[Cover Illustration]

Bors felt as if he'd been hit over the head. This was ridiculous! He'dplanned and carried out the destruction of that warship because theinformation of its existence and location was _verified_ by amagnetometer. 

But, if he'd known _how_ the information had been obtained--if he'dknown it had been _guessed at_ by a discharged spaceport employee, and aparanoid personality, and a man who used a hazel twig or somethingsimilar--if he'd known _that_, he'd never have dreamed of accepting it. He'd have dismissed it flatly!

 * * * * *

Aficionados of science fiction recognize and respect MURRAY LEINSTER asa writer of rare talent. His ingenuity of plot, his technical know-howand flight of imagination in TALENTS, INCORPORATED will go far toincrease his stature and popularity as an exciting and thought-provokingstoryteller. 

 AVON BOOK DIVISION The Hearst Corporation 572 Madison Avenue--New York 22, N. Y. 

 _TALENTS, INCORPORATED_

 Murray Leinster

 Copyright, ©, 1962, by Murray Leinster. All rights reserved. Published by arrangement with the author. Printed in the U. S. A. 

Transcriber's Note:

 Extensive research did not uncover any evidence that the U. S. Copyright on this publication was renewed. Minor spelling and typographical errors have been corrected without note. Subscript characters are shown within {braces}. 

TALENTS, INCORPORATED

_Part One_

Chapter 1

Young Captain Bors--who impatiently refused to be called anythingelse--was strangely occupied when the communicator buzzed. He'd rippedaway the cord about a thick parcel of documents and heaved them into thefireplace of the office of the Minister for Diplomatic Affairs. A fireburned there, and already there were many ashes. The carpet and thechairs of the cabinet officer's sanctum were coated with fine whitedust. As the communicator buzzed again, Captain Bors took a fireplacetool and stirred the close-packed papers to looseness. They caught andburned instead of only smouldering. 

The communicator buzzed yet again. He brushed off his hands and pressedthe answer-stud. 

He said bleakly: "Diplomatic Affairs. Bors speaking. "

The communicator relayed a voice from somewhere else with an astonishingfidelity of tone. 

"_Spaceport, sir. A ship just broke out of overdrive. We don't identifyits type. One ship only, sir. _"

Bors said grimly;

"You'd recognize a liner. If it's a ship from the Mekinese fleet andstays alone, it could be coming to receive our surrender. In that caseplay for time and notify me. "

"_Yes, sir. --One moment! It's calling, sir! Here it is--. _"

There was a clicking, and then there came a voice which had the curiousquality of a loudspeaker sound picked up and relayed through anotherloudspeaker. 

"_Calling ground! Calling ground! Space-yacht_ Sylva _reports arrivaland asks coordinates for landing. Our mass is two hundred tons standard. Purpose of visit, pleasure-travel. _"

A pause. The voice from the spaceport:

"_Sir?_"

Captain Bors said impatiently, "Oh, let him down and see if he knowsanything about the Mekinese. Then advise him to go away at once. Tellhim why. "

"_Yes, sir. _"

A click. Young Captain Bors returned to his task of burning papers. These were the confidential records of the Ministry for DiplomaticAffairs. Captain Bors wore the full-dress uniform of the space navy ofthe planet Kandar. It was still neatly pressed but was now smudged withsoot and smeared with ashes. He had burned a great many papers today. Elsewhere in the Ministry other men were burning other documents. Theother papers were important enough; they were confidential reports fromvolunteer- and paid-agents on twenty planets. In the hands ofill-disposed persons, they could bring about disaster and confusion andinterplanetary tension. But the ones Captain Bors made sure of weredeadly. 

He burned papers telling of conditions on Mekin itself. The authors ofsuch memoranda would be savagely punished if they were found out. Thenthere were papers telling of events on Tralee. If it could be said thathe were more painstakingly destructive than average about anything, Captain Bors was about them. He saw to it that they burned to ashes. Hecrushed the ashes. He stirred them. It would be unthinkable that suchmorsels could ever be pieced together and their contents even guessedat. 

He went on with the work. His jaunty uniform became more smeared andsmudged. He gave himself no rest. There were papers from other planetsnow under the hegemony of Mekin. Some were memoranda from citizens ofthis planet, who had traveled upon the worlds which Mekin dominated asit was about to dominate Kandar. They, especially had to be pulverized. Every confidential document in the Ministry for Diplomatic Affairs wasin the process of destruction, but Captain Bors in person destroyedthose which would cause most suffering if read by the wrong persons. 

In other ministries and other places similar holocausts were under way. There was practically nothing going on on Kandar which was not relatedto the disaster for which the people of that world waited. The feel ofbitterness and despair was everywhere. Broadcasting stations stayed onthe air only to report monotonously that the tragic event had not yethappened. The small space-navy of Kandar waited, aground, to take theking and some other persons on board at the last moment. When theMekinese navy arrived--or as much of it as was needed to make resistancehopeless--the end for Kandar would have come. That was the impendingdisaster. If it came too soon, Bors's task of destruction couldn't becompleted as was wished. In such a case this Ministry and all the otherswould hastily be doused with incendiary material and fired, and it woulddesperately be hoped that all the planet's records went up in theflames. 

Captain Bors flung more and more papers on the blaze. He came to an endof them. 

The communicator buzzed, again. He answered once more. 

"_Sir, the space-yacht_ Sylva _is landed. It comes from Norden and hasno direct information about the Mekinese. But there's a man named Morganwith a very important letter for the Minister for Diplomatic Affairs. It's from the Minister for Diplomatic Affairs on Norden. _"

Bors said sardonically, "Maybe he should wait a few days or hours andgive it to the Mekinese! Send him over if he wants to take the chance, but warn him not to let anybody from his yacht leave the spaceport!"

"_Yes, sir. _"

Bors made a quick circuit of the Ministry building to make sure the restof the destruction was thoroughly carried out. He glanced out of awindow and saw the other ministries. From their chimneys thick smokepoured out--the criminal records were being incinerated in the Ministryof Police. Tax records were burning in the Ministry of Finance. Educational information about Kandarian citizens flamed and smoked inthe Ministry of Education. Even voting and vehicle-registry lists werebeing wiped out of existence by flames and the crushing of ashes atappropriate agencies. The planet's banks were completing thedistribution of coin and currency, with promissory notes to thosedepositors they could not pay in full, and the real-estate registerswere open so individuals could remove and hide or destroy their titlesto property. The stockholders' books of corporations were being burned. Small ships parted with their wares and took promises of payment inreturn. The planet Kandar, in fact, made ready to receive itsconquerors. 

It was not conquered yet, but there could be no hope. 

Bors was in the act of brushing off his hands again, in a sort ofsymbolic gesture of completion, when a ground-car stopped before theMinistry. A stout man got out. A rather startlingly pretty girlfollowed. They advanced to the door of the Ministry. 

Presently, Captain Bors received the two visitors. His once-jauntyuniform looked like a dustman's. He was much more grim than anybody hisage should ever be. 

"Your name is Morgan, " he said formidably to the stout man. "You have aletter for the Minister. He's not here. He's gathering up his family. Ifanyone's in charge, I am. "

The stout man cheerfully handed over a very official envelope. 

Bors said caustically, "I don't ask you to sit down because everything'scovered with ash-dust. Excuse me. "

He tore open the envelope and read its contents. His impatienceincreased. 

"In normal times, " he said, "I'm sure this would be most interesting. But these are not normal times. I'm afraid--"

"I know! I know!" said the stout man exuberantly. "If times were normalI wouldn't be here! I'm president and executive director of Talents, Incorporated. From that letter you'll see that we've done veryremarkable things for different governments and businesses. I'd like totalk to someone with the authority to make a policy decision. I want toshow what we can do for you. "

"It's too late to do anything for us, " said Bors. "Much too late. Weexpect the Mekinese fleet at any instant. You'd better go back to thespaceport and take off in your yacht. They're going to take over thisplanet after a slight tumult we expect to arrange. You won't want to behere when they come. "

Morgan waved a hand negligently. 

"They won't arrive for four days, " he said confidently. "That's Talents, Incorporated information. You can depend on it! There's plenty of timeto prepare before they get here!" He smiled, as if at a joke. 

Young Captain Bors was not impressed. He and all the other officers ofthe Kandarian defense forces had searched desperately for something thatcould be done to avert the catastrophe before them. They'd failed tofind even the promise of a hope. He couldn't be encouraged by theconfidence of a total stranger, --and a civilian to boot. He'd takenrefuge in anger. 

The pretty girl said suddenly, "Captain, at least we can reassure you onone thing. Your government chartered four big liners to removegovernment officials and citizens who'll be on the Mekinese black list. You're worried for fear they won't get here in time. But my father--"

The stout man looked at his watch. 

"Ah, yes! You don't want the fleet cluttered up with civilians when ittakes to space! I'm happy to tell you it won't be. The first of yourfour liners will break out of overdrive in--hm--three minutes, twentyseconds. Two others will arrive tomorrow, one at ten minutes after noon, the other three hours later. The last will arrive the day after, atabout sunrise here. "

Bors went a trifle pale. 

"I doubt it. It's supposed to be a military secret that such ships areon the way. Since you know it, I assume that the Mekinese do, too. Ineffect, you seem to be a Mekinese spy. But you can hardly do any moreharm! I advise you to go back to your yacht and leave Kandarimmediately. If our citizens find out you are spies, they will literallytear you to pieces. "

He looked at them icily. The stout man grinned. 

"Listen, your h-- Captain, listen to me! The first liner will reportinside of five minutes. That'll be a test. Here's another. There's aMekinese heavy cruiser aground on Kandar right now! It's on the seabottom fifty fathoms down, five miles magnetic north-north-east fromCape Farnell! You can check that! The cruiser's down there to lob afusion bomb into your space-fleet when it starts to take off for theflight you're planning--to get all the important men on Kandar in onesmash! That's Talents, Incorporated information! It's a free sample. Youcan verify it without it costing you anything, and when you want moreand better information--why--we'll be at the spaceport ready to give itto you. And you will want to call on us! That's Talents, Incorporatedinformation, too!"

He turned and marched confidently--almost grandly--out of the room. Thegirl smiled faintly at Bors. 

"He left out something, Captain. That cruiser-- It could hardly actwithout information on when to act. So there's a pair of spies in alittle shack on the cape. They've got an underwater cable going underthe sand beach and out and down to the space-cruiser. They're watchingthe fleet on the ground with telescopes. When they see activity aroundit, they'll tell the cruiser what to do. " Then she smiled more broadly. "Honestly, it's true! And don't forget about the liner!"

She followed her father out of the room. Outside, as they got into thewaiting ground-car, she said to her father, "If he smiled, I think I'dlike him. "

But Bors did not know that at the time. He would probably not have paidany attention if he had. Kandar was about to be taken over by theMekinese, as his own Tralee had been ten years before, and other planetsbefore that. Mekin was making an empire after an ancient tradition, which scorned the idea of incorporating other worlds into its owngovernmental system--which was appalling--but merely made them subjectsand satellites and tributaries. 

Bors had been born on Tralee, which he remembered as a tranquil world ofglamor and happiness. But he was on Kandar now. He served in itsspace-navy, and he foresaw Kandar becoming what Tralee had become. Hefelt such hatred and rebellion toward Mekin, that he could not notice apretty girl. He was getting ready for the savage last battle of thespace-fleet of Kandar, which would fight in the great void until it wasannihilated. There was nothing else to do if one was not to submit tothe arrogant tyranny that already lorded it over twenty-two subjectplanets and might extend itself indefinitely throughout the galaxy. 

He moved to verify again the complete pulverizing of the ashes in thefireplace. 

The communicator buzzed. He pressed the answer button. A voice said, "_Sir, the space-liner_ Vestis _reports breakout from overdrive. Nowdriving for port. Message ends. _"

Bors's eyes popped wide. He'd heard exactly that only minutes ago! Itcould be coincidence, but it was a very remarkable one. The man Morganhad come to him to tell him that. If he'd come for some other reason, and merely made a guess, it could be coincidence. But he'd come only totell Bors that he could be useful! And it was impossible, at adestination-port, to know when a ship would break out of overdrive!Einstein's data on the anomalies of time at speeds near that of lightnaturally did not apply to overdrive speeds above it. Nobody couldconceivably predict when a ship from many light-years away would arrive!But Morgan had! It was impossible!

He'd said something else that was impossible, too. He'd said there was aMekinese cruiser on the sea-floor of Kandar, where it could blast allthe local fleet--which was ready to fight but vulnerable to a singlefusion-bomb. If such a thing happened, the impending disaster would beworse than intolerable. To Bors it would mean dying without a chance tostrike even the most futile of blows at the enemy. 

He hesitated a long minute. Morgan's errand had been to make aprediction and give a warning, to gain credence for what he could dolater. The prediction was fulfilled. But the warning. .. . 

An enemy cruiser in ambush on Kandar was a possibility that simplyhadn't been considered--hadn't even occurred to anyone. But once it wasmentioned it seemed horribly likely. There was no time for a search atrandom, but if Morgan had been right about one thing he might have someway to know about another. 

Bors gave curt orders to his subordinates in the work ofrecord-destruction. He went out of the building to the greensward mallthat lay between the ministries of the government, and headed for thepalace at its end. The government of Kandar was not one of great pompand display. There was a king, to be sure, but nobody could imagine theperspiringly earnest King Humphrey the Eighth as a tyrant. There weretitles, it was true, but they were life appointments to the planet'slegislative Upper House. Kandar was a tranquil, quaint, and very happyworld. There were few industries, and those were small. Nobody wasunduly rich, and most of its people were contented. It was a world withno history of bloodshed--until now. 

Bors brushed absently at his uniform as he walked the two hundred yardsto the palace. He abstractedly acknowledged the sentries' salutes as heentered. Much of the palace guard had been sent away, and most of thepalace's small staff would hide from the Mekinese. The aggressors had anasty habit of imposing special humiliations upon citizens who'd beenprominent before they were conquered. 

He went unannounced into King Humphrey's study, where the monarchconferred dispiritedly with Captain Bors's uncle, the exiled Pretenderof Tralee, who listened with interest. The king was talking doggedly tohis old friend. 

"No. You're mistaken. You'll have my written order to distribute thebullion in the Treasury to all the cities, to be shared as evenly aspossible by all the people. The Mekinese can't blame you for obeying anorder of your lawful king before they unlawfully seize the kingdom!"

Captain Bors said curtly, "Majesty, the first of the four liners is in. Two more will arrive tomorrow and the last at sunrise the day after. TheMekinese will be here two days later. "

King Humphrey and Captain Bors's uncle stared at him. 

"And, " said Bors, "the same source of information says there's aMekinese cruiser waiting underwater off Cape Farnell to lob a fusionbomb at the fleet as it's ready to lift. "

King Humphrey said, "But nobody can possibly know that two liners willcome tomorrow! One hopes so, of course. But one can't know! As for acruiser, submerged, there's been no report of it. "

"The information, " said Captain Bors, "came from Talents, Incorporated. It's sample information, given free. The first item has checked. He camewith a letter from a cabinet minister on Norden. "

Bors handed it to the Pretender of Tralee. 

"Mmmm, " he said thoughtfully. "I've heard of this Talents, Incorporated. And on Norden, too! Phillip of Norden mentioned it to me. A man namedMorgan had told him that Talents, Incorporated had secured informationthat an atom bomb--a fission bomb as I remember, and quite small--hadbeen set to assassinate him as he laid a cornerstone. The informationturned out to be correct. Phillip of Norden and some thousands of hissubjects would have been killed. The assassins were really going toextremes. As I remember, Morgan wouldn't accept money for the warning. He _did_ accept a medal. "

"I think, " said Bors, "I think I shall investigate what he said about aMekinese ship in hiding. You've no objection, Majesty?"

King Humphrey the Eighth looked at the Pretender. One was remarkablyunlike the other. The King was short and stocky and resolute, as if toovercome his own shortcomings. The pretender was lean and gray, with themild look of a man who has schooled himself to patience underfrustration. He nodded. King Humphrey shook his head. 

"Very well, " said Bors. "I'll borrow a flier and see about it. "

He left the palace. There was already disorganization everywhere. Theplanetary government was in process of destroying all the machinery bywhich Kandar had been governed, as if to make the Mekinese improvise agovernment anew. They would make many blunders, of course, which wouldbe resented by their new subjects. There would be much fumbling, whichwould keep the victims of their conquest from regarding them withrespect. And there would be the small tumult Bors had said was inpreparation. The king and the Kandarian fleet would fight, quitehopelessly and to their own annihilation, when the Mekinese fleetappeared. It would be something Kandar would always remember. It waslikely that she would not be the most docile of the worlds conquered byMekin. The Mekinese would always and everywhere be resented. But onKandar they would also be despised. 

Bors found the ground-cars which waited to carry the king and those whowould accompany him, to the fleet when the time came. He commandeered aground-car and a driver. He ordered himself driven to theatmosphere-flier base of the fleet. 

On the way the driver spoke apologetically. "Captain, sir, I'd like tosay something. "

"Say it, " said Bors. 

"I'm sorry, sir, but I've got a wife and children. Even for their sakes, sir. I mean, if it wasn't for them I'd--I'd be going with the fleet. I--wanted to explain--"

"Why you're staying alive?" asked Bors. "You shouldn't feel apologetic. Getting killed in the fleet ought to follow at least the killing of afew Mekinese. There should be some satisfaction in that! But if you stayhere your troubles still won't be over, and there'll be very littlesatisfaction in what you'll go through. What the fleet will do will bedramatic. What you'll do won't. You'll have the less satisfying role. Ithink the fleet is taking the easy way out. "

The driver was silent for a long time as he drove along the strangelyunfrequented highways. Just before the ground-car reached the air base, he said awkwardly, "Thank you, sir. "

When he brought the car to a stop, he got out quickly to offer a verystiff military salute. 

Bors went inside. He found men with burning eyes conferring feverishly. An air force colonel said urgently, "Sir, please advise us! We have ourorders, but there's nearly a mutiny. We don't want to turn anything overto the Mekinese--after all, no matter what the king has commanded, oncethe fleet had lifted off, there can be no punishment if we destroy ourplanes and blast our equipment! Will you give us an unofficial--"

Bors broke in quickly. 

"I may be able to give you a chance at a Mekinese cruiser. Can you lendme a plane with civilian markings and a pilot who's a good photographer?I'll need a magnetometer to trail, too. There's a rather urgentsituation coming up. "

The men stared at him. 

He explained the possibility of a Mekinese space-cruiser lying in fiftyfathoms off Cape Farnell. He did not say where the information camefrom. Even to men as desperate as these, Talents, Incorporatedinformation would not seem credible without painstaking explanation. Bors was by no means sure that he believed it himself, but he wanted toso fiercely that he sounded as if some Mekinese spy or traitor hadconfessed it. 

The feeling of tenseness multiplied, but voices grew very quiet. No manspoke an unnecessary word. In minutes they had made completearrangements. 

When the atmosphere-flier took off down the runway, wholly deceptiveexplanations were already being made. It was said that theatmosphere-fliers were to load bombs for demolition because the king wasbeing asked for permission to bomb all mines and bridges and railwaysand docks that would make Kandar a valuable addition to the Mekineseempire. Everything was to be destroyed before the conquerors came toground. The destruction would bring hardship to the citizens--so thestory admitted--but the Mekinese would bring that anyhow. And theyshouldn't profit by what Kandar's people had built for themselves. 

The point was, of course, to get bombloads aboard planes with no chanceof suspicion by spy or traitor of the actual use intended for them. Meanwhile, Bors flew in an atmosphere-flier which looked like a privateship and explained his intentions to the pilot, so that the small planedid not go directly to the spot five miles offshore that the mysteriousvisitors had mentioned, to make an examination of the sea bottom. Instead, it flew southward. It did not swing out to sea for nearly fiftymiles. It went out until it was on a line between a certain small islandwhere many well-to-do people had homes, and the airport of the planet'scapital city. Then it headed for that airport. 

It flew slowly, as civilian planes do. By the time the sandy beaches ofa cape appeared, it was quite convincingly a private plane bringingsomeone from a residential island to the airport of Kandar City. If asmall object trailed below it, barely above the waves, suspended by thethinnest of wires, it was invisible. If the plane happened to be on acourse that would pass above a spot north-northeast from the tip of thecape, a spot calculated from information given by Talents, Incorporated, it seemed entirely coincidental. Nobody could have suspected anythingunusual; certainly nothing likely to upset the plans of a murderoustotalitarian enemy. One small and insignificant civilian plane shouldn'tbe able to prevent the murder of a space-fleet, a king and the mostresolute members of a planet's population!

Captain Bors flew the ship. The official pilot used an electron camera, giving a complete and overlapping series of pictures of the shore fivemiles away with incredible magnification and detail. 

The magnetometer-needle flicked over. Its findings were recorded. Asthe plane went on it returned to a normal reading for fifty fathoms ofseawater. 

Half an hour later the seemingly private plane landed at the capitalairport. Another half-hour, and its record and pictures were back at theair base, being examined and computed by hungry-eyed men. 

Just as the pretty Morgan girl had said, there was a shack on the verytip of the cape. It was occupied by two men. They loafed. And only anelectron camera could have used enough magnification to show one manlaughing, as if at something the other had said. The camera proved--fromfive miles away--that there was no sadness afflicting them. One manlaughed uproariously. But the rest of the planet was in no mood forlaughter. 

The magnetometer recording showed that a very large mass of magneticmaterial lay on the ocean bottom, fifty fathoms down. Minutemodifications of the magnetic-intensity curve showed that there waselectronic machinery in operation down below. 

Bors made no report to the palace. King Humphrey was a conscientious anddoggedly resolute monarch, but he was not an imaginative one. He wouldwant to hold a cabinet meeting before he issued orders for thedestruction of a space-ship that was only technically and not actuallyan enemy. Kandar had received an ultimatum from Mekin. An answer wasrequired when a Mekinese fleet arrived off Kandar. Until that momentthere was, in theory, no war. But, in fact, Kandar was already conqueredin every respect except the landing of Mekinese on its surface. KingHumphrey, however, would want to observe all the rules. And there mightnot be time. 

The air force agreed with Bors. So squadron after squadron took off fromthe airfield, on courses which had certain things in common. None ofthem would pass over a fisherman's shack on Cape Farnell. None couldpass over a spot five miles north-north-east magnetic from that cape'stip, where the bottom was fifty fathoms down and a suspicious magneticcondition obtained. One more thing unified the flying squadrons: At agiven instant, all of them could turn and dive toward that fifty-fathomdepth at sea, and they would arrive in swift and orderly succession. This last arrangement was a brilliant piece of staff-work. Men hadworked with impassioned dedication to bring it about. 

But only these men knew. There was no sign anywhere of anything moreremarkable than winged squadrons sweeping in a seemingly routineexercise about the heavens. Even so they were not visible from the cape. The horizon hid them. 

For a long time there was only blueness overhead, and the salt smell ofthe sea, and now and again flights of small birds which had no memory ofthe flight of their ancestors from ancient Earth. The planet Kandarrolled grandly in space, awaiting its destiny. The sun shone, the sunset; in another place it was midnight and at still another it was earlydawn. 

But from the high blue sky near the planet's capital, there came astuttering as of a motor going bad. If anyone looked, a most minuteangular dot could be seen to be fighting to get back over the land fromwhere it had first appeared, far out at sea. There were moments when thestuttering ceased, and the engine ran with a smooth hum. Then anotherstutter. 

The plane lost altitude. It was clear that its pilot fought to makesolid ground before it crashed. Twice it seemed definitely lost. Buteach time, at the last instant, the motor purred--and popped--and theplane rose valiantly. 

Then there was a detonation. The plane staggered. Its pilot fought andfought, but his craft had no power at all. It came down fluttering, withthe pilot gaining every imaginable inch toward the sandy shore. Itseemed certain that he would come down on the white beach unharmed, agood half-mile from the fisherman's shack on the cape. But--perhaps itwas a gust of wind. It may have been something more premeditated. Onewing flew wildly up. The flier seemed to plunge crazily groundward. Atthe last fraction of a second, the plane reeled again and crashed intothe fisherman's shack before which, from a distance of five miles, a manhad been photographed, laughing. 

Timbers splintered. Glass broke musically. Then there were thuds as menleaped swiftly from the plane and dived under the still-fallingroof-beams. There were three, four, half a dozen men in fleet uniforms, with blasters in their hands. They used the weapons ruthlessly upon acivilian who flung himself at an incongruously brand-new signallingapparatus in a corner of the shattered house. A second man snarled andsavagely lunged at his attackers; he was also blasted as he tried toreach the same device. 

There was no pause. Over the low ground to the west a flight of bombersappeared, bellowing. In mass formation they rushed out above the sea. Far to the right and high up, a second formation of man-made birdsappeared suddenly. It dived steeply from invisibility toward the water. Over the horizon to the left there came V's of bomber-planes, one afteranother, by dozens and by hundreds. More planes roared above theshattered shack. They came in columns. They came in masses. From theheavens above and over the ground below and from the horizon that rimmedthe world, the planes came. Planes from one direction crossed a certainpatch of sea. 

They were not wholly clear of it when planes from another part of thehorizon swept over the same area, barely wave-tip high. Planes from thewest raced over this one delimited space, and planes from the northalmost shouldered them aside, and then planes from the east covered thatsame mile-square patch of sea, and then more planes from the south. .. . 

They followed each other in incredible procession, incredibly precise. The water on that mile-square space developed white dots, which alwaysvanished but never ceased. Spume-spoutings leaped up three feet, or ten, or twenty and disappeared, and then there were others which spouted upone yard, or two, or ten. There were innumerable temporary whitecaps. The surface became pale from the constant churning of new foam-patchesbefore the old foam died. 

Then, with absolute abruptness, the planes flew away from the one squaremile of sea. The late-comers climbed steeply. Abruptly, behind them, there were warning booms. Then monstrous masses of spray and bubblesand blue water leaped up three hundred feet, four hundred feet, five. .. . 

A square mile of ocean erupted as the planes climbed up and away fromit. There were bombs in the ocean--some had sunk down deep. Othersfollowed in close succession. Many, many burdens of bombs had beendropped into the sea as plane-fleet after plane-fleet went by. 

The sea exploded in monstrous columns. Ton, half-ton and two-ton bombsbegan to detonate, fifty fathoms down. The Mekinese duty-officer belowhad just learned that the spies' signalling device was cut off, when adetonation lifted the hull of the Mekinese cruiser and shook itviolently. Another twisted its tail and crushed it. A bomb hit seabottom a quarter-mile away. More bombs exploded still nearer, in closecontact with the giant hull. A two-ton bomb clanked into contact withits metal plating and burst. 

The cruiser's duty-officer, cowering, thrust over the emergency-leverwhich would put the ship through pre-recorded commands faster thanorders could be spoken. 

Rockets flared, deep under water. But the flames set off bombs and therocket-nozzles cracked and were useless. A midship compartment wasflooding. A forward compartment's wall caved in, and still bombsburst. .. . The skipper of the assassin cruiser screamed an order to fireall missiles. They were already set on target. They were pre-set for thespot where the space-navy of Kandar waited to rise. 

They did not. One missile was blasted as the cover of its launcher-tubeopened. Another was blown in half when partly out of its tube and athird actually rammed a sinking bomb and vanished with it when itexploded. 

The huge thing under the sea heaved itself up blindly. It reached thesurface. But it was shattered and rent and dying, and planes divedvengefully upon it and blasted apart whatever could be seen in theroaring foam. So the blinded, suffering thing of metal only emptieditself of air and went down to the bottom again, where more bombs rippedand tore it. 

The atmosphere-fliers of Kandar swung in a gigantic, ballooning circleabout the spot where they had dropped a good fraction of a ton of bombsto the square yard. But nothing stirred there any more. Still, theplanes flew in a great, deadly band about it until a flitterboat cameout from shore and lowered a camera and a light by long, long cords. 

There was no space-cruiser at the bottom of the sea. There was evidenceof one, yes. There were patches of plating, and there were naked, twisted girders. The dangling underwater camera faithfully reported whatit saw by the light that was lowered with it. But there was nospace-cruiser. There were only the rather small fragments of what hadbeen one a little while before. 

Captain Bors went back to the palace. He was savagely pleased. He andthe air-fleet men had done something. They'd had some satisfaction. They'd killed some Mekinese and ruined a plan to assassinate the Kandarfleet. But they'd only gotten an immediate satisfaction. Kandar wasstill to be conquered. Nothing important had changed. 

Bors made his way to the king's study. He entered. King Humphrey theEighth and the Pretender of Tralee were listening doubtfully to a stoutman. The man was Morgan. 

He stopped talking and blinked at Captain Bors. The captain ignoredroyal etiquette and spoke to him without first greeting the king. 

"The ship was there, as you said. We smashed it. Thank you. Is there anymore information you can give us?"

Chapter 2

At the spaceport, carefully selected persons filed onto the space-liner_Vestis_. It was not officially believed that the other three greatchartered ships would arrive before the Mekinese fleet. It was, in fact, rather likely that none of the information given by Talents, Incorporated was ever believed until the event confirmed the prediction. In the case of the first liner, those who went on board had been chosenby a strict principle of priority. Men who would merely be imprisonedwhen Mekin took over had no privilege of escape. Not yet. Those who weredestined for execution as soon as a quisling government was formed, werealso not entitled to depart on the liner. But those who hadconspicuously supported King Humphrey in his resistance to intimidation;those who had encouraged others to object to concessions which couldonly be forerunners of other concessions; those who had spoken andwritten and labored to spread information about the facts of life underMekin, would not merely be imprisoned or executed. They would betortured. So they were entitled to first chance at escape. 

The space-liner blasted off some six hours after its arrival. Itvanished blessedly into overdrive where it could not be intercepted. Itheaded for the far-away world of Trent, where its passengers would beallowed to land as refugees and where, doubtless, they would speakbitterly about Mekin for all the rest of their lives. But the governmentof Mekin would not care. 

Mekin was a phenomenon so improbable that only those who were studentsof past civilizations could really believe it. There were innumerablereferences to such régimes in the histories of ancient Earth. There was, for example, Napoleon, said people informed about such matters. With afraction of a fraction of one per cent of the French people activelycooperating, he overawed the rest and then took over a nation which wasnot even his own. Then he took over other nations where less than afraction of a fraction of one per cent concurred. Then he took soldiersfrom those second-order conquests to make third-order conquests, andthen soldiers from the third to make fourth. 

There was Mussolini, said the learned men. He had organized a group ofrowdies and gangsters, and began by levying protection-money ongambling-houses and even less reputable resorts, and with the moneyincreased his following. He had murdered those who opposed him andpresently he collected protection money from even the great businesscorporations of his country, financing more political gangsterism untilhe ruled his nation for himself and his confederates. 

And there was Hitler, said the historically-minded. In the beginning hisfollowers never dared show themselves in the uniforms they adopted, because their fellow-countrymen hated everything they stood for. Butbefore the end came they worshipped him. They murdered millions at hiscommand, but they died because of him, too. 

There was Lenin, and there was Stalin. Specialists in history could talkvery learnedly about the developments on Mekin which paralleled thecabals headed by Lenin, and later, Stalin. Theirs was a much moredurable organization than those of Napoleon and Mussolini and Hitler. 

The ruling clique on Mekin had begun in this manner. 

Mekin had once had a cause to which all its officials paid lip-serviceand some possibly believed in. Because of this cause it was theorganization and not the individual who was apotheosized. Therefore, there could be fierce battles among members of the ruling class. Therecould be conspiracies. The last three dictators of Mekin had beenmurdered in palace revolutions, and the current dictator was moreelaborately protected from his confreres than any mere hereditary tyrantever needed to be. But Mekin remained a strong and dynamic world, engaged in the endless subjugation of other worlds for a purpose nobodyreally remembered any more. 

Against such a society, a planet like Kandar was helpless. Mekin couldnot be placated nor satisfied with less than the subjugation and theruin of its neighbors. For a time, Kandar had tried to arm for its owndefense. It had a space-fleet which in quality was probably equal toMekin's, but in quantity was hopelessly less. Also it had a defensivepolicy. It did not dream of any but a defensive war. And no war was everwon by mere defense. There could be no defense against the building-upof tensions, the contriving of incidents, the invention of insults. Ithad been proved often enough. Eventually there was an ultimatum, andthere was surrender, and then the installation of a puppet governmentand the ruthless bleeding of another captured planet for the benefit ofthe rulers of Mekin. 

The process was implacable. There was nothing to be done but submit, flee or die. Various parts of Kandar's population chose one or anothercourse. Four great liners would carry away those who could be helped toflee. The mass of the people must submit, the fighting forces savagelymade ready to die. 

But in the cabinet meeting after the destruction of the hidden enemycruiser, the tone was set by highly practical men. Bors was present atthe meeting. He'd destroyed the cruiser. He was to be questioned aboutit. He had Morgan standing by to explain the part of Talents, Incorporated if required. 

King Humphrey said heavily, "This is probably the last cabinet meetingbefore the coming of the Mekinese. I do not think oratory is called for. I put the situation as it stands. A fleet will come from Mekin for ouranswer to their ultimatum. Our space-fleet will not surrender. Our airforce is openly mutinous at the idea of submission. It has been saidthat if we fight, our planet will be bombed from space until all its airis poison, so that every living creature here will die. If this is true, I do not think that even we who plan to fight have the right to bringsuch a bombing about. But I doubt if that is true. There has been oneincident. Whether one likes it or not, it has happened. Captain Bors hasreason to hope that the space-fleet, by fighting to the death, canactually benefit the rest of our people. "

Bors spoke, excitement coloring his words. 

"It's perfectly simple. There are only two kinds of people, slaves andfree men. Slaves can be tortured and killed without concern. With freemen a bargain has always to be struck. If there is no resistance to theMekinese, they will despise us. We will be worse off than if we fight. Because if we fight, at least our people will be respected. They may beoppressed because they are conquered, but they won't be treated withthe contempt and doubled oppression given to slaves. "

A bearded man said querulously, "That's theory. It's psychology. It evensmacks of idealism! Let us be realistic! As a practical man, I amconcerned with getting the best possible terms for our population. Afterall, the dictator of Mekin must be a reasonable man! He must be apractical man! I believe that we should negotiate until the very lastinstant. "

Bors said indignantly, "Negotiate? You haven't anything to negotiatewith! I am not a citizen of Kandar, though I serve in its fleet. I amstill a national of Tralee. But I have talked to the officers of thefleet. They won't surrender. You can't negotiate for them to do so. Youcan't negotiate for them to go quietly away and pretend that nothing hashappened and that there never was a fleet. When the Mekinese arrive, thefleet will fight. It doesn't hope to win; it doesn't expectanything--except getting killed honorably when its enemy would like tohave it grovel. But it's going to fight!"

King Humphrey said doggedly, "My influence does not extend to thedisgrace of our fighting forces. The fleet will fight. I believe itunwise. But since it will fight I shall be in the flagship and it _willnot surrender_. "

There was a pause. The bearded man said peevishly, "But it should fighton its own! It should not compromise Kandar!"

There was a murmur. King Humphrey looked about him from under loweredbrows. 

"That can be arranged, " he said heavily. "I will constitute a caretakergovernment by royal proclamation. I will appoint you, " he lookedsteadily at the bearded man, "to be head of it and make such terms asyou can. If you like, when the Mekinese come you can warn them that thefleet has mutinied under me, its king, and may offer battle, but thatyou are ready to lead the people of Kandar in--"

"In licking the boots of all Mekinese, " said Bors in an icy tone. 

There was a small rumble of protest. Bors stood up. 

"I'd better leave, " he said coldly. "I'm not entitled to speak. If youwant me, I can be reached. "

He strode from the council-chamber. As the door closed behind him, heground his teeth. The stout man, Morgan, of the space-yacht _Sylva_, paced up and down the room where he waited to be called. His daughtersat tranquilly in a chair. She smiled pleasantly at Bors when he camein. Morgan turned to face him. 

"Here's some Talents, Incorporated information, " he said zestfully. "Thecabinet is scared. A few are willing to fight, but most are alreadytrying to think how they can make terms with the Mekinese. "

Bors opened his mouth to swear, then checked himself. 

"Gwenlyn, " said Morgan, "will pardon an expression of honestindignation. It's a dirty shame, eh?"

"If I were a native of Kandar, " said Bors bitterly, "I'd be even moreashamed than I am as a native of Tralee. The people of Traleesurrendered, but they didn't realize what they were getting into. Thesemen do!"

The girl Gwenlyn said quietly, "I'm sorry for King Humphrey. "

"He's miscast, " said Morgan briskly. "He should be king of a calm andpeaceful world in calm and peaceful times. You're going to have troublewith him, Captain Bors!" Then he said; "Perhaps we can work out a planor two, eh? While you're waiting for the cabinet to call you back?"

"I've no authority, " said Bors. "My uncle's the Pretender of Tralee, andI was originally commissioned in the fleet as a sort of courtesy to him. I can't speak for anybody but myself. "

"You can speak for common sense, " said Gwenlyn. "After all, you knowwhat the people really want. You could try to arrange things so that thefleet can fight well. "

"It'll fight well, " said Bors curtly. "It'll give a good account ofitself! But that won't do any good!"

Morgan struck an attitude, beaming. 

"Ah! But you've got Talents, Incorporated on your side! You don'trealize yet, Captain, what a difference that can make! While there'slife and Talents, Incorporated, there's hope!"

Bors shrugged. Suddenly he found that he, too, drearily accepted defeat. There was no more hope of accomplishment. There was nothing to beachieved. He would serve no purpose by straining against the impossible. 

He said tiredly, "I'll agree that Talents, Incorporated cost theMekinese one cruiser. "

"A trifle, " said Morgan, waving his hand, "mere soupçon ofaccomplishment. We're prepared to do vastly more. "

It occurred to Bors to be curious. 

"Why? You're risking your life and your daughter's by staying here. IfMekin ever finds out about its cruiser on the sea bottom and your sharein that affair, you'll be in a fix! And certainly you can't expect tomake a profit here? We couldn't even pay you for what you've alreadydone!"

"I'm right now, " said Morgan placidly, "quite as rich as I want to be. I've another ambition--but let's not go into that. I want to show youwhat Talents, Incorporated can do in the four days--" he looked at hiswatch--"three hours and some odd minutes that remain before the Mekinesefleet turns up. You've checked up on Talents, Incorporated?"

"My uncle says, " Bors told him, "that you kept Phillip of Norden frombeing assassinated by a fission-bomb at a cornerstone laying. He alsosays you wouldn't accept a reward, only a medal. "

"I collect them, " said Morgan modestly. "You'd be surprised how manyorders and decorations a man can acquire by industry andorganization--and Talents, Incorporated. "

Gwenlyn said, "Four days, three hours and some odd minutes--"

"True, " said Morgan. "Let's get at it. Captain Bors, have you ever heardof a lightning calculator--a person who can do complicated sums in hishead as fast as he can hear or read the numbers involved?"

"Yes, " said Bors. "It's quite phenomenal, I believe. "

"It's a form of genius, " said Morgan. "Only I call it a talent becauseit tends to make itself useless. Have you ever heard of a dowser?"

"If you mean a man who finds places for wells, and locates mines bymeans of a hazel twig--"

"The hazel twig is immaterial, " Morgan told him. "The point is thatyou've heard of them, and you know that they can actually do suchthings. Right?"

Bors frowned. "It's not proven, " he said. "At least I think it isn'tconsidered proven because it isn't understood. But I believe it'sconceded that such things are done. I believe, in fact, that dowsing hasbeen done on photographs and maps, in an office, and not on the spot atall. I admit that that seems impossible. But I'm told it happens. "

Morgan nodded rapidly, very well pleased. 

"One more. Have you heard of precognition?"

Bors nodded. Then he shrugged. 

"I have a Talent, " said Morgan. "I have a man in my employ with a talentfor precognizing when ships are going to arrive. His gift is strictlylimited. He used to work in a spaceport office. He always knew when aship was coming in. He didn't know how he knew. He doesn't know now. Buthe always knows when a ship will arrive at the planet where he is. "

"Interesting, " said Bors, only half listening. 

"He was discharged, " Morgan went on, "because he allowed a maintenancecrew to disassemble, for repair, a vital relay in a landing-grid on thevery day when three space-ships were scheduled for arrival. There waspandemonium, of course, because nothing could have landed there. So whenmy Talent let the relay be dismantled, with three ships expected. .. . Butone ship was one day late, another two days, and the third, four. Heknew it. He didn't know how, but he knew! He was discharged anyway. "

Bors did not answer. The cabinet meeting in the other room went on. 

"He told me, " said Morgan, matter-of-factly, "that four ships wouldarrive on Kandar, and when. One of them has arrived. The others willcome as predicted. He knows that a fleet will get here two days afterthe last of the four. One can guess it will be the Mekinese fleet. "

Bors frowned. He was interested now. 

"I've another Talent, " pursued Morgan. "He ought to be a paranoiac. Hehas all the tendencies to suspicion that a paranoid personality has. Buthis suspicions happen to be true. He'll read an item in a newspaper orwalk past, oh, say a bank. Darkly and suspiciously, he guesses that thenewspaper item will suggest a crime to someone. Or that someone willattempt to rob the bank in this fashion or that, at such-and-such atime. And someone does!"

"He'd be an uncomfortable companion, " Bors observed wryly. 

"I found him in jail, " said Morgan cheerfully. "He'd been warning thepolice of crimes to come. They happened. So the police jailed him anddemanded that he name his accomplices so they could break up thecriminal gang whose feats he knew in advance. I got him out of jail andhired him as a Talent in Talents, Incorporated. "

Bors blinked. 

"Before we landed here, " said Morgan, "I'd told him about the politicalsituation, the events you expect. He immediately suspected that theMekinese would have a ship down somewhere, to blast the fleet of Kandarif it should dare to resist. In fact, he said positively that such acruiser was waiting word to fire fusion-bombs. "

Bors blinked again. 

"And I spread out maps, " said Morgan, "and my dowser went over them--notwith a hazel twig, but something equally unscientific--his instinct--andhe assured me that the cruiser was under water five milesnorth-north-east magnetic from Cape Farnell. The map said the depththere was fifty fathoms. Then my paranoid Talent observed that there'dbe spies on shore with means to signal to the submerged cruiser. Mydowser then found a small shack on the map where a communicator to theship would be. With the information about the arrival of the liners, andthe facts about the cruiser--and I had other information too--I went tothe Ministry for Diplomatic Affairs and told you. As you know, theinformation I gave you was accurate. "

Bors felt as if he'd been hit over the head. This was ridiculous! He'dhunted for the space-cruiser under the sea because the prediction of theliner's arrival was so uncannily correct. He'd helped plan and carry outthe destruction of that warship because its existence and location wereverified by a magnetometer. But if he'd known how the information wasobtained, if he'd known it was guessed at by a discharged spaceportemployee, and a paranoid personality, and a man who used a hazel twig orsomething similar. .. . If he'd known that, he'd never have dreamed ofaccepting it. He'd have flatly dismissed the ship-arrival prediction!

But, if he hadn't trusted the information enough to check on it, why, the small space-fleet of Kandar would vanish in atomic flame when ittried to take off to fight. With it would vanish Bors, and his uncle, and the king and many resolute haters of Mekin. 

Gwenlyn said, "You're perfectly right, Captain. "

"What's that?" asked Bors, numbly. 

"It is stark-raving lunacy, " said Gwenlyn pleasantly. "Just like itwould have seemed stark-raving lunacy, once upon a time, to think ofpeople talking to each other when they were a thousand miles apart. Likeit seemed insane to talk about flying machines. And again when they saidthere could be a space-drive in which the reaction would be at a rightangle to the action, and especially when somebody said that a way wouldbe found to drive ships faster than light. It's lunacy, just like thosethings!"

"Y-yes, " agreed Bors, his thoughts crowding one another. "It's all ofthat!"

Morgan nodded his head rapidly. 

"I felt that way about it, " he observed, "when I first got the idea offinding and organizing Talents for practical purposes. But I said tomyself, 'Lots of great fortunes have been made by people assuming thatother people are idiots. ' In some ways they are, you know. And then Isaid to myself, 'Possibly a fortune can be made by somebody assumingthat _he_ is an idiot. ' So I assumed it was idiotic to doubt somethingthat visibly happened, merely because I couldn't understand it. AndTalents, Incorporated was born. It's done quite well. "

Bors shook his head as if to clear it. 

"It seems to have worked, " he admitted. "But if I'd known--" He spreadout his hands. "I'll play along! What more can you do for us?"

"I've no idea, " said Morgan placidly. "Such things have to workthemselves out, with a little prodding, of course. But one of my Talentssays the lightning-calculator Talent is the one who'll do you the mostgood soonest. I'd suggest--"

There was a murmur of voices from the cabinet room. The door opened andKing Humphrey came out. He looked baffled, which was not unusual. But helooked enraged, which was. 

"Bors!" he said thickly. "I've always thought I was a practical man! Butif being practical means what some members of my cabinet think, I wouldrather be a poet! Bors, do something before my cabinet dethrones me andtricks the fleet into disbanding!"

He stumbled across the room, not noticing Morgan or Gwenlyn. Bors cameto attention. 

"Majesty, " he said, not knowing whether he spoke in irony orbewilderment, "I take that as an order. "

The king did not answer. When the door on the other side of the roomclosed behind his unregal figure, Bors turned to Morgan. 

"I think I've been given authority, " he said in a sort of baffled calm. "Suppose we go, Mr. Morgan, and find out what your lightning calculatorcan do in the way of mental arithmetic, to change the situation of thekingdom?"

"Fine!" said Morgan cheerfully. "D'you know, Captain Bors, he can solvea three-body problem in his head? He hasn't the least idea how he doesit, but the answer always comes out right!" Then he said exuberantly, "He'll tell you something useful, though! That's Talents, Incorporatedinformation!"

Chapter 3

There was a fleet on the way to Kandar. It could not be said to betraveling in space, of course. If there had been an observer somewhere, he could not conceivably have detected the ships. There would be nooccultations of stars; no blotting out of any of the hundreds andthousands of millions of bright specks which filled all the firmament. There would be no drive-radiation which even the most sensitive ofinstruments could pick up. The fleet might be at one place to anobserver's right--where it was imperceptible--and then it might be at aplace to the observer's left--where it was undetectable--and nobodycould have told the difference. 

Actually, each ship of the Mekinese fleet was in overdrive, which meantthat each had stressed the space immediately around it so that it waslike a cocoon of other-space; as if it were out of this cosmosaltogether and in another. In sober fact, of course, nothing of the sorthad happened. An overdrive field changed the physical constants ofspace. The capacity of a condenser in an overdrive field was differentfrom that of a condenser out of it. The self-induction of a coil in anoverdrive field was not the same as in normal space. Magnetic andgravitational fields also did not follow the same laws in stressed spaceas in unstressed extension. The speed of light was different. Inertiawas different. In short, a ship could drive at many hundreds of timesthe velocity of light and the laws of Einstein did not apply, becausehis laws referred to space that men had not tampered with. 

But though ships in overdrive had to be considered as in motion, andthough their speed had to be considered as beyond the astronomical, there were such incredible distances to be covered that time piled up. Aside from double stars, there were no suns yet discovered which wereless than light-years apart. The time required for travel betweeninhabited planets was still comparable to the time needed forsurface-travel between continents on a world. So the fleet of Mekin, journeying faster than the mind could imagine, nevertheless drove anddrove and drove in the blackness and darkness and isolation of eachship's overdrive field. They had so driven for days. They would continueto do so for days to come. 

When Captain Bors burned the documents in the Ministry for DiplomaticAffairs, the enemy fleet might have been said to be at one place. When asubmerged space-cruiser, planning assassination, was itself blown tobits with no chance to strike back, the Mekinese fleet was approximatelysomewhere else. When a cabinet meeting disheartened King Humphrey, thefleet was much nearer to Kandar. But days of highly-tediouseventlessness were still ahead of the war-fleet. 

So Bors and Gwenlyn and Morgan got a ground-car and were driven toKandar's commercial spaceport. There they found the _Sylva_. It was farlarger than the usual space-yachts. There were commercial space-craftwhich were no larger. But it was a workmanlike sort of ship, at that. Ithad two lifeboat blisters, and there were emergency rockets for landingswhere no landing-grids existed. The armored bands of overdrive-coilshielding were massive. The _Sylva_, in fact, looked more like a serviceship than either a commercial vessel or a yacht. It was obviouslyunarmed, but it had the look of a craft that could go very nearlyanywhere. 

"You'll find the Talents a bit odd, " said Gwenlyn, as they drove upunder the hull's wide bulge. "When they meet new people they like toshow off. Most of them were pretty well frustrated before Father found ause for them. But they're quite pleasant people if you don't treat themlike freaks. They're not, you know. "

Bors had nothing to say. Until he was fifteen he'd lived on Tralee, which was then a quiet, pacific world, as Kandar had been. As the nephewof a monarch at least as resolutely constitutional as King Humphrey, he'd been raised in a very matter-of-fact fashion. The atmosphere hadbeen that of a comfortable, realistic adjustment to facts. He was taughta great respect for certain facts without being made fanatically opposedto anything else. He'd been trained to require reasonable evidencewithout demanding that all proofs come out of test tubes and electronicapparatus. He was specifically taught that arithmetic cannot be provedby experimental evidence, but that sound experimental evidence agreeswith arithmetic. So he was probably better qualified than most to dealwith something like Talents, Incorporated. But it was not easy for him. 

The ground-car stopped. An exit-port in the space yacht opened and anextension-stair came down. The three of them mounted it. The innerlock-door opened and they entered the _Sylva_. 

An incredibly fat woman regarded Bors with warm and sentimental eyes. Aman no older than Bors, but with prematurely gray hair, nodded at him. Aman in a chair lifted a hand in highly dignified greeting. Everyoneseemed to know who he was. There was a blonde woman who might be in herlate thirties, a short, scowling man with several jewelled rings on hisfingers, and a gangling, skinny adolescent. There were still others. 

Morgan addressed them with enthusiasm. "Ladies and gentlemen, " he said. "I present Captain Bors! He's come to arrange to use your talents in thegravest of all possible situations for his world!"

There were nods. There were bows. The dignified man in the chair saidconfidently, "The ship was where I specified. "

"Exactly!" said Morgan, beaming. "Exactly! A magnificent piece of work!Which is what I expected of you!"

He made individual introductions all around. Bors did not begin to catchthe names. This was so-and-so, said Morgan, "our Telepath. " Stillanother, "our ship-arrival Precognizer--he predicted the coming of theliner, you remember. " He came to the scowling man with rings. "CaptainBors, this is our Talent for Predicting Dirty Tricks. You've reason tothank him for disclosing that Mekinese cruiser underwater. "

Bors followed the lead given him. 

"There are many of us, " he said, "with reason to thank you for a mostsatisfying operation. We smashed that cruiser!"

The scowling man nodded portentously. The introductions went on. Theskinny adolescent was "our Talent for Locating Individuals. " Theenormously fat woman: "our Talent for Propaganda. "

Bors was confused. He had to steel himself not to decide flatly that allthis was nonsense. Morgan and Gwenlyn took him away from what appearedlike a sort of social hall for these externally commonplace persons. 

They arrived at a smaller compartment. It was a much more personal sortof place. Morgan waved his hand. 

"Gwenlyn and I live here, " he observed. "Our cabins are yonder and youmight call this our family room. Gwenlyn finds the undiluted society ofTalents a bit wearing. Of course, handling them is my profession, thoughI have some plans for retirement. We'll see our Mathematics Talent in aminute or two. He knows it's expected that he'll be the most useful ofall our Talents at the moment. He will make an entrance. "

Gwenlyn sat down. She regarded Bors with amusement. 

"I think the Captain's halfway unconvinced again, Father. "

"I'm not unconvinced, " said Bors grimly. "I'm desperate. It's not easyeither to ignore what's happened or to believe that it will continue. And I--well--if the Mekinese fleet does arrive, I don't want to missgoing with our fleet to meet it. "

"You won't miss anything, Captain, " said Morgan happily. "Have a cigar. Gwenlyn, do you think I should--"

"Let me, " said Gwenlyn. "I know how the Captain feels. I'm an outsider, too. I haven't any talent--fortunately! Sit down, Captain. "

Bors seated himself. Morgan offered a cigar. He seemed too impatient andmuch too pleased to be able to sit down himself. Bors lighted thecigar; at the first puff he removed it and looked at it respectfully. Such cigars were not easy to come by. 

"I think, " said Gwenlyn amiably, "that Father himself has a talent, which makes him not too easy to get along with. But it has had some goodresults. I hope it will have more here. The whole business isunbelievable, though, unless you think of some very special facts. "

Bors nodded. He puffed again and waited. 

"He told you some of it, " said Gwenlyn. "About the ship arrival Talentand the dowser. There've always been such people with gifts thatnobody's ever understood, but that are real. Only they've always beenconsidered freaks. They feel that they're remarkable--and they are--andthey want people to recognize this. But they've never had a function insociety. They've been _denied_ all function. Take the MathematicalTalent! He can do any sort of mathematics in his head. Any sort! He usedto hire out to work computers, and he always got discharged because hedid the computations in his head instead of using the machines. He wasalways right, and he was proud of his ability. He wanted to use it! Butnobody'd let him. He was a miserable misfit until Father found him andhired him. "

Bors nodded again, but his forehead wrinkled. 

"Talents, Incorporated is merely an organization, created by my father, to make use of people who can do things ordinarily impossible, andprobably unexplainable, but which exist nevertheless. There are moretalents than Father has gathered, of course. But what good are theirgifts to them? No good at all! They're considered freaks. So Fathergathered them together as he found them. First, of course, he neededcapital. So he used them to make money. Then he began to do usefulthings with them, since nobody else did. Now he's brought them here tohelp. "

Bors said painfully, "They don't all have the same gift. "

"No, " agreed Gwenlyn. 

"And there are limits to their talents?"

"Naturally!"

Morgan broke in, amused. "Gwenlyn insists that I have the talent offinding and using talents. "

"A mild talent, Father, " said Gwenlyn. "Not enough to make yourevolting. But--"

A door opened. A tweedy man with a small mustache stood in the doorway. 

"I believe I'm wanted?" he said offhandedly. 

Morgan introduced him. His name was Logan. He was the lightningcalculator, the mathematical talent of Talents, Incorporated. Bors shookhis hand. The tweedy man sat down. He drew out a pipe and began to fillit with conscious exactitude. He looked remarkably like a professor ofmathematics who modestly pretended to be just another commuter. Hedressed the part: slightly untidy hair; bulldog pipe; casual, expensivesports shoes. 

"I understand, " he said negligently, "that you want some calculationsmade. "

"I'm told I do, " said Bors, harassedly. "But I don't know what theyare. "

"Then how can I make them?" asked Logan with lifted eyebrows. 

"Naturally, " said Morgan, "you'll find out the kind of calculations heneeds, that he can't get anywhere else. That'll be the kind he needsfrom you. "

"Hm, " said Logan. He blew a smoke-ring, thoughtfully. "Where do you usecalculations in space-travel?"

"Everywhere, " said Bors. "But we've computers for it. And they're quiteadequate. "

Logan shrugged. "Then what do you need me for?"

"You tell me!" said Bors, nettled. "Certainly we don't need calculationsfor space-travel. We've no long journey in mind. We're simply going togo out and do some fighting when the Mekinese fleet gets here. "

Logan blew another smoke-ring. 

"What calculations do you use in space-fighting?"

"Courses and distances, " said Bors. He could see no sense in this, buthe went on. "Allowing for acceleration and deceleration in setting ourmissiles on targets. Allowing for the motion of the targets. Again wehave computers for this. In practice they're too good! If we send amissile at a Mekinese ship, they set a computer on it, and it computes acourse for a counter-missile which explodes and destroys our missilewhen it's within a certain distance of it. "

"Then your missile doesn't hit, " said Logan. 

"All too often, it doesn't, " admitted Bors. 

"Then their missiles don't hit either. "

"If they send a hundred missiles at us, they're cancelled out if we senda hundred to destroy them. Unfortunately, if they send more than we cancounter, we get wiped out. "

Bors found his throat going dry. This, of course, was what he'ddesperately been denying to himself. It was the fundamental reason for atotal lack of hope. The history of warfare is the history of rivalrybetween attack and defense. In the matter of missiles in space, therewas a stalemate. One missile fired in attack could always be destroyedby another fired in defense. It was an arithmetic balance. But it meantthat three ships could always destroy two, and four ships three. In thespace-fight ahead, there would be at least ten Mekinese ships to everyone from Kandar. The sally of Kandar's fleet would not be a rush intobattle, but an advance into annihilation. "What we need, " said Borsdesperately, "is a means to compute courses for our missiles so they'llhit, and that the enemy can't counter-compute--so that his missilescan't compute how to change course in order to cancel ours out. "

He was astonished as the words left his mouth. This was what was needed, of course. But then he realized that it couldn't be done. 

Logan blew a smoke-ring. 

"Mechanical computers, " he said, "have limits. They're designed tocalculate a trajectory with constant acceleration or no acceleration. But that's all. "

Bors frowned. "What else could there be?"

"Changing acceleration, " said Logan condescendingly. "A mechanicalcomputer can't compute that. But I can. "

Bors continued to frown. One part of his mind assured him that thestatement that mechanical computers could not calculate trajectories ofmissiles with changing acceleration was incorrect. But the rest of hismind tried to imagine such a trajectory. He couldn't. In practice, mendo not have to handle the results of variable acceleration as cumulativeeffects. 

"I think, " said Bors carefully, "that if you can do that--"

Logan blew a smoke-ring more perfect than any that had gone before. 

"I'll calculate some tables, " he said modestly. "You can use them onyour computer-results. Then if you arrange your missiles to change theiracceleration as they go, the Mekinese missiles can't intercept them. "

He waved his hand with the grand air of someone assuring a grammar-gradepupil that multiplication tables were quite reliable and could be usedwith confidence. But his eyes fixed themselves on Bors's face. As theCaptain realized the implications of his statement, the eyes of theMathematical Talent of Talents, Incorporated shone with gratifiedvanity. 

"We'll go out in a couple of tin cans, " said Bors fiercely, "and trythis out with dummy warheads!"

Gwenlyn said quickly, "Marvelous! Marvelous, Logan!"

"It's nothing, " said Logan modestly. 

But it was a very great deal. Bors, impatient to try it out, nevertheless realized that Logan hadn't made the suggestion out of abrilliant perception of a solution to a problem in ballistics, butbecause he thought in terms of mathematical processes. He didn't thinkof a new missile operation, but a new kind of computation. And hereveled in the fact that he had showed off his brilliance. 

In the ground-car on the way to the fleet, Bors said helplessly toGwenlyn, "I'm not the right man to be the liaison with you people. Butthis might make us a pretty costly conquest for Mekin! With luck, we maytrade them ship for ship! They won't miss the ships they lose, butit'll be a lot of satisfaction to us!"

"You expect to be killed, " Gwenlyn said flatly. 

"My uncle, " explained Bors, "considers that he should have gotten killedwhen Mekin took over Tralee. It would have set a good example. Since wedidn't do it for Tralee, we'll do it for Kandar. The king's going alongtoo. After all, that's one of the things kings are for. "

"To get killed?"

"When necessary, " Bors told her. "Kandar shouldn't surrender even thoughthere will be at least ten Mekinese to one Kandarian. "

She smiled at him, very oddly. 

"I suspect, " she said, "that not everybody on the fleet will be killed. I'm sure of it. In fact, as my father would say, that's Talents, Incorporated information!"

Bors frowned worriedly. 

The fleet of Mekin continued in overdrive, heading for Kandar. Eachsecond it traversed a distance equal to the span of a solar system, outto its remotest planet. A heartbeat that would begin where a pulsingCepheid, had it been possible to see, would have seemed at its greatestbrilliance, and would end where the light from that same giant starseemed dimmed almost to extinction. Of course no such observation couldbe made from any ship in overdrive. Each one of the many, many uglywar-machines was sealed in its own cocoon of overdrive-stressed space. Even in the armed transports that carried officials and bureaucrats andexperienced police organizers to set up a puppet government on Kandar, there was not the faintest hint of anything that happened outside theindividual ship. But, what might be termed the position of the fleet, changed with remarkable swiftness. It traveled light-hours betweenbreaths. Light-days between sentences. Light-months and light-years. .. . 

But it would not arrive on Kandar for a long while yet. Not for threewhole days. 

Chapter 4

The small fighting ship lifted swiftly from the surface of Kandar. As itrose, the sky turned dark and the sun's brilliant disk, far too brightto be looked at with unshielded eyes, became a blazing furnace thatcould roast unshielded flesh. Stars appeared, shining myriads despitethe sun, with every one vivid against a background of black. Theplanet's surface became a half-ball, of which a part lay in darkness. 

"_Co-o-ntact!_" said a voice through many speakers placed throughout thefighting ship's hull. 

There was the rushing sound of compartment doors closing. Then acushioned silence everywhere, save for the faint, standby scratchingsounds that loudspeakers always emit. 

Screens lighted. A speck moved among the stars. 

"_Prepare counter-missiles_, " said the voice. "_Proximity and track. Fire only as missiles appear. _"

The moving speck flamed and was again only a moving speck. It ejectedsomething which hurtled toward the ship just up from Kandar. 

"_Intercept one away!_" said a confident voice. 

The last-launched missile fled toward the first moving speck, diminishing as it went. It swung suddenly, off course. 

"_Fire two!_" snapped somebody somewhere. 

Another object hurtled away toward the stars. 

"_Fire three! Fire four!_"

Far away, something came plunging toward the ship. It did not travel ina straight line. It curved. It was not reasonable for a missile totravel in a curved line. The interceptor missiles had to detect it, swing to intercept, to accelerate furiously. The first interceptormissed. Worse, it had lost its target. It went wandering vaguely amongthe stars and was gone. 

The second missed. The voice in the speaker seemed to crack. 

"_Fire all missiles! They're turning too late! Pull 'em up ahead of thedamned thing!_"

The deadly contrivances plunged away and further away into emptiness. The third interceptor missed. The fourth. Tiny specks moved gracefullyon the radar screen. There was something coming toward the ship that hadrisen from Kandar. The tracer-trails of missiles appeared against thestars. They made very pretty parabolas. That was all. The thing that wascoming left a tracer-trail too. It curved preposterously. The just-risenship furiously flung missiles at it. It did not dodge. But none of thetracer-trails intersected its own. All of them passed to its rear. 

For the fraction of a second it was visible as an object instead of aspeck. That object swelled. 

It went by. Bors's voice, relayed, said, "_Coup! You're out of action. Right?_"

The skipper of the ship just up from Kandar said grudgingly, "Hell, yes!We threw fifteen missiles at it, and missed with every one! This ismagic! Can we all have this before the Mekinese get here?"

"_I hope so_, " said Bors's voice. "_We're trying hard, anyhow. Will youreport to ground?_"

"_Right_, " said the speakers in the ship which had just fired fifteenmissiles without a hit or interception. "_Off. _"

And then the compartment doors opened again and the normal sounds of asmall fighting ship in space began again. 

An hour later, aground, Bors said impatiently, "Half a dozen ships havechecked out with me. I sent a single dummy-warhead missile at each one. They knew I was trying something new. They tried interceptors. Not oneworked. Worse, my missiles drew the interceptors off-course so they losttheir original aim on the _Isis_. Missiles set for variable accelerationnot only can't be intercepted but they draw interceptors off-course andare super-interceptors themselves. I fired one dummy warhead at eachtarget-ship. I got six hits with six missiles. They fired an average oftwelve missiles against each of mine. They got no intercepts or hitswith seventy-two tries! This appears to me a very gratifying developmentfor the situation we're in. "

The bearded man who'd plumped for negotiation, earlier, now spokeindignantly in the War Council. 

"Why wasn't this revealed earlier? We could have made a demonstrationand Mekin would have been wary of issuing an ultimatum! Why was thisconcealed until it was too late to use in negotiations with them?"

"It wasn't available until today, " Bors answered. "It was tried, and itworked. "

An admiral said slowly, "As I understand it, this is a proposal ofthe--hm--Talents, Incorporated people. "

"No, " said Bors. "We got the idea but couldn't do the math. Talents, Incorporated did the computations to make the missiles hit. "

"Why? Why let them do the math? There may be a counter to this device. Perhaps Talents, Incorporated, was sent to us to get us to adopt thisfreakish trick. "

"Talents, Incorporated, " said Bors, "enabled us to smash a submergedMekinese cruiser. In giving us the necessary information, Talents, Incorporated kept the Mekinese from wiping out our space-fleet. Talents, Incorporated-- Oh, the devil!"

The admiral gazed about him. 

"This--device, " he said precisely, "is not a tried and standard weapon. On the other hand, the sally of our fleet is not war. Because of ourcivilian population we cannot make war on Mekin! The defiance of ourfleet will be a gesture only--a splendid gesture, but no more. It shouldbe a dignified gesture. It would be most inappropriate for our fleet totake to space, ostensibly to say that it prefers death to surrender, andfor it then to unveil a new and eccentric device which would say thatthe fleet was foolish enough to hope that a gadget would save it fromdying and Kandar from conquest. The fleet action should be fought withscorn of odds. It should end its existence in a manner worthy of itstraditions!"

Bors exploded, "Damnit--"

King Humphrey held up his hand and said fretfully, "As I remember it, Admiral, you have been assigned to hold together the defenseforces--those who either did not insist on going with the fleet, or forwhom there was no room--who have to be surrendered. You talk ofgestures. But the young men who will go out in the fleet are not goingthere to make gestures! They simply and furiously hate Mekin for what itis about to do. They are going out to kill as many Mekinese as they canbefore they, themselves, are killed. They would call your speechnonsense. And I would agree with them. "

Bors said respectfully, "Yes, Majesty. It may also be said that copiesof the first Talents, Incorporated launching-data tables have alreadybeen distributed to the missile crews throughout the fleet. More arebeing distributed as fast as Logan calculates them. I don't think youcan keep our ships from trying the new missiles when the fightingstarts!"

Indignantly, the bearded man said, "I protest! This is a War Council! Ifthe council is to be lectured by strangers and if its orders won't beobeyed, why hold it?"

"Why, indeed?" King Humphrey looked sternly about the council-table. Sternness did not become him, but dignity did. He said with dignity, "You who are to stay here have to think of dealing with a victoriousMekin. We who are to go have to think of making our defeat count. Thereis no point in further discussion. The fleet will take off immediately. "

He rose from his seat. The bearded man protested, "But the Mekinesearen't here yet! They won't arrive until day after tomorrow!"

"You're using Talents, Incorporated information, " objected Bors. "And itis wise for the fleet to move off-planet at once! You are reasonablemen. Too reasonable! Nothing can destroy a nation so quickly as for itto fall into the hands of practical, hard-headed, reasonable men who actupon the best scientific data and the opinions of the best experts! Thathappened on Tralee, and my uncle and myself are exiles and Tralee issubjugated in consequence. But I am beginning to have hope for Kandar!"

He followed King Humphrey out of the council-room. Fleet admiralsbrought up the rear. The stodgy, dumpy figure of the king trampedonward. It became obvious that he was bound for the ground-cars thatwaited to take him and those who would follow him to the launching areaof the fleet. 

A lean, gray, vice-admiral fell into step beside Bors. 

"You don't think things are hopeless, Captain?" he asked curiously. "Idon't see the shred of a chance for us. But my whole life's been in thefleet. Under Mekin I'd be drafted to work in a factory or serve as anunder-officer on a guard-ship, one or the other! I'd rather end in agood fight. How can you have hope?"

Bors said grimly, "I'm not sure that I have. But I can't believe thatnations can be saved by reasonable, practical men. They aren't made bythem! I've no hope except that acting foolishly may be wisdom. Sometimesit is. "

"Ha!" The vice-admiral grinned wryly. "But fortunes are made bybusinessmen, and only history by heroes. No sensible man is ever a hero. But, like you, I don't like practical men. "

They went out-of-doors. The king climbed sturdily into a ground-car. Ithummed away. There was a sort of ordered confusion, and then otherground-cars began to stream away from the palace. 

Morgan appeared and waved to Bors. He hesitated, and Morgan pointed toan unofficial vehicle. Inside, Gwenlyn was smiling cheerfully at Bors. He found himself returning the smile, and allowed himself to be guidedto her. The ground-car rolled swiftly after the others. 

"I've a little more Talents, Incorporated information, " said Morgan. "It's written down for you to read when you get to wherever you'regoing. It's rather important. Please be sure to read it fairly soon, itmay affect the fight. "

"I'm headed for the fleet, " said Bors. "Take me there, will you? Iwanted to say something before I left, anyhow. "

Morgan waved his hand. 

"I can guess, " he said blandly. "Deepest gratitude and all that, but therush of events blocked any way to arrange a suitable recompense for whatTalents, Incorporated has done. "

Bors blinked. "That's the substance of what I meant to say, " headmitted. 

"We'll take it up later, " Morgan told him. "We'll get in touch with youafter the battle. "

"I doubt it, " said Bors. "I'm not likely to be around. "

Gwenlyn laughed a little. 

"What's so amusing?" asked Bors. "I don't mean to strike an attitude, but I do hate everything Mekin stands for, and I've a chance to throw abrick at it. The price may be high but throwing the brick is necessary!"

"We, " said Gwenlyn, "have Talents, Incorporated information, some ofwhich is in that letter Father gave you. Our Department for PredictingDirty Tricks has been busy. You'll see. But we've other information, too. "

Bors frowned at her. He put the letter away. 

"More information--and you'll see me after the fight. You're not tellingme you know the future?"

Morgan waved a cigar. 

"Of course not! That's nonsense! If one knew the future, one couldchange it, and then it wouldn't be what one knew! You haven't had anyprophecies from me! Prophecy's absurd! All we've told you is aboutevents whose probability approaches unity. "

"But--"

"What Father means, " Gwenlyn told him, "is that you can't be toldbeforehand about anything you can prevent, because if you can prevent ityou can make your knowledge false. So it isn't knowledge. What we wantto say, though, is that we aren't through. "

"Why not?"

"I'm going to retire, " said Morgan blandly. "But I want to do somethingfirst that I can gloat over later. "

"He wants, " added Gwenlyn, "to repose in the satisfaction of hisvanity. " She laughed again at her father's expression. 

"Seriously, Captain, we wanted to give you the letter and to ask you notto be surprised if we turn up somewhere. There's a Talent, " she added, "a young boy who can find people. He doesn't know how he does it, but. .. . We'll find you!"

The ground-car turned in at the fleet's take-off ground. The normalinterstellar traffic of a planet, of course, was handled by a spaceport, with ships brought down to ground and lifted out to space again by theforce-fields generated in a giant landing-grid. But a war-fleet couldnot depend solely on ground installations. The fighting ships of Kandarwere allowed to use the planet's spaceport only for special reasons. Emergency rocket take-offs and landings were necessary training for warconditions anyhow. So the take-off ground was pitted and scarred withburnt-over circles, where no living thing grew and where very often theclay beneath the humus top-layer was vitrified by rocket-flames. 

A guard at the gate brought the ground-car to a halt. 

"War alert, " said Bors. "Only known officers and men admitted here. It'snot worth arguing about. "

He got out of the car and shook hands. 

"I still regret, " he told Morgan, "that we've had no chance to dosomething in return for the information you've given us. " To Gwenlyn hesaid obscurely, "I'm glad I didn't know you sooner. "

He turned and walked briskly into the fenced-off area. Behind him, Morgan looked inquisitively at his daughter. 

"What was that he just said?"

"He's glad he didn't know me sooner, " said Gwenlyn. She looked smuglypleased. "Considering everything, it was a very nice thing to say. Ilike him even if he doesn't smile. "

Morgan did not seem enlightened. "It doesn't make sense to me. "

"That's because you are my father, " said Gwenlyn. She stirredrestlessly. She was no longer smiling. "I hope Talents, Incorporatedinformation isn't wrong this time! Remember, we heard on Norden that thedictator of Mekin consults fortune-tellers!"

"Ah!" said her father. "But they're only fortune-tellers!"

"One could be a Talent, " said Gwenlyn worriedly, "maybe without evenknowing it. "

There came a far-distant, roaring sound. Something silvery andglistening rose swiftly toward the sky. It dwindled to a speck. Therewere more roarings. Three more silvery, glistening objects flungthemselves heavenward, leaving massive trails of seemingly solid smokebehind them. Then there were bellowings. Larger ships rose up. As thedin of their rising began to diminish, there were louder, boominguproars and other silvery objects seemed to fling themselves toward thesky. 

Then thunder rolled, and huge shapes plunged in their turn toward theheavens. The space-fleet of Kandar left its native world. It departed inthe formation used for space maneuvering, much like the tacticaldisposition of a column of marching soldiers in doubtful territory. There was a "point" in advance of all the rest, to be the first todetect or be fired on by an enemy. Then flankers reached straight out, and to the right and left, and then an advance-guard, and then the mainforce with a rear-guard behind it. 

The take-off area became invisible under a monstrous, roiling mountainof smoke, from which threads of vapor reached to emptiness. It becameimpossible to hear oneself talk; it was unlikely that one could haveheard a shot, as the heavy ships took off. But presently there were onlylesser clamors and then mere roarings after them, and the last of therocket-boomings died away. The smoke remained, rolling very slowlyaside. Then there were unexpected detonations. As the rocket-fume mistdissolved, the detonations were explained. Every building in the fleet'shome area, the sunken fuel-tanks, the giant rolling gantries--every bitof ground equipment for the servicing of the fleet was methodically andcarefully being blown to bits. The fleet was not expected back. 

The ships rose above the atmosphere, and rose still higher, and theplanet Kandar became a gigantic ball which filled an enormous part ofthe firmament. Then there were cracklings of communicators, and ordersflittered through emptiness in scrambled and re-scrambled broadcasts ofgibberish which came out as lucid commands in the control-rooms of theships. Then, first, the point, then the advanced flankers, and then themain fleet, line by line and rank by rank--every ship drove on outwardunder top-speed solar-system drive. 

The last of the four chartered space-liners, come to take refugees awaybefore the Mekinese arrived, saw the disappearance of the ships in therear of the fleet's formation. The liner was lowered to the ground bythe landing-grid. It reported what it had seen. Those who were entitledto depart on it crowded aboard. With the fleet gone, panic began. 

Morgan had to spend lavishly to get copies of the news reports that theliner had brought along as a matter of course. He took them back to the_Sylva_, where a frowning man with rings on his fingers read them withdark suspicion. Presently, triumphantly, he dictated predictions ofdirty tricks from indications in the news. 

Morgan returned to what he'd called the family room of the yacht. Herelaxed. Gwenlyn tried to read. She did not succeed. She was excessivelynervous. 

Bors was not. The fleet re-formed itself well out from Kandar. It madefor a rendezvous over a pole of the gas-giant planet which was thefourth planet from Kandar's sun. It was almost, but not quite in linewith that yellow star toward the base, from which the Mekinese flotillawould come. The fleet went into a polar orbit around that giganticplanet, which was useless to mankind because its atmosphere was partlygaseous ammonia and partly methane. 

The cosmos paid no attention. An unstable sol-type star in Cygnuscollapsed abruptly and a number of otherwise promising planets becameunfit for human exploitation. In Andromeda, a super-nova flared. Thelight of its explosion would not reach Kandar for very many thousands ofyears. The largest comet in the galaxy reached perihelion, andpractically outshone the sun it circled. Nobody saw it, because nobodylived there. On a dreary, red-sky planet in Mousset, a thing squirmedheavily out of a stagnant sea and blinked stupidly at the remarkableabove-water cosmos it had discovered. Suns flamed and spouted flares. Small dark stars became an infinitesimal fraction of a degree colder. There was a magnetic storm in the photosphere of a sun which was notsupposed to have such things. 

The war-fleet of Kandar, in very fine formation, flowed in its polarorbit around the fourth planet out from Kandar's sun. In carefullyscrambled and re-scrambled communications, certain ships were authorizedto modify the settings of Mark 13 missiles in this exact fashion, toremove their warheads, and to diverge in pairs from the fleet proper. They were to familiarize themselves with the results of making theacceleration of such missiles variable during flight. They would use thesupplied data-tables to compute firing constants for given ranges andrelative speeds. They would, of course, return to formation to permitother ships the same practice with the new method of missile handling. 

Bors read the letter from Talents, Incorporated. It gave an exact timefor the breakout of the Mekinese fleet. The rest consisted mostly ofspecific warnings from the Talents, Incorporated Department forPredicting Dirty Tricks. It listed certain things to be looked for amongthe ships of the fleet. The information was like the news of an enemyship aground on Kandar; it was self-evidently plausible once one thoughtof it. Mekin was ruled and its military practices governed by men withthe instincts of conspirators, using other men with thepsychopathological impulses which make for spies. They thought ofdevices neither statesmen nor fighting men would have invented. But aparanoid Talent could think of them, and know that they were true. 

As a result of the warnings, the flagship was found to have been somehowequipped, by Mekin, with a tiny, special microwave transmitter whichused a frequency not usual on Kandar. It was, in effect, a radio beaconon which enemy missiles could home. Also, the lead ship of acruiser-squadron had been mysteriously geared to reveal its exactposition, course and speed while in space. There were other concealeddevices. Some would make the controls of predetermined ships uselesswhen beams of specific frequency and form were trained upon them. 

Once the basic idea was discovered, it was possible to make sure thatall such enemy-supplied equipment was out of operation. The fleet wasstill in no promising situation, with a ten-to-one disadvantage. But itcould not have put up even the beginning of a fight, had thesespy-installed devices remained undiscovered. 

Bors said carefully, by scrambled and re-scrambled communicator, "Majesty, I'm beginning to be less than despairing. If they expect ourships either to have been destroyed aground, or to be made helpless theinstant combat begins, we may give them a shock. We hoped to smash themship for ship. Finding out their tricks in advance may give us that! Andif our missiles work as they've promised, we may get two for one!"

King Humphrey's voice was dogged. "_I will settle for anything butsurrender! From an honorable enemy I would take severe terms rather thansee my spacemen die. But I would do nobody any good by yielding toMekin!_"

Bors clicked off. He looked at a clock. The prediction from Talents, Incorporated was that the Mekinese fleet would break out of overdrive at11. 19 hours astronomical time. 

He went over his ship. His crew was by no means depressed. There hadbeen a terrific lift in spirits when dummy-warheaded missiles madetheoretic hits, though fifteen interceptors tried to stop them. Thecrewmen now tended elaborately to explain the process. A part of thetrick was the curved path along which the re-set missiles flashed. Suchcourses alone could never be computed by an unwarned enemy under battleconditions. But the all-important thing was that the missiles changedtheir acceleration as they drove. That couldn't be solved and thesolution put into practice during one fleet-action. Once the enemy hadexperienced it, they could later duplicate it without doubt, but itwould still be impossible to counter. 

So Bors's men were cheerful to the point of gaiety. They would fightmagnificently because they were thinking of what they would do to theenemy instead of what the enemy might do to them. If enemy crews hadbeen assured that the fleet was half defeated before the fight began, tofind the fleet not crippled by spy-set devices would be startling. Tofind them fighting like fiends would be alarming. And if--Bors grimlyrepeated to himself, _if_--the modified missiles worked as well inbattle as in target practice. .. . 

He turned in and, despite his tensions, fell asleep immediately andslept soundly. When he awoke he felt curiously relaxed. It took him amoment to realize he had dreamed about Gwenlyn. He couldn't rememberwhat he had dreamed, but he knew it was comfortable and good. Hewouldn't let himself dwell on it, however. There was work to be done. 

It was singularly like morning on a planet. The ship was spotless, immaculate. There was the fresh smell of growing things in the air. Tosave tanked oxygen the air-room used vegetation to absorb CO{2} andexcess moisture from the breathing of the crew. There was room to spareeverywhere, because unlike aircraft and surface ships, the size of aspace-ship made no difference in its speed. There was no resistance dueto size. Only the mass counted. So there was spaciousness and freshnessand something close to elation on Bors's ship on the day it was to fightfor the high satisfaction of getting killed. 

Bors saw to it that his men breakfasted heartily. 

"We've got a party ahead, " he told the watch at mess. "Eat plenty butgive the other watch a chance to fill up, too. "

Somebody said cheerfully, "The condemned men ate a hearty breakfast, sir?"

Bors grinned. 

"The breakfast we can be sure of. The condemned part--we'll havesomething to say about that. Some Mekinese wouldn't have good appetitesif they knew what's ahead of them. One word! Don't waste missiles! Thereare a lot of Mekin ships. We've got to make each missile count!"

There was laughter. He went to the control room. He checked with theclock. Shortly after the other watch was back at its stations hecalculated carefully. The enemy fleet would break out of overdriveshort of Kandar, of course. It would have broken out once before, tocorrect its line and estimate the distance to its destination. It wouldhave assembled itself at that breakout point, but it would still arrivein a disorderly mob. One's point of arrival could not be too closelyfigured at the high speeds of overdrive. So when the Mekinese came, theywould not be in formation. 

Bors called the flagship, when the gas-giant planet was in line and abarrier against the radio waves. King Humphrey's voice came from thespeaker by Bors's side. 

"_Bors? What?_"

"Majesty, " said Bors. "Talents, Incorporated says the enemy fleet willbreak out of overdrive in just about ten minutes. We're out here waitingfor it, instead of aground as they'll expect. They'll break out incomplete confusion. Even with great luck, they'll lose time assemblinginto combat formation. Being out here, we may be able to hit them beforethey're organized. "

A pause. 

"_I've been discussing tactics with the high command_, " said the king'svoice. "_There's some dispute. The classic tactic is to try forenglobement. _"

"I want to point out, Majesty, " Bors interrupted urgently, "that when wecross the north pole again, we're apt to detect the fleet signallingfrantically to itself, sorting itself out, trying to get into some sortof order. It'll be stirred up as if with a spoon. But if we come aroundthe planet's pole--and they don't expect us to be out here waiting forthem--we'll be in combat-ready formation. We may be able to tear intothem as an organized unit before they can begin to co-operate with eachother. "

A longer pause. Then King Humphrey said grimly;

"_There is one weak point in your proposal, Bors. Only one. It is thatTalents, Incorporated may be wrong about the time of breakout. The moreI think, the less I believe in what they have done, or even what I saw!But we'll be prepared, however unlikely your idea. We'll be ready. _"

He clicked off. Only minutes later, the combat-alert order came through. In the next ten minutes, Bors's ship hummed for five, was quiet forthree, and then, two minutes early, all inner compartment doors closedquietly and there was that muffled stillness which meant that everybodywas ready for anything that might happen. 

In the control room, Bors watched out of a direct-vision port, givingoccasional glances to the screens. There were flecks of light frominnumerable stars. Then the shining cloud-bank of the gas-giant planetwent black. Screens showed all of the fleet--each blip with a nimbusabout it which identified it as a friend, not a foe. There was the blipof the leading ship, the "point" of the formation. There were theflanking ships and all the martial array of the fleet. 

Then the screens sparkled with seemingly hundreds of blips which seemedto swirl and spin and whirl again in total and disordered confusion. 

Gongs clanged. A voice said, "_Co-o-ntact! Enemy fleet ahead. Widedispersion. They're milling about like gnats on a sunny day!_"

A curt and authoritative and well-recognized voice snapped, "_All shipskeep formation on flagship. Course coordinates. .. . _" The voice gavethem. "_There's a clump of enemy ships beginning to organize! We hitthem!_"

The fleet of Kandar came around the gas-giant world and flung itself atthe fleet of Mekin. It seemed that everything was subject to intolerabledelay. For long, sweating, unbearable minutes nothing happened exceptthat the fleet of Kandar went hurtling through space with no sensationor direct evidence of motion. The gas-giant planet dwindled, but notvery fast. The bright specks on the screens which were enemy shipsseemed to separate as they drew nearer. But all happened with infiniteand infuriating deliberation. 

It was worth waiting for. There was truly a clumping of enemy shipsahead. Some of them were less than ten miles apart. In atwo-hundred-mile sphere there were forty ships. They'd been moving toconsolidate themselves into a mutually assisting group. What theyaccomplished was the provision of a fine accumulation of targets. Beforethey could organize themselves, the Kandarian fleet swept through them. It vastly outnumbered them in this area. 

It smashed them. Bombs flashed in emptiness. There were gas-clouds andsmoke-clouds which stayed behind in space as the fleet went on. 

"_New coordinates_, " said the familiar authoritative voice. It gavethem. "_There's another enemy condensation. We hit it!_"

The fleet swung in space. It drove on and on and on. Interminable timepassed. Then there were flashes brighter than the stars. A Kandarcruiser blew up soundlessly. But far, far away other things detonated, and what had been proud structures of steel and beryllium, armed andmanned, became mere incandescent vapor. 

A third clumping of Mekinese ships. The Kandarian fleet overwhelmed it;overrode it; used exactly the tactics the Mekinese might have used. Itruthlessly made use of its local, concentrated strength. It wasoutnumbered in the whole battle area by not less than ten to one. Butthe Mekinese fleet was scattered. Where it struck, the Kandarian fleetwas four and five, and sometimes twenty, ships to one. 

It was a smaller fleet in every class of ships, but it was compact andcontrolled and it made slashing plunges through the dispersed andconfused enemy. With ordinary missiles three ships could always destroytwo, and four could destroy three. But in the battle of the gas-giantplanet, where there was fighting the Kandarians were never less than twoto one. They were surrounded by enemies, but when those enemies tried togather together for strength, the mass of murderously-fighting ships ofKandar swung upon the incipient group and blasted it. 

Nearly half the Mekinese fleet was out of action before Bors's shipfired a single missile. He'd sat in the skipper's chair, and from timeto time, the course of all the fleet was changed, and he saw that hisship kept its place rigidly in formation. But he had given not one orderout of routine before the enemy strength was half gone. Then thecommunicator said coldly:

"_All ships attention! With old-style missiles we could do everythingwe've accomplished so far. But the Mekinese are refusing battle now. They'll begin to slip away in overdrive if we keep chopping them down ingroups. We have to give them a chance or they'll run away. The newmissile system works perfectly. All ships break formation. Find your ownMekinese. Blast them!_"

Bors said in a conversational voice, "There are three Mekin shipsyonder. They look like they're willing to start something. We'll takethem on. "

He pointed carefully to a spot on the screen. His small ship swung awayfrom the rest of the fleet. It plunged toward a battleship and two heavycruisers who had joined forces and appeared to attempt to rally thestill-stronger-than-Kandar invaders. 

They became objects rather than specks upon the screens. They werevisible things on the direct-vision ports. Something flashed, and rushedtoward the little Kandarian space-can. 

"Fire one, two, three, " Bors ordered. 

Things hurtled on before him. A screen showed that the missiles firstfired by the enemy went off-course, chasing the later-fired missilesfrom the _Isis_. The Mekinese shots had automatically becomeinterceptors when Kandarian missiles attacked their parent ships. Butthey couldn't anticipate a curved course and their built-in computersweren't designed to handle a rate of change of acceleration. The threeMekinese ships ceased to exist. 

"Let's head yonder, " said Bors. 

He pointed again, on the screen. Within the radar's range there werehundreds of tiny blips. Some were marked with a nimbus apiece. They werefriends. Many, many more were not. 

The Mekinese fleet, too, could determine its own numbers in comparisonto the defending fleet. Pride and rage swept through Mekinesecommanders, as they saw the Kandarians deliberately break up theirformation to get their ships down to the level of the enemy. It wasunthinkable for a Mekinese ship to refuse single combat! And when twoand three could combine against a single ship of Kandar. .. . 

The invaders had reason to fight, rather than slip into overdrive. Theystill outnumbered the ships from Kandar. And for a Mekinese commander toflee the battle area without having engaged or fired on an antagonistwould be treason. No man who fled without fighting would stay alive. There had to be a recording of battle offered or accepted, or theespecially merciless court-martial system of Mekin would take over. 

There was one problem, however, for the Mekinese skippers. When theyengaged a ship from Kandar, they died. Still, no ship left the scene ofthe battle to report defeat. 

It was absolute and complete. It was not only a defeat. It wasannihilation. The Mekinese fleet was destroyed to the last ship, even tothe armed transports carrying bureaucrats and police to set up a newgovernment on Kandar. Those ships which dared not run away without atoken fight, discovered the fleet of Kandar wasn't fighting a tokenbattle. It had started out to be just that, but somehow the plans hadchanged when the fighting started. For the aggressors, it was disaster. 

When his fleet reassembled, King Humphrey issued a general order to allships. He read it in person, his voice strained and dead and hopeless. 

"_I have to express my admiration for the men of my fleet_, " he saiddrearily. "_An unexampled victory over unexampled odds is not only inkeeping with the best traditions of the armed forces of Kandar, butraises those traditions to the highest possible level of valor anddevotion. If it were not that in winning this victory we have doomed ourhome world to destruction, I would be as happy as I am, reluctantly, proud. .. . _"

_Part Two_

Chapter 5

Nobody had ever found any use for the Glamis solar system. There was asun of highly irregular variability. There were two planets, of whichthe one farther out might have been useful for colonization except thatit was subject to extreme changes of climate as its undependable sunburned brightly or dimly. The nearer planet was so close to its primarythat it had long ceased to rotate. One hemisphere, forever in sunshine, remained in a low, red heat. Its night hemisphere, in perpetualdarkness, had radiated away its heat until there were mountains offrozen atmosphere piled above what should have been a mineral surface. It was a matter of record that a hundred standard years before, a shiphad landed there and mined oxygen-containing snow, which its airapparatus was able to refine so the crew could breathe while theyfinished some rather improbable repairs and could go on to morehospitable worlds. 

The farther-out planet was sometimes a place of green vegetation andsprawling seas, and sometimes of humid jungles with most of its oceansturned to a cloud-bank of impenetrable thickness. Also, sometimes, itwas frozen waste from pole to pole. The vegetation of that planet hadbeen studied with interest, but the world itself was simply of no use toanybody. Even the sun of the Glamis system was regarded with suspicion. 

The fleet of Kandar made rendezvous at the galactic-north pole of thesecond planet. On arrival the massed cruisers and battleships went intoorbit. The smaller craft went on a scouting mission, verifying thatthere was no new colony planted, that there was no man-made radiationanywhere in the system, that there was no likelihood of the fleet'spresence--or for that matter its continued existence--becoming known toanybody not of its ship-crews. 

The scout-ships came back, reporting all clear. The great ships drewclose to one another and small space-boats shuttled back and forth, taking commanders and captains and vice-admirals to the ship, which, byconvention, was commanded by King Humphrey VIII of Kandar. 

Captain Bors got to the conference late. There were some grave facesabout the conference room, but there were also some whose expressionswere unregenerate and grimly satisfied. As he entered the room the kingwas speaking. 

"I don't deny that it was a splendid victory, but I'm saying that ourvictory was a catastrophe! To begin with, we happened to hit theMekinese fleet when it was dispersed and disorganized. That was greatgood fortune--_if_ we'd wanted a victory. The enemy was scattered overlight-minutes of space. His ships could not act as a massed, maneuverable force. They were simply a mob of fighting ships who had tofight as individuals against our combat formation. "

"Yes, Majesty, " said the gray vice-admiral, "but even when we brokeformation--"

"Again, " said the king, more fretfully still, "I do not deny that thefighting ability of our ships was multiplied by the new way of usingmissiles. What I do say is that if we'd come upon the Mekinese fleet incombat formation instead of dispersed; if we'd attacked them when theywere ready for us, it would be doubtful that we'd have been sodisastrously successful! Say that the new missile settings gave each ofour ships fire-power as effective as two or three or five of the enemy. The enemy was ten to one! If we hadn't hit them when they were inconfusion, we'd have been wiped out. And if we'd hit their fleet anyhow, we'd be dead. We did not hit the main fleet. We annihilated a divisionof it, a small part. We are still hopelessly inferior to the vastMekinese fleet. "

Bors took a seat at the rear of the room. 

A stout rear-admiral said somberly, "We hope we annihilated it, Majesty. There's no report of any ship fleeing in overdrive. But if any didescape, its report would lead to an immediate discovery of the exactimprovement in our missiles. I am saying, Majesty, that if one enemyship escaped that battle, we can look for all the enemy ships to beequipped with revised missiles like ours. "

Bors raised his voice. "May I speak?"

"Ah, " said the king. "Bors. By all means. "

"I make two points, " said Bors with reserve. "One is that the Mekineseare as likely to think our missiles captured theirs as that they wereuncomputable. Missile designers have been trying for years to createinterceptors which capture enemy missiles. The Mekinese may decide we'veaccomplished something they've failed at, but they're not likely tothink we've accomplished something they never even thought of!"

Voices babbled. A pompous voice said firmly that nobody would be soabsurd. Several others said urgently that it was very likely. Alldefense departments had research in progress, working on the capture ofenemy missiles. If it were accomplished, ships could be destroyed as amatter of routine. 

Bors waited until the king thumped on the table for silence. 

"The second thing I have to say, Majesty, is that there can be no plansmade until we know what we have to do. And that depends on what Mekinthinks has happened. Maybe no enemy ship got home. Maybe some ships tookback inaccurate reports. It would be very uncomfortable for them toreport the truth. Maybe they said we had some new and marvellous weaponwhich no fleet could resist. In that case, we are in a very fineposition. "

The king said gloomily, "You think of abominably clever things, Captain. But I am afraid we've been too clever. If Mekin masses its entire fleetto destroy us, they can do it, new missile-system or no newmissile-system! We have somehow to keep them from resolving to do justthat!"

"Which, " said Bors, "may mean negotiation. But there's no point innegotiating unless you know what your enemy thinks you've got. We couldhave Mekin scared!"

There was a murmur, which could not be said to be either agreement ordisagreement. The king looked about him. 

"We cannot continue to fight!" he said sternly, "not unless we candefend Kandar--which we can't as against the Mekinese main fleet. Wewere prepared to sacrifice our lives to earn respect for our world, andto leave a tradition behind us. We must still be prepared to sacrificeeven our vanity. "

The vice-admiral said, "But one sacrifices, Majesty, to achieve. Do youbelieve that Mekin will honor any treaty one second after it ceases tobe profitable to Mekin?"

"That, " said the king, "has to be thought about. But Bors is right onone point. We should come to no final conclusion without information--"

"Majesty, " Bors interrupted. His words came slowly, as if an idea wereforming as he spoke. "The enemy may have no news at all. They may knowthey've been defeated, but they'd _never_ expect _our_ freedom fromloss. Why couldn't a single Kandarian ship turn up at some port whereits appearance would surely be reported to Mekin? It could pose as thesole survivor of our fleet, which would indicate that the rest of uswere wiped out in the battle. If we _had_ all been wiped out, there'd beno point in their fusion-bombing Kandar. Certainly they expected us tobe destroyed. One surviving ship can prove that we _have_ been!"

The king's expression brightened. 

"Ah! And we can go and intern ourselves--"

There was a growl. The pompous voice said, "We would gain time, Majesty. Our fear is that Mekin may feel it must avenge a defeat. But if one shipclaims to be the sole survivor of our fleet, it announces a Mekinesevictory. That is a highly desirable thing!"

The king nodded. 

"Yes-s-s. .. . We were unwise to survive the battle. We can hide ourunwisdom. Captain Bors, I will give you orders presently. As of now, Iwill accept reports on battle-damage given and received. " As Borssaluted and turned to the door, the king added, "I will be with thePretender presently. "

It was an order and Bors obeyed it. He went to find his uncle. He foundthe former monarch in the king's cabin of this, the largest ship of thefleet. The Pretender greeted Bors unhappily. 

"A very bad business, " he observed. 

"Bad, " agreed Bors. "But for the two of us, a defeat for Mekin is notbad news. "

"For us and Tralee, " the old man said reprovingly, "there is somepleasure. But it is still bad. Every ship we destroyed must be replaced. Like every other subject planet, Tralee will be required to build--howmany ships? Ten? Twenty? We have increased the burden Mekin lays onTralee. And worse--much worse--"

"There's such a thing, " protested Bors, "as using a microscope ontroubles! We did something we badly wanted to! If we can keep it up--"

The Pretender said, "How is the food-supply on your ship? How long canyou feed your crew without supplies from some base?"

Bors swore. The question had the impact of a blow. His _Isis_, like therest of the fleet, had taken off from Kandar to fight and be destroyed. There were emergency rations on board, of course. But the food-storagecompartments hadn't been filled. The fleet did not expect to go onliving, so it did not prepare to go on eating. It would have been absurdto carry stores for months when they expected to live only hours. Itsimply hadn't occurred to anyone to load provisions for a long operationaway from base. 

"That's what the king is worrying about, " said the Pretender. "We'vesome thousands of men who will be hungry presently. If we reveal that wesurvived the battle, Mekin's tributaries will begin to think. They mighteven hope--which Mekin would have to stop immediately. If we do notreveal that we still exist, what can be done about starving ship-crews?It is a bad business. It would have been much better if the fleet hadbeen destroyed, as we expected, in a gesture of pure fury over its ownhelplessness. "

Bors said sardonically, "We can all commit suicide, of course!"

The Pretender did not answer. His nephew sank into a chair and gloweredat the wall. The situation was contrary to all the illusions cherishedby the human race. To act decently and with honor is somehow fitting toa man and consistent with the nature of the universe, so that decencyand honor may prosper. But recent events denied it. Men who were willingto die for their countrymen only injured them by the attempt. And nowthe conduct which honor would approve turned upon them to bring theconsequences of treason and villainy. 

A long time passed. Bors sat with clenched hands. It was the barbaricinsistence of Mekin upon conquest that was at fault, of course. But thishappens everywhere, as it has throughout all history. There are, really, three kinds of people in every community, as there have always been. There are the barbarians, and there are the tribesmen, and there are thecivilized. This was true when men lived on only one planet, anddoubtless was true when the first village was built. There werecivilized men even then. If there was progress, they brought it about. And in every village there were, and are, tribesmen, men who placidlyaccept the circumstances into which they are born, and who wish nochange at all. And everywhere and at all times there are barbarians. They seek personal triumphs. They thrive on high emotional victories. And at no time will barbarians ever leave either civilized men ortribesmen alone. They crave triumphs over them and each other, and theycreate disaster everywhere, until they are crushed. 

Bors said evenly, "If the king's planning to surrender the fleet toMekin as ransom for Kandar, it won't work. "

"He's considering it, " said his uncle. "It will be a way of giving themthe victory we cheated them of, though we didn't intend to win. "

"It won't work, " repeated Bors. "It won't do a bit of good. They'll wantto punish Kandar because it wasn't beaten. They feed on destruction andbrutality. They're barbarians. The economic interpretation of historydoesn't apply here! The Mekinese who run things _want_ to be evil. Theywill be until they're crushed. "

"Crushed?" asked the Pretender bitterly. "Is there a chance of that?"

Bors considered gravely. Then he said, "I think so. "

The door opened and the king came in. Bors rose and the king nodded. Hespoke to the Pretender. 

"Somebody raised the question of food, " he said. "There isn't any tospeak of, of course. You'd think grown men would face facts! There's nota man willing to accept what is, and work from that! Lunatics!"

He flung himself into a chair. 

"Suggested, " he continued, "that a part of the fleet go to Norden to buyfood and bring it back. Of course Mekin wouldn't hear about it, wouldn'tguess at the survival of the fleet because food was bought in suchquantities! Suggested, that a part of the fleet go to some uncolonizedplanet and hunt meat. Try to imagine success in that venture! Suggested, that we travel a long distance, pick out a relatively small world, landand seize its spaceport and facilities and equip ourselves to bomb Mekinto extinction. And do it in a surprise attack! Suggested--"

The king shook his head angrily. He did not look royal. He did not lookconfident. He looked embittered and even helpless. But he still lookedlike a very honest man trying to make up for his admitted deficiencies. 

"Majesty, " said Bors. 

The king turned his eyes. 

"You're going to send me off for news, " said Bors. "I suggested earlierthat my ship pretend to be the sole survivor of the fleet. I suggestnow that the ship add the wild and desperate boast that since there's nolonger a world which will sponsor it, it's turned pirate. It will takevengeance on its own. It defies the might of Mekin and it dares theMekinese fleet to do something about it. "

"Why?" asked the king. 

"Pirates, " Bors answered, controlling his enthusiasm, "have to be hunteddown. It takes many ships to hunt down a pirate. I should be able tokeep a good-sized slice of the Mekinese navy busy simply lying in waitfor me here and there. "

"And?"

"There are tribute-ships which carry food from the subject worlds toMekin. Hating Mekin as befits the sole survivor of this fleet, Majesty, it would be natural for me to capture such ships, even if I could donothing better with them than send them out to space to be wasted. Theywouldn't be wasted, naturally. They'd come here. "

The king said, "But you couldn't supply the fleet indefinitely!"

Bors nodded agreement. But he waited. 

"You may try, " said the king querulously. "Have you something else upyour sleeve?"

Bors nodded in his turn. 

"Don't tell me what it is, " said the king. "So long as the fleet getssome food and its existence isn't known. .. . If I knew what you're up to, I might feel I had to object. "

"I think not, Majesty, " Bors said, showing a rare smile. "I'll need someextra men. If I do capture food-ships, they'll be useful. "

"I can't imagine that anything would be useful, " said the king bitterly. "Tell the admiral to give them to you. "

Bors saluted and left the room. He went directly to the admiral who intheory was second in command only while the king was aboard. Heexplained his mission and some of his intentions. The admiral listenedstonily. 

"I'll give you fifty men, " he said. "I think you'll be killed, ofcourse. But if you live long enough to convince them that the fleet'sbeen destroyed, you'll be of service. "

"What, " Bors asked, with a trace of humor, "can possibly be done aboutthe fact that we wiped out a Mekinese fleet instead of letting itexterminate us?"

"The matter, " the admiral answered seriously, "is under consideration. "

Bors shrugged and went to his own ship, the _Isis_. He was excessivelyuncomfortable. He'd said to his uncle, and implied to the king, that hehad some plan in mind. He did, but it angered him to know that hecounted on assistance; that, in theory, he could not possibly accomplishit alone. It was irritating to realize that he expected Gwenlyn and herfather to turn up, with their Talents, when absolutely nobody outside ofthe fleet could possibly imagine where the fleet had gone. On Kandar itmust be assumed, by now, that it was dead. 

His ship's boat clanked into position in the lifeboat blister. Thevalves closed on it. A moment later there was a whistling murmur, andthe boat's vision-ports clouded over outside and then cleared. Hestepped out into the ship's atmosphere. His second-in-command greetedhim in the control-room. 

"I was trying to reach you at the flagship, sir, " he said. "The yacht_Sylva_ is lying a few miles off. Her owner has forwarded news reportsto the flagship. He asks that you receive him when you can, sir. "

Bors's apparent lack of surprise was real. He wasn't surprised. But hewas annoyed with himself for expecting something so impossible as the_Sylva_ tracing the fleet through an overdrive voyage of days to a mostunlikely destination like Glamis. 

"Tell him to come aboard, " he commanded. 

He went to talk to the mess officer, reflecting that he would ask theMorgans how the _Sylva_ had known where to come, and they'd tell him, and it would be extremely unlikely, and he would accept the explanation. The mess-officer looked harassed at the news of fifty additional crewmento be fed. 

"Principles of prudence and common sense, " said Bors, "don't apply anymore. We'll feed them somehow. "

He went back to the control-room. When Morgan appeared, beamingexpansively, Bors was again unsurprised to see Gwenlyn with him. Logan, the Mathematics Talent, followed in their wake, looking indifferentlyabout him. 

"We wiped out the fleet headed for Kandar, " Bors observed. "I don'tsuppose that's news, to you?"

Morgan cheerfully shook his head. 

"And we're in considerably more trouble than before. Is that news?"

"No, " admitted Morgan. "It's reasonable for you to be. "

"Then, damnit, I'm going off on a pirating-news-gathering-food-raidingcruise alone, " said Bors. "Is that news?"

"We brought Logan, " said Morgan, "to go with you. He'll be useful. That's Talents--"

"--Incorporated information and I can depend on it, " said Bors dourly. "In plain common sense the odds are rather high against my accomplishinganything, such as coming back. "

Morgan looked at his daughter. He grinned. 

"We heard gloom from him the other day before a certain space-battle, didn't we?" He turned back to Bors. "Look, Captain. Our Talents don'tprophesy. Precognition simply says that when there are so many thousandways an event in the future can happen, then, in one of those severalthousand ways, it will. Precognition doesn't say which way. It doesn'tsay how. Especially, it doesn't say why. But we have a very firmprecognition by a very reliable Talent that you'll be alive and doingsomething very specific a year from now. So we assume you won't bepermanently killed in the meantime. "

"But anything else can happen?"

"More or less, " admitted Morgan. 

"What will happen?"

"We don't know!" said Morgan again. "Someday I may take you aside andexplain the facts of precognition and other talents as I understandthem. I'm probably quite wrong. But I do know better than to try to prycertain kinds of information from my Talents. Right now--"

"I'm going to try to capture a, what you might call a tribute-ship, loaded with food for Mekin. "

"Tralee, " said Morgan with finality. "You'll try there. "

"Will I capture a food-ship there?" asked Bors. 

"How the devil would I know?" Morgan snapped. 

"You asked the wrong question, " said Gwenlyn cheerfully. "If you askedif there's a cargo-ship down on Tralee, loading foodstuffs for Mekin, there can be an answer to that. "

"Is there?"

"At the moment, yes, " Morgan answered. "So the dowsing Talent says. "

"Then I'll go there, " said Bors. 

"I thought you might, " said Morgan. He looked at his daughter. 

"May I come along?" asked Gwenlyn. "With an assortment of Talents? Myfather's going to have long conferences with the king. He'll need someTalents here to work out things. But I could go along on your ship witha few of the others. We could help a lot. "

"No!" said Bors grimly. 

"I thought not, " said Morgan. "Very well. Logan, you'll help CaptainBors, I'm sure. "

The math Talent said offhandedly;

"Any calculations he needs, of course. "

He looked about him with a confident, modestly complacent air. 

Bors walked with Morgan and his daughter to the airlock. He turned toGwenlyn. "I don't mean to be ungallant, refusing to let you run risks. "

"I'm flattered but annoyed, " Gwenlyn answered. "It means I'll have totake drastic measures. Luck!"

She and her father went into the _Sylva's_ space-boat. The blister doorsclosed. Bors went back to the control room. He began to set up thecomputations for astrogation from the sun of Glamis to the sun ofTralee. He shortly heard the sound of arrivals via the _Isis's_airlock. Presently, his second-in-command reported fifty additionalhands aboard. They included astrogators, drive-engineers and assortedspecialists. 

After clearance with the flagship, the little warship aimed withpainstaking exactitude at Tralee's sun, making due allowance for itsproper motion, Glamis's proper motion, the length of time the light heaimed by had been on its way, the distance, and the _Isis's_ travel-ratein overdrive. 

Presently Bors said, "Overdrive coming!" and counted down. After "one"he pressed a button. There was the singularly unpleasant sensation ofgoing into overdrive. Then the small fighting ship was alone in itscocoon of warped and twisted space. Until it came out again, there wasno possible way by which any message could reach it or its existence bedetected or proved. Theory said, in fact, that the cosmos could explodeand a ship in overdrive would be unaware of the fact so long as itstayed in overdrive. 

But Bors's light cruiser came out where the sun of Tralee was a disk ofintolerable brilliance, and all the stars in every direction lookedexactly as usual. 

Chapter 6

The _Isis_ approached Tralee from the night side, and at a time when theplanet's spaceport faced the sun. Tralee was not a base for Mekinesewar-craft. To the contrary, it was strictly a conquered world. It wasdesirable for Mekinese ships to be able to appear as if magically andwithout warning in its skies. There would be no far-ranging radars onthe planet except at its solitary spaceport. Mekinese ships could comeout of overdrive, time a solar-system-drive approach to arrive atTralee's atmosphere in darkness, and be hovering menacingly overheadwhen dawn broke. Such an appearance had strong psychological effectsupon the population. 

Bors used the same device with modifications. 

His ship plunged out of the sunrise and across half a continent, descending as it flew. When it reached the planet's capital city, therehad been less than a minute between the first notification by radar andits naked-eye visibility. When it came into sight at the spaceport itwas less than four thousand feet high and it went sweeping for thelanding-grid at something over mach one. Its emergency-rockets roared. It decelerated smoothly and crossed the upper rim of the great, lacymetal structure with less than a hundred feet to spare. In fractions ofan additional minute it was precisely aground some fifty yards from thespaceport office. Steam and smoke rose furiously from where itsrocket-flames had played. 

Lock-doors opened. Briskly moving landing-parties trotted across theground toward the grid-control building. There were two ships already inthe spaceport. One was a Mekinese guard-ship of approximately thearmament of the _Isis_. Weapons trained swiftly upon it. Missiles roaredacross the half-mile of distance. They detonated, chemical explosivesonly. The Mekinese guard-ship flew apart. What remained was not trulyidentifiable as a former ship. It was fragments. 

Bors asked curtly, "Grid office?"

The landing-party was inside. A small tumult came out of a speaker. Avoice said:

"_All secure in the grid office, sir. _"

"Hook in to planetary broadcast, declare a first-priority emergency, andrun your tape, " commanded Bors. 

He said over the ship's speakers, "Everything going well so far. Prizecrew, take the cargo-ship. Keep the crew aboard. Then report. "

Ten men poured out of the grounded light cruiser's starboard port andtrotted on the double toward the other ship aground. The weapons onBors's ship did not bear upon it. 

The sun shone. Clouds drifted tranquilly across the sky. Masses of smokefrom the demolition-missiles that had smashed the guard-ship rose, curled and very slowly dissipated. Ten men entered the bulbouscargo-ship. 

Up to now the entire affair had consumed not more than five minutes, from the appearance of a blip on a spaceport radar screen, to thebeginning of a full-volume broadcast. Bors turned on the receiver andlistened to the harsh voice--especially chosen from among thecrew--which now came out of every operating broadcast receiver on theplanet. 

"_Notice to the people of Tralee! There is aground on Tralee a ship withno home planet nor any loyalty except to its hatred of Mekin. We werepart of the fleet of Kandar until that fleet was destroyed. Now we fightMekin alone! We are pirates. We are outcasts. But we still have arms todefend ourselves with! We demand. .. . _"

A voice said curtly in Bors's ear, "Cargo-ship secured, sir. "

"Take off on rockets and maneuver as ordered, " said Bors. "Thenrendezvous as arranged. "

He returned his attention to the broadcast. It was a deliberatelysavage, painstakingly desperate, carefully terrifying message to thepeople of Tralee. It demanded supplies and arms on threat of destroyingthe city around it. A single one of its combat-missiles, as a matter offact, could have done a good job of destruction on this metropolis. 

The broadcast would be a shattering experience to men who had reconciledthemselves to subjugation by the rulers of Mekin. The planet Tralee wasnow governed for the benefit of Mekin by the kind of men who would dosuch work. They knew that they could stay in office only so long asMekin upheld them. To hear their protectors denounced if only by asingle voice. .. . 

There was a monstrous roaring outside. The cargo-ship took off for theskies. It was a thousand feet high before the weapons on the _Isis_stirred. It seemed to those below that the pirate crew was takenunawares by the cargo-ship's escape. That was part of Bors's plan. 

A weapon of the grounded _Isis_ roared. A missile hurtled after thefugitive, and missed. It went on past its apparent target and did noteven detonate at nearest proximity, as it should have done. It vanished, and the cargo-ship continued to rise in seemingly panicky fashion. Itslanted from its headlong lift, and curved away and darted for emptinessat its maximum acceleration. A second missile from the fighting-shipmissed. The cargo-ship dwindled, and dwindled, and now the _Isis_appeared to take deliberate measurements of the distance andacceleration of its target. It might be assumed that its radars neededto be readjusted from the long-range-finding required in space, to theshorter-range measurements called for now. 

Something plunged after the fleeing cargo-boat, by now merely apin-point in the blue. The rising object moved so swiftly that it wasinvisible. Then it detonated, and the fumes of the explosion blotted outthe fugitive. When they cleared, the sky was empty. 

There had now been a lapse of less than ten minutes from the firstsighting of the _Isis_ screaming toward the spaceport. The guard-shiphad been destroyed and the cargo-ship which seemed to flee hadapparently been destroyed. When someone had leisure to think, it wouldappear that the cargo-boat's crew had overcome the armed party whichentered it and then taken the foolish course of flight. 

Bors waited, listening absently. A voice:

"_All clear on board the prize, sir. The cargo seems to be mostlyfoodstuffs, sir. Proceeding to rendezvous as ordered. Off. _"

Bors nodded automatically and resumed listening to the broadcast. Matters were going well. Everything had gone through with the precisionof clockwork, which meant simply that Bors had planned in detailsomething that had never been anticipated and so had not beencounter-planned. Before anyone on Tralee realized that anything hadhappened, everything had happened--the _Isis_ aground, the guard-shipdemolished, the grid taken over, and a fleeing cargo-ship apparentlydestroyed in the upper atmosphere. And a harsh voice now rasped out ofloudspeakers everywhere, uttering threats, cursing Mekin--few couldbelieve their ears--and rousing hopes which Bors knew regretfully werebound to be disappointed. 

The rasping broadcast cut off in the middle of a syllable. Somebody hadcome to believe that he really heard what he thought he heard. Now therewould be reaction. At the sunrise-line on Tralee only a handful ofpeople were awake. They were dumbfounded. Where people breakfasted, theintentionally savage voice made food seem unimportant. Where it wasmidday, waves of violent emotion swept over the land. 

"Call the defense forces, " Bors commanded the grid office, bytransmitter. "They'll be Mekinese--Mekinese-officered, anyhow. We don'twant them to get ideas of attacking us, so identify us as the pirateship _Isis_ and order all police and garrison troops to stay exactlywhere they are. Say we've got all our fusion-bombs armed to go off incase of an artillery-fire hit. "

This was the most valid of all possible threats against the mostprobable form of attack. Fusion-bombs could be used against enemies inspace, or for the annihilation of a population, but they could not beused in police operations against a subject people. To coerce people onemust avoid destroying them. So while a ship the size of the _Isis_could--and did--carry enough confined hellfire in its missile warheadsto destroy an area hundreds of miles across, the occupation troops ofMekin could not use such weapons. They needed blast-rifles for minorthreats and artillery for selective destruction. In any case no sane manwould try to destroy the _Isis_ aground after an announcement that itsbombs were armed, and that they were fused to explode. 

"Now repeat the demand for stores, " ordered Bors. "We might as wellstock up. Speed is essential. We can't use stores they've time tobooby-trap or poison. Give them twenty minutes to start the stuffarriving. Demand fuel, extra rocket-fuel especially. Remind them aboutour bombs. "

He waited. Speakers beside him could inform him of any action anywhereoutside or inside the ship. The landing-party in the spaceport buildingreported as it went through the spaceport records, picking up suchinformation concerning Mekinese commercial regulations, identification-calls and anticipated ship-movements as might proveuseful elsewhere. The rasping voice began to broadcast again. It went onfor fifteen seconds and cut off. 

"Tell the government broadcasting system that if they stop relaying ourbroadcast, " said Bors, "we'll heave a bomb into the police barracks andthe supply-depots. "

He heard the threat issued and very soon thereafter an agitated voiceannounced to the people of Tralee that a pirate ship was in possessionof the planet's spaceport and that it insisted upon broadcasting to theplanet's people. It was considered unwise to refuse. Therefore thebroadcast would continue, but of course citizens could turn off theirsets. 

There came a roar of anger and the harsh-voiced broadcaster returned tothe air. His taped broadcast had run out. Now he bellowed suchsubversive profanity directed at the officials of Tralee-under-Mekinthat Bors smiled sourly. It was not good for Mekinese prestige to have asubject people know that one ship could defy the empire, even forminutes. It was still less desirable to have the members of the puppetgovernment described as dogs of particularly described breeds, ofparticularly described characteristics, and particular lack oflegitimacy. Bors had chosen for his broadcast a man of vivid imaginationand large vocabulary. He did not want the _Isis_ to appear underdiscipline, lest it seem to act under orders. He wanted to create theimpression of men turned pirates because everything they lived for hadbeen destroyed, and who now were running amok among the planets Mekinhad subjugated. 

The broadcast was not incitement to revolt, because Bors's ship wasposing as the only survivor of a planet's fleet. But it conveyed suchcontempt and derision and hatred of all things Mekinese that for monthsto come men would whisper jokes based on what an _Isis_ crewman had saidon Tralee's air. The respect the planet's officials craved would dropbelow its former low level. 

Time passed. Bors, of course, could not send a landing-party anywhere, lest it be sniped. He had actually accomplished the purpose for whichhe'd landed, the getting of a shipload of food out to space, theannouncement of the destruction of Kandar's fleet and the spreading ofcontempt and derision for Mekin in Tralee. Now he had to keep anyonefrom suspecting the importance of the cargo-ship. The demand for storeswas a cover-up for things already done. But that cover-up had to becompleted. 

Vehicles appeared at the edge of the landing-grid. Figures advancedindividually, waving white flags. Bors sent men out with small arms toget their messages. These were the supplies he'd demanded. Food. Rocket-fuel. More food. 

The vehicles trundled into the open and stopped. Men from the _Isis_waved away the drivers and took over the trucks. They brought most ofthem to the ship's side. A petty-officer came into the control room andsaluted. 

"Sir, " he said briskly. "One of the drivers told me his load of grub hadtime-bombs in it. The secret police use time-bombs and booby-traps here, sir, to keep the people terrified. He says the bombs will go off afterwe're out in space, sir. "

"What did you do?" asked Bors. 

"I pretended the truck stalled and I couldn't start it. Two otherdrivers tipped off our men. We left those trucks and some others out onthe field, so the drivers wouldn't be suspected of alerting us. "

"Good work, " said Bors. "Better put detectors on all parcels from alltrucks before bringing them aboard. "

"Booby-traps can be made very tricky indeed, but when they are used bysecret police. .. . " Bors allowed himself to rage for a moment only, atthe idea of that kind of terrorism practiced by a government on itssupposed citizens. It would be intended to enforce the totalitarian ideathat what is not commanded for the ordinary citizen to do is forbiddento him. But secret-police booby-traps and time-bombs would bestandardized. He hadn't allowed time for complex, detection-proofdevices to be made. Detectors would pick out any ordinary trickery. 

The harsh-voiced broadcaster continued to harangue the population ofTralee, of which the least of his words was high treason. They enjoyedthe broadcast very much. 

Presently Bors began to fidget. The _Isis_ had been aground forthirty-five minutes. He had sat in the control room that whole time, supervising a smoothly-running operation. He had had to supervise it. Nobody else could have planned and carried it out. But it was notheroic. He had the line officer's inherent scorn for administrativeofficers, who are necessary but not glamorous or admired. He was stuckwith just that kind of duty now. But he fretted. The local officialswere given time to get over their panic. They ought to be planning somecounter-measure by this time. 

He called the spaceport office. 

"There should be a map of the city somewhere about, " he said crisply. "Send it along special. Bring a communicator call-book. If you find anynews-reports, new or old, we want them. "

"_Yes, sir_, " said a brisk voice. "_The broadcast's right, sir?_"

"It is, " said Bors. "You're mining the grid set-up. We'll blow it beforewe leave. There's no point in letting Mekin set down transports loadedwith troops to punish innocent people because they heard the Mekineseaccurately described. Make 'em land on rockets and there won't be somany landing. "

"_Yes, sir. Will do, sir. _"

A click. Bors heard heavy materials being loaded aboard. Each object wasbeing examined by a detector. The loading process stopped. Bors presseda button. 

"What happened?" he demanded. 

"_Looks like a booby-trapped box, sir_, " said a voice. "_Among thesupplies, sir. _"

"Take it off a hundred yards and riddle it, " ordered Bors. "This maysettle a problem for us. "

"_Yes, sir. _"

Bors fidgeted again. A messenger from the grid-control building arrived. He had a map of the capital city of Tralee. 

There was an explosion. A violent one. Bors looked out a port and sawwhere the suspected parcel had been set up as a target a hundred yardsfrom the ship. It had been riddled with blast-rifle bolts, and hadexploded. It might not have destroyed the _Isis_ if it had exploded inspace, but it would not have done it any good. 

Bors pushed the button for the loading-port compartment. 

"Throw out all the stuff loaded so far, " he commanded. "Some of it maybe booby-trapped like that last one. We won't take a chance. Heave itall out again. "

"_Yes, sir. _"

Bors gave other orders. The harsh-voiced broadcast stopped. Bors's ownvoice went out on the air, steely-hard. 

"Captain Bors, pirate ship _Isis_ speaking, " he said coldly. "Wedemanded supplies. They were sent us--government-supplied. We have foundone booby-trap included. In retaliation for this attemptedassassination, we are going to lob chemical-explosive missiles into theprincipal government buildings of this city. We give three minutes'leeway for clerks and other persons to get clear of those buildings. Thethree minutes start now!"

The sun shone tranquilly on the planet Tralee. White clouds floated withinfinite leisureliness across the blue sky. There was no motion of anysort within the wide, open area of the landing-grid. Over a large partof this world's surface all activity had stopped while men listened to abroadcast. 

"Fifteen seconds gone, " said Bors icily. 

He wrote out an order and passed it for execution. 

"Thirty seconds gone. "

From twenty giant buildings in the city, a black tide of running figuresbegan to pour. When they reached the street, they went on running. Theywanted to get as far as possible from the buildings Bors had said wouldbe destroyed. 

"Forty-five seconds gone, " said Bors implacably. 

A voice spoke from the grid-control building, where men were nowplacing explosives with precisely calculated effects. The voice came onmicrowaves to the ship. 

"_Sir_, " said the voice, "_landing-grid reporting. Space-yacht_ Sylva_reports breakout from overdrive and asks coordinates for landing. Purpose of visit, pleasure-travel. _"

Bors swore, then smiled to himself. Gwenlyn had threatened to dosomething drastic!

"Say landing's forbidden, " he commanded an instant later. "Adviseimmediate departure. "

He pressed a button and said evenly:

"One minute gone! In two minutes more we send our bombs and take off. "

Streets outside the government buildings were filled from building-wallto building-wall by clerks drafted to staff the incredible, arbitrarygovernment set up on its tributary worlds by Mekin. Bors scribbled alist of buildings to be ranged on. The map from the spaceport officewould help. He marked the Ministry of Police, which would contain therecords essential to the operation of the planet-wide police system. Anything that happened to those records would be so much good fortunefor Tralee, and so much bad for the master race and its quislings. Hemarked the Ministry of the Interior, which would house the machinery forrequisitions of tribute to Mekin. The Ministry of Public Order would bethe headquarters of the secret and the political police. It ran theforced-labor camps. It filed all anonymous accusations. It kept recordson all persons suspected of the crime of patriotism. If anythinghappened to those records, it would be all to the good. 

"Two minutes gone, " said Bors. 

The voice from the spaceport control building said briskly:

"_Demolition charges placed, sir. Ready to evacuate and fire. Sir, thespace-yacht_ Sylva _sends a message to the captain of the pirate ship. It says they'll wait. _"

Bors said, "Damn! All right. " Then into the broadcast-microphone, "Two-and-a-half minutes. There will be no further count-down. In thirtyseconds we fire missiles into government buildings, in retaliation foran attempt to assassinate us with time-bombs. The next sound you hearwill be our missiles arriving. " He cut back to the grid-controlbuilding. "Fire all charges and report to the ship. "

Almost instantly curt, crisp reports sounded nearby. The landing-partycame smartly back to the airlock, while explosions continued in thebuilding they'd left. 

"Launcher-tubes train on targets, " Bors commanded. He pressed anotherbutton. "Rocket-room, make ready for lift. " Back to the launcher-tubecommunicator. "Fire missiles one, two, three, four, five, six. "

There were boomings, which rose to bellowings as devastation tore awayfrom the _Isis's_ launching-tubes. Bors said irritably to therocket-room:

"Take her up!"

And then the ship lifted on her rockets--they were not solely foremergency use, as on cargo-ships--and rushed toward the sky. As the shipmounted on its column of writhing smoke, other smoky columns spouted up. Six of them. But they were limited. They went up two thousand feet andthen tended to mushroom. Bits of debris went higher and spread morewidely, and for a time there were fragments of buildings and theircontents flying wildly about. 

But the ship went straight upward. The city and the open country beyondit shrank swiftly. The spouted smokes of explosions in the city wereleft behind. Mountains appeared at one horizon and a sea at another. Then the vast expanse of the planet suddenly acquired a curved edge, andthe ship again went up and up--while the sky turned dark and some starsappeared in futile competition with the sun--and the surface of Traleebecame visibly the near side of an enormous globe. 

Then the planet became plainly what it was, a great ball floating inspace, one-half of it brilliant in the sunshine and one part of itbathed in night. 

Bors put on the solar-system drive and changed course. A voice camethrough:

"_Calling pirate ship . .. Calling pirate ship. .. . Space yacht_ Sylva_calling pirate ship. .. . _"

Bors growled into a microphone, "What the devil are you doing in thisplace. What's happened?"

Gwenlyn's voice, bland and amused. "_Nothing happened. But we've gotsome news for you. Make rendezvous at the fourth planet?_"

Bors swore again. That was where he was to meet the cargo-ship capturedand sent aloft, supposedly destroyed on Tralee. But he drove on out, around and away from Tralee. 

He was reasonably satisfied with his landing on Tralee. With some luck, the news of the landing of a lone survivor of the Kandarian fleet mightreach Mekin before it was aware of what had happened to its occupationforce. With a little more luck, the attention of Mekin would be devotedmore to a ship which dared to turn pirate than to Kandar itself. Withunlimited favorable fortune, Mekin might actually send ships to hunt the_Isis_ instead of asking questions on Kandar. 

But Bors made a mental note. The more time that passed before Mekin knewwhat had happened, the better. So a ship or two or three might bedetached from the fleet and sent back to hang off Kandar. If a singleship came inquiringly, it might be sniped and the news of Kandarsuppressed for a while longer. And it was conceivable that Mekin mightcome to worry more about other matters than the success or failure of aroutine expansion of its empire. 

The fourth planet loomed up on schedule. Bors was irritated, as oftenbefore, by the relatively slow solar-system drive. Overdrive wassometimes not fast enough--but solar-system drive was infuriatinglyslow. Yet one couldn't use overdrive in a solar system. Approaching aplanet on overdrive would be like trying to garage a ground-car at sixtymiles an hour. One couldn't stop where one wanted to. He wonderedvaguely if Logan, the math Talent, could handle such a problem, anddismissed the idea. One could break a circuit with an accuracy ofmicroseconds, but that wouldn't be close enough for overdrive. Itwouldn't be practical. 

Then the ice-sheet of Tralee's nearest neighbor planet spread out in thevision-port's range of view. Bors called for the cargo-ship. It answeredalmost immediately. It was standard practice, of course, that the siteof a meeting planned at a given planet would be wherever its polespointed nearest to galactic north. The cargo-ship had just arrived. Itbarely responded before the _Sylva_ began to call again. 

The three ships, then, joined their orbits and went swinging about theglacier-world beneath them while they conferred. 

The report from the cargo-ship was unexpectedly satisfactory. It hadbeen almost completely loaded, and its cargo was largely foodstuffsintended for Mekin. Kandar's fleet-in-hiding was already subsisting onemergency rations. This cargo of assorted frozen foods would be welcome. Bors gave orders for it to head for Glamis immediately, in overdrive. 

Communication had been three-way, and Gwenlyn said quickly;

"_Just a moment! Did you pick up any news-reports on Tralee?_"

"Hm. Yes. I'd better send them--"

"_You'd better?_" echoed Gwenlyn, scolding. "_My father stayed with thefleet to try to explain what Talents, Incorporated can do! He kept mostof the Talents with him, for demonstrations! The Department forPredicting Dirty Tricks is there! Don't you remember what thatDepartment works on? Of course you've got to send those news-reports!_"

Bors ordered a space-boat to come from the cargo-ship for the reports. 

"_Would you like to come to dinner on the yacht?_" asked Gwenlyn. "_You're all living on emergency rations. Nobody asked us to divide oursupplies with the fleet. I can give you a nice meal. _"

"Better not, " said Bors curtly, and mumbled thanks. 

He ordered the cargo-ship to send as much of its stores as thespace-boat could conveniently carry. 

"_Then how about some cigars?_" asked Gwenlyn. She seemed at once amusedand approving, because Bors would not indulge himself in a reallysatisfying meal while his crew lived on far from appetizing emergencyfoodstuffs. 

"No, " said Bors. "No cigars either. You said you had some news for me. What is it?"

"_I brought along our ship-arrival Talent_, " said Gwenlyn blandly. "_Hecan only tell when a ship will arrive at the solar system where he is, so he had to come here to precognize. _"

Bors felt again that stubborn incredulity which Talents, Incorporatedwould always rouse in a mind like his. 

"_There'll be a ship arriving here in two days, four hours, sixteenminutes from now_, " said Gwenlyn matter-of-factly. "_He thinks it's afighting ship, though he can't be sure. It could be a cruiser orsomething like that doing mail duty, coming to deliver orders andreceive reports. You can't run an empire without a regular news system, and Mekin wouldn't depend on commercial ships for government business. _"

"Good!" said Bors. "Thanks!"

There was a pause. 

"_What will you do now?_"

"Try to raise the devil somewhere else, " said Bors. "Try to pick upanother food-ship, probably. Maybe I ought to let this ship alone, tocarry news of the pirate ship _Isis_ back to Mekin, but-- No. They usebooby-traps as police devices!"

It was not reasonable, but Bors could not think of missing a Mekinesewarship. The idea of a government using booby-traps to enforce itsorders somehow put it beyond forgiveness, and with the government allthose who served it willingly. 

"_You'll go to Garen then?_" asked Gwenlyn. 

Bors felt a sharp sting of annoyance. He had carefully kept secret thechoice of Garen Three as the next planet to be invaded by thepseudo-pirate ship. It was upsetting to find that Gwenlyn knew about it. Blast Talents, Incorporated!

"_The dowsing Talent_, " said Gwenlyn, "_says there's a battleshipaground there. There've been some riots. The people of Garen don't likeMekin, either. Strange? The battleship is to overawe them. _"

"How do you know that?" demanded Bors. 

"_The Department for Predicting Dirty Tricks was reading oldnews-reports_, " she told him. "_We're leaving now. 'Bye. _"

"Goodbye, " said Bors, and sighed, not knowing whether he felt regret orrelief. 

The space-yacht _Sylva_ flicked out of sight. It had gone intooverdrive. Bors realized that he hadn't noticed which way it pointed. Heshould have taken note. But he shook his head. He gave the cargo-shipdetailed orders, receiving its space-boat and what food it had been ableto bring. He sent it off to meet his fleet at Glamis. 

He stayed in orbit around the fourth planet to wait for a Mekinesefighting-ship. He began, too, to make long-range plans. 

_Part Three_

Chapter 7

The Mekinese ship was a cruiser, and it broke out of overdrive withinthe Tralee solar system just two days, four hours, and some odd minutesafter Gwenlyn predicted its coming. Presumably, it had made thecustomary earlier breakout to correct its course and measure thedistance remaining to be run. In overdrive there was not as yet a way toknow accurately one's actual speed, and at astronomical distances smallerrors piled up. Correction of line was important, too, because a coursethat was even a second off arc could mount up to hundreds of thousandsof miles. But even with that usual previous breakout, the Mekinesecruiser did not turn up conveniently close to its destination. It neededa long solar-system drive to make its planetfall. 

Bors's long-range radar picked it up before it was near enough to notifyits arrival to the planet--if it intended to notify at all. Most likelyits program was simply and frighteningly to appear overhead andarrogantly demand the services of the landing-grid to lower it to theground. 

Bors's radar detected the cruiser and instantly cut itself off. The cryof "_Co-o-ntact!_" went through the ship and all inner doors closed, sealing the ship into sections. Bors was already at the board in thecontrol room. He did not accept the predictions of Talents, Incorporatedas absolute truth. It bothered him that such irrational means ofsecuring information should be so accurate. So he compromised in his ownmind to the point where, when Talents, Incorporated gave specificinformation, it was possible; no more. Then, having admitted so much, heacted on the mere possibility, and pretended to be surprised when itturned out to be a fact. 

That was the case now. A ship had appeared in this solar system at thetime the ship-arrival Talent on the _Sylva_ predicted. Bors scowled, andswung the _Isis_ in line between Tralee and the new arrival. He turned, then, and drove steadily out toward it. The other ship's screens wouldshow a large blip which was the planet, and in direct line a very muchsmaller blip which was the _Isis_. The small blip might not be noticedbecause it was in line with the larger. If it were noticed, it would beconfusing, because such things should not happen. But the cruisers ofMekin were not apt to be easily alarmed. They represented a greatempire, all of whose landing-grids were safely controlled, and thoughthere was disaffection everywhere there was no reason to suspectrebellion at operations in space. 

For a long time nothing happened. The _Isis_ drove to meet the cruiser. The two vessels should be approaching each other at a rate which was thetotal of their speeds. Bors punched computer-keys and got thegravitational factor at this distance from Tralee's sun. He set the_Isis's_ solar-system drive to that exact quantity. He waited. 

His own radar was now non-operative. Its first discovery-pulse wouldhave been observed by the Mekinese duty-officer. The fact that it didnot repeat would be abnormal. The duty-officer would wonder why itdidn't come again. 

The astrogation-radar cut off. Then a single strong pulse came. It wouldbe a ranging-pulse. Cargo-ship radars sacrificed high accuracy for wideand deep coverage. But war-vessels carried pulse instruments which couldmeasure distances within feet up to thousands of miles, and byphase-scrambling among the echoes even get some information about thesize and shape of the object examined. Not much, but some. 

Bors relaxed. Things were going well. When four other ranging-pulsesarrived at second intervals, he nodded to himself. This was a warship'sreaction. It could be nothing else. That officer knew that something wascoming out from Tralee. It was on approximately a collision course. Buta ship traveling under power should gain velocity as long as its drivewas on. When traveling outward from the sun and not under power, itshould lose velocity by so many feet per second to the sun'sgravitational pull. Bors's ship did neither. It displayed the remarkablyunlikely characteristic of absolutely steady motion. It was not normal. It was not possible. It could not have any reasonable explanation, inthe mind of a Mekinese. 

Which was its purpose. It would arouse professional curiosity on thecruiser, which would then waste some precious time attempting toidentify it. There wouldn't be suspicion because it didn't actsuspiciously. Still, it couldn't be dismissed, because it didn't behavein any recognizable fashion. The cruiser would want to know more aboutit; it shouldn't move at a steady velocity going outward from a sun. 

In consequence, Bors got in the first shot. 

He said, "Fire one!" when the Mekinese would be just about planning toturn their electron-telescope upon it. A missile leaped away from the_Isis_. It went off at an angle, and it curved madly, and theinstrumentation of the cruiser could spot it as now there, now here, nownearer, and now nearer still. But the computers could not handle anobject which not only changed velocity but changed the rate at which itsvelocity changed. 

Missiles came pouring out of the Mekinese ship. They were infinitesimal, bright specks on the radar-screen. They curved violently in flighttrying to intercept the _Isis's_ missile. They failed. 

There was a flash of sun-bright flame very, very far away. There was alittle cloud of vapor which dissipated swiftly. Then there was nothingbut two or three specks moving at random, their target lost, theirpurpose forgotten. The fact of victory was an anticlimax. 

"All clear, " said Bors grimly. 

The inner-compartment doors opened. The normal sounds of the ship wereheard again. Bors began to calculate the data needed for the journey toGaren. There was the angle and the distance and the proper motions andthe time elapsed. .. . He found it difficult to think in such terms. Hewas discontented. He'd ambushed a Mekinese cruiser. True, he'd let hisown ship be seen, and the Mekinese had warning enough to launch missilesin their own defense. It was not even faintly like the ambush of acruiser on the bottom of a Kandarian sea, waiting to assassinate a fleetwhen its complement went on board. But Bors didn't like what he'd justdone. 

The figures wouldn't come out right. Impatiently, he sent for Logan. Themathematical Talent came into the control room. 

"Will you calculate this for me?" Bors asked irritably. 

Logan glanced casually at the figures and wrote down the answer. Instantly. Without thought or reflection. Instantly!

Bors couldn't quite believe it. The distance between the two stars was arounded-off number, of course. The relative proper motion of the twostars had a large plus-or-minus bugger factor. The time-lapse due todistance had a presumed correction and there was a considerable probableerror in the speed of translation of the ship during overdrive. It was amoderately complicated equation, and the computation of the probableerror was especially tricky. Bors stared at it, and then stared atLogan. 

"That's the answer to what you have written there, " said Logancondescendingly, "but your figures are off. I've been talking to yourcomputer men. They've given me the log figures on past overdrive jumpsand the observed errors on arrival. They're systematic. I noticed it atonce. "

Bors said, "What?"

"There's a source of consistent error, " Logan said patiently. "I foundthe values to correct it, then I found the source. It's in youroverdrive speed. "

Bors blinked. Speed in overdrive could not be computed exactly. Theapproximation was very close--within a fraction of a tenth of one percent--but when the distance traveled was light-years the uncertaintypiled up. 

"If you use these figures, " said Logan complacently--and he scribbledfigures swiftly--"you'll get it really accurate. "

Having finished writing the equation, he wrote the solution. Bors askedsuspicious questions. Logan answered absently. He knew nothing aboutoverdrive. He didn't understand anything but numbers and he didn't knowhow he did what he did with them. But he'd worked backward from observederrors in calculation and found a way to keep them out of the answer. And he'd done it all in his head. It was unbelievable--yet Borsbelieved. 

"I'll try your figures, " he said. "Thanks. "

Logan went proudly away, past an orderly bringing cups of coffee to thecontrol room. Bors aimed the ship according to the calculation Logan hadgiven him, scrupulously setting the breakout timer to the exact figurelisted. 

He was still uncomfortable about the destruction of the Mekinese cruiserwhen he said curtly, "Overdrive coming!" He'd have preferred a moresportsmanlike type of warfare. He faced the old, deplorable fact thatfighting men had had to adjust to throughout the ages; one can fight anhonorable enemy honorably, but against some men scruples count ashandicaps. 

"Swine!" growled Bors. "They'll make us like them!" Then into themicrophone he said, "Five, four, three, two, one. .. . "

He pressed the overdrive button. The sensation of going into overdrivewas acutely uncomfortable, as always. Bors swallowed squeamishly andtook his cup of coffee. 

The _Isis_, then, lay wrapped in a cocoon of stressed space. Itsproperties included the fact that its particular type of stress couldtravel much more swiftly than the stresses involved in the propagationof radiation, of magnetism, or gravity. And this state of stress--thisoverdrive field--did not have a position. It _was_ a position. The shipinside it could not be said to be in the real cosmos at all, but whenthe field collapsed it would be somewhere, and the way it pointed, andhow long before collapse, determined in what particular somewhere itwould be when it came out. But travel in overdrive was tedious. 

As civilization increases man's control of the cosmos, it takes the funout of it. In prehistoric days a man who had to hunt animals or gohungry may often have gone hungry, but he was never bored by thesameness of his meals. A man who traveled on horseback often got to hisdestination late, but he was not troubled with ennui on the way. Inoverdrive, Bors's ship traveled almost with the speed of thought, butthere was absolutely nothing to think about while journeying. Not aboutthe journey, anyhow. 

While the ship drove on, however, the cargo-ship seized on Tralee madeits way toward Glamis and a meeting with the fleet, then gloomilysweeping in orbit around Glamis Two. The food it carried would raisemen's spirits a little, but it would not solve the problem of what thefleet was to do. Morgan, on the flagship, expounded the ability of hisTalents to perform the incredible, but nobody could find any applicationof the incredible to the fix the fleet was in. On Kandar, the populationknew that there had been a battle off the gas-giant planet, but they didnot know the result. The Mekinese fleet had not come. The fleet ofKandar had not returned. The caretaker government met in council anddesperately made guesses. It arrived at no hopeful conclusion whatever. The most probable--because most hopeless--conviction seemed to be thatthe fleet of Mekin had been met and fought, but that it was victorious, and in retaliation for resistance it had gone away to send back swarmsof grisly bomb-carriers which would drop atomic bombs in such quantitythat for a thousand years to come there would be no life on Kandar. 

The light cruiser, the _Isis_, was unaware of these frustrations. Itremained in overdrive, where absolutely nothing happened. 

Bors reviewed his actions and could not but approve of them tepidly. He'd sent food to the fleet, he'd destroyed two enemy fighting ships andhe'd done what he could to harm the Mekinese puppets on Tralee. He'd hadthem publicly humiliated with well-chosen epithets. He'd destroyed therecords and archives of the secret political police. .. . Many people onTralee already blessed him, without knowing who he was. There might yetbe hope of better days. 

But all things end, even journeys at excessively great multiples of thespeed of light. The overdrive timer rang warning bells. Taped breakoutnotifications sounded from speakers throughout the ship. There was acount-down of seconds, and the abominably unpleasant sensation ofbreakout, and the ship was in normal space again. 

There was the sun of Garen, burning peacefully in a vast void withmillions of minute, unwinking lights in the firmament all about it. There was a gas-giant planet, a mere fifteen million miles away. Furtherout there were the smaller, frozen worlds. Nearer the sun, on the farside of its orbit, there was the planet Garen. 

The _Isis_ drove for that planet, while Bors tried to decide whether theremarkable accuracy of this breakout was due to accident or to Logan'scomputations. 

Logan appeared as Bors was gloomily contemplating the days needed toreach Garen on solar system drive, because overdrive was too fast. Loganlooked offhand and elaborately casual, but he fairly glowed withtriumph. 

"I found out the fact behind the bugger factor, Captain, " he saidcondescendingly. "The speed of a ship in overdrive varies as the changein mass to the minus fourth. Your computers couldn't tell that! Here's atable for calculating the speed of a ship in overdrive according to itsmass and the strength of the overdrive field. "

"Fine, " said Bors without enthusiasm. 

"And to go with it, " said Logan, his voice indifferent, but his eyesshining proudly, "just for my own amusement, I computed a complete tableof overdrive speeds for this particular ship, with different strengthsof field. They run from one point five light-speeds up to the maximumyour equipment will give. You have to correct for changes of mass, ofcourse. "

Bors was not quite capable of enthusiasm over the computation of tablesof complex figures. He simply could not share Logan's thrill ofachievement in the results of the neat rows of numerals. Nor had hestruggled unduly to grasp the implication of Logan's explanation. 

Instead, he said politely, "Very nice. Thank you very much. "

Logan's eyes ceased to shine. His wounded pride made him defiant. 

"Nobody else anywhere could have worked out that table!" he saidstridently. "Nobody! Morgan said you'd appreciate my work! He said youneeded my talent! But what good do you see in it? You think I'm afreak!"

Bors realized that he'd been tactless. Logan's experiences beforeTalents, Incorporated had made him unduly sensitive. He'd done somethingof which he was proud, but Bors didn't appreciate its magnitude. Loganreacted to the frustration of his vanity. 

"Hold it!" said Bors. "I'm not unappreciative. I'm stupid and worriedabout something. You just figured an overdrive jump for me that's themost accurate I ever heard of! But I'm desperate for time and we've gotto spend two days in solar-system drive because we can't make anoverdrive hop of less than light-days! So we're losing forty-eight hoursor more. "

Logan said as stridently as before:

"But I just showed you you don't have to! Cut the field-strengthaccording to that table. "

Bors was jolted. It was suddenly self-evident. Logan had said he'dfigured a table of overdrive fields for the _Isis_ which would work foranything between one point five light-speeds to maximum. One point fivelight-speeds!

It was one of those absurdities in technology that so often go so longbefore they are noticed. During the development of overdrive, it hadbeen the effort of every technician to get the fastest possible drive. It was known that with a given mass and a given field-strength, onecould get an effective speed of an unbelievable figure. Men had spenttheir lives trying to increase that figure. But nobody'd ever tried tofind out how _slowly_ one could travel in overdrive, becausesolar-system drive took care of _short_ distances!

"Wait a minute!" said Bors, staring. "Do you really mean I can drivethis ship under two light-speeds in overdrive?"

"Look at the table!" said Logan, trembling with anger. "Look at it!You'll find the figures right there!"

Bors looked. Then he stood up quickly. He left the ship in the care ofhis second-in-command and plunged into a highly technical discussionwith its engineers. 

He ran into violent objections. The whole purpose of overdrive was highspeed between stars. The engineers insisted that one had to use thestrongest possible field. If the field were made feeble, it would becomeunstable. Everybody knew that the field had to be of maximum strength. 

"We'll try minimum, " said Bors coldly. "Now let's get to work!"

He had to do much of the labor himself, because the engineers found itnecessary to stop at each stage of the effort to explain why it shouldnot be done. He had almost to battle to get an auxiliary circuitparalleling the main overdrive unit, with a transformer to bring downvoltage, and a complete new power-supply unit to be cut into theoverdrive line while leaving the standard ready for use without delay. 

He went back to the control room. He took a distance-reading on the hugeplanet off to port. He threw on the new, low-power overdrive field. Heheld it for seconds and broke out. It was still in sight. 

The speed of the _Isis_, with the adjusted overdrive, was one pointseven lights. 

Now, instead of spending days in solar-system drive for planetaryapproach, Bors went into the new-speed drive and broke out in elevenminutes twenty seconds, and was within a hundred thousand miles ofGaren. He'd saved two days and secured the promise of many more suchvaluable feats. 

As soon as the _Isis_ broke to normal space near Garen, there was a callon the communicator. A familiar voice;

"_Calling_ Isis! _Calling_ Isis! Sylva _calling_ Isis!"

Bors said softly, "Damnation! For the second time, what are you doing inthis place?"

Gwenlyn's voice laughed. 

"_Traveling for pleasure, Captain Bors! I've news for you. We wereallowed to land and then told to leave again. There's a warship downbelow. I told you about it before. It's still there. There's a hugecargo-ship, too, and there are riots because it's almost finishedloading with requisitioned foodstuffs for Mekin. Mekin is--would youbelieve it?--unpopular on Garen!_"

"Very well, " said Bors. "I'll see what can be done. Will you carry amessage for me?"

"_Happy to oblige, Captain!_"

"Tell them that--" Then Bors stopped short. It was not probable that thefleet wave-form and frequency were known to Mekinese ships. But thepossibility of low-speed overdrive travel was much too important amilitary secret to risk under any circumstances. He said, "I'll be alongvery shortly with some highly encouraging news. "

"_Who do I tell this to?_"

"I name no names on microwaves, " he told her. "Get going, will you?"

"_To hear_, " said Gwenlyn cheerfully, "_is to obey_. "

Her communicator clicked off. The _Sylva_ showed on a radar-screen, buthad not been near enough to be sighted direct. The blip shot out fromthe planet. 

Bors growled to himself. The _Isis_ floated a hundred thousand miles offGaren. There was no challenge. There was no query from the planet. ButGwenlyn said that there were riots down below. They could be seriousenough to absorb the attention usually given to routine. But there wasanother reason for this inattention. Garen was a part of the Mekineseempire which was not encouraged to trade off-planet except throughMekin. Very few non-Mekinese ships would ever land there, and thereforewouldn't be watched for. It was unlikely that a long-range radarhabitually swept space off Garen. The battleship should be more alert, but again there was no danger of space-borne rebellion, and the affairof Kandar might not have been bruited so far away. 

But the spaceport would respond to calls, certainly. Bors consideredthese circumstances. A large cargo-ship loaded with foodstuffsrequisitioned to be sent to Mekin. A population which had beenrebellious before--witness the battleship aground to overaweresistance--and now was rioting. 

Bors called for the extra members of his crew. He uncomfortably outlinedthe action he had in mind. There was one part that he disliked. He hadto stay on board ship. The important action, as he saw it, would takeplace elsewhere. It was so obviously painful for him to outline a courseof action in which other men must take risks he couldn't share, that hismen regarded him with pleased affection which he did not guess at. Inthe end he asked for twenty volunteers, and got fifty. 

He swung the _Isis_ around to the night side of the planet. Its two portblisters opened and two boats floated free in the orbit Bors hadestablished. The ship moved on ahead. 

Just at sunup where the spaceport stood, a voice growled down from outerspace. 

"_Calling ground!_" it said contemptuously. "_Calling ground! This isthe last ship left of the fleet of Kandar. We're pirates now and we'relooking for trouble! There's a battleship down there. Come up and fightor we blast you in your spaceport! Just to prove we can do it--watch!_"

Bors said, "Fire one, " and a missile went off toward the planet. It wasfused to detonate at the very tip of the fringes of the planet'satmosphere. 

It did. There was light more brilliant than a thousand suns. The longlow shadows of sunrise vanished. The new-rising sun turned dim bycomparison. 

The voice from space spoke with intolerable levity. "_Come up with yourmissiles ready! We'll give you ten thousand miles of height. And if youtry to duck out in overdrive. .. . _"

The voice was explicit about what it would do to the Mekinese-occupiedareas of Garen if the battleship fled. 

It came up to fight. It could do nothing else. 

Chapter 8

The trick, of course, was in the timing, and the secret was that Borsknew what he was doing, while those who opposed him did not. Bors haddeclared himself a pirate on Tralee, and here off Garen he'd claimed thesame status. But no Mekinese, as yet, knew why he'd outlawed himself, nor his purpose in challenging a line battleship to fight. It seemedlike the raving, hysterical hatred of men with no motive but hate. Butit wasn't. The _Isis_ could have sent down a missile with alimited-yield warhead if its only purpose had been to kill or todestroy. He could have blasted the warship without warning and it wasunlikely that it was alert enough to send up counter-missiles in its owndefense. But he'd have had to smash everything else in the spaceport atthe same time. 

Therefore he'd left his two space-boats in low orbit on the night sideof the planet. In thirty minutes or so they'd arrive near the spaceport, where there was a large cargo-ship loaded with foodstuffs, for Mekin. Bors wanted that cargo. 

So when the Mekinese battlewagon came lumbering up to space, with hermissile-tubes armed and bristling, Bors withdrew the _Isis_. It was notflight. It was a move designed to make sure that when the fight beganthere would be no stray missiles falling on the planet. 

 * * * * *

Unseen, the _Isis's_ space-boats floated in darkness. They carried tenmen each, equipped with small arms and light bombs. They listened tosuch bits of broadcast information as came from the night beneath them. Boat Number One picked up a news broadcast, and when it was finished, the petty officer in command pulled free the tape that had recorded itand tucked it in his pocket. There were items of interest on it. 

 * * * * *

The _Isis_ came to a stop in space. The battleship rose and rose. It didnot drive toward the _Isis_. There was a maximum distance beyond whichspace-combat was impractical; beyond which missiles became mere blindprojectiles moving almost at random and destroying each other withoutregard to planetary loyalties. There was also a minimum distance, belowwhich missiles were again mere projectiles and could not greatly modifythe courses on which they were launched. 

But there was a wide area in between, in which combat was practical. TheMekinese battleship reached a height where it could maneuver onsolar-system drive without rockets. It might, of course, flick intooverdrive and be gone thousands of millions of miles within seconds. Butthat would be flight. It would not return accurately to the scene of thefight. So overdrive could not be used as a battle tactic. It could beused only for escape. 

 * * * * *

Near the planet, where the two space-boats floated, the dawnlineappeared at the world's edge. The space-boats swung about, facingbackward, and applied power for deceleration. They dropped into theatmosphere and bounced out again, and in again--more deeply--and thenswung once more to face along their course. They began a long, shallow, screaming descent from the farthest limits of the planet's atmosphere. 

 * * * * *

Out where the sun of Garen was a disk of intolerable brilliance andheat, the battleship bumbled on its way. It would seem that itscommander scornfully accepted the _Isis's_ terms of combat and movedcontemptuously to the position where his weapons would be most deadly. His ship's launching-tubes were at the ready. It should be able to pourout a cloud of missiles. In fact, a sardonic voice came from thebattleship. 

"_Calling pirate_, " said the voice. 

"Yes, " said Bors. 

"_If you wish to surrender--_"

"We don't, " said Bors. 

"_I was about to say_, " said the sardonic voice, "_that it is now toolate. _"

The radar-screen showed tiny specks darting out from that larger speckwhich was the battleship. They came hurtling toward the _Isis_. Borscounted them. A ship of the _Isis's_ class mounted eighteenlaunching-tubes. She should be able to fire eighteen missiles at a time. The Mekinese ship had fired nineteen. If the _Isis_ opened fire, by allthe previous rules of space-combat, she would need to use one missile tocounter every one of the battleship's, there would still be one leftover to destroy the _Isis_--unless she fired a second spread ofmissiles, which was virtually impossible before she would be hit. 

It was mockery by the skipper of the battleship. He was doubtless muchamused at the idea of toying with this small, insolent vessel. But Borsdid not try to match him missile for missile. He said evenly, "Fire one. Fire two. Fire three. Fire four. "

He stopped at four. His four missiles went curving wildly, in thegeneral direction, only, of the enemy. 

 * * * * *

On the planet Garen two shrieking objects came furiously to ground. Menleaped swiftly out of them and trotted toward a small town, asettlement, a group of houses hardly larger than a village. One mandelayed by each grounded space-boat, and then ran to overtake theothers. Local inhabitants appeared, to stare and to wonder. The twolanding-parties, ten men in each, did not pause. They swarmed into thevillage's single street. There were ground-cars at the street-sides. Themen of the landing-parties established themselves briskly. One of themseized a staring civilian by the arm. 

"To hell with Mekin, " he said conversationally. "Where's thecommunicator office?"

"Wha--what--?"

"To hell with Mekin, " repeated the man from the _Isis_, impatiently. "Where's the communicator office?"

The civilian, trembling suddenly, pointed. Some of the landing-partyrushed to it. Four went in. There were the reports of blast-rifles. Smoke and the smell of burnt insulation drifted out. Others of themagically arrived men went methodically down the street, examining eachground-car in turn. One of them cupped his hands and bellowed for theinformation of alarmed citizens:

"Attention, please! We're from the pirate ship _Isis_. You have nothingto fear from us. We're survivors of Mekin's invasion of Kandar. You willplease co-operate with us, and no harm will come to you. Yourground-cars will be disabled so you can't report us. You will not bepunished for this! Repeat: you will not be punished!"

He repeated the announcement. Others of the swiftly-movinglanding-parties drove the chosen ground-cars away from the streets. Theremaining cars received a blaster-bolt apiece. In seven minutes andthirty seconds from the landing of the small space-craft, a motleyassortment of cars roared out of the village, heading for the capitalcity of Garen. As the last car cleared the houses, there was a monstrousexplosion. One of the space-boats flew to bits. Before the cars hadvanished, there was a second explosion. Another space-boat vanished inflame and debris. The landing-party had no way to return to space. Theinhabitants of the village had no way to report their coming except inperson and by traveling some considerable distance on foot. They weresingularly slow in making that report. The men of the space-boats hadsaid they were pirates. The people of Garen felt no animosity towardpirates. They only hated Mekinese. 

 * * * * *

Out in space, missiles hurtled away from the small ship _Isis_. They didnot plunge directly at the battleship. They swung crazily in wide arcs. The already-launched Mekinese missiles swerved to intercept them. Theyfailed. More missiles erupted from the battleship, aimed to intercept. They also failed. The battleship began to fling out every missile itpossessed, in a frantic effort to knock out the _Isis's_ erraticmissiles, which neither instruments nor eyes were able to followaccurately enough to establish a pattern of destination. 

 * * * * *

Half a dozen ground-cars roared through the streets of the capital cityof Garen. They did not seem to be crowded. One man or at most, two, could be seen in each car, but they drove as a unit, one close behindanother, at a furious pace. When they needed a clear way, the firstsounded its warning-note and the others joined in as a chorus. Half adozen sirens blaring together have an authoritative, emergency sound. The way was cleared when that imperative clarion demanded it. 

They swerved under the landing-grid. They raced and bounced across theclear surface which was the spaceport. There stood a giant, rotundcargo-ship, pointing skyward. There were ground-trucks still supplyingcargo for its nearly filled-up holds. 

The six ground-cars braked, making clouds of dust. And suddenly therewas not one or two men in each, but an astonishing number. They knewexactly what they were about. Five of them plunged into the ship. Othersdrove off the ground-trucks. Uniformed men ran from the side of thespaceport toward the ship, yelling. One ground-car started up again, rushed to the control-building, swerved sharply as a crash into itseemed inevitable, and dumped something out on the ground. It raced backto the other cars about the cargo-ship. The hold-doors were closing. 

The object dumped by the control-building went off. It was achemical-explosive bomb, but its power was adequate. The wall of thebuilding caved in. Flames leaped crazily out of the collapsed heap. Thelanding-field would be out of operation. 

The last car skidded to a stop. The two men in it ran for theboarding-stair of the cargo-boat. There was nobody of their partyoutside now. The landing-stair withdrew after them. 

Then monstrous, incredible masses of flame and steam burst from thebottom of the rotund space-ship. It lifted, slowly at first, but thenmore and more swiftly. It climbed to the sky. It became a speck, andthen a mote at the crawling end of a trail of opaque whiteemergency-rocket fumes. Then it vanished. 

 * * * * *

Far out in space, there was an explosion brighter than the sun, and thena second and a third. There was a cloud of incandescent metal vapor. Presently a missile found its target-seeking microwaves reflected by theionized metal steam. It plunged into collision with that glowing stuff. It exploded. Two or three more exploded, like the first. Others burnedharmlessly. 

A voice said, "_Cargo-ship reporting. Clear of ground. Everything goingwell. No casualties. _"

"Report again when in clear space, " said Bors. 

He waited. Several long minutes later a second report came. 

"_Cargo-ship reporting. In clear space. _"

"Very good work!" said Bors. "You know where to go now. Go ahead!"

"_Yes, sir_, " said the voice from space. Then it asked apologetically, "_You got the battleship, sir?_"

The voice from space sounded as if the man who spoke were grinning. 

"_We'll celebrate that, sir! Good to have served with you, sir. _"

Bors swung the _Isis_ and drove on solar-system drive to get well awayfrom Garen. He watched the blip which was the captured ship as it seemedto hesitate a very, very long time. It was aiming, of course, forGlamis, that totally useless solar system around a planet where thefleet of Kandar orbited in bitter frustration. 

Bors got up from his seat to loosen his muscles. He had sat absolutelytense and effectively motionless for a very long time. He ached. But hefelt a sour sort of satisfaction. For a ship of the _Isis's_ class tohave challenged a battleship to combat, to have deliberately andinsultingly waited for it to choose its own battle-distance, and then tolet it launch its missiles first. .. . It was no ambush! Bors did notfeel ashamed of this fight. He'd acted according to the instincts of afighting man who gives his enemy the chance to use what weapons theenemy has chosen, and then defeats him. 

His second-in-command said, "Sir, the cargo-boat blip is gone. It shouldbe in overdrive now, sir, heading for Glamis. "

"Then we'll follow it, " said Bors. Suddenly he realized how hissecond-in-command must feel. The landing-party'd seen action--for whichBors envied them--and he'd felt ashamed because he stayed in the ship inwhat he considered safety while they risked their lives. But hissecond-in-command had had no share in the achievement at all. Bors hadhandled all controls and given all orders, even the routine ones, sincebefore Tralee. 

"I think, " said Bors, "I'll have a cup of coffee. Will you take over andhead for Glamis?"

He left the control-room, to let his subordinate handle things for atime. He'd seated himself in the mess-room when the voice of hissecond-in-command came through the speakers. 

"_Going into overdrive_, " said the voice. "_All steady. Five, four, three, two--_"

Bors prepared to wince. He put down his coffee cup and held himselfready for the sickening sensation. 

Suddenly there was the rasping, snaring crackling of a high-voltagespark. There were shouts. There were explosions and the reek ofoverheated metal and smoldering insulation. Then the compartment-doorsclosed. 

When Bors had examined the damage, and the emergency-purifiers had takenthe smoke and smell out of the air, his second-in-command lookedsuicidally gloomy. 

"It's bad business, " said Bors wryly. "Very bad business! But I shouldhave mentioned it to you. I didn't think of it. I wouldn't have thoughtof it if I'd been doing the overdrive business myself. "

The second-in-command said bitterly;

"But I knew you'd tried the new low-power overdrive! I knew it!"

"I left it switched in, " said Bors, "because I thought we might use itin the fight with the battleship. But we didn't. "

"I should have checked that it was off!" protested his second. "It's myfault!"

Bors shrugged. Deciding whose fault it was wouldn't repair the damage. There'd been a human error. Bors had approached Garen on the low-poweroverdrive that Logan had computed for him. There was a special switch tocut it in, instead of the standard overdrive. It should have been cutout when the standard overdrive was used. But somebody in theengine-room had simply thrown the main-drive switch when preparationsfor overdrive travel began. When the ship should have gone intooverdrive, it didn't. The two parallel circuits amounted to an effectiveshort-circuit. Generators, condensers--even the overdrive field coils intheir armored mounts outside the hull--everything blew. 

So the _Isis_ was left with a solar-system drive and rockets and nothingelse. If the drive used only in solar systems were put on full, and the_Isis_ headed for Glamis, and if the food and water held out, it wouldarrive at that distant world in eighty-some years. It could reach Traleein fifty. But there were emergency rations for a few weeks only. It wasnot conceivable that repairs could be made. This was no occasion callingfor remarkable ingenuity to make some sort of jury-rigged drive. Thiswas final. 

"I've got to think, " said Bors heavily. 

He went to his own cabin. 

Talents, Incorporated couldn't improvise or precognize or calculate ananswer to this! And all previous plans had to be cancelled. Absolutely. He dismissed at once and for all time the idea that the _Isis_ could berepaired short of months in a well-equipped space-yard on a friendlyplanet. She should be blown up, after adequate pains were taken todestroy any novelties in her make-up. There were the tables of Logan'scalculation. Bors found himself thinking sardonically that Logan shouldbe shot because he had no obligation of loyalty to Kandar, and could asreadily satisfy his hunger for recognition in the Mekinese service asin Kandar's. The crew. .. . 

That was the heart of the situation. The _Isis_ could not be salvaged. She should be destroyed. There was only one world within reach on whichhuman beings could live. That world was Garen. The _Isis_ could sit downon Garen, disembark her crew, and be blown up before Mekineseauthorities could interfere. Perhaps--possibly--her crew could try tofunction on Garen as marooned pirates, as outlaws, as rebels against thepuppet planetary government. But they knew too much. Every man aboardknew how the interceptor-proof missiles worked. Logan might be the onlyman who had ever calculated the tables for their use, but if any memberof the _Isis's_ crew were captured and made to talk, he could tellenough for Mekinese mathematicians to start work with. If Logan werecaptured he could tell more. He could re-compute not only the tables forthe missiles, but the data for low-power overdrive which would make anyfleet invincible. 

And there was the Kandarian fleet. If its existence became known, itwould mean the destruction of Kandar. Every soul of all its millionswould die with every tree and blade of grass, every flower, beast andsinging bird, even the plankton in its seas. 

Bors had arrived at the grimmest decision of his life when his cabinspeaker said curtly:

"_Captain Bors, sir. Space-yacht_ Sylva _calling. Asks for you. _"

"I'm here, " said Bors. 

Gwenlyn's voice came out of the speaker. 

"_Are you in trouble, Captain? One of our Talents insists that youare. _"

Bors swallowed. 

"I thought you'd gone on as you were supposed to do. Yes. There istrouble. It amounts to shipwreck. How many of my men can you take off?"

"_We've lots of room!_" said Gwenlyn. "_My father kept most of theTalents with him. We're heading your way, Captain. _"

"Very good, " said Bors. "Thank you. " He was grateful, but help from awoman--from Gwenlyn!--galled him. 

He heard her click off, and shivered. 

Presently the _Sylva_ was alongside. The transfer of the _Isis's_ crewbegan. Bors went over the ship for the last time. The ship's log wentaboard the _Sylva_, as did Logan's calculated tables for low-poweroverdrive. Bors made quite sure that nothing else could be recoveredfrom the _Isis_. He looked strained and irritable when he finally wentinto one of the lifeboat blisters on the _Isis_ left vacant by thesacrifice of two space-boats in the Garen cutting-out expedition. A boatfrom the _Sylva_ was there to receive him. 

"Technically, " said Bors, "I should go down with my ship, or fly apartwith it. But there's no point in being romantic!"

"I'm the one, " said his second-in-command, "who will standcourt-martial!"

"I doubt it very much, " said Bors. "They can't court-martial you forpartly accomplishing something they're in trouble for failing at. Intothe boat with you!"

He threw a switch and entered the boat. The blister opened. The smallspace-boat floated free. Its drive hummed and it drove far and away fromthe seemingly unharmed but completely helpless _Isis_. Bors lookedregretfully back at the abandoned light cruiser. Sunlight glinted on itshull. Somehow a slow rotary motion had been imparted to it during theprocess of abandoning ship. The little fighting ship pointed as thoughwistfully at all the stars about her, to none of which she would everdrive again. 

The _Sylva_ loomed up. The last space-boat nestled into its blister andthe grapples clanked. The leaves closed. When the blister air-pressureshowed normal and green lights flashed and flashed, Bors got out of theboat and went to the _Sylva's_ control-room. Gwenlyn was there, quitecasually controlling the operation of the yacht by giving suggestions toits official skipper. She turned and beamed at Bors. 

"We'll pull off a way, " she observed, "and make sure your time-bombworks. You wouldn't want her discovered and salvaged. "

"No, " said Bors. 

He stood by a viewport as the _Sylva_ drove away. The _Isis_ ceased tobe a shape and became the most minute of motes. Bors looked at hiswatch. 

"Not far enough yet, " he said depressedly. "Everything will go. "

The yacht drove on. Fifteen--twenty minutes at steadily increasingsolar-system speed. 

"It's about due, " said Bors. 

Gwenlyn came and stood beside him. They looked together out at thestars. There were myriads upon myriads of them, of all the colors of thespectrum, of all degrees of brightness, in every possible asymmetricdistribution. 

There was a spark in remoteness. Instantly it was vastly more than aspark. It was a globe of deadly, blue-white incandescence. It flamedbrilliantly as all the _Isis's_ fuel and the warheads on all itsunexpended missiles turned to pure energy in the hundred-millionth of asecond. It was many times brighter than a sun. Then it was not. And theviolence of the explosion was such that there was not even glowingmetal-vapor where it had been. Every atom of the ship's substance hadbeen volatilized and scattered through so many thousands of cubic milesof emptiness that it did not show even as a mist. 

"A good ship, " said Bors grimly. Then he growled. "I wonder if they sawthat on Garen and what they thought about it!" He straightened himself. "How did you know we were in trouble?"

"There's a Talent, " said Gwenlyn matter-of-factly, "who can always tellhow people feel. She doesn't know what they think or why. But she cantell when they're uneasy and so on. Father uses her to tell him whenpeople lie. When what they say doesn't match how they feel, they'relying. "

"I think, " said Bors, "that I'll stay away from her. But that won't doany good, will it?"

Gwenlyn smiled at him. It was a very nice smile. 

"She could tell that things had gone wrong with the ship, " she observed, "because of the way you felt. But I've forbidden her ever to tell whensomeone lies to me or anything like that. I don't want to know people'sfeelings when they want to hide them. "

"Fine!" said Bors. "I feel better. " Standing so close to Gwenlyn, healso felt light-headed. 

She smiled at him again, as if she understood. 

"We'll head for Glamis now, " she said. "The situation there should havechanged a great deal because of what you've done. "

"It would be my kind of luck, " said Bors half joking, "for it to havechanged for the worse. "

It had. 

Chapter 9

"The decision, " said King Humphrey the Eighth, stubbornly, "is exactlywhat I have said. In full war council it has been agreed that the fleet, through a new use of missiles, is a stronger fighting force than everbefore. This was evidenced in the late battle and no one questions it. But it is also agreed that we remain hopelessly outnumbered. We are in aposition where we simply cannot fight! For us to have fought wouldprobably have been forgiven if we had been wiped out in the recentbattle--preferably with only slight loss to the Mekinese. We offeredbattle expecting exactly that. Unfortunately, we annihilated the fleetthat was to have occupied Kandar. In consequence we have had to pretendthat we were destroyed along with them. And if we are discovered to bealive, and certainly if we offer to fight, Kandar will be exterminatedas a living world, to punish us and as a warning to future victims ofthe Mekinese. "

"Yes, Majesty, " Bors said through tight lips. "But may I point out--"

"I know what you want to point out, " the king broke in irritably. "Withthe help of these Talents, Incorporated people, you've worked out a newbattle tactic you want to put into practice. You've explained it to theWar Council. The War Council has decided that it is too risky. We cannotgamble the lives of the people on Kandar. We have not the right toexpose them to Mekinese vengeance!"

"I agree, Majesty, " said Bors, "but at the same time--"

The king leaned back in his chair. 

"I don't like it any better than you do, " he said peevishly. "I expectedto get killed in a space-battle--not very gloriously, but at least withself-respect. Unfortunately we had bad luck. We won the fight. I do notlike what we have to do in consequence, but we have to do it!"

Bors bit his lips. He liked and respected King Humphrey, as he hadrespect and affection for his uncle, the Pretender of Tralee. Both werehonest and able men who'd been forced to learn the disheartening lessonthat some things are impossible. But Bors believed that King Humphreyhad learned the lesson too well. 

"You plan, Majesty, " he said after a moment, "to send me out again tocapture food-ships if I can. "

"Obviously, " said the king. 

"The idea being, " Bors went on, "that if I can get enough food for thefleet so it can make a journey of several hundreds of light-years--"

"It is necessary to go a long way, " the king confirmed unhappily. "Weneed to take the fleet to where Mekin is only a name and Kandar not eventhat. "

"Where you will disband the fleet--"

"Yes. "

"And hope that Mekin will not take vengeance anyhow for the fight thefleet has already put up. "

The king said heavily, "It will be a very long time before word driftsback that the fleet of Kandar did not die in battle. It may never come. If it does, it will come as a vague rumor, as an idle tale, as absurdgossip about a fleet whose home planet may not even be remembered whenthe tales are told. There will be trivial stories about a fleet whichabandoned the world it should have defended, and fled so far that itsenemies did not bother to follow it. If the tale reaches Mekin, it maynot be believed. It may not ever be linked to Kandar. And if some day itis believed, by then Kandar will be long occupied. Perhaps it will beresigned to its status. It will be a valuable subject world. Mekin willnot destroy it merely to punish scattered, forgotten men who will neverknow that they have been punished. "

"And you want me, " repeated Bors, "to find the stores of food that willlet the fleet travel to--oblivion. "

"Yes, " said the king again. He looked very weary. "In a sense, ofcourse, we will simply be doing what we set out to do--to throw away ourlives. We intended to do that. We are doing no more now. "

Bors said grimly, "I'm not sure. But I will obey orders, Majesty. Do youobject if I pass out the details of the new device among some juniorofficers? I speak of the way to compute overdrive speed exactly and howto vary it. It could help the fleet to stay together, even inoverdrive. "

The king shrugged. "That would be desirable. I do not object. "

"I'll do it then, Majesty, " said Bors. "I'll be assigned a new ship. I'dlike the same crew. I'll do my best, in a new part of the Mekineseempire, this time. "

"Yes, " said the king drearily. "Don't make a pattern of raids that wouldsuggest that you have a base. You understand, it is impossible to usemore than one ship. .. . "

"Naturally, " agreed Bors. "One more suggestion, Majesty. A ship could besent back to Kandar--not to land but to watch. If a single Mekinese shipwent there to ask questions, it could be destroyed, perhaps. Which wouldgain us time. "

"I will think about it, " said the king doubtfully. "Maybe it hasoccurred to someone else. I will see. Meantime you will go to theadmiral for a new ship. And then do what you can to find provisions forthe fleet. It is not good for us to merely stay here waiting fornothing. Even action toward our own disappearance is preferable. "

Bors saluted. He went to the office of the admiral. Thecommander-in-chief of the Kandarian fleet was making an inspection, tomaintain tight discipline in the absence of hope. A young vice-admiralwas on duty in the admiral's stead. He regarded Bors with approval. Helistened with attention, and agreed with most of what Bors had to say. 

"I'll push the idea of a sentry over Kandar, " he said confidentially. "I'll make it two ships or three and take command. I want to send someof my engineer officers to get the details of that low-power overdrive. A very pretty tactical idea! It should be spread throughout the fleet. "

"It will help, " Bors said with irony, "when we go so far away that we'llnever be heard of any more. "

"Eh?" The vice-admiral looked at him blankly. "Oh. Perhaps. You wouldn'tbe likely to pick up a cargo-ship loaded with Mekinese missiles, wouldyou? We could adapt them to our use. "

"If I did, " Bors answered, "I suspect that somehow that ship would landitself on Mekin and blow up as it touched ground. "

The vice-admiral raised his eyebrows. Bors saluted quickly and left. 

Presently he was back on the _Sylva_. His new command would be suppliedwith extra missiles from other ships. Despite the fleet action againstthe Mekinese, there was not yet a shortage of such ammunition. When amissile could not be intercepted and itself did not try to intercept, the economy of missiles was great. In the battle of the gas-giantplanet, the fleet had fired no more than three or four missiles forevery enemy ship destroyed. 

Morgan took Bors aside. 

"I'm going to keep Logan here this trip. I'm working on the commanders. I need him. And our Talent for Detecting Lies, --she was the one who knewyou were in trouble, Gwenlyn tells me--is very necessary. I was hamperedby not having her while Gwenlyn was away. But she did a good job foryou!"

Bors shrugged. He did not like depending upon Talents. He still wasn'tinclined toward acceptance of what he considered the occult. Now hesaid, "I'm duly grateful, but it's just as well. My mind doesn't work ina way to understand these Talents of yours. I admit everything, but I'mafraid I don't really accept anything. "

"It's perfectly reasonable, " protested Morgan. "The facts fit together!I'm no hand at working out theories; I deal in facts. But the facts domake sense!"

Bors found himself looking at the door of the family room, where Morganhad taken him. He realized that he was waiting for Gwenlyn to enter. Heturned back to Morgan. 

"They don't make sense to me, " he said dourly. "You have a precognizer, you say. He foresees the future. I admit that he has. But the future isuncertain. It can't be foreseen unless it's pre-ordained, and in thatcase we're only puppets imagining that we're free agents. But therewould be no reason in such a state of things!"

Morgan settled himself luxuriously in a self-adjusting chair. He thrusta cigar on Bors and lighted up zestfully. 

"I've been wanting to spout about that, " he observed, "even if I'm notheoretician. Look here! What is true? What is truth? What's thedifference between a false statement and a true one?"

Bors's eyes wandered to the door again. He drew them back. 

"One's so and the other isn't, " he said. 

"No, " said Morgan. "Truth is an accordance--an agreement--between anidea and a fact. If I toss a coin, I can make two statements. I can sayit will come up heads, or I can say that it will come up tails. Onesentence is true and one is false. A precognizer simply knows whichstatement is true. I don't, but he does. "

"It's still prophecy, " objected Bors. 

"Oh, no!" protested Morgan. "A precognizer-talent doesn't prophesy! Allhe can do is recognize that an idea he has now matches an event thatwill happen presently. He can't extract ideas from the future! He canonly judge the truth or falsity of ideas that occur to him. He has tothink something before he can know it is true. He _does not getinformation from the future!_ He can only know that the idea he has nowmatches something that will happen later. He can detect a matching--anagreement--perhaps it's a mental vibration of some sort. But that'sall!"

"I asked if I would capture a cargo-ship on Tralee--"

"And I said I didn't know! Of course I said so! How could anybody knowsuch a thing except by pure accident? A precognizer might think of ninehundred and ninety-nine ways in which you might try to capture thatship. They could all be wrong. He might say you wouldn't capture it. Butyou might try a thousandth way that he hadn't thought of! All he canknow is that some idea he has concocted matches--some instinct stirs, and he _knows_ it's true! That's why one man can precognize dirtytricks. His mind works that way! We've got a woman who knows, infallibly, who's going to marry whom! That's why the ship-arrivalprecognizer can say a ship's coming in. His mind works on such things, and he has a talent besides!"

"There are definite limits, then. "

"What is there that's real and hasn't limits?" demanded Morgan. 

The door opened and Gwenlyn came in. Bors rose, looking pleased. 

"I'm telling him the facts of life about precognition, " Morgan told her. "I think he understands now. "

"I don't agree, " said Bors. 

Gwenlyn said amusedly, "Two of our Talents want to talk to you, Captain. You might say that they want to measure you for rumors. "

"They what?" demanded Bors, startled. 

"The Talent who predicts dirty tricks, " said Gwenlyn, "is going to workwith the woman who broadcasts daydreams. They'll be our Department ofPropaganda. "

Bors said uncertainly, "But there's no point in propaganda! It'sdetermined. "

"I know!" said Morgan complacently. "The high brass has made a decision. A perfectly logical decision, too, once you grant their premises. Butthey assume that Talents, Incorporated, given some co-operation, ofcourse, lacks the ability to change the situation. In that they'remistaken. "

"Father hopes, " said Gwenlyn amiably, "to modify the situation so theirassumptions will lead logically to a different conclusion. Apparentlythey're going to change their minds!"

Bors objected. "But you can't know the future!"

"Our precognizer--our Precognizer for Special Events, " said Gwenlyn, "got the notion that a year from now King Humphrey should openparliament on Kandar, if everything is straightened out. The notionbecame a precognition. We don't know how it can come about, but it doesseem to imply a change of plans somewhere!"

Bors found himself indomitably skeptical. But he said, "Ah! That's theprecognition you mentioned on Kandar--that the fleet wouldn't be wipedout and everybody killed. "

"No-o-o, " said Gwenlyn. "That was another one. I'd rather not tell youabout it. It might be--unpleasant. I'll tell you later. "

Bors shrugged. 

"All right. You said I'm to be measured for rumors? Bring on yourtape-measures!"

Morgan beamed at him. Gwenlyn went to the door and opened it. Anenormously fat woman came in, moving somehow sinuously in spite of herbulk. She gave Bors a glance he could not fathom. It was sentimental, languishing and wholly and utterly approving. He felt a momentaryappalled suspicion which he dismissed in something close to panic. Itcouldn't be that he was fated--

Then the arrogant man with rings came in. He'd been identified as theTalent for Predicting Dirty Tricks. Bors remembered that he had aparanoid personality, inclined toward infinite suspiciousness, and thathe'd been in jail for predicting crimes that were later committed. 

"Gwenlyn says propaganda, " said Morgan, "but I prefer to think of thesetwo Talents as our Department for Disseminating Truthful SeditiousRumors. You've met Harms. " The man waved his hand, his rings glittering. "But I didn't tell you about Madame Porvis. She has the extraordinarytalent of contagious fantasy. It is remarkably rare. She can daydream, and others contract her dreamings as if they were spread by germs. "

The fat woman bridled. She still regarded Bors with a melting gaze. Again he felt startled unease. 

"It's been a great trial to me, " she said in a peculiarly childishvoice. "I had such trouble, before I knew what it was!"

"Er--trial?" asked Bors apprehensively. 

"When I was just an overweight adolescent, " she told him archly, "Idaydreamed about my school's best athlete. Presently I found that myshocked fellow-students were gossiping to each other that he'd acted asI daydreamed. Other girls wouldn't look at him because they said he wasmadly in love with me. "

The arrogant man with the rings made a scornful sound. 

"He hated me, " said Madame Porvis, ruefully, "because the gossip madehim ridiculous, and it was only people picking up my daydreams!"

She looked at Morgan. He nodded encouragement. 

"Years later, " she said to Bors, "I grew romantic about an actor. He wasnot at all talented, but I daydreamed that he was, and also brilliantand worshipped by millions. Soon everybody seemed to believe it wastrue! Because I daydreamed it! He was given tremendous contracts, and--then I dared to daydream that he met and was fascinated by me!Immediately there was gossip that it had happened! When he denied thathe knew me, --and he didn't--and when he saw my picture and said hedidn't _want_ to, I was crushed. I wove beautifully tragic fantasiesabout myself as pining away and dying because of his cruelty, --and soonit was common gossip that I had!" She sighed. "He was considered avillain, because I daydreamed of him that way. His career was ruined. I've had to be very careful about my daydreams ever since. "

"Madame Porvis's talent, " Morgan said proudly, "is all the moreremarkable because she realized herself that she had it. She lets ideaspop into her head and presently they pop into other people's heads andyou have first-class rumors running madly about. When her fantasiescontain elements of truth, so do the rumors. You see?"

"It's most interesting, " admitted Bors. "But--"

"Now Harms, " said Morgan, "reads news-reports. He's specialized on thosebrought back by Gwenlyn and by you. He guesses at the news behind thenews--and he knows when he's hit it. He'll tell Madame Porvis the facts, she'll weave them into a fantasy and they'll spread like wildfire. Ofcourse she can't plant new subjects in people's minds. But anybody who'sever heard of Mekin will pick up her fantasies about graft andinefficiency in its government. Riots against Mekin, and so on. However, one wants not only to spread seditious rumors about villains, but alsoabout--say--pirates who go about fighting Mekin. Tell her stories aboutyour men, if you like. Anything that's material for heroicdefiance-fantasies against Mekin. "

Bors found himself stubbornly resisting the idea. It might be that therewas such a thing as precognition in the form Morgan had described. Theremight be such a thing as contagious fantasy. But on the other hand--

"I give up, " he said. "I won't deny it and I can't believe it. I'll goabout my business of piracy. But you, sir, " he turned to Morgan, "you'vegot to keep Gwenlyn from taking risks!"

"True, " said Morgan. "She could have some very unpleasant experiences. I'll be more stern with her. "

Gwenlyn did not seem alarmed. 

"One more thing, " Bors added. "They say the dictator of Mekin issuperstitious, that he patronizes fortune-tellers. Suppose one of _them_is a Talent? Suppose _he_ gets precognized information?"

"I worry about that, " admitted Morgan. "But I know that I have effectiveTalents. There's no evidence that _he_ has. "

"He might have a Talent whose talent is confusing our Talents, " Borssaid with some sarcasm. 

Morgan grinned tolerantly. 

"Talk to these two. We've got some firm precognitions that make thingslook bad for Mekin. "

He left the room. Gwenlyn remained, listening with interest when theconversation began, and now and then saying something of no greatimportance. But her presence kept Bors from feeling altogether like afool. Madame Porvis looked at him with languishing, sentimental eyes. Harms watched him accusingly. 

Their questions were trivial. Bors told about the landings on Tralee andon Garen. The woman asked for details that would help her picture featsof derring-do. Bors hesitated, and did not quite tell her about thetruck drivers on Tralee who volunteered the information that their loadswere booby-trapped. But he did stress the fact that the populations ofdominated planets were on the thin edge of revolt. The suspicious Talentasked very little. He listened, frowning. 

When it was over and they'd gone--the fat woman again somehow managing agait which could only be called sinuous--Bors said abruptly, "What'sthis event you know of, a year ahead?"

"King Humphrey opening parliament on Kandar, " said Gwenlyn pleasantly. 

"There's another, " said Bors, "which implies specifically that I'llstill be alive. "

"That?" said Gwenlyn. "That's another one. I won't talk about it. Itimplies that my father's going to retire from Talents, Incorporated. "

Bors fumed. 

"I don't like this prediction business, " he said. "It still seems tohint that we're not free agents. Tell me, " he said apprehensively. "Thatprecognition about me, it doesn't include Madame Porvis?"

Gwenlyn laughed. "No. Definitely no!"

Bors grunted. Then he managed to grin. 

"In that case I'll go pilfer some provisions so the fleet will beprepared to do what you tell me it won't, but which it has to beprepared to do. I suppose I'll be back?"

"I hope so, " said Gwenlyn, smiling. 

She gave him her hand. He left. He shook his head as he made his way tothe _Sylva's_ space-boat blister. He had it immediately taken to his newship. It was a light cruiser of the same class as the _Isis_. It would, of course, seem to be the same ship, and it had nearly the same crewaboard. No one of Morgan's freakish Talents was included this time, andBors felt more than a little relieved. He inspected everything and madesure his drive-engineers were more tractable than they'd been on the_Isis_. He meant to build another low-power overdrive at once. 

He cleared for departure with the flagship. He was swinging the shiptoward his first destination when a call came from the _Sylva_. He wasasked for. He went to a screen. He preferred to see Gwenlyn when hetalked to her. She was there. 

"_I've a memo for you_, " she said briskly. "_There are cargo-shipsaground on Cassis and Dover. There is a sort of patrol-squadron ofwarships aground on Meriden. Nothing on Avino. Are you recording this?_"

"I won't forget it, " he said. 

"_Then here's the situation on each of the subject worlds so far ascargo-ships and fighting ships are concerned. Our dowser can tell aboutthem. Remember, this doesn't apply to ships in overdrive! We can'tprecognize anything about them unless we're at the destination they'reheading for, and then only the time of arrival. And the dowser'sinformation is strictly as of this moment. _"

Bors nodded. Her tone was absolutely matter-of-fact. Bors was almostconvinced. 

She read off a list of statements with painstaking clarity. She'devidently had the dowser go over the list of twenty-two dominatedplanets. Bors told himself that the events she reported werepossibilities that might somehow be true. 

"_Most of the Mekinese grand fleet_, " she finished, "_is aground onMekin itself. It's probably there for inspection and review or some suchceremony. There's no way to tell. But it's there. And that's the latestTalents, Incorporated information. As my father says, you can depend onit. _"

"All right, " said Bors. "Thanks. " Then he added gruffly, "Take care ofyourself. "

She smiled at him and clicked off. Bors was confused because he couldn'tquite believe that other matters could be predicted. 

The new ship, the _Horus_, sped away in overdrive, leaving the fleet inorbit around the useless planet Glamis. Glamis was in a favorable statejust now. It was a lush green almost from pole to pole, save where itsseas showed a darker, muddy, bottom-color. It would look inviting tocolonists. But at any time its sun could demonstrate its variability andturn it into a cloud-covered world of steaming prospective jungle, or ina slightly shorter time turn it to a glacier-world. The vegetation onGlamis was remarkable. The planet, though, was of no use to humanitybecause it was unpredictable. 

The _Horus_ ran in overdrive for two days while a low-power unit wasbuilt in its engine-room, to go in parallel to the normal overdrive. Butthere was a double-throw switch in the line, now. Either the standard, multiple light-speed overdrive could be used, or the newer and vastlyslower one, but not both together. The ship came out of overdrive inabsolute emptiness with no sun anywhere nearby. She was surrounded onevery hand by uncountable distant stars. The new circuit was brazed in. It had a micro-timer included in its design. Within its certain, limitedtiming-capacity, it could establish or break a contact within thethousandth of a microsecond. 

Bors made tests, target-practice of a sort. He let out a metal-foilballoon which inflated itself, making a sphere some forty feet indiameter. In the new low-speed overdrive he drew away from it for alimited number of microseconds. He measured the distance run. He madeother runs, again measuring. From ten thousand miles away he made areturn-hop to the target-balloon and came out within a mile of it. 

He cheered up. This was remarkably accurate. He sent the ship intostandard overdrive again. Twice more, however, he stopped between starsand practiced the trick of breaking out of the new overdrive--in whichhis ship was undetectable--at a predetermined point. The satisfaction ofsuccessful operation almost made up for the extremely disagreeablesensations involved. 

But on the eighth ship-day out from Glamis, the _Horus_ came back tounstressed space with a very, very bright star burning almost straightahead. The spectroscope confirmed that it was the sun of Meriden. 

Bors sounded the action alert. Gongs clanged. Compartment-doors hissedshut. 

"You know, " said Bors conversationally into the all-speaker microphoneand in the cushioned stillness which obtained, "you all know what we'reaiming at. A food-supply for the fleet. But we've got what looks like avery useful gadget for fighting purposes. We need to test it. There's asmall squadron on Meriden, ahead, so we'll take them on. It is necessarythat we get _all of them_, so they can't report anything to Mekin thatMekin doesn't already know. All hands ready for action!"

In twenty minutes by the ship's clocks the _Horus_ was a bare thirtythousand miles off the planet Meriden. The new drive worked perfectlyfor planetary approach, at any rate. It even worked more perfectly thanthe twenty-minute interval implied. It had been off Meriden for fiveminutes then. 

Mekinese fighting ships were boiling up from the atmosphere of Meridenand plunging out to space to offer battle. They were surprisingly ready, reacting like hair-triggered weapons. Bors hadn't completed hischallenge before they were streaking toward Meriden's sky. Theycouldn't have been more prompt if, say, Meriden seethed with rumorsabout a pirate ship in space, which it was their obligation to fight. 

According to the radar screens, there were not less than fifteen shipsstreaking out to destroy the _Horus_. Fifteen to one--interesting odds. 

Bors sent the _Horus_ roaring ahead to meet them. 

Part Four

Chapter 10

The Mekinese did not display a sporting spirit. There were four heavycruisers and eleven lighter ships of the _Horus's_ size and armament. According to current theories of space-battle tactics, two of the lightcruisers should have disposed of the _Horus_ with ease and dispatch. Itmight have seemed sportsmanlike and certainly sufficient to give the_Horus_ only two antagonists at a time, which would have been calculatedto provide odds of six hundred to one against it. Two light cruiserswould have fired eighteen missiles apiece per salvo, which would havedemanded thirty-six missiles from the _Horus_ to meet and destroy them. She couldn't put thirty-six missiles into space at one firing. She wouldhave disappeared in atomic flame at the first exchange of fire. But theMekinese were not so generous. They came up in full force loaded forbear. They obviously intended not a fight but an execution. Mekinesetactics depended heavily on fire-power of such superiority that anyenemy was simply overwhelmed. 

Their maneuvering proved that they intended to follow standard operationprocedure. Light ships reached space and delayed until all were aloft. They formed themselves into a precise half-globe and plunged at topsolar-system drive toward the _Horus_. This was strictly according tothe book. If the _Horus_ chose, of course, she could refuse battle byfleeing into overdrive--which would be expected to be the regulationmany-times-faster-than-light variety. If she dared fight, the fifteenships drove on. Mekinese ships never struck lightly. The fifteen of themcould launch four hundred missiles per salvo. No single ship couldcounter such an attack. But even Mekinese would not use such stupendousnumbers of missiles against one ship unless that ship was famous; unlessrumors and reports said that it was invincible and dangerous and thehope of oppressed peoples under Mekin. 

The _Horus_ received very special attention. 

Then she vanished. At one instant she was in full career toward thefleet of enemies. The next instant she had wrapped an overdrive fieldabout herself and then no radar could detect her, nor could any missilepenetrate her protection. 

When she vanished, the speck which indicated her position disappearedfrom the Mekinese radar-screens. The hundredth of a second in overdriveas known to the Mekinese should have put her hundreds of millions ofmiles away. But something new had been added to the _Horus_. Thehundredth of a second did not mean millions of miles of journeying. Itmeant something under three thousand, and a much more precise intervalof time could be measured and used by her micro-timer. 

Therefore, at one instant the _Horus_ was some two thousand miles fromthe lip of the half-globe of enemy ships. Then she was not anywhere. Then, before the mind could grasp the fact of her vanishing, she was inthe very center, the exact focus of the formation of Mekinesebattle-craft. She was at the spot a Mekinese commander would mostdevoutly wish, because it was equidistant from all his ships, and alltheir missiles should arrive at the same instant when their overwhelmingnumber could not conceivably be parried. 

But it was more than an ideal position from a Mekinese standpoint. Itwas also a point which was ideal for the _Horus_, because all hermissiles would arrive at the encircling ships at the same instant. EachMekinese would separately learn--without information from anyother--that those projectiles could not be intercepted. No Mekinesewould have the advantage of watching the tactic practiced on acompanion-ship, to guide his own actions. 

The _Horus_ appeared at that utterly vulnerable and wholly advantageousposition. She showed on the Mekinese screens. They launched missiles. The _Horus_ launched missiles. 

The _Horus_ disappeared. 

She reappeared, beyond and behind the half-globe formation. Again sheshowed on the Mekinese screens. The Mekinese could not believe theirinstruments. A ship which fled in overdrive could not reappear likethis! Having vanished and reappeared once, it could not duplicate thetrick. Having duplicated it. .. . 

There was more, and worse. The _Horus_ missiles were not beingintercepted. Mekinese missiles were swerving crazily to try toanticipate and destroy the curving, impossibly-moving objects that wentout from where the _Horus_ had ceased to be. They failed. Clouds of newtrajectiles appeared. .. . 

A flare like a temporary sun. Another. Another. Others. .. . 

Bors turned from the viewport and glanced at the radar-screens. Therewere thirteen vaporous glowings where ships had been. There were twodistinct blips remaining. It could be guessed that some targets had beenfired on by more than one launching-tube, leaving two ships unattackedby the _Horus's_ missiles. 

Both of those ships--one a heavy cruiser--now desperately flung thecontents of their magazines at the _Horus_. 

Bors heard his voice snapping coordinates. 

"Launch all missiles at those two targets, " he commanded. "Fire!Overdrive coming! Five, four, three, two. .. . "

The intolerable discomfort of entry and immediate breakout fromoverdrive was ever present. But the _Horus_ had shifted position fivethousand miles. Bors saw one of his just-launched missiles--now acontinent away--as it went off. It accounted for one of the two Mekinesesurvivors. The radar-blip which told of that ship's existence changed tothe vaguely vaporous glow of incandescent gas. The other blip went out. No flare of a bomb. Nothing. It went out. 

So the last Mekinese ship was gone in overdrive. It was safe! It couldnot possibly be overtaken or attacked. It had seen the _Horus's_missiles following an unpredictable course, which was duly recorded. Ithad seen the _Horus_ go into overdrive and move only hundreds of milesinstead of hundreds of millions. It had seen the _Horus_ vanish from oneplace and appear at another in the same combat area, launch missiles andvanish again before it could even be ranged. 

The last Mekinese ship certainly carried with it the _Horus's_ tacticsand actions recorded on tape. The technicians of Mekin would set to workinstantly to duplicate them. Once they were considered possible--oncethey were recognized--they could be achieved. The combat efficiency ofthe Mekinese fleet would be increased as greatly as that of the fleet ofKandar had been, --and the overwhelming superiority of numbers wouldagain become decisive. The hopeless situation of the Kandarian fleetwould become a hundred times worse. And Mekinese counter-intelligencewould make a search for the origin of such improvements. Since Kandarwas to have been attacked and occupied, it would be a place of specialsearch. 

The only unsuspected source, of course, would be Talents, Incorporated. 

For a full minute after the enemy ship's disappearance, Bors sat rigid, his hands clenched, facing the disaster the escape of the Mekineseconstituted. Sweat appeared on his forehead. 

Then he pressed the engine-room button and said evenly, "Prepare forstandard overdrive, top speed possible. "

He swung the ship. He lined it up with Mekin itself, which, of course, was the one place where it would be most fatal for a ship from Kandar tobe discovered. 

Very shortly thereafter, the _Horus_ was in overdrive. 

Traveling in such unthinkable haste, it is paradoxic that there is muchtime to spare. Bors had to occupy it. He prepared a careful and detailedaccount of exactly how the low-speed overdrive had worked, and itseffectiveness as a combat tactic. He'd distributed instructions andLogan's tables on the subject before leaving Glamis. He would be, ofcourse, most bitterly blamed for having taken on a whole squadron ofenemy ships, with the result that one had gotten away. It could be themost decisive of catastrophes. But he made his report with precision. 

For seven successive ship-days there was no event whatever on the_Horus_, as she drove toward Mekin. Undoubtedly the one survivor of theenemy squadron was fleeing for Mekin, too, to report to the highestpossible authority what it had seen and experienced. It would not bemuch, if at all, slower than the _Horus_. It might be faster, and mightreach the solar system of Mekin before the _Horus_ broke out there. Ithad every advantage but one. It had solar-system drive, for use within aplanetary group, and it had overdrive for use between the stars. But the_Horus_ had an intermediate drive as well, which was faster than theenemy's slow speed and slower than the fast. 

Bors depended on it for the continued existence of Kandar and the fleet. As the desperately tedious ship-days went by he began to have ideas--atwhich he consciously scoffed--concerning Tralee. But if anything asabsurd as those ideas came to be, there were a score of other planetswhich would have to be considered too. 

He sketched out in his own mind a course of action that would bepossible to follow after breakout off Mekin. It did not follow the rulesfor sound planning, which always assume that if things can go wrong theywill. Bors could only plan for what might be done if things went right. But he could not hope. Not really. Still, he considered everypossibility, however far-fetched. 

He came to first-breakout, a light-week short of Mekin. The yellow sunflamed dead ahead. He determined his distance from it with very greatcare. The _Horus_ went back into overdrive and out again, and it waswell within the system, though carefully not on the plane of itsecliptic. 

Then the _Horus_ waited. She was twenty millions of miles from theplanet Mekin. Bors ordered that for intervals of up to five minutes noelectronic apparatus on the ship should be in operation. In thoseperiods of electronic silence, his radars swept all of space exceptMekin. He had no desire to have Mekin pick up radar-pulses and wonderwhat they came from. The rest of the system, though, he mapped. He foundtwo meteor-streams, and a clump of three planetoids in a nearly circularorbit, and he spotted a ship just lifted from Mekin by its landing-grid. It went out to five planetary diameters and flicked out of existence sofar as radar was concerned. 

It had gone into overdrive and away. Another ship came around Mekin, inorbit. It reached the spot from which the first ship had vanished. Itbegan to descend; the landing-grid had locked onto it with projectedforce-fields and was drawing it down to ground. 

Bors growled to himself. It was not likely that this ship was the onehe'd pursued, sight unseen, since the end of the fight off Meriden. Butit was a possibility. If it were true, then everything that mattered toBors was lost forever. 

Then a blip appeared. It was at the most extreme limit of the radar'srange. A ship had come out of overdrive near the fourth planetary orbitof this solar system. 

Bors and the yeoman computer-operator figured its distance to six placesof decimals. Bors set the microsecond timer. The _Horus_ went intolow-speed overdrive and out again. Then the electron telescope revealeda stubby, rotund cargo-ship, about to land on Mekin. 

Bors swore. It would be days before this tub reached Mekin onsolar-system drive. But it must not report that an armed vessel hadinspected it in remoteness. 

"We haul alongside, " said Bors angrily. "Boarding-parties ready in thespace-boats. "

Another wrenching flicker into overdrive and through breakout withoutpause. The cargo-boat was within ten miles. 

"Calling cargo-boat!" rasped Bors, in what would be the arrogant tonesof a Mekinese naval officer hailing a mere civilian ship. "Identifyyourself!"

A voice answered apologetically, "_Cargo-ship_ Empress, _sir, bound fromLoral to Mekin with frozen foods. _"

"Cut your drive, " snapped Bors. "Stand by for inspection! Muster yourcrews. There's a criminal trying to get ashore on Mekin. We'll checkyour hands. Acknowledge!"

"_Yes, sir_, " said the apologetic voice. "_Obeying, sir. _"

Bors fretted. The space-boats left the _Horus's_ side. One clamped ontothe airlock of the rounded, bulging tramp-ship. The second lifeboathovered nearby. The first boat broke contact and the second hooked on. The second boat broke contact. Both came back to the _Horus_. 

The screen before Bors lighted up. One of his own crewmen nodded out ofit. 

"_All clear, sir_, " said his voice briskly. "_They behaved like lambs, sir. No arms. We've locked them in a cargo hold. _"

"You know what to do now, " said Bors. 

"_Yes, sir. Off. _"

Ten miles away the cargo-boat swung itself about. Suddenly it was gone. It was on the way to Glamis and the fleet. 

Another hour of watching. Another blip. It was another cargo-carrierlike the first. As the other had done, it meekly permitted itself to beboarded by what it believed were mere naval ratings of the Mekinesespace-fleet, searching for a criminal who might be on board. Like thefirst ship, it was soon undeceived. Again like the first, it vanishedfrom emptiness, and it would be heading for the fleet in its monotonouscircling of Glamis. 

The third blip, though, was a light cruiser. The _Horus_ appeared fromnowhere close beside it and its communicator began to scream ingibberish. It would be an official report, scrambled and taped, to betransmitted to ground on the first instant there was hope of itsreception. 

"Fire one, " said Bors. "The skipper there is on his toes. "

He watched bleakly as the _Horus's_ missile arched in its impossibletrajectory, as the light cruiser flung everything that could be gottenout to try to stop it, while its transmitter shrieked gibberish to thestars. 

There was a blinding flash of light. Then nothing. 

"He got out maybe fifteen seconds of transmission, " said Bors somberly, "which may or may not be picked up from this distance, and may or maynot tell anything. He got a tape ready while he was in overdrive, withplenty of time for the job. My guess is that he'd take at least fifteenseconds to identify his ship, give her code number, her skipper, andsuch things. I hope so. .. . "

But for minutes he was irresolute. He'd send his own minutely detailedreport back to Glamis on the second captured ship. He did not need toreturn to report in person. He hadn't yet sent back provisions enoughfor the intended voyage of the fleet. The solar system of Mekin was anespecially well-stocked hunting-ground for such marauders as Bors andhis crew declared themselves to be--so long as word did not get toground on Mekin. 

But it did not get down. From time to time--at intervals of a fewhours--specks appeared in emptiness. Mekin monopolized the off-planettrade of its satellite world. There would be many times thespace-traffic here that would be found off any other planet in theMekinese empire. 

One ship got to ground unchallenged. By pure accident it came out ofoverdrive within half a million miles of Mekin. To have attacked itwould have been noted. But he got two more cargo-ships. Then he foundthe _Horus_ alongside a passenger-ship. But it couldn't be allowed toground, to report that it had been stopped by an armed ship. Aprize-crew took it off to Glamis. 

Bors made a formal announcement to his crew. "I think, " he told themover the all-speaker circuit, "that we got the ship which could havereported our action off Meriden. I'm sure we've sent four shiploads offood back to the fleet, besides the passenger-ship we'd rather havemissed. But there's still something to be done. To confuse Mekin andkeep it busy, and therefore off Kandar's neck, we have to start troubleelsewhere. From now on we are pirates pure and simple. "

And he headed the _Horus_ for the planet Cassis, which was anothervictim of the Mekinese. It was a rocky, mountainous world with manymines. Mekin depended on it for metal in vast quantities. The _Horus_hovered over it and sent down a sardonic challenge. One missile came upin defiance. But it was badly aimed and Bors ignored it. Then voicescalled to him, sharp with excitement. He heard shots and shouting and avoice said feverishly that rebels on Cassis, who had been fighting inthe streets, had rushed a transmitter to welcome the enemies of Mekin. 

Bors had one light cruiser and merely a minimum crew for it. He couldn'tbe of much help to insurrectionists. Then he heard artillery-fire overthe communicator, and voices gasped that the Mekinese garrison wascharging out of its highly-fortified encampment. Bors sent down amissile to break the back of the counter-attack. Then the communicatorgave off the sound of gunfire and men in battle, and presently yells oftriumph. 

He took the _Horus_ away. Its arrival and involvement in the revolt waspure accident. It was no part of any thought-out plan. But he was wrylyrelieved when he had convinced himself that Mekin needed the products ofthis world too much to exterminate its population with fusion-bombs. 

More days of travel in overdrive tedium. Bors was astounded andappalled. Interference here would only make matters worse. The _Horus_went on. 

There was a cargo-ship aground on Dover, and the _Horus_ threatenedbombs and a space-boat went down and brought it up. That ship also wentaway to Glamis where the fleet was accumulating an inconvenient numberof prisoners. The fact that the capture of this ship only added to thatnumber made Bors realize that King Humphrey would be especiallydisturbed about the passengers on the liner sent back from Mekin. Unlessthey were murdered, sooner or later they would reveal the facts aboutthe Fleet. And King Humphrey was a highly conscientious man. 

There was dissention even on Dover. The landing-party was cheered fromthe edge of the spaceport. Bors could not understand. He tried to guesswhat was going on in the Mekinese empire. He could not know whether ornot disaster had yet struck Kandar. He could only hope that there wereships lurking near it, ready to use the recent technical combatimprovements against any single Mekinese ship that might appear, so noreport would be carried back. But it seemed to him that utter andcomplete catastrophe was inevitable. 

He reflected unhappily about Tralee, and wondered what the Pretender, his uncle, really thought about his loosing of chemical-explosivemissiles against puppet government buildings there. He found himselfworrying again about the truck drivers who'd warned his men ofbooby-traps in the supplies they delivered. He hoped they hadn't beencaught. 

The _Horus_ arrived at Deccan, and called down the savage message ofchallenge. 

There came a tumultuous, roaring reply. 

"_Captain Bors!_" cried a voice from the ground exultantly. "_Land andwelcome! We didn't hope you'd come here, but you're a thousand timeswelcome! We've smashed the garrison here, Captain! We rose days ago andwe hold the planet! We'll join you! Come to ground, sir! We can supplyyou!_"

Bors went tense all over. He'd been called by name! If he was known byname on _this_ world--twenty light-years from Mekin and thirty-five fromKandar--then everything was lost. 

"Can you send up a space-boat?" he asked in a voice he did notrecognize. "I'd like to have your news. "

It must be a trap. It was possible that there'd been revolt on Deccan;he'd found proof of rebellion elsewhere. There'd been claims of revolton Cassis, but he hadn't been suspicious then. He'd sent down a missileto help the self-proclaimed rebels there. Now he wondered desperately ifhe'd been tricked there as, it was all too likely, he would be here. There'd been reported fighting on Avino. There was cheering for his menon Dover, and he might have landed there. But there were too manycoincidences, far too many. 

He waited, fifty thousand miles high, with the ship at combat-alert. Hefelt cold all over. Somehow, news had preceded him. It was garbledtruth, but there was enough to make his spine feel like ice. 

He spoke over the all-speaker hook-up, in a voice he could not keepsteady by any effort of will. 

"All hands attention, " he said heavily. "I just called ground. We havehad a reply calling me by name. You will see the implication. It lookslike somehow the Mekinese have managed to send word ahead of us. They'vefound out that no one can stand against us. They know we have new anddeadly weapons. Probably there have been orders given to lure us toground by the pretense of a successful revolt. It would be hoped that wecan be fooled to the point where we will land and our ship can becaptured _undestroyed_. --That's the way it looks. "

He swallowed, with difficulty. 

"If that's so, " he said after an instant, "you can guess what's beendone about Kandar. The grand fleet was assembled on Mekin. It could havegone to Kandar. .. . "

He swallowed again. Then he said savagely, "Well make sure first. If theworst has happened we'll take our fleet and head for Mekin and pour downevery ounce of atomic explosive we've got. We may not be able to turnits air to poison, but if there are survivors, they won't celebrate whatthey did to Kandar!"

He clicked off. His fists clenched. He paced back and forth in thecontrol room. He almost did not wait to make sure. Almost. But he hadnever seen a Mekinese fighting man face to face. He'd gone into exilewith his uncle when that unhappily reasonable man let Tralee surrenderrather than be bombed to depopulation. He'd served in the Kandarian navywithout ever managing to be in any port when a Mekinese ship was in. He'd fought in the battle off Kandar, he'd destroyed a Mekinese cruiseroff Tralee, another in the Mekinese system itself and a squadron offMeriden. But he had never seen a Mekinese fighting-man face to face. Filled with such hatred as he felt, he meant to do so now. 

A space-boat came up from the ground. The _Horus_ trained weapons on it. Bors painstakingly arranged for its occupants to board the _Horus_ inspace-suits, which could not conceal bombs. 

There were six men in the space-boat. They came into the _Horus's_control room and he saw that they were young, almost boys. When theylearned that he was Captain Bors, they looked at him with shining, admiring, worshipping eyes. It could not be a trick. It could not be atrap. He was incredulous. 

The message from the ground was true. 

Chapter 11

The news as Bors got it from the men of Deccan was remarkable for tworeasons: that so much of it was true, and that all of it was glamorizedand romanticized and garbled. It was astonishing to find any relation atall between such fabulously romantic tales and the facts, because therewas no way for news to travel between solar systems except on ships, andno ships had carried stories like these!

Here on Deccan, the shining-eyed young men _knew_ that Bors had landedon Tralee and on Garen. They _knew_ that there was a fleet in beingwhich had fought and annihilated a Mekinese task-force many times itssize. 

To the Captain, their knowledge was undiluted catastrophe!

They admired Bors because they believed he commanded that fleet, whichhe now had in hiding while he flashed splendidly about the subjugatedworlds, performing prodigious feats of valor and destruction, halfpirate and half hero. The story had it that he'd been driven from hisnative Tralee by the invaders, and that now he fought Mekin inmagnificent knight-errantry, and that it was _he_ who'd set alight theflame of rebellion on so many worlds. 

Bors listened, and was numbed. He heard references to the fight offMeriden, and the temporary escape of one of his enemies, and that he'dpursued it to the solar system of Mekin itself and there destroyed itwhile Mekin watched, helpless to interfere. 

The distortion of facts was astounding. But the mere existence of factsat this distance was impossible! Then Bors found himself thinking thatthese tales sounded like fantasies or daydreams, and he went white. Heknew what had happened. 

Just before he'd left the fleet, he'd talked to a fat woman and ascowling man who, together, made up the Talents, Incorporated brand newDepartment for Disseminating Truthful Seditious Rumors, so that rumorsof a high degree of detail got started, nobody knew how. If such rumorsspread, and everybody heard them, nobody would doubt them. It wasappallingly probable that the fighting on Cassis and Avino and Deccanhad no greater justification in reason than that an enormously fat womanromantically pictured such things as resulting from the derring-do ofone Captain Bors, of whom she thought sentimentally and glamorously andwithout much discrimination. 

But she'd daydreamed about the fleet, too! And that it had destroyed aMekinese squadron many times its size. .. . 

He heard the leader of the young men from Deccan speaking humorously. "Your revolt, sir, " he told Bors, "is spreading everywhere! On Cela, sir, there are great space-ship yards, where they build craft for theMekinese navy. Not long ago they finished one and it went out to spacefor a trial run. It didn't come back. Sabotage. Everybody knew it. TheMekinese raged. A little while later they finished another ship. But theMekinese were smart! They sent it off for its trial run with only Celanson board. If there were sabotage this time, it wouldn't be Mekinese whodied in space! But that ship didn't come back either! It touched downhere, sir, three weeks ago, and we supplied it with food and missilesand some of us joined it. It went off to try to find you. "

"I'd better--go after it, " said Bors, dry-throated. "It could blunderinto trouble. At best--"

The youthful leader of Deccan's revolt grinned widely. 

"It's got plenty of missiles, " he told Bors. "It can take care ofitself! And it has plenty of food. We even gave them target-balloons topractice launching missiles on. We've been storing up missiles to lay anambush for a Mekinese squadron if one comes by. A lot of us joined theship, though. "

"In any case, " said Bors, with the feel of ashes in his throat, "I'lltrack it down so it can join the fleet. "

He could not bring himself to tell these confident and admiring youngmen that there was no hope and never had been; that the tales of hisachievements were only partly true and that they had popped intopeople's minds because a very fat woman far away indulged in daydreamsand fantasies. 

They wouldn't have understood. If they had, they wouldn't have believed. He found that he savagely resisted the conviction himself. But there wasno other way for such garbled tales with such a substratum of fact to bespread among the stars. And whoever spread them knew of events up to thelast news sent back by Bors, but nothing after that. Undoubtedly, Talents, Incorporated's Department for Disseminating Truthful SeditiousRumors had been at work on Mekin, but the damage done elsewhere was athousand times greater than any benefit done there. 

It was too late to repair the damage, here or anywhere else. This planetand all the rest were too far committed to rebellion ever to be forgivenby Mekin. Mekin would take revenge. It was not pleasant to think about. 

So the _Horus_ departed, and traveled in high-speed overdrive forship-days seemingly without end, toward Glamis. It knew nothing thathappened outside its own cocoon of overdrive field. It knew nothing ofany of the thousands of myriads of stars, whose planetary systemsoffered unlimited room for humanity to live in freedom and without fear. 

During the journey Bors only endured being alive. All this disaster wasultimately his fault. The fleet's survival was due to his work withTalents, Incorporated. The raids of a single ship--which now would havesuch disastrous results--were the fruits of his suggestion, theconsequence of his actions. 

Talents, Incorporated was involved, to be sure, but only because he'dallowed it to be. He should have realized that Madame Porvis would workhavoc if her talent was as described. No mere romantic daydreamer wouldfashion fantasies with military secrecy in mind and security as aprinciple. Everything was betrayed. Everything was ruined. And if he, Bors, had only been properly skeptical, the fleet would have beendestroyed and Kandar now occupied by the Mekinese--doomed to servitudebut not necessarily to annihilation--and other worlds would also besafely servile. They'd still be resentful and they'd bitterly hateMekin, but they would not have before them the monstrous vengeance nowin store. 

Bors, in fact, felt guilty because he was still alive. 

There was only one small thing he could still try to set aright. Hecould insist that Morgan take Gwenlyn far away from the dangerouspossibility that Mekin might somehow find her. He _had_ to make Morgansee the need for it. If necessary, he would convince King Humphrey thata royal order must be issued to send the _Sylva_ light-centuries away, before the Mekinese empire began to restore itself to devastatedcalm--if that process hadn't already begun. 

Mekin had its grand fleet assembled and ready. If convincing and, unfortunately, truthful rumors ran about Mekin, as elsewhere, concerningthe fleet and Bors's attempts to hide it, then their dictator need onlygive a single order and the grand fleet would lift off. When it foundKandar unoccupied it would leave Kandar dead. Then it would seek out thefleet, and destroy it, and then it would move from one to another ofits rebellious tributaries and take revenge upon them. .. . 

And Bors could only hope to salvage the life of one girl from thewreckage of everything that human beings prefer to believe in. He couldonly hope to send Gwenlyn away--if he was not already too late. 

The _Horus_ broke out into normal space twelve days after leavingDeccan. The untrustworthy sun of Glamis still shone brightly. The innerplanet revolved about it with one side glowing low red heat and theother side piled high with frozen atmosphere. The useless outer planetremained a lush green, save for its seas. And the fleet still circled itfrom pole to pole. 

Bors had himself ferried to the flagship by space-boat, because what hehad to report was too disheartening to be spoken where all the fleetmight hear. Gwenlyn met him at the flagship's airlock. She looked veryglad, as if she'd been uneasy about him. 

"Call for a boat, " Bors commanded her curtly, "to take you to the_Sylva_. Go on board with anybody else who belongs on it, your father, anybody. I'm going to ask the king to insist that the _Sylva_ get awayfrom here--fast! Before the Mekinese turn up. "

Gwenlyn shook her head, her eyes searching his face. 

"The _Sylva's_ not here. It's gone to Kandar as a sort ofdispatch-boat. "

Bors groaned. 

"Then I'll try to get another ship assigned to take you away, " he saidformidably. "Maybe one of the captured cargo-ships I sent back. "

"No, " said Gwenlyn. "They're going to be released. They'll go to Mekin, and we _couldn't_ go there!"

Bors groaned again. Then he said savagely, "Wait here for me. I'llarrange something as soon as I've seen the king. "

He strode down the corridor to King Humphrey's cabin. A sentry came toattention. Bors passed through a door. The king and half a dozen of thetop-ranking officers of the fleet were listening apathetically toMorgan, at once vexed and positive and uncertain. 

"But you can't ignore it!" protested Morgan. "I don't understand iteither, but you'll agree that since my precognizer said no ship butBors's is coming here--and he precognized every one of the prizes beforethey arrived--you'll concede that the Mekinese aren't coming here. Soyou're going out to meet them. "

He saw Bors, and breathed an audible sigh of relief. 

"Bors!" he said in a changed tone. "I'm glad you're back!"

Bors said grimly, "Majesty, I've very bad news. "

King Humphrey shrugged. He spoke in a listless voice. 

"I doubt it differs from ours. You captured a passenger-liner off Mekin, you will remember. You sent it here. When it arrived we found that allits passengers knew that Kandar was not occupied and that the fleet sentto capture it had not reported back. "

"My news is worse, " said Bors. "The continued existence of our fleet, and the fact that it defeated a Mekinese force, is common knowledge onat least five planets--all of them now in revolt against Mekin. "

The king's expression had reached the limit of reaction to disaster. Itdid not change. He looked almost apathetic. 

"Mekin, " he said dully, "sent a second squadron to Kandar to investigatethe rumors of defeat. We have a very tiny force there--three ships. Ofcourse our ships won't attack the Mekinese, but they might as well. Knowing that we destroyed their first fleet and that we still live, Mekin will assuredly retaliate. "

"And not only on Kandar, " said Bors. "On Tralee and Garen and Cassis andMeriden--"

Morgan interrupted. 

"Majesty! All this is more reason to listen to me! I've been telling youthat all my Talents agree--"

King Humphrey interrupted tonelessly, "We've made our finalarrangements, Bors. We are going to release the cargo-ships and thepassenger-ship you sent us. We will use them as messengers. We aregoing to send a message of surrender, to Mekin. "

Bors swallowed. His most dismal forebodings had produced nothing morehopeless than this moment. 

"Majesty--"

"We have to sacrifice, " said the king in a leaden voice, "not only ourlives but our self-respect, to try to gain something less than the totalannihilation of Kandar. We shall tell the Mekinese that we will returnto Kandar and form up in space. If they send a small force to accept oursurrender, they shall have it. If they prefer to destroy us, they can dothat also. But we submit ourselves to punishment for having resisted theoriginal fleet. We admit our guilt. And we beg Mekin not to avenge thatresistance upon our people, who are not guilty. "

Bors tried to speak, and could not. There was a sodden, utterlyunresilient stillness in the room, as if all the high officers of thefleet were corpses and the king himself, though he spoke, was not lessdead. 

Then Morgan moved decisively. He moved away from the spot where he hadbeen engaged in impassioned argument. He took Bors by the arm, andhustled him through the door. 

"Come along!" he said urgently. "Something's got to be done! You havethe knack of thinking of things to do! The king's intentions--"

The door closed behind him and he broke off. He wiped sweat from hisforehead with one hand while he thrust Bors on with the other. They cameto a cabin evidently assigned to him. Gwenlyn waited there. 

"Craziness!" said Morgan bitterly. "Craziness! I get the finest group ofTalents that ever existed! I teach them to think! I instruct them! Andthey can't think of what is going to happen. And everything depends onit! Everything!"

"When will the _Sylva_ be back?" demanded Bors. 

Morgan automatically looked at his watch. Gwenlyn opened her mouth tospeak. Morgan shook his head impatiently. Gwenlyn was silent. 

"My ship-arrival Talent's with the _Sylva_, " said Morgan harassedly. "Wesent him to Kandar to find out if the Mekinese fleet's coming there, andwhen. It isn't coming here. He said so. "

"It'll go to Kandar, " said Bors bitterly, "to destroy it. I imaginewe'll go there too, to be destroyed. "

"But it's insane!" protested Morgan. "Look! You captured apassenger-ship off Mekin. Right?"

"Yes. "

"You sent it here with all its passengers. Right?"

"Yes. "

"One of the passengers said he was a clairvoyant. Hah!" Morgan expressedthe ultimate of disgust. "He was a fortune-teller! He didn't know therewas anything better than that! A fortune-teller! But he's a Talent! He'sa born charlatan, but he's an authentic Talent, and he doesn't know whatthat is! He thinks predictions as Madame Porvis thinks scandals! Andthey're just as crazy! But he _is_ a Talent and they have to be right!"

Bors said, "You're going to take Gwenlyn away from here, --and fast!"

Morgan paid no attention. He was embittered, and agitated, and inparticular, he was frustrated. 

"It's all madness!" he protested almost hysterically. "Here we've got afirm precognition that King Humphrey's going to open parliament onKandar next year, and there's another one--"

Gwenlyn said quickly, "Which you won't tell!"

"Which I won't tell. But something's got to happen! Something's got tobe done! And this crazy Talent gives me a crazy precognition and looksproud because I can't make sense of it! What the hell can you make outof a precognition that Mekin will be defeated when an enemy fleetsubmits to destruction, lying still in space? There's no sense to it!_My_ Talents wouldn't think of anything idiotic like that! They've gotbetter sense! But when this lunatic said it, they could precognize ittoo! It's so! They couldn't think of it themselves, but when thisMekinese Talent does, they know it's true. But it can't be!"

Bors said coldly, "The fleet's going to be destroyed, certainly. If thatwill defeat Mekin. But Gwenlyn is not to stay aboard to be destroyedwith it! How are you going to get her away?"

"The king's waiting for the _Sylva_ to come back, " Morgan saidindignantly, "so he'll know--my ship-arrival Talent went to find out--ifthe Mekin fleet's going to Kandar, and when. He insists that if theyknow the fleet exists, they know where it is and will come here lookingfor it. But Madame Porvis couldn't have told that in her daydreaming. She didn't _know_ what planet we're circling! She couldn't have spreadthat fact by contagion!"

"She spread plenty more!" said Bors. "Her daydreams were too damnedtrue!"

Gwenlyn said, "It's a contradiction in terms for a fleet to win a battleby letting itself be destroyed. Perhaps the Captain--"

"It's also a contradiction in terms, " said Bors bitterly, "for all ourtroubles to come because we won a victory. Now we regret that we weren'tall killed. But it's madness for the king to propose to get us allslaughtered in hope of rousing the Mekinese better nature!"

"Maybe you can resolve it, Captain, " said Gwenlyn thoughtfully. "Couldit be that it isn't a contradiction but only a paradox?"

Bors spread his hands helplessly. Of all times and circumstances, thisparticular moment and situation seemed the least occasion for quibblingover words. 

Then he said, "Yes. .. . It could be a paradox. If this prediction by thatwild Talent is true, there is a way it could win a fight. I don'tbelieve it, but I'm going to put something in motion. Nothing can makematters worse!"

He turned and strode back to the council room where King Humphrey andthe high commanders of his fleet sat like dead men, waiting for themoment to be killed, to no purpose. 

Chapter 12

Bors got nowhere, of course. His proposal had all the ear-marks oflunacy of purest ray serene. He proposed urgently to equip all the shipsof the fleet with the low-power overdrive fields. It could be done indays. Instructions were already distributed and would have been studiedand understood. The fleet would then go to Kandar--if it appeared thatthe Mekinese grand fleet would go there--and set up a dummy fleet oftarget-globes in war array. This would be a fleet, but not of fightingships. It would be a fleet of metal-foil inflated balloons. 

One actual fighting ship, he stipulated, would form part of thisillusory space-navy. He volunteered the _Horus_ for it. That ship wouldsignal to the Mekinese when they arrived. It would make the king'sproposal to surrender, on the Mekinese promise to spare the civilianpopulation of Kandar. If the enemy admiral agreed to these terms and theking believed him, then the true Kandarian fleet could appear and yieldto its overwhelmingly-powerful enemy. If the admiral arrogantly refusedto pledge safety to Kandar's population, then the dummy formation mightbe destroyed, but the fleet would fight. Hopelessly anduselessly--though the new low-power drive worked well in action--but itwould fight. 

The First Admiral said stonily, "If I were in the position of theMekinese admiral, and I agreed to terms of capitulation, and if it werethen shown to me that the basis of the terms was a deceit, I would notfeel bound by my promise. When the actual fleet appeared, I would blastit for questioning my honor. "

Bors looked at him with hot eyes. The king said drearily, "No, Bors. Wemust act in good faith. We cannot question the Mekinese good faith asyou propose, and then expect them to believe in ours. The admiral isright. We can fight and bring destruction on our people, or we can placeourselves at the mercy of Mekin. There can be only one choice. Wesacrifice ourselves, but we keep our honor. "

"I deny, " said Bors savagely, "that any man keeps his honor who enslaveshis fellows, as you will do in surrendering. I resign my commission inyour service, Majesty. "

King Humphrey nodded wearily. 

"Very well. You have served us admirably, Bors. I wish I thought youwere right in this matter. I would rather follow your advice than myconvictions. Your resignation is accepted. "

An hour later, fuming, Bors paced back and forth across the floor of acabin in the flagship. The Pretender of Tralee entered. The older manlooked wryly amused. 

"It was a most improper thing to do. You resigned your commission andthen ordered the low-power fields built on all ships. "

"To the contrary, " said Bors, "I spread the news that I had resigned mycommission _because_ the low-power fields were _not_ to be installed togive us a fighting chance!"

The Pretender sat down and regarded his nephew quizzically. 

"But is it so important? To use tables of calculations instead ofcomputers?"

"Yes, " said Bors. "It is important. I should know. I've used thelow-power fields in combat. Nobody else has. "

The old man said without reproof, "The First Admiral is indignant. Thefields were not ordered on the ground that they're an untested deviceand that at least once such a field blew out, leaving your ship, the_Isis_, so helpless that it had to be abandoned. "

"True, " agreed Bors. He made no defense. The attitude of the FirstAdmiral would have been perfectly logical in ordinary times. Anythinglike the new intermediate, low-power overdrive field should have beenproposed through channels, examined by a duly-appointed commission ofofficers, reported on, the report evaluated, and then painstaking andlengthy tests made and the report on the tests evaluated. Then it shouldhave been submitted to another commission of officers of higher rank, who would estimate the kind and amount of modification of standardequipment the new device required, its susceptibility to accident and/orobsolescence, the ease of repair, the cost of installation and thelength of time in-port required to install it. Somewhere along the linethere should also have been a report on the ease with which it could beintegrated into other apparatus and standard operational procedures, andthere should have been reports on its possible tactical value, theprobable number of times it would be useful, the degree of its utilityand whether the excessive discomfort of going into and out of overdriveat extremely short intervals would have an adverse effect on crewmorale. Under normal circumstances a ship might have been equipped, fortesting purposes, in six to ten years, and in ten years more all newships might be equipped. But it would be well over a generation beforeits use was general. 

The older man said, "Since your resignation's been accepted, you'll beput on the _Sylva_ when it comes back. You won't be taken to Kandar withthe fleet. "

Bors's hands clenched. 

"They'll say I resigned to stay out of the fight!"

"No, " said his uncle mildly. "They'll say you resigned to avoidsurrender. I'm being evicted with you. I'm to be dumped on thehospitality of your friend, Morgan, too. Humphrey is a very kindly man. Abominably so. But I am tired of being an exile. I'd really rather staywith the fleet. But he stands on his dignity to preserve our lives. I'mnot sure what for, in a universe where such things as Mekin can happen. "

"They happen, " growled Bors, "because we value peace and quiet as muchas the Mekinese do power, and much less than freedom. We compromise. "

He paced up and down. 

"Up to now, " he said harshly, "every effort made against Mekin has beendefensive. Twenty-two worlds, in turn, have fallen because they onlywanted to _stop_ Mekin. It's time for some world to resolve very solidlyto _smash_ Mekin, to act with honest anger against a thing that shouldbe hated. It's got to be done!"

"The time for such a resolution, " said his uncle, gently, "went by longago. "

There was sudden voice from the compartment speaker. 

"_Co-o-o-ntact!_"

There was the hissing sound of doors closing. The peculiarly-muffledsilence of a closed compartment fell. The Pretender said quietly, "Ifthis is the Mekinese fleet, everything is solved. But your friends ofTalents, Incorporated will have to be wrong. They insist the grand fleetwill not come here. "

Bors rasped, "I wish I were in that control room! But at least we've gotmissiles they can't intercept!"

"Except that they won't be fired, they're a great improvement, " thePretender said mildly. 

He sat at ease. Time passed. Presently the tiny compartmentair-refresher hummed, bringing down the CO{2} content of the air. It cutoff. Bors paced up and down, up and down. He pictured what might behappening outside. It could be that the grand fleet of Mekin hadappeared and now drove proudly toward Glamis. It could be that the fleetwas offering surrender. There would be near-mutiny on many of its ships. There would be monumental frustration. Junior officers, in particular, would have examined the low-power overdrive tables, and would havestudied longingly the reports of Bors's use of low-power overdriveagainst an enemy squadron off Meriden. They would yearn passionately tohave their ships equipped with apparatus by which it could vanish from aplace where it was a target to reappear elsewhere, unharmed, and makethe enemy its target. Two fleets equipped with the new device mightcheckmate each other. But one fleet. .. . 

The speaker said curtly:

"_Captain Bors, a single ship has broken out of overdrive. Itidentifies itself as the ship_ Liberty, _of Cela. It declares that ithas come to place itself under your command. _"

Bors stared. He had forgotten about the two Cela-built ships which theDeccan rebels told him about--the first of which had gone on a trial runwith a Mekinese crew and failed to return, and the second of which, witha Celan crew, had gone off to look for Bors and his marauders. 

Somehow, it had found him. It seemed totally improbable. Bors instantlythought of Talents, Incorporated. The Talents on the ship had spreadrebellion on worlds unthinkable distances apart. It was conceivable thatin some way they'd brought this ship to Glamis. 

"Very well, " said Bors coldly, in the cabin to which he was confined. "Irequest to be put on board. "

"I'll come with you, " said his uncle. He smiled at Bors, who noted, butwas not surprised at, the genuineness of the smile. "This is the shipyou mentioned as hoping to emulate the _Horus_. I don't think you'llsurrender it. But I've surrendered once and I don't like it. I'd rathernot do it again. "

Compartment-doors went back to normal, as combat-alert went off. Morganappeared, agitated and upset. 

"What's this?" he demanded. "What's happened?"

Bors told him curtly as much as he knew, all that he'd been told onDeccan. It was the only ship technically in actual rebellion againstMekin. It had heard rumors of Bors, and it wanted his leadership. 

"But you can't go now!" insisted Morgan. "You've got to wait until the_Sylva_ gets back! You have to have Talents, Incorporated information toact on! You need my Talents!"

"I'm going to get moving as fast as I can, " said Bors. "I don't think wecan wait. If the _Liberty's_ what I think, and her crew what I believe, they'll crave action. "

There was a space-boat at the flagship's lock. Bors and his uncleentered. Those already in the boat were young men in the nondescriptclothing of ship-workers. They grinned proudly at Bors when he took hisseat. 

"I don't know whether you know, sir, " said the young man at thespace-boat's controls, "but we heard about your revolt, sir, and we wereabout at the limit so we--"

"I stopped at Deccan, " Bors said briefly. "They told me about you. Doyou want action against Mekin?"

"Yes, sir!" It was a chorus. 

"You'll get it, " said Bors. "I'll try you out on a concentration ofMekin ships that should be turning up at Kandar. How are you equippedfor repairs and changes?"

"We left Cela for a test trip, sir, " said the young man at the controls. There were grins behind him. He chuckled. "Naturally we had materials torepair anything that went wrong on a trial run!"

"I've got some new settings for missiles, " said Bors, "which make themhard to dodge. And we'll want to set up a special overdrive control, which makes it easy to dodge Mekinese ones. We can attend to it on theway to Kandar. How many aboard?"

He asked other curt questions. They answered. What Bors asked was what acommanding officer would need to know about a new ship, and his newfollowers realized it. They had been exultant and triumphant when heentered the space-boat. In the brief time needed to get to the _Liberty_they became ardently confident. 

His reception was undisciplined but enthusiastic. He made a hurriedinspection. The _Liberty_ had started out with a skeleton crew ofshipyard workers and no stores or arms. The ranks were now filled withvolunteers from Deccan and elsewhere, and its storage-rooms fairlybulged with foodstuffs. Bors, however, really relaxed only once. Thatwas when he saw the filled racks of missiles. On Deccan they'd beenlavish in their gifts to the rebel space-ship. 

Bors went into the control room, glanced about, and spoke crisply intothe all-speaker microphone. 

"All hands attention! Bors speaking. A concentration of Mekinese shipsis expected at Kandar. We shall head for that planet immediately. On theway I shall arrange for some changes in the settings of the missiles wehave on board. We will fix and distribute aiming-tables for their use. We will stop twice on the way for target practice. Much more than yourlives or mine depends on how well you do your work. We'll also modifythe overdrive to make this ship able to do everything my other shipsdid--and more. You will work much harder on the way to Kandar than youever worked before, but we have to accomplish more than usual. That'sall. "

He stood by while the ship was aimed for Kandar. The young astrogatorsaid enthusiastically, "Prepare for overdrive. Five, four, three--"

A voice out of a speaker:

"_Calling_ Liberty! _Calling_ Liberty! _Morgan calling_ Liberty!"

"Hold it, " said Bors. 

He answered the call. Morgan's voice, in a high state of agitation, "_Bors! The_ Sylva's _just back! Just broke out! The grand fleet willget to Kandar in five days, four hours, twenty minutes! My Talent onthe_ Sylva _is sure of it. It's Talents, Incorporated information!_"

"We haven't any time to spare, then, " said Bors. 

"_Bors!_" panted Morgan's voice. "_There were three ships of our fleethanging about, on watch for Mekinese. They expected one. Twelve came. The observation-ships attacked. They got eleven of the twelve. The lastone went into overdrive and got away! Bors! Do you see what thatmeans?_"

"It means, " said Bors coldly, "that Mekin won't be accepting surrendersthis week. Destroying the first division was bad enough. I got one offMeriden. Now that a third squadron's wiped out, Mekin will insist onsomebody getting punished--and plenty! All right! We're leaving forKandar now. "

He nodded to the young man at the control board. He noted with approvalthat he'd kept the _Liberty's_ aim exact while Bors talked to Morgan. 

"Proceed, " Bors ordered. 

The young man said, "Five, four, three, two, one--"

There was the familiar dizzying sensation of going into overdrive. The_Liberty_ wrapped stressed space about itself and went hurtling intoinvisibility. 

This was one voyage in overdrive which was not tedious. Bors had toorganize the ship for combat. He had to train launching-crews to worklike high-speed machinery. He had to teach the setting of missiles forranges he had to show how to measure. Once he stopped the ship betweenstars and all the launching-crews took shots at an inflated metal-foiltarget. The Pretender of Tralee displayed an unexpected gift fororganization. He divided all space outside the ship into sectors, assigning one launcher to each sector. If an order to fire came, theseparate crews would cover targets in their own areas first. There wouldbe no waste of missiles on one target. 

The Pretender would have made an excellent officer. He was patient withthose who did not understand immediately. He had dignity that was notarrogance. In five days the _Liberty_ was a fighting ship and adedicated one. There were rough edges, of course. Man for man and weaponfor weapon the ship would not compare with a longer-trained and moreexperienced fighting instrument. But the morale on board was superb andthe weapons were--to put it mildly--inspiring of hope. 

The _Liberty_ broke out of overdrive and the sun of Kandar shone fieryyellow in emptiness. The gas-giant planet had moved in its orbit. It wasmore evenly in line than before with a direct arrival-path for a fleetfrom Mekin. Bors was worn out from his unremitting efforts to turn theship into a smooth-running unit. He looked at a ship's clock. 

"The Mekinese, " he said over the all-speaker circuit, "will break out intwo hours, forty minutes. And we're going to set up a dummy fleet forthem to deal with. "

His uncle said gently, "I suggest some rest, to be fresh for thehandling of the ship. I'll set up the dummy fleet. "

Bors resisted the idea, but it was not sensible to humor his own vanityby insisting on his indispensability. He flung himself down on a bunk. He was much better satisfied with the ship and crew than he would haveadmitted. And he was dead-tired. 

Around him, young men of Cela and Deccan prepared target-globes forlaunching. The Pretender gently pointed out that the formation was toremain perfectly still and in ranks. Therefore, each globe had to belaunched with no velocity at all, so it would remain in fixed positionwith relation to the others, to convincingly appear to be a fleet ofships. 

Far away the _Sylva_ hurtled through space with a much-agitated Morganon board. Gwenlyn, too, was frightened. For the first time, both of themseemed doubtful of the value of Talents, Incorporated information. 

Again, far away, the fleet of Kandar rushed through emptiness. On itsvarious ships, junior officers had come threateningly close to mutiny. There was now a sullen, resigned submission to discipline and whatorders might be given, but the fleet was fighting angry. The _Sylva_ hadbrought back news of a third defeat of Mekinese by Kandar ships and hotblood longed to make a full-scale test of its own deadliness. There werefew ships of the fleet which did not have a low-power overdrive fieldunit ready to be spliced into circuit if the occasion arose. If the kingcould not make acceptable terms for surrender, the junior officers wereprepared to make a victory by Mekin a very costly matter. 

Stretched out on his bunk, Bors thought of all these things. Finally heslept--and--dreamed. It was odd that anyone so weary should dream. Itwas more strange that he did not dream of the matters in the forefrontof his mind. He dreamed of Gwenlyn. She was crying, in the dream, and itwas because she thought he was killed. And Bors was astonished at hergrief, and then unbelievably elated. And he moved toward her and sheraised her head at some sound he made. The expression of incredulous joyon her face made him put his arms around her with an enormous andunbelieving satisfaction. And he kissed her and the sensation wasremarkable. 

Half-awake, he blinked at the ceiling of the control room of the_Liberty_. His uncle was saying amiably to the young man at thecontrol-board, "That's a very pretty fleet-formation, if we do say soourselves!"

Bors stood up, one-half of his mind still startled by his dream, but theother half reverting instantly to business. 

But all matters of business had been attended to. Out the viewports hecould see the dummy fleet in an apparently defensive formation. Itsships were only miles apart, and if they had been fighting ships, everyone could have launched missiles at any point of attack from the patternthey constituted. At a hundred miles they could be seen only as specksof reflected sunlight. At greater distances a radar would identify themonly as dots which must be enemy ships because the radar-blips they madelacked the nimbus of friendly craft. 

"Hm, " said Bors. He looked at the clock. "The Mekinese should havebroken out five minutes ago. "

"They did, " said his uncle. "They're yonder. They're heading straightfor this fleet. "

He pointed, not out a port but at a screen where a boiling mass ofbright specks showed the Mekinese fleet just out of overdrive andspeeding toward the dummy formation, sorting itself into attackformation as it moved. 

"The king's not here on time, " observed Bors grimly. "We have to playhis hand for him, Uncle. We haven't the right to commit Kandar bybeginning to fight ourselves. Offer surrender, as he'd wish it to bedone. If they accept, he can carry out his part when he arrives. He'llbe here!"

The former monarch spoke gently into a beam transmitter. 

"Calling Mekinese fleet, " he said. "Defending fleet calling Mekinesefleet!"

In seconds a reply came back. 

"_Mekinese Grand Admiral calling Kandar_, " the voice answeredarrogantly. "_What do you want?_"

"We will discuss capitulation on behalf of Kandar, " said the old man. "Will you give us terms?"

He grimaced, and said, aside, to Bors, "I'm speaking for Humphrey as Iknow he'd speak. But I am ashamed!"

There was a pause. It took time for the Pretender's voice to reach theenemy and as long for the reply to come back. The reply was ironic andarrogant and amused. 

"_What terms can you hope for?_" it demanded. "_You attacked our ships. You indulged in destruction! How can you hope for terms?_"

The Pretender scratched his ear thoughtfully. He regarded the radarscreen with regret. 

"We ask life for the people of our planet, " he said steadily. He wasannoyed that he had to speak for the tardy King of Kandar. "We ask thatthey not be punished for our resistance. "

The young men in the control room looked astonished. Then they sawBors's expression, and grinned. 

A long pause. The boiling, shifting specks on the radar-screen began tohave a definite order. The Mekinese voice, when it came, was triumphantand overbearing. 

"_We will spare your planet_, " it said contemptuously, "_but not you. You have dared to fight us. Stand and be destroyed, and there will be nopunishment for your world. There are no other terms. _"

The Pretender looked at Bors. He shrugged. 

"_Now_ what would the king do?" He looked puzzled. 

"What can our dummy fleet do?" asked Bors. 

The Pretender nodded. "We will offer no resistance, " he said into thetransmitter. 

There was a long silence. Bors looked at the radar-screen. The mass ofbright specks at the edge of the screen seemed to have sent a shiningwave before it. It was actually a swarm of missiles. They were so faraway that they could not be picked up as individuals on the screen. Theywere a glow, a shine, a wave of pale luminosity. 

"We shift to low-power overdrive readiness, " said Bors. "That is anorder. "

A ship-voice murmured, "_Low-power overdrive in circuit, sir. _"

He watched the screen. The Mekinese missiles accelerated at a terrificrate. They left their parent ships far behind. They were a third of theway to the drone-fleet and the _Liberty_ before Bors spoke again. 

"Launch and inflate another target-globe, " he ordered drily. "We couldspeak for the king since he was late. But we won't stay here to bekilled as his proxy! Not without fighting first!"

A voice, crisp: "_Target globe launched, sir. _"

"Low-power overdrive toward the gas-giant planet. One-twentieth second. Five, four, three, two, one!"

There was the unbearable double sensation of going into, and breakoutfrom, overdrive simultaneously. The _Liberty_ vanished from its place inthe formation of the dummy fleet, but left a metal-foil dummy where ithad been. It reappeared a full five thousand miles away. 

The rushing missiles now were brighter. They were individual, microscopic specks like stars. They began visibly to converge upon thespace occupied by the dummy fleet. 

"They'll be counting the ships, " said the Pretender mildly, "to makesure that all stay for their execution. This would be a tragic sight ifit were Humphrey's real fleet. He is just obstinate enough to lethimself be killed, on the word of a treacherous Mekinese!"

The cloud of radar-blips grew bright and came near. The dummy fleet alsoappeared on the screens in the _Liberty's_ control room. Bors and theothers could see the rushing, shining flood of missiles as it pouredthrough space upon the motionless targets. 

"There!" Bors pointed. "The king's ship's breaking out! Away over at theedge. I wonder if the Mekinese will notice!"

There were very tiny sparkles off at the side of the radar-screen. Theyincreased in number. 

There was a flash, like the sun brought near for the tenth of a second. Another. Yet another. Then an overwhelming spout of brilliance as tensand twenties and fifties of the trajectiles went off together. It was anunbelievable sight against the stars. Missiles flamed and flashed andthere seemed to be an actual sun there, now flashing brighter and nowfainter, but intolerably hot and shining. 

It went out, and left a vague and shining vapor behind. Then, belatedmissiles entered it and detonated. Their flares ceased. Then there wasnothing where there had seemed to be a fleet. 

"Which, " said Bors, "is that!"

Then a voice spoke coldly from space. 

"_Connect all speakers for a message in clear_, " it commanded. "_Alertall personnel for a general order. _"

There was a pause. The voice spoke again. 

"_Spacemen of Mekin_, " it said icily. "_The fleet of Kandar is nowdestroyed. Kandar itself will be destroyed also as an example of theconsequences of perfidy toward Mekin. But it should be a warning toothers who would conspire against our world. Therefore, in part aspenalty and in part as a reward to the men of the Grand Fleet, you willbe allowed to land during a period of two weeks. You will be armed. Youmay confiscate, for yourself, anything of value you find. You are notrequired to exercise restraint in your actions toward the people ofKandar. They will be destroyed with their planet and no protests fromsuch criminals will be listened to. You will be landed in groups, eachon a fresh area of the planet. That is all. _"

There was silence in the control room of the _Liberty_. After a longtime the Pretender said very quietly, "I will not live while such beastslive. From this moment I will kill them until I am killed!"

"I suspect King Humphrey heard that, " Bors said, and drew a deep breath. "Combat alert!" he ordered crisply. "We're attacking the Mekinese fleet. Handle your missiles smoothly and don't try to fire while we're inoverdrive! We'll be going in and out. .. . Choose your targets and fire aswe come out and while I count down. Overdrive point nine seconds. Five, four, three, two, one!"

The cosmos reeled and stomachs retched when the _Liberty_ came out innine-tenths of a second. She was in the very midst of a concentrationof the Mekinese fleet. Missiles streaked away, furiously, as Borscounted down. "Two-fifths second, five, four, three, two, one!"

More missiles shot away. Bors almost chanted, while with gestures towardthe radar-screen he picked out the objects near which breakout shouldfall. 

"Point oh five seconds. " The ship went into overdrive and out. It seemedas if the universe dissolved from one appearance to another outside theviewports. "Five, four, three, two, one! Hold fire!"

The _Liberty_ came out a good ten thousand miles from its starting-pointand beyond the area occupied by the enemy fleet. Three thousand milesaway a flare burst among the distant stars. A second. A third. Sixthousand miles away there were flashings in emptiness. 

"We're doing very well, " said Bors calmly into the all-speakermicrophone. "A little more care with the aiming, though. And read yourranges closer! They're not intercepting our missiles. We're not aimingthem right. We try it again now. .. . "

The universe seemed to reel and one felt queasy, but there was work tobe done, while a voice chanted, "Five, four, three, two, one!" Then itreeled again and the same voice continued to chant. Sometimes the crewssaw where missiles hit, but they could never be sure they were theirown. Then, suddenly, the number of hits increased. They doubled andtripled and quadrupled. 

"All hands!" barked Bors. "The fleet of Kandar is wading into thisfight. Be careful to pick your targets! No Kandar ships! Save yourmissiles for the enemy!"

Someone, man-handling missiles for faster and more long-continued firingthan any ship-designer ever expected, gasped, "Come on boys! Missilesfor Mekin!"

It became a joke, which seemed excruciatingly funny at the time. 

Nobody saw all the battle, or even a considerable part. There was aperiod when the _Liberty_, alone, fought like the deadliest ofgadflies. It appeared in the middle of a Mekinese sub-formation, loosedmissiles and vanished before anything could be intercepted. There was notarget for Mekinese bombs to home on when they got to where the_Liberty_ had been. 

Then the fleet of Kandar appeared. It broke out in single ships and inpairs, and then in groups of fives and tens. The general order for theMekinese fleet had been picked up, and the fleet of Kandar seemed tohave gone mad. 

The flagship tried to fight in orthodox fashion, for a time. It dependedon the attraction its missiles had for Mekinese to keep it in space. Butpresently it was alone, and the battle was raging confusion scatteredover light-minutes, and somebody went down in to the engine room andbrazed in a low-power overdrive unit--providentially made by a juniorofficer--and the flagship of the Kandarian fleet waded in erratically, never knowing where it would come out, but rarely failing to find aMekinese ship to launch at. 

The third phase of the battle was much more of an open fight, shipagainst ship, except that more and more Kandarian ships were usinglow-power overdrive--clumsily and inefficiently, but to the very greatdetriment of Mekin's grand fleet. The Mekinese officers could not quitegrasp that their antagonists were doing the impossible. They becameconfused. 

The fourth phase of the battle consisted of mopping-up operations inwhich individual ships were hunted down and destroyed by the simpleprocess of a Kandarian ship seeming to materialize from nowhere a mileor half a mile from an enemy, launching one missile and seeming todematerialize again and vanish. 

Very few Mekinese ships went into overdrive. Probably most of themdidn't believe what was happening. Perhaps four ships, out of the entiregrand fleet, escaped. 

 * * * * *

Later, of course, there was embarrassment all around. King Humphrey theEighth landed on Kandar to assure his people that they were no longer indanger. He was embarrassed because he was a victor in spite of himself. The fleet officers were embarrassed because Bors had been forced out ofthe fleet, and had literally tricked them into battle. 

Bors, too, was embarrassed. There was the admiration displayed by juniorofficers of the fleet. He had become, very unwillingly, a model foryoung space-navy officers. They tried to pattern themselves after him inall ways, even to the angle at which they wore their hats. He squirmedwhen they looked at him with shining-eyed respect. 

He was embarrassed, also, by the necessary revelation to the _Liberty's_crew that he was neither the leader of a rebellion nor in command of afleet; nor that he had performed quite all the fabulous feats creditedto him. He had to explain that he'd only commanded two ships, the _Isis_and the _Horus_, one of which had to be destroyed, and that when the_Liberty_ placed itself under his command he'd just been forced toresign his commission from King Humphrey. The young men who'd foughtunder him were unimpressed. 

The fleet was re-supplied with food and missiles, and in one day morethe major part of it would take off for Mekin. Other ships wouldjourney, of course, to the twenty-odd, once-subject worlds. There theywould--they were calmly confident about it--mop up any survivingMekinese ships and enforce the surrender of Mekinese garrisons. And theywould gather emissaries to be carried to the fleet as it rode in orbitabout Mekin. The fleet and the representatives of the twenty-two worlds, together, would firmly rearrange the government and the policies and theambitions of Mekin. 

There was still the matter of Gwenlyn. The _Sylva_ came down on Kandar, of course, where Morgan swaggered happily, pointing out theindispensable help given to Kandar by Talents, Incorporated. Borsreminded King Humphrey that Morgan collected medals, and he was dulyinvested with sundry glittering decorations, which would have staggereda lesser man. 

Gwenlyn found Bors secluded in the palace, waiting until it was time toboard ship and head for Mekin. Her father accompanied her. 

"I've come to say goodbye, " she said gently. "We've done what we camefor. "

"I still don't understand why you came, " said Bors, who would muchrather have said something else. "We can't possibly do anything adequatein return. Why _did_ you come?"

He turned to Morgan, who answered blandly, "One of our Talentsprecognized an event. We had to come here and help it to happen. Gwenlynwas doubtful, but she's come around. "

"What was it?"

"It hasn't happened yet, " said Morgan. He produced a cigar and lightedit. "Gwenlyn, shall I tell him?"

"Don't you dare!" said Gwenlyn hotly. 

Bors said unhappily, "I'm sorry you're going away, Gwenlyn. If thingswere--different, I--I--"

"You what?" asked Morgan. "By the way! One of our Talents hasprecognized that your uncle's going back to Tralee as its king again. Largely on your account. You're his heir, aren't you?"

Bors blinked. 

"Hero, " said Morgan, waving his hand. "Twenty-two planets adoring you, believing you brought Mekin down single-handed. Aching to work with you, follow you, admire you. Naturally, Tralee wants your uncle back. Thenthey'll have you. Of course, " he added complacently, "our Department forDisseminating Truthful Seditious Rumors had something to do with it. Butthat was necessary wartime propaganda. And you didn't let anybody down. "Then he said peevishly, "Not until now!"

Bors gaped. He looked at Gwenlyn. Her cheeks were crimson. Revelationstruck Bors like a blow. 

"I don't believe it!" he said, staring at her. He said more loudly, "Idon't believe it!"

"Damnit, " said Morgan indignantly. "She didn't believe it either! Shesaid she'd come here because she was curious, nothing more. But thatparticular Talent's never missed yet! She just plain _knows_ every timewho--"

"Hush!" said Gwenlyn fiercely. "Goodbye. "

Bors moved toward her, not to shake hands. She ran out of the door. Sheran fast, for a girl. He ran faster. 

Morgan puffed contentedly. Presently the completely unreal figure ofKing Humphrey the Eighth came to where Morgan had surrounded himselfwith aromatic smoke. 

"Where's Bors?" asked the king. 

"Yonder, " said Morgan. He waved his hand. "Kissing my daughter, I think. D'you know, Majesty, I've known this would happen all along? One of ourTalents precognized you opening parliament next year. So I knew thingshad to come out right. "

"Y-yes, " said the king, dubiously. "I suppose so. But there had to beefforts, too, to bring it about. Otherwise it wouldn't seem right. "

"Naturally!" said Morgan. "When one of my Talents precognized thatGwenlyn was going to marry the heir of the Pretender of Tralee and beQueen of Tralee some day, why, it didn't seem a bit likely. But once Iknew about that precognition, I put in a little effort. .. . "

King Humphrey was thoughtful. 

"Things look good, " said Morgan expansively. "My Talents areprecognizing all over the place. They tell me that this planet's goingto be a fine place to live. Quiet and peaceful, and serene. .. . Gwenlynwill be living on Tralee, most likely, and I don't want to be underfoot. I'll probably settle down here. Retire, you know. "

"Splendid, " said the king, politely, his mind occupied with the prospectof a warless future. 

"And as for Gwenlyn and Bors, " Morgan added, confidentially, "I'll tellyou something. My Talents've been working on her future. I wouldn't tellher all of it. Some of it should be a surprise. But she and Bors aregoing to be what you call happy ever after! And that's Talents, Incorporated information! You can depend on it!"

TWO MORE AVON S-F HITS YOU'RE SURE TO ENJOY

LITTLE FUZZY

 _by H. Beam Piper F-118 40¢_

Zarathustra belonged to the chartered Zarathustra Company as a Class-IIIuninhabited planet. They owned it lock, stock and barrel; they exploitedit without interference from the Colonial Government. 

The Company was sitting pretty until Jack Holloway turned up with afamily of Fuzzies and the claim that they were not just nice littleanimals, but human. If he was right and the Fuzzies were declared the9th extrasolar sapient race, there went the Company, charter and all!

LITTLE FUZZY is our candidate for the most delightful science-fictionbook of the year. 

 * * * * *

THE STAR DWELLERS

 _by James Blish F-122 40¢_

They were beautiful creatures, highly intelligent and playful. Theinhabitants of Terra nicknamed them "Angels, " yet they were awesome--theyoungest were 4, 000, 000 years old and the oldest had been around sincethe birth of the universe. 

Space cadet Jack Loftus was almost overwhelmed when he had to assume theresponsibility of negotiating a treaty with them--a treaty which couldmean the life or death of earth and mankind. 

 * * * * *

Available at your local newsdealer. If he cannot supply you, orderdirect from Avon Book Division, The Hearst Corporation, 250 West 55thStreet, New York 19, New York. Enclose price listed plus 10¢ extra perbook to cover cost of wrapping and mailing. 

TALENTS, INCORPORATED

Charlatans or Prophets?

At best, the tiny Kandarian Air Fleet would fight until its last shipwas blown into infinity. At worst, it would be annihilated without achance. To young Captain Bors, either course was unthinkable. 

The ruthless Dictator of Mekin had already subjugated twenty-twohelpless planets. Now he wanted Kandar's unconditional surrender, or hisvastly superior forces would blast it out of existence. 

It took a lot of guts, and the hope that is frequently born of despair, for a military man like Bors to throw in his lot with TALENTS, INCORPORATED, an untried, unscientific organization. Through peculiargifts of extra-sensory perception, its personnel could, their leaderinsisted, out-think and out-guess even the most deadly dictator in thehistory of mankind. Could it? It just might. 

And it just might not. .. . But there was absolutely nothing to lose, anda free world (and a beautiful girl) to win. Captain Bors made hisdecision, and the loaded die was cast!

 Printed in the U. S. A.