Project Gutenberg™ -</div> - -<div style='display:block; margin:1em 0'> -Project Gutenberg™ is synonymous with the free distribution of -electronic works in formats readable by the widest variety of -computers including obsolete, old, middle-aged and new computers. It -exists because of the efforts of hundreds of volunteers and donations -from people in all walks of life. -</div> - -<div style='display:block; margin:1em 0'> -Volunteers and financial support to provide volunteers with the -assistance they need are critical to reaching Project Gutenberg™’s -goals and ensuring that the Project Gutenberg™ collection will -remain freely available for generations to come. In 2001, the Project -Gutenberg Literary Archive Foundation was created to provide a secure -and permanent future for Project Gutenberg™ and future -generations. To learn more about the Project Gutenberg Literary -Archive Foundation and how your efforts and donations can help, see -Sections 3 and 4 and the Foundation information page at www.gutenberg.org. -</div> - -<div style='display:block; font-size:1.1em; margin:1em 0; font-weight:bold'> -Section 3. Information about the Project Gutenberg Literary Archive Foundation -</div> - -<div style='display:block; margin:1em 0'> -The Project Gutenberg Literary Archive Foundation is a non-profit -501(c)(3) educational corporation organized under the laws of the -state of Mississippi and granted tax exempt status by the Internal -Revenue Service. The Foundation’s EIN or federal tax identification -number is 64-6221541. Contributions to the Project Gutenberg Literary -Archive Foundation are tax deductible to the full extent permitted by -U.S. federal laws and your state’s laws. -</div> - -<div style='display:block; margin:1em 0'> -The Foundation’s business office is located at 809 North 1500 West, -Salt Lake City, UT 84116, (801) 596-1887. Email contact links and up -to date contact information can be found at the Foundation’s website -and official page at www.gutenberg.org/contact -</div> - -<div style='display:block; font-size:1.1em; margin:1em 0; font-weight:bold'> -Section 4. Information about Donations to the Project Gutenberg Literary Archive Foundation -</div> - -<div style='display:block; margin:1em 0'> -Project Gutenberg™ depends upon and cannot survive without widespread -public support and donations to carry out its mission of -increasing the number of public domain and licensed works that can be -freely distributed in machine-readable form accessible by the widest -array of equipment including outdated equipment. Many small donations -($1 to $5,000) are particularly important to maintaining tax exempt -status with the IRS. -</div> - -<div style='display:block; margin:1em 0'> -The Foundation is committed to complying with the laws regulating -charities and charitable donations in all 50 states of the United -States. Compliance requirements are not uniform and it takes a -considerable effort, much paperwork and many fees to meet and keep up -with these requirements. We do not solicit donations in locations -where we have not received written confirmation of compliance. To SEND -DONATIONS or determine the status of compliance for any particular state -visit <a href="https://www.gutenberg.org/donate/">www.gutenberg.org/donate</a>. -</div> - -<div style='display:block; margin:1em 0'> -While we cannot and do not solicit contributions from states where we -have not met the solicitation requirements, we know of no prohibition -against accepting unsolicited donations from donors in such states who -approach us with offers to donate. -</div> - -<div style='display:block; margin:1em 0'> -International donations are gratefully accepted, but we cannot make -any statements concerning tax treatment of donations received from -outside the United States. U.S. laws alone swamp our small staff. -</div> - -<div style='display:block; margin:1em 0'> -Please check the Project Gutenberg web pages for current donation -methods and addresses. Donations are accepted in a number of other -ways including checks, online payments and credit card donations. To -donate, please visit: www.gutenberg.org/donate -</div> - -<div style='display:block; font-size:1.1em; margin:1em 0; font-weight:bold'> -Section 5. General Information About Project Gutenberg™ electronic works -</div> - -<div style='display:block; margin:1em 0'> -Professor Michael S. Hart was the originator of the Project -Gutenberg™ concept of a library of electronic works that could be -freely shared with anyone. For forty years, he produced and -distributed Project Gutenberg™ eBooks with only a loose network of -volunteer support. -</div> - -<div style='display:block; margin:1em 0'> -Project Gutenberg™ eBooks are often created from several printed -editions, all of which are confirmed as not protected by copyright in -the U.S. unless a copyright notice is included. Thus, we do not -necessarily keep eBooks in compliance with any particular paper -edition. -</div> - -<div style='display:block; margin:1em 0'> -Most people start at our website which has the main PG search -facility: <a href="https://www.gutenberg.org">www.gutenberg.org</a>. -</div> - -<div style='display:block; margin:1em 0'> -This website includes information about Project Gutenberg™, -including how to make donations to the Project Gutenberg Literary -Archive Foundation, how to help produce our new eBooks, and how to -subscribe to our email newsletter to hear about new eBooks. -</div> - -</div> -</body> -</html> diff --git a/old/69584-h/images/cover.jpg b/old/69584-h/images/cover.jpg Binary files differdeleted file mode 100644 index c736641..0000000 --- a/old/69584-h/images/cover.jpg +++ /dev/null diff --git a/old/69584-h/images/illus1.jpg b/old/69584-h/images/illus1.jpg Binary files differdeleted file mode 100644 index 106d93e..0000000 --- a/old/69584-h/images/illus1.jpg +++ /dev/null diff --git a/old/69584-h/images/illus10.jpg b/old/69584-h/images/illus10.jpg Binary files differdeleted file mode 100644 index b3456e9..0000000 --- a/old/69584-h/images/illus10.jpg +++ /dev/null diff --git a/old/69584-h/images/illus11.jpg b/old/69584-h/images/illus11.jpg Binary files differdeleted file mode 100644 index 3032ae8..0000000 --- a/old/69584-h/images/illus11.jpg +++ /dev/null diff --git a/old/69584-h/images/illus12.jpg b/old/69584-h/images/illus12.jpg Binary files differdeleted file mode 100644 index 119361f..0000000 --- a/old/69584-h/images/illus12.jpg +++ /dev/null diff --git a/old/69584-h/images/illus13.jpg b/old/69584-h/images/illus13.jpg Binary files differdeleted file mode 100644 index b36497b..0000000 --- a/old/69584-h/images/illus13.jpg +++ /dev/null diff --git a/old/69584-h/images/illus14.jpg b/old/69584-h/images/illus14.jpg Binary files differdeleted file mode 100644 index 5f5776f..0000000 --- a/old/69584-h/images/illus14.jpg +++ /dev/null diff --git a/old/69584-h/images/illus15.jpg b/old/69584-h/images/illus15.jpg Binary files differdeleted file mode 100644 index 21a9ba7..0000000 --- a/old/69584-h/images/illus15.jpg +++ /dev/null diff --git a/old/69584-h/images/illus16.jpg b/old/69584-h/images/illus16.jpg Binary files differdeleted file mode 100644 index 8db8451..0000000 --- a/old/69584-h/images/illus16.jpg +++ /dev/null diff --git a/old/69584-h/images/illus17.jpg b/old/69584-h/images/illus17.jpg Binary files differdeleted file mode 100644 index 6510039..0000000 --- a/old/69584-h/images/illus17.jpg +++ /dev/null diff --git a/old/69584-h/images/illus18.jpg b/old/69584-h/images/illus18.jpg Binary files differdeleted file mode 100644 index b35b81e..0000000 --- a/old/69584-h/images/illus18.jpg +++ /dev/null diff --git a/old/69584-h/images/illus19.jpg b/old/69584-h/images/illus19.jpg Binary files differdeleted file mode 100644 index ea89507..0000000 --- a/old/69584-h/images/illus19.jpg +++ /dev/null diff --git a/old/69584-h/images/illus2.jpg b/old/69584-h/images/illus2.jpg Binary files differdeleted file mode 100644 index 76ae3c1..0000000 --- a/old/69584-h/images/illus2.jpg +++ /dev/null diff --git a/old/69584-h/images/illus20.jpg b/old/69584-h/images/illus20.jpg Binary files differdeleted file mode 100644 index 3bbd8f4..0000000 --- a/old/69584-h/images/illus20.jpg +++ /dev/null diff --git a/old/69584-h/images/illus21.jpg b/old/69584-h/images/illus21.jpg Binary files differdeleted file mode 100644 index d690310..0000000 --- a/old/69584-h/images/illus21.jpg +++ /dev/null diff --git a/old/69584-h/images/illus22.jpg b/old/69584-h/images/illus22.jpg Binary files differdeleted file mode 100644 index 598428e..0000000 --- a/old/69584-h/images/illus22.jpg +++ /dev/null diff --git a/old/69584-h/images/illus3.jpg b/old/69584-h/images/illus3.jpg Binary files differdeleted file mode 100644 index 0c74073..0000000 --- a/old/69584-h/images/illus3.jpg +++ /dev/null diff --git a/old/69584-h/images/illus4.jpg b/old/69584-h/images/illus4.jpg Binary files differdeleted file mode 100644 index 7d47d56..0000000 --- a/old/69584-h/images/illus4.jpg +++ /dev/null diff --git a/old/69584-h/images/illus5.jpg b/old/69584-h/images/illus5.jpg Binary files differdeleted file mode 100644 index 905cb09..0000000 --- a/old/69584-h/images/illus5.jpg +++ /dev/null diff --git a/old/69584-h/images/illus6.jpg b/old/69584-h/images/illus6.jpg Binary files differdeleted file mode 100644 index 9ae8fdc..0000000 --- a/old/69584-h/images/illus6.jpg +++ /dev/null diff --git a/old/69584-h/images/illus7.jpg b/old/69584-h/images/illus7.jpg Binary files differdeleted file mode 100644 index 480c328..0000000 --- a/old/69584-h/images/illus7.jpg +++ /dev/null diff --git a/old/69584-h/images/illus8.jpg b/old/69584-h/images/illus8.jpg Binary files differdeleted file mode 100644 index d70225b..0000000 --- a/old/69584-h/images/illus8.jpg +++ /dev/null diff --git a/old/69584-h/images/illus9.jpg b/old/69584-h/images/illus9.jpg Binary files differdeleted file mode 100644 index f8ceb10..0000000 --- a/old/69584-h/images/illus9.jpg +++ /dev/null diff --git a/old/69584-h/images/illusc1.jpg b/old/69584-h/images/illusc1.jpg Binary files differdeleted file mode 100644 index 944ceb7..0000000 --- a/old/69584-h/images/illusc1.jpg +++ /dev/null diff --git a/old/69584-h/images/illusc2.jpg b/old/69584-h/images/illusc2.jpg Binary files differdeleted file mode 100644 index 6e24772..0000000 --- a/old/69584-h/images/illusc2.jpg +++ /dev/null diff --git a/old/69584-h/images/illusc3.jpg b/old/69584-h/images/illusc3.jpg Binary files differdeleted file mode 100644 index 96d54e7..0000000 --- a/old/69584-h/images/illusc3.jpg +++ /dev/null diff --git a/old/69584-h/images/illusc4.jpg b/old/69584-h/images/illusc4.jpg Binary files differdeleted file mode 100644 index 3184e60..0000000 --- a/old/69584-h/images/illusc4.jpg +++ /dev/null |
