* * * * *

Good heavens, Odin thought, what a cold-blooded obituary for any race!

"And so, Wolden," the Scientist continued, "it has worked out well. We were lucky to find this spot. We fashioned the two doors first, for the cave was open when we reached it—I think a meteor must have crashed here long after these people died. After that, it was easy to build the lights and to draw moisture and air from the rocks. We have struck a balance now. I said all along that it could be done, if we could escape the constant interference from those ruffians above us—uh, Odin, I beg your pardon."

Odin always resented these cracks at his people so he ignored the request by asking another question. "But how did you do all this in so short a time? Those vines look like they have been growing for years."

"Just as they do in Alaska during the growing season. We kept our suns burning all the time. Soon we may be able to afford both day and night, but not yet.

"And after that," the Scientist went on, "we were able to get back to your work on the Time-Space Continuum. We have made some wonderful advances. I would like to show you—but Gunnar and Odin, I am boring you."

"Wouldn't you care to look at the new lake?" Wolden urged.

"I can take a hint," Gunnar grumbled. "Nobody wants a fighting man about until the swords are flashing—"

As Odin and Gunnar went down the front steps of the tower, they met the girl Nea. She was swinging the bowling-ball-shaped satchel at her side.

When they greeted her, Odin felt that he could hold back his curiosity no longer. "Are you a bowler, Miss Nea?" he asked.

"A bowler!" Then she laughed a silvery laugh. "Oh, no. This is an invention of mine. My father and I were working on it. He died in the tunnel when it was flooded." For a second her dark eyes appeared infinitely sad. Then she laughed again. "But it is not perfected. It may not ever be perfected now. I thought that perhaps Wolden and Gor might help me with it."

Gunnar muttered some words that might be roughly interpreted as "Fat Chance" and he and Odin left the girl on the steps.

As they walked around the little lake which was as smooth as a mirror, Gunnar explained. "Her mother was a cousin to Maya's mother. You know how the Brons number their kin to the seventh generation. Her father was one of the Scientists. A brilliant man—but a poor provider. However, he died nobly. Remember, Nors-King, Nea's branch of the family is a strange group. They have done brilliant things, but they have thought up some hare-brained schemes, too. As I said before, she is also kin to Grim Hagen—"

Another day had passed. The voyagers had been summoned to a council hall within the tower. A screen was set up for the convenience of those who had been left upon the Nebula.

Wolden arose to speak. "My friends, a troubled question has entered my mind. As you know, I am a man of peace. My entire life has been spent in developing theories upon what I call this subject before me. I had thought it to be something that could be developed within three generations—if we were left at peace. But we were not left at peace. And I accepted your decision that we go forth into space and find Grim Hagen. But now I have learned new things. This discovery of the Moon Metal has advanced my work by fifty years. Gor here has advanced it farther. We are upon the brink of perfecting my life's work. Now, I ask that I be relieved of command. Look, you have my son Ato. A much better commander than I could ever be. Let me stay here with my work, I beg of you."

So the votes were taken, following a century-old ritual. Wolden was relieved of command and Ato was given his place.

Hours later Gunnar and Odin sat with Ato in his quarters, making some last-minute decisions.

There was a knock at the door. Wolden entered, carrying a strange-looking slug-horn that glimmered like mother-of-pearl. "I want you to take this with you," he begged his son. "It is made of the Moon-Metal. I think I know its secret now. A vibration that defies a vacuum. I hope to perfect my work, but I may not. Here," he offered the tiny horn to his son. "Blow it if you need me. It is soundless, but it defies time and space just as my work does. I carry a ring to match it. I may not succeed. But blow it when you need me, son, and if I can I'll be there—"

Tears were in the eyes of both when Ato took the slug-horn from his father.



CHAPTER 8

At their request, eight couples and their children were brought from The Nebula to the cavern. For the crew of the first ship had been old men—and the cavern had never known a child's laughter.

Then Ato led his group back to the moon's surface.

As a little conveyor belt hoisted him through the tube into the central core of the ship, Jack Odin found himself worrying a bit about Nea. She had decided to go on with them. Due to her experimental interests, Jack had supposed that she would stay with Wolden. But there she was, still carrying that perplexing case of hers. Quiet and sad-eyed, a little smaller than Maya, her face a little sharper, she still looked so much like Maya that Odin couldn't get his thoughts away from her.

* * * * *

There was one last period of final check-outs. Then Ato gave the signal, standing lean and tall in the control room, with a tight belt about his narrow waist, and Wolden's slug-horn fastened securely to it.

The Nebula leaped toward the star-studded skies.

Odin watched the moon disappear below them. Mars with its canals and mossy deserts loomed ahead—swerved aside, and was behind them, Jupiter with its red clouds and its protean "eye" reached out for them and was left behind. The planets became smaller. They winked at them and cheered them on with a far halloo. Then Pluto loomed ahead, lost and forgotten up there in the night. And to Odin's surprise, one last tiny planet, frozen to the color of a moonstone, looked at them like a dead thing that could not even remember life—and asked them what they were—and wearily bade them goodbye.

When the planets were no more than seed-pearls floating in the vast behind them, Ato gave the signal for all to make ready. There was a scurrying aboard ship for couches and over-stuffed chairs. And after the warning bell had ceased clanging, Ato muttered to Odin and Gunnar: "This has been tested enough. It ought to work."

With one last shrug of his lean shoulders, Ato pulled the lever that threw them into the Fourth Drive.

The stars and the planets became streamers of light. They burst like sky-rockets and a million sparks fell into the void. The sparks winked out and the ship hurtled on through a darkness that seemed to take form before them. It was as though they burrowed through swathes of black cotton.

Once before, Jack Odin had experienced a feeling akin to this. It was the time when he had used Ato's belt, and Gunnar had flung him into space as though he had been a minnow at the end of a snapping line. But that experience had been momentary. This built itself up—until Odin felt himself expanding and contracting at each pulse beat. His heart seemed to beat slower and slower. Waves of smothering pain struck him when they passed the speed of light. Then the pain diminished. He gasped for air, and it seemed to take years to reach his chest. The pain and the feeling of speed went slowly away. They were merely drifting now, as though in a dream, with a feeling of high exhilaration flooding over him. He remembered feeling that way once as a boy when a heavy storm had passed, taking its wracks of clouds with it, and the sinking sun had come out to turn all the trees to emeralds.

And now, beyond life, and beyond death, with eternity curving like a rainbow of light around them, they dashed on and on into the unknown.

Time did not exist. Space had a new concept. Speed was something that advanced them. It was little more than a sensation until Alpha Centauri began to loom larger upon their screens. From their vantage point in Trans-Einsteinian space, it did not look like a star at all. It was two intertwined circular spirals of light, and at the intervals where the two coils met were little nodules of gold.

The crew was given instructions on the anticipated sensations that were to follow.

"It will be like plunging back from immortality to mortality," Ato told Odin. "Over four years have passed, as light is measured. We have not eaten more than twenty meals."

He pulled the lever that slowed them out of the Fourth Drive into three-dimensional space. There was the same sickening sensation when they dropped lower than the speed of light. And, braking all the while, they zoomed swiftly down upon the binary suns and their seven worlds.

* * * * *

Odin had been watching the screens for three hours. He felt sick and old over the things that he had seen. Seven worlds—all blackened and burned out. Life had been there, but what form of life only Grim Hagen might have told them. They were cindered—their atmosphere, which had not been oxygen, had burned away. Ato's probing instruments found neither liquid nor gas. His screens found an occasional shattered city, where broken spires reached twisted fingers into the vacant sky.

Ato was watching the needles upon another machine. "The Old Ship has been here. What happened I do not know. They may have defied Grim Hagen. Maybe they refused to join him. Certainly, in all the worlds, billions of them, there must be many where conflict and submission are unknown. These people might not have been able to understand Grim Hagen's ultimatum. They may have died trying to figure out what the strange voice from the sky was talking about. On the other hand, he may not have given them an ultimatum at all. This may have been a practice assault—like Hitler's attack upon Poland, just to see how much death could be inflicted. We shall never know."

They flashed away into space. Ato threw them into the Fourth Drive again. And once more the lights from the far-off stars circled like fireflies. And eternity curved in a rainbow of light about them.

* * * * *

Hours no longer existed, but it seemed to Jack Odin that many hours passed while he tried to get that sick, cold feeling out of his chest. Time crawled by while he tried to resolve his thoughts. Perhaps Wolden had been right. Men did not belong here. Man and Brons were orphans of the stars. Was there some element upon the earth that made them vicious? Was there any way that they could come out here into space on equal terms with living things? Or must they always come as conquerors, eager to fight, or refugees who soon became resentful of the natives. Would the worlds out there become mere plundered planets with a portion of the aborigines' land grudgingly set apart for reservations?

Of course, Grim Hagen was a Bron—one of the worst of them. But Brons and men had lived so close together for so long that there was little difference between them. Odin knew some men who, given the ship and the weapons, would have done as Grim Hagen had done. And would have arrogantly demanded a medal, besides.

Oh, well, there was no sense in staying in the doldrums forever. Out there, time was on the side of the stars. If a demon of discord stole in, time could wait—

They readied themselves for combat. Ato's instruments were probing space for a sign of the Old Ship. The ancient weapons and some new ones were now in place. Each man took his turn at practice.

But Gunnar, although he was put in charge of one of the needle-nosed guns, took the service lightly. In his spare time he busied himself with his and Odin's swords.

"Grim Hagen has all of these. We have defenses for such weapons. So has Grim Hagen. The total of all such endeavor will be zero. And then, when the chips are down, it will be the old swords and the knives and the strong arms. Wait and see—"

However, Odin soon learned that there was one new weapon aboard ship. At the request of Nea, Ato called a meeting of his ten captains.

The girl was dressed neatly in a white skirt and blouse. She wore a red ribbon in her hair. Odin had not known her to take any interest in clothes. Ordinarily she was the poorest dressed woman on the ship.

Now, she produced her invention with a proud toss of black curls and a flush of excitement on her pale face.

"My father's work is finished," she told them proudly. "The Scientist back there within the moon gave me the last idea. But, all in all, it is my father's invention. Had he lived, he would have perfected it. Just as I have done." Her eyes flashed. "Yes, some who are within this room thought that he wasted his time away. He washed beakers in the labs because some of you said that he produced nothing—"

Ato's face was thin. "Nea, the past is behind us. Why carry your resentment with you? Your father died a hero's death. We have honored him."

Again Nea's dark eyes flashed. "Oh, once he was dead you thought very well of him. And as for resentment, isn't this whole trip being made because you resent Grim Hagen—"

Ato's face was growing darker. "You signed the ship's articles, Nea. We go to rescue our friends and loved ones. We go as a police force to punish one who has done much evil—"

A grizzled Bron nodded in agreement. "Yes, Nea, this talk serves no purpose. Get along with your invention."

"Very well. I asked for a live thing, but Ato would not agree."

Again Ato was on the defensive. "There are not a dozen pets on the ship. I do not approve of such experiments. Besides, the batteries are already set up." He pointed to a row of dry-cells, connected together and wired to a large volt-meter upon the wall.

"All right." Nea threw a switch that put the batteries in circuit. The needle of the gauge moved over to its farthest point. "Now," she told them. "You shall see. But be still. I am sure I can control it—"

Odin thought there was just a bit of doubt in her voice. If so, it would only be natural.

She opened the case and took out something which still looked to Jack Odin like a bowling ball—except that it was studded with little brads of copper and a swatch of fine, silky wires was wrapped around it.

She pressed a button upon its surface. It began to hum. Slowly it rose into the air. The silky wires drooped down. They writhed and probed about.

"This is as near as man has ever come to making a living thing," Nea explained. "It moves. It reacts to sensations. It makes its own energy. Watch!"

Slowly the globe with its trailing tentacles moved about the room. It whined hungrily when it found the batteries. It hovered above them and the silky wires fanned out. Then it darted down. The wires felt over the batteries and their connections—softly—eagerly. The whine changed to a purr of enjoyment. The thing fed. And slowly the pointer upon the volt-meter moved over to zero.

* * * * *

Nea raised a tiny whistle to her mouth. There was no sound, but the copper-studded globe seemed to hear. It raised itself back into the air. The silken wires wrapped themselves about the round body. It came back to Nea—slowly—almost defiantly—and settled into her arms like a plump cat returning to a doting mistress.

Nea pressed the button again and put it back into its case.

"Wonderful," Ato applauded. "I move that we give Nea a vote of thanks."

"But what earthly good is it?" Gunnar asked. "I could have swatted it with a broom."

"And you would have died." Nea turned upon him like a tigress. "It feeds upon electricity and it can discharge a lightning bolt. Don't you see? There are few weapons that can resist it. But that is not all. In your own brain, Gunnar, there is a charge of electricity. It may be the only real life that you have within you. This can take it all away. That was why I asked for a live thing to demonstrate—"

The grizzled Bron who had spoken once before now laughed good-humoredly. "Demonstrate it on Gunnar," he suggested.

"And I will thump your skull—" Gunnar was ready to go for him, but Odin grabbed the little giant's arm.

"He jokes. Besides, you are ruining the girl's show. This means much to her."

Nea gave him a grateful glance. The council voted their thanks to Nea and a tribute to her father. She was assigned a half-dozen helpers to fashion as many of the globes as she could. They adjourned.

* * * * *

As The Nebula drove on, it became harder and harder for Odin to judge time. He could only gauge it by some event such as the council meeting and say "before this" or "after that."

He and Gunnar were with Ato in the control room when suddenly warning bells began to jangle and red lights flashed on and off.

Ato adjusted the largest screen. And there, slowly revolving like an hour-glass of gold amid uprushing sparks of sun and flame, was The Old Ship.

Ato pointed to a bright star. "Aldebaran. They are headed there."

His voice was shaking just a bit when he called into the speaker: "Battle stations, everyone!"

Gunnar took off for the needle-nosed instrument which he had grown to hate. Odin stood by to help with the screens.

"Watch forward now!" Ato warned. "Sight at thirty degrees above the equator of The Nebula. Adjust for Doppler—X over Y. We have him on the screens now. This means that he can get a fix on us. Careful now—"

As he watched the screen, Jack Odin saw three tiny sparks leap from Grim Hagen's ship. They danced toward them, growing as they came. At first they were blue, but as they filled the screen, almost hiding the Old Ship from his vision, they changed to amber and topaz.

Bells and klaxons shrieked their warnings.

Ato watched and waited. Just as the three growing lights filled the screen he touched a lever. The Nebula danced away. Breathless, Jack Odin altered the screens and watched the three globes of flame hurtle past them.

Far away now, they slowed like living things, puzzled at having lost their prey.

Slowed they merged together—

And turned back upon their quarry!



CHAPTER 9

The three sunlets of flame merged together and dripped yellow blobs of light into the darkness. They grew into a great soap bubble that turned to topaz.

Like something moving in a dream it gained upon The Nebula, until it was pacing beside them—a little larger now and still growing—dwarfing them and filling half the screen.

A shadow—no, two shadows—were growing within it, Odin tried to make them out. But they were dark and wavering. Still, they looked something like a high priest standing above a prone victim stretched out upon some sacrificial altar.

Odin was working the screens like mad. Keeping their entire crew before his and Ato's eyes and at the same time watching the topaz bubble.

The bubble cleared. Over the loudspeakers came Grim Hagen's shriek of wild laughter.

Odin turned another knob and the bubble loomed larger.

Grim Hagen stood there, one lean hand rubbing his chin as he laughed at them.

And the figure lying prone upon a couch beside him was swathed by a sheet which came almost to its eyes. But the shadows were leaving the bubble now. And Odin saw that it was Maya. Asleep. Statuesque. Like a carving upon a tomb—but it was Maya.

Then he cried out in alarm. For upon another screen he saw Gunnar and his crew swing their weapon into action. Shell after shell of greenish fire burst about the globe. Green flame thrust out tiny rootlets that crawled over it, outlining it in garish light. Another shell seemed to burst upon Grim Hagen's chest, tearing the bubble of light apart. And as Jack watched, horrified and sick, the shards of flame came back together. And there was the globe again—with Grim Hagen and Maya as whole as ever. And a green streak of fire—one of Gunnar's misses—went careening off into space until it shrank to a pinpoint of light and then vanished.

At a signal from Ato, the firing stopped.

Grim Hagen was still laughing.

"You are wasting your energy, Ato. I am only a projection. And so is this that is with me. I have Maya." He bowed mockingly. "See, Odin. Come and get her, Odin, so I can kill you. I had thought I was done with you but it is just as well. Out here, somewhere, somewhen, I can kill you slowly. Look, she sleeps."

Shrouded there within a bubble of changing light, Maya looked like a bronze statue. Lying upon her back with her arms folded across her breasts, and with half of her face covered by the flowing folds of a coverlet, she was like a bride of death, waiting the end of eternity.

Hagen laughed again. "Here in Trans-Einsteinian space there is neither size nor time as we once knew it. I could leave her on a giant planet, a statue ten miles long for the ages to marvel at. Or I could cast her adrift to make the trillion-mile-long trip with the suns until the last explosion when space will dissolve and be born again. So give up now. Bother me no more. Space and its treasures are mine for the taking, and I have waited too long."

Then the topaz globe twitched as a bubble vanishes. And it was gone. Out there was nothing but the night.

* * * * *

Ato set a course for Aldebaran. His watch finished, Jack Odin sat alone in the lounge and watched the star upon the screen. It did not seem to be much larger. A single brilliant jewel of flame that beckoned them on.

Gunnar had long since gone to bed, grumbling that the way order and military discipline were maintained aboard ship they probably couldn't whip their way out of a child's wading pool. Odin was thinking of all the things that had happened to him since that night when Maya and the dwarfs had brought the helpless Grim Hagen to the old Odin homestead. Lord, how long had it been? Out here, where time could not be measured, and perhaps did not exist at all, it seemed futile to count the weeks and the months.

He stared at the single star upon the screen until he was half asleep. Behind it Maya's face, outlined in black curls, seemed to peer at him—and her pouting lips parted as she smiled.

He stared and shook his head. The dream-vision vanished from the screen. Someone had entered the room.

It was Nea. Dressed in slacks once more, she slouched over to his chair and drew a hassock up beside it. As she looked at him, Jack Odin saw that her eyes were tired—tired—tired. As though they had not rested for months.

"You ought to be asleep," he warned. "Now that your work is finished—"

"And is it finished?" she asked. "Is anything ever finished?" Nea drooped upon the hassock. Resting her chin upon her hands she looked up at the screen.

"That is where we are going?" she asked.

"Ato is certain that Grim Hagen is headed for Aldebaran," Odin answered.

"One star out of millions. What difference does it make?"

"You have been working too hard—"

"Oh, damn!" she said angrily. "There is more to the work than you and the others guessed. Now, we are going to rescue a cousin of mine and to punish another cousin. The old rat-race. Tell me why don't people just go sit in a corner and enjoy themselves. So far, we have done nothing but increase our scurrying a thousand-fold."

* * * * *

He tried to make a joke of the matter. "You sound like a beatnik."

"Perhaps," she answered slowly, still looking up at the screen. "They considered my father beat—dead-beat. But I know more of this science than you do, Jack Odin. What if I told you there was little chance of finding Maya. Or, if you found her, she might be an old, old lady."

"Well, I'd say 'Nuts.' We would keep on looking. But why such gloomy thoughts?"

"You do not understand. Here, flashing through Trans-Space, we are in another time. Oh, it goes by. But not as the clocks of Opal. Once a ship slides out of here to a planet it is caught in a web of time and space. The clocks resume their old work of grinding the minutes and the hours to bits. The black oxen of the sun take up their measured march. Oh, I could show you the mathematical formula to prove this, but it would take a blackboard larger than the screen. Don't you see! While we search through Trans-Space, it is highly possible that Grim Hagen, Maya, and all their crew are growing old on some planet that you might never find."

Odin drew his hand across his face in dismay. "You make all this sound like a mad voyage. Why, this is insane!"

"Check with Ato if you wish." Her sad smile was almost a sneer. "And men talk of going to the stars. Where is the clock they will use? Where is their yardstick? Where is the concept? Why, out there, for all you know, Huckleberry Finn is still floating down the river, and Macbeth walks through the halls of Dunsinane. And the last man, in the year one-million AD, may be squatting over a fire, watching his last stick of wood turn to ashes."

Lithely she got to her feet and reached a dial upon the screen. The lone star vanished. A thousand pinpoints leaped out.

"There is but a segment," she said, sitting back upon the hassock again. "I have known Maya all my life. I was the poor relation. I envied her, but I did not hate her. And so with Grim Hagen. I should hate him, but I remember him as a frustrated cousin who always ran second in the races. And all that—even my father—seems far away and long ago. Why do you bring love and hate with you out here to the stars, Jack Odin?"

"Because I am a man, I suppose."

She sighed again. "There is much more to this invention of mine that I showed you. Upon that screen there must be ten thousand worlds. Let us pick one, you and I. We can glide out of here at any time. And we can make that world over as we please. We might even eat of the fruit of life and become as gods—"

As though it came from the dark corridor of the years, Jack Odin seemed to hear the resounding echo of slow footsteps, and a deep voice that thundered: "For I, thy God, am a jealous God—"

She had almost hypnotized him with her weary, earnest voice. For a moment, it had seemed that all this frantic quest was nothing. That it would be far, far better to find a home with Nea and build a world of his own than to go on searching the stars.

Then he answered slowly, trying to measure his words, for he did not want to hurt her feelings. "No, Nea. If I go wandering forever, it will be no worse than my fathers did before me. For a man is vagrant and restless. What he gets, he loses. And if he is lucky, he can hold fast to his dreams."

For a moment dark anger blazed in her eyes. Then they were calm and sad again. She got to her feet, as though she were very tired.

She smiled. "If I followed all the books, I would make a scene now. I have offered myself and a world to you and have been refused. But I wish you and your dreams well, Jack Odin."

She bent over him, and her lips brushed his. Faintly, like the touch of a rose petal, and the perfume of her hair seemed to fill the room.

Then she was gone.

Jack Odin sat there, looking long and long at the swarm of stars upon the screen, thinking of the unseen worlds about them—the worlds that he had just renounced.

Until finally he got up and went to bed.



CHAPTER 10

Ato's probing instruments still pointed the way to Aldebaran. In a surprisingly short time, the warning signals were flashing and jingling throughout The Nebula. There was that same sick feeling as it moved slower than the speed of light.

And there was a glowing sun with nine planets circling stately about it. Slower The Nebula moved, and slower, until the outermost planet sparkled in the light of its sun below them. They swooped down.

Not a single blast was fired at them. Every man was at his post, while Ato guided them in, and Odin worked the screens.

Once more, Jack was disappointed. He had looked forward to some alien—even exotic—civilization. Here were fields and streams. And there were cities—looking very much like the cities of his world and of Opal.

Those other worlds which he had seen had been blasted. So there was no way of knowing how their cities had looked. But these were too recognizable. He was certain that he had seen several of the taller buildings before.

Was space no more creative than this? Had the worlds dedicated themselves to the same monotonous pattern? He had caught a glimpse of conventional, rocket-shaped spaceships, plying their courses back and forth among the planets. He saw boats and cars and a few long-nosed airplanes, with the merest trace of vestigial wings far back near the empennage, streaking through the sky in high arcs, leaving curling trails of fog and smoke behind them. But there was little here that his world had not already mastered—or at least had on the drawing board.

The Nebula came to rest upon a bare plain not far from the nearest city. As he turned to the scanner upon it, Odin saw that while it looked familiar enough there was one exotic thing about it. Toward the outskirts of the city, in the bend of a wide river, was the Taj Mahal.

He felt nearly as bewildered as he had been when Nea explained her theories of the Time-Space Concept to him.

They had hardly landed before one of Ato's scientists announced that there was good clean air outside. Oxygen and nitrogen with good old water held as moisture within it.

The city sat there upon the plain and stared at them. The Nebula looked back.

At length a procession of cars moved toward them.

Grim Hagen's voice came thundering over the loud-speakers.

"A truce, Ato. I offer you a week's truce in return for a few meetings. This world has seen enough destruction—"

Gunnar and his crew leveled their death-gun at the advancing party. Odin kept them on the screen. Ato and a few of his captains got ready to disembark.

As Odin watched, he kept puzzling over that voice. It certainly was Grim Hagen's. But it was different. Perhaps it was a bit lower, a bit more commanding. But there was just a bit of weariness in it. And the answer came to him suddenly—although he never knew why.

The voice was older!

* * * * *

Then Grim Hagen and his staff were below The Nebula. They were dressed in white and gold uniforms. That was not surprising, either. Ato and his men advanced for a parley. Odin watched and listened.

At first he could not get a clear look at the man for Ato's broad shoulders. Then Ato turned aside, and Grim Hagen's head and shoulders filled the screen.

Odin gasped in amazement. Grim Hagen was nearly twenty years older than when he had seen him last.

The shoulders and arms were larger although there appeared to be little fat upon Grim Hagen. The dark hair was streaked with gray. The face was seamed, and though the black eyes still blazed they now burned with a fanatic hate and desperation. Where pride and ambition had once made a face coldly handsome, there was now nothing but seamed lines like scars and blazing eyes. It was an evil face. Grim Hagen had become a devil.

Hagen looked at the much younger Ato and laughed. "So, the cub comes to fight with the tiger? Didn't you know? Didn't you guess? While you came galloping after me, I had already landed within this system. And time began its old alnage. These were a peaceful people. We wrecked them. We enslaved them and built the nine worlds in our own fashion. Nearly nineteen years, Ato! No Caesar ever dreamed of a larger kingdom. I even gave them a new goddess—for I did not want them to do much thinking. Yonder." He pointed to the duplicate Taj Mahal in the distance. "She sleeps. My only failure. No older. And sometimes I go there and look at her, and my youth seems to walk beside me—"

"We want the people that you brought with you, Grim Hagen," Ato answered coldly. "And the treasures."

Grim Hagen laughed again. "Those that came with me willingly are dukes and kings beyond their wildest dreams. Those who would not take oath to serve me are still slaves. Except for Maya, who sleeps. As for the treasures, my treasure houses are so full now that I doubt if I could separate one thing from the other. So youth grows old. But you must admit that this is better than cringing in a hole in the ground—"

"None of us cringed, unless it was you," Ato retorted angrily. "We have come beyond time and space—for Maya and her friends—for the treasures—and for you—"

The mad light flamed in Grim Hagen's eyes as he laughed again. "You could not get a thousand feet into the air unless I permitted it. Come, now, I have given a week's truce. Relax and enjoy yourselves. After all, we are kinsmen in a far country." He rubbed his chin thoughtfully and repeated. "A far country."

* * * * *

Three days had passed since they had landed on Grim Hagen's planet. Ato, Gunnar, Odin, and a score of others had gone into the city where they had been given quarters in a palace that made Windsor look like a second-class lodging.

Odin and Gunnar shared a suite. As he dressed that morning, Odin looked about him at the splendor. Every bit of woodwork was hand-carved. The walls were covered with frescoes. The chandeliers were jeweled masterpieces and the carpets were thick crimson piles. The lace curtains must have ruined the eyes and hands of a dozen women.

He had heard that the planets of Aldebaran had been peopled by a blond peaceful race who were on a par with the culture of the Middle Ages when Grim Hagen arrived. Lord, how he must have worked himself and them to bring them this far along in nineteen years. There was a peaceful air of prosperity about the planet; and trade, he understood, was flourishing with the other worlds of the system. But the people were no more than slaves—beaten and cowed into submission. Oh, they worked hard. But Odin wondered what had been their punishment in years past for not working. There was something in their eyes—a stunned, unhappy look—that made him wonder what would happen some day when they learned as much as their masters and turned upon them. Moreover, he had been told that the planets were over-crowded when Grim Hagen arrived. They did not seem so now. How many graves throughout those nine planets were dedicated to the conquerors?

Only once had he seen one of them mistreated. That was at a dinner the night before. The banquet hall had been a combination of medieval, modern, and Brons' splendor. The dishes, the food, and the music had been superb. But a fair-skinned girl had spilled a few drops of wine when she was serving Grim Hagen. His face had grown dark. Half arising from his high-backed chair at the head of the table, he had doubled up his fist and struck her below the cheek-bone. She reeled back, her face crimsoning from the blow and the shame. The other servants pretended to see nothing. But in the girl's eyes and in the eyes of the others he saw the old promise that had been written in the eyes of slaves since time began: "Some Day! Some Day!"

Then, with perfect calm, Grim Hagen had sat down, wiping his lips with a lacy napkin. "Pardon me, gentlemen, but they have so much to learn in so short a time." Then he looked down the long table at Odin and could not resist one gibe. "You don't know how happy I was to find that these planets were peopled by a light-skinned race."

* * * * *

That was all. True to his promise, Grim Hagen had given them the run of the city. But there was always one of Hagen's men or some native in uniform to politely assure them that there was little to see down the off streets. The main squares were a tourist's paradise. Beautiful buildings—in all colors and styles, black marble and silver. Tracings of gold. Clocks, bells, statues, fountains. All the architecture of the world they had left, with fine selections and matching, with daring improvisations. And everything new. Odin had to admit that the squares were beautiful. Some day this conquered race might even owe a debt to Grim Hagen and his crew. But right now they did not seem to be bubbling over. The natives were polite—too meek for comfort. Some of the women were beautiful; most of the men were too slight of build, almost effeminate.

But once Jack Odin and Gunnar managed to stroll down a narrow street without anyone noticing them. It was the cry of the birds that caused them to turn aside into even a narrower one. So they came to a little run-down park that looked old enough to have survived the conquest. Then they saw the scaffoldings. And there were twelve shapes hanging from ropes and meat-hooks. As they neared, a flock of fat revolting-looking birds arose and complained as they fluttered away.

Gunnar and Odin had stood there looking up at the half-dried mummies that swung slowly about and grimaced at the tiny wind that perplexed them. The gibbets were spotted with blood and filth. Flies swarmed about them.

"So," Gunnar remarked. "The leopard does not change his spots. Grim Hagen still gives lessons to these people. And knowing Grim Hagen I would say he is a rough schoolmaster."

They did not stay long. And a guard opened his mouth in surprise when he saw them entering the square from the dark, little street.

* * * * *

Today Grim Hagen had invited them to another conference. Gunnar and Odin dressed carefully. But Gunnar took a last look at harness and sword as he complained: "He wants something. And Grim Hagen can be mean when he doesn't get what he wants. We should have started wrecking this world before we landed. The people would be no worse off. And maybe we could have rid ourselves of a snake. Ato needs a big drink of tiger milk—"

"Oh, quit complaining, little giant. We still have some bargaining power."

"Yes, our swords. This meeting reminds me of the conference that a king once held to decide upon another conference which would decide what the next conference would be about. Bah!"

"Quit worrying. One of us will kill Grim Hagen, sooner or later."

But Gunnar went on with his complaining. "You had better stay close to me, you understand, or you will be hanging from one of Grim Hagen's meat-hooks."

So they went to the conference. All of Ato's men and at least fifty of Grim Hagen's were there. Contrary to Gunnar's prediction, Grim Hagen got to the point at once.

"Kinsmen," he began mockingly. "You may have wondered why I called a truce when I could just as well have destroyed you—"

"That I doubt," Ato answered him. "We have defensive weapons. Even now the guns from our ship are trained upon the city."

Grim Hagen shrugged. "Let us not quibble, Ato. Your father was a quibbler before you."

Ato flushed in anger.

Grim Hagen continued with an apologetic smile. "I'm only joking. But I do know certain things. Your father, Wolden, is a brilliant man, Ato." He bowed slightly as he admitted this. "From time to time, as you hurtled through the star spaces, I picked up scraps of conversation with my instruments. Also, I knew something of what Wolden has been working on all these years."

"Now, you're quibbling," Gunnar jeered. "Get on with your speech, Grim Hagen."

Grim Hagen bowed to the broad-shouldered little man. "Some day, Gunnar, I may have to kill you—"

"Now. Now." Gunnar urged, fairly jumping in rage. "Just the two of us, Grim Hagen. Just the two of us with bare hands—"

"Not yet." Grim Hagen sneered. "Now, I will continue. From what I have learned, it appears that Wolden's work has been a success. It is possible for men to master both time and space. I have mastered space, but time is turning everything to dust and ashes. What good is it to be an old emperor? No better than to be an old herdsman." Again he tossed a sneer in Gunnar's direction—

"That's easy," Gunnar retorted. "The old herdsman sleeps well at night."

"Bah. Who wants to sleep? Please quit interrupting, Gunnar."

"Even before we came to Aldebaran," Hagen went on, "I was in contact with a dying world out there at the edge of space. Those people are desperate. And they are weary of life, having seen too much of it. They have agreed to go with me. Why, this sun and these worlds are piddling trifles. With that invention we could go from sun to sun. Space would be ours to play with—"

"Loki, the Mischief-Maker, running through creation—" Gunnar muttered.

Grim Hagen may not have heard him for he continued in that same desperate, pleading voice. "So here is my proposition, Ato. Give me your father's secret. In return, I give you the treasures, the Old Ship, the prisoners, and even Maya. Is not that complete surrender?" He smiled disarmingly.

* * * * *

Ato stood tall and proud as he answered. His eyes were blazing now, as he saw through Grim Hagen's plan. "So, you thought I would bargain away Wolden's secret, did you? Well, your surmises were wrong. When last I saw him his work was not finished. I know so little about it that I could tell you nothing of any value. But if I did," Ato's voice was trembling in disgust. "If I did, Hagen, would I turn you and your hells' spawn loose upon the stars to perplex them forever?"

Grim Hagen's face was almost blue with rage. "You have said enough. And there are other ways to make you talk. Make these swine prisoners," he screamed.

A dozen knives flashed. A dozen death-tubes were pointed toward Ato and his followers.

But one of Grim Hagen's lieutenants, a Bron who was now silver-haired, intervened. "No, Grim Hagen. They are under truce. The week is not yet up. I will not see you go back on your own word—"

Grim Hagen flamed. "You will die on the hook for this—"

"Maybe so. One thing is certain: I will die. And I can face it. But you can't, can you, Grim Hagen? You would prefer to be some sort of eternal devil, working its fury upon the stars. Now, where is the new thinking that you used to preach? That dream is as old as the incantations beside the cave-fires—"

"Arrest them all," Grim Hagen screamed. "Arrest Rama too," he added with rage.

But the knives and swords were back in their holsters. The guns were lowered. One by one his men filed out of the council room. Grim Hagen's face was so dark that Odin feared a stroke. But with a curse at Ato and Odin, Hagen lifted his chin high and followed his men from the room. Only the one called Rama remained.

"I will do what I can, Ato," he said quietly. "I was nearly fifty when we started this journey. And we lived hard and fast. I am old now. I married one of the slave-girls. We have children. Were it not for that, I would go with you. But I am tired. God, I'm tired—"

He saluted them as he went out the door.

They never saw Rama again.



CHAPTER 11

Although Gunnar had spent most of the past four days in grumbling and polishing his sword, there had been hours and hours when Odin had not seen him. The little man had a secret, but what it was he would not tell. "For," he said to Odin, "then it would not be my secret. It would be mine and yours, and I would own but half of it. Does a man give half of his flocks away?"

Odin was a bit hurt over his friend's behavior. He even wondered if Gunnar had taken a liking to one of the white-skinned slave-girls—for they were beautiful. Still, that did not seem like Gunnar. But you could never tell. After all, he found himself quoting, there's no fool like an old fool.

Mixed up in this secret was a buckskin bag that Gunnar had brought with him from the ship. When Odin had inquired about it, Gunnar had replied: "Magic. A very old magic."

That too was not like Gunnar. He relied upon his sword, since the Norse gods were usually busy with their own affairs. Those gods ate their rejuvenating apples every day and then went out like healthy boys to see what was happening; and though they meant well they usually were somewhere else when they were needed. Therefore, the use of magic bags and incantations was a lot of foolishness. But here was Gunnar fondling a tightly-drawn buckskin bag as though it held eternity's secrets.

"You ought to get yourself a witch-doctor's mask and a couple of hollowbones to whistle through," Odin had told him scathingly.

"Never mind. Never mind. Old Gunnar will be there when they put out the fire and call the dogs. Now, you stay here in this room, Odin. And don't go looking after any of these slave-girls. They are too pretty. And you are young. After all, there's no fool like a young fool. So don't go wandering off. Just stay here and polish your sword and wait until I return. I think my magic will do a great deal this afternoon."

"Touche!" Jack Odin thought as Gunnar departed. "So he's been worrying about me and the girls, has he?"

Odin polished his sword and looked at the paintings. But the entire palace seemed to be whispering. An air of tension hung over it. The halls were quiet, where servants usually were busily going back and forth.

Once he heard shouts and the sound of fighting far off. There was a loud shot and a scream of pain. After that, the unusual quiet returned.

This was the sixth afternoon that he had spent on this enslaved world. Odin did not enjoy it. He tried to make plans to rescue Maya, but he had gone over those same plans many times before. The Taj Mahal was well-guarded. There was an unshaded road that went from the city to it. Also, the road was usually crowded with pilgrims. He never knew whether they went out there in some strong belief that here was a goddess from outer space, or whether they were forced to go. After all, Grim Hagen was clever—

* * * * *

He took a bath and changed clothes. Then Jack Odin read one of those books that Grim Hagen had stolen. It was a first edition of the Rubaiyat, the one with the jeweled peacock cover, and it would have been worth a fortune back home. But here it was just another of Grim Hagen's treasures—it was dusty and neglected, and Odin wondered if he were not the first to take a look at it since Hagen had brought it here.

The windows were dark when Gunnar returned. Jack Odin sat by a single tiny light, and greeted his old friend in a glum and sour fashion. But Gunnar was in a gay mood.

"Look, I told you that my magic would do great tricks. See, the bag is nearly empty." He held the buckskin bag high and it was much thinner than before. "You waited, did you? Good, Nors-King. I had to make sure that no one came here while I was gone."

"Just myself," Odin replied. "Now what—"

"Oh, I told you I had great magic in that bag. You shall see." Gunnar returned to the door, opened it, and led a tall white-skinned slave into the room. A man of about thirty dressed in white uniform with some sort of insignia upon his shoulders. Odin had never bothered to learn the different gradations in Grim Hagen's slave-world.

"This man goes by the name of Piper," Gunnar announced simply.

The man bowed and smiled nervously.

"And he is a Bro-Stoka among the slaves," Gunnar continued.

Odin was about to reply that he didn't give a damn if the man were a colonel or a two star general. But Gunnar hurried on to explain. "A Stoka is a captain of a hundred. But a Bro-Stoka is a captain over ten Stokas and all their men. Not often does one advance so at an early age—"

Gunnar seemed to be buttering up the man for some reason or other so Jack Odin decided to go along. "I have never seen a Bro-Stoka so young," he admitted. This was true, Odin thought, since this was the first Bro-Stoka who had ever been identified to him. And he wondered if maybe Bro-Stoka were not a local term for "Ninety Day Wonder." God knows he had seen too many of them.

* * * * *

Gunnar seated himself comfortably and swung the nearly empty bag to and fro. "Ah, I told you that I carried great magic in the bag. With Piper's help, Maya will be ours before midnight."

Odin's lethargy was gone now. "Gunnar, old friend! What magic was in that bag of yours?"

"The oldest magic in the world. Pieces of gold, diamonds, and rubies. When we left the Nebula I said to myself that if Grim Hagen owned everything here, it was quite possible that many would be eating very little. Knowing Grim Hagen, I said to myself, there will be a mad scramble for money and position. It would be the only kind of a world that Grim Hagen could fashion."

Odin slapped him on the back. "Gunnar, you are a genius, a sheer genius."

"Not at all. When I was a young man I learned such strategy from studying the world above me."

Odin winced.

Gunnar continued. "Well, it has turned out even as I figured. Only more so. When traveling in far countries you should try to learn how the people live, Odin. It is enlightening. I had an old uncle who always said that travel broadens one. It must have, for he weighed nearly two-hundred when he died."

"Please, Gunnar. When will we see Maya—"

"So, I have been working ever since we arrived. A jewel here. A bit of gold there. It is amazing how a diamond can make a man see just what you tell him to see. Much better than ordinary glasses. Then I found Piper here. And Piper is ambitious. Do you know what it costs to become head-man and chief tax-gatherer of a town of five-thousand, Odin?"

"Gunnar, I know nothing of these matters. Tell me about Maya—"

"Well, Piper has been paid. The town will be his if our plan works out tonight. Otherwise, I will twist his neck." And Gunnar paused to scowl at the young man in the white uniform until poor Piper began sweating.

"Many others have been paid. They are to stay away from their posts. They will see nothing and hear nothing at certain times tonight. Here, hand me your book."

* * * * *

Odin obliged and Gunnar produced a ragged bit of pencil and started drawing a map upon the fly-leaf. "Here," he said, "is the city. And here is the river. Now, if you remember, there is a deep bend in the river, and this tomb that Grim Hagen has built is within the bend of the river. There is a good road that goes from the city to the tomb, but it is guarded. The Nebula is on the other side of the bend. So the answer is quite simple. We go up the river. Piper has a boat waiting for us—"

"I have already paid many and have sworn them to silence," Piper interrupted. "But it will be a dangerous business. I would not dare it at all except that it will be five years before I am eligible for tax-gatherer, and the waiting is killing me. A city of my own—"

Piper, Jack Odin gathered, was a very ambitious man.

The boat moved up-river in darkness. There were beacons upon the shore, turning this way and that, but they seemed to be trained a bit high this night.

Once a motor-boat passed them, going at a fast clip, and somebody called out that he saw a shadow over toward the far side of the river. And another voice answered. "You're always seeing things. A log, maybe. Didn't I tell you that I found some money in the street? And aren't we going to have the best meal that money can buy? Do you want to stay here with an empty belly on this cold river all night? Our watch is nearly over. I'm tired. Let's get along—"

Later, some one hailed them from the bank and threatened to shoot if they did not pull in. Then there was a loud scream that died in a weltering gurgle. They heard a splash as something hit the water—and then all was still. They waited. A peculiar little whistle sounded three notes from the darkness.

As though reassured, Piper took up his oars.

"That was the last guard," Gunnar whispered. "It took a ruby the size of a sparrow's egg to get him killed. Oh, well, blame Grim Hagen. He shouldn't have gouged these people so hard—" And then, to Piper: "You're bright enough, I guess, but you don't know how to row a boat. Give me the oars."

He took them and slid them into their hole-pins. "Now, give Gunnar room." He bowed his broad head, leaning forward almost to his toes. Then he dug the oars into the water and straightened up and bent backward like a machine. Noiselessly the oars came up again. He bent forward and dipped them into the river again. And as he worked faster he began to count to himself in a panting whisper: "Huh—huh—huh—huf!"

The boat streaked across the river's surface like a water-bug.

At last they slid into some thick cat-tails. Gunnar got a hand-hold and propelled them forward until the prow grounded in the shallows.

"This is as far as I can go," Piper told them in a sweating voice. "Over there is the tomb."

* * * * *

Odin and Gunnar scrambled ashore. Piper pushed the boat back into the river and was gone. Three thin sickles of moons were cleaving their way across the sky. A few unfamiliar stars were out. There was enough light now for them to see Maya's tomb not far away. It seemed to be fashioned of moonbeams. It was such a perfect copy of the Taj Mahal that here both death and sleep were brothers—and a nirvana of peace hung over it in an aura of silver light.

"That Piper is a smart lad," Gunnar whispered. "He knows what he wants. He'll go far—maybe."

They approached. Odin knew that four guards were stationed here at all times. They were all gone. The two went in, Gunnar turned on a little flash.

Had there been time, Odin might have grudgingly given Grim Hagen a few kind words for the work he had done and the tribute he had paid Maya. The best of a planet's treasures and art had been brought here. But all he could see was Maya, lying upon a golden, diamond-set couch. A silk embroidered coverlet was drawn over her, and it too seemed to have been spun from moonbeams. She looked no older. Odin could see no sign of breath. But he touched her hand and it was warm. He knelt beside her.

"Here," Gunnar handed him the light. "Hold this while I get busy. Here now, Nors-King. No blubbering."

He opened his buckskin bag and took out the last of its treasures—a small hypodermic case. He filled the hypodermic from a little vial that glittered in the light of the lamp. "Turn the light upon her forearm, now," he instructed.

Gunnar slowly counted to sixty after he had given her the shot. Maya's breasts moved. She sighed and raised a hand to her dark curls. Then her eyes opened—in fear and wonder as a child opens its eyes in a strange place.

Then her vision cleared and she recognized them.

"Jack—Gunnar—" she gasped. Then she was in Odin's arms. And Gunnar, the strong one, was standing over them—sniffling.

It was one of those moments that seem to last forever. And then it was over and she drew her hand through his light hair, "What happened? Where are we? I dreamed the strangest dreams."

"Never mind," Odin comforted. "We will explain later. Can you walk now?"

"Walk? Of course I can walk." But when Maya tried to sit up, she moaned in pain. "My whole body is stiff and sore. Have I been sick?"

Odin helped her to her feet. As he did so, hundreds of precious stones that had been heaped upon the couch rolled unnoticed to the floor.

Maya winced as she stood up. Reaching down, she rubbed the calves of her legs and then stood straight with a little gasp of pain.

"Carry her, Nors-King," Gunnar muttered. "The night grows old and we must make our way to the Nebula."

Odin lifted her easily. She put her arms around his neck and clung to him. The perfume of her hair was as faint as the ghost of autumn flowers. Her breath was warm and caressing against his throat.

Then the mausoleum turned into a blinding glare of lights. Gunnar dropped the flash and his broadsword shrieked against the scabbard as he drew it. Odin set Maya's feet upon the floor. Still holding her with one arm, he drew his sword and made ready to stand beside Gunnar.

A dozen cloaked figures came into the room. The first was Grim Hagen, smiling sardonically. The others were Brons. The last to enter was carrying poor Piper's dripping head by a handful of hair.

"So." Grim Hagen bowed. "The Princess awakens. And here is Prince Charming. And here is the last Neebling that I shall ever kill. I would like to kill you very slowly, but I am afraid I do not have time. Hell is bubbling over in that fair city of mine tonight. I thought I paid my captains well, but some of them wanted more. Or they wanted what I could not give them. It doesn't matter. Let them fight it out. We have the Old Ship with the New Drive. Out there at the edge of space a desperate people are waiting for me. And now I have Maya. Gunnar, that was a mean trick. You used the science that your people stole from us to cheat me of my bride and my slave."

* * * * *

Gunnar had heard enough. The huge sword flashed in a circle as he swung it above his head with both hands. A Bron stepped forward and Gunnar slashed him from shoulder to stomach-pit.

Odin thrust Maya to the couch as he came forward to help.

But Grim Hagen had merely stepped back. Now he was holding a deadly little tube in his hand. A cold light winked on and off. Odin felt his muscles harden as though a hundred charley-horses had struck him at once. He froze, and out of the corner of his eye he saw Gunnar standing like a statue, his sword still upraised, a look of agony upon his face.

"One more flash and you will be dead." Grim Hagen mocked. "But before you plunge into the night, remember that I watched you so I could get Maya back. You were not clever at all, Gunnar. Ato can have these worlds if he wants them. I have the ship and Maya. And space is mine to ravage as I please."

Then, at last, while Maya watched with fear-struck eyes, the tube flashed once more. Gunnar and Odin stood there for a second. They fell like unbalanced things of stone.

A Bron stepped forward and drew his sword. But Grim Hagen waved him aside as he bent over the two silent forms. "Put up your sword," he said quietly. "They are dead."



CHAPTER 12

He had been drowned. He was floating in a sea of light, and now and then shining little fishes swam inquisitively up to him and stared. They would look at him with wide, cold eyes and then dart off into space, leaving a flashing wake behind them. They hurtled through the murky light like shooting stars. And once two of them dashed together and burst like a rocket. The sparks came falling down through a billion miles of space, and as they fell they built up planets and systems of their own. Until a dark coil that had the shape of a dragon slithered across the milky way and began to devour them one by one. The sparks disappeared into its dark maw. Then it turned about and came snuffling the air as it looked for him. It found him and buried its long fangs in the back of his skull.

Jack Odin groaned in pain and awoke. The pain hit him again and he thrust out with his arms. But strong hands were holding him down.

He became conscious of a buzzing, murmuring sound. It was neither sad nor glad. Something like the sound that the last bee of autumn makes as it hovers above the last ball of clover.

Something was falling across the back of his neck and spreading out across his shoulders. Like a woman's hair, he thought. Perhaps it was a bit coarser. But not much. But then, just as the strange soothing feeling was putting him back to sleep, the hairs changed their soft caress and a dozen of them plunged into his spinal cord and upward into that small old-brain where all the bogies of the stone age still cowered.

Odin yelled in pain and fought. But the hands held him tight. In his ears he could hear someone else screaming and cursing—threatening all sorts of vengeance. The voice was Gunnar's.

Three times more the soft mane of hair caressed him and three times more just as he was getting ready to go back to sleep the torture began. And all the while he was lying upon his belly, his face thrust into a pillow. He could see little as he writhed from one side to the other. The hands held him securely. And once when he almost struggled clear, a strong knee was thrust into his back and forced him down.

At intervals, he could hear Gunnar's voice—and his own—crying, pleading, threatening.

Then at last it was over. The hands turned Odin upon his back and he lay there, gasping and hurting, like one who has just come up from deep water.

The lights were so bright that at first he could see nothing. Then his vision cleared and he knew where he was—in the surgery room of the Nebula.

Ato was standing nearby, trying to reassure him. Beside Odin on another bed was Gunnar, lying flat on his back and stripped to the waist. Gunnar was howling curses and kicking like a frog.

A doctor and a nurse were there. And completing the group was Nea holding a round object in each hand—round things with unkempt, trailing hair. He was not completely conscious—and for a second she looked like a high priestess of the Amazon, holding two mummified heads before her—

The pain left him. His mind cleared and he lay there gasping from the ordeal.

Ato and Nea smiled at them. So cheerfully that he almost expected them to write out a bill for surgical fees.

"God, that was a close one," Ato said, and wiped his forehead. "Five hours of it. And it was touch and go all the time."

"What happened?" Odin asked. He remembered something about a glittering tomb and Maya awakening from her long sleep and Grim Hagen. He even remembered the Bron carelessly swinging Piper's head by the hair. But these were mere scenes that flashed before his mind. He could not fit them together, as yet.

"Tell him, Nea," Ato said.

* * * * *

She smiled proudly. "It was my invention that saved you. You see, I have two of them now. I told you that they are as near as we can get to making living things. And I also told you that there is much more to them than you saw. They are destroyers and they are builders. We found you dead—or nearly so. Hagen had sent volt after volt through your bodies. You were electrocuted."

"We hurried you back to the ship. And all this time, while Ato steered us back into space, the Kalis and I—for that is what I have decided to call them—have been working over you. You might say that we are master electronicians, rebuilding circuits, repairing transistors and condensers—"

"You were plenty rough," Gunnar grumbled.

"We had to be. Do you remember a story about the bush-men dying from a curse? Here." She held her two precious Kalis in one arm while she tapped the base of her skull. "In here is a bulb, the old brain, not even an idiot's brain, that brought you up from the jungle. It is a simple, worrying brain. Easily frightened. Easily convinced. It was convinced that you were dead. We had to arouse it."

Odin fancied that he could hear the two Kalis purring contentedly like cats. Well, they had done a good job. Let them purr. He would like to have thanked them, but how can you thank two bowling balls with scalps of cat's whisker wire?

* * * * *

Gunnar sat up and began grumbling anew: "Well, thanks. Now, get me some clothes. Freida would not like it if I sat here half-undressed before a young lady. And tell me where we are?"

It was Ato's turn to talk. "I threw The Nebula into the Fourth Drive some time ago. That may have helped to save your lives too. We should check on that, Nea."

"Will you please tell me where we are?" Gunnar demanded.

"Give me time, little man," Ato retorted. "We are back in Trans-Einsteinian space, and Aldebaran and its worlds are far behind us. Ahead of us is Grim Hagen and the Old Ship. Maya is with him. So are at least a hundred of the white-skinned captains from the planet we just left. Also, a dozen Brons. Maybe more, but not many. What we saw at the council that day when Rama defied Grim Hagen was just a sample of what was to follow. The people were bled white. Graft, corruption, and patronage had taken its toll. Some of the Brons were older and wanted to rest. But injustice couldn't stop until the last tear had washed away the last drop of blood. A few of the Brons and most of the slaves revolted. They won, of course. Grim Hagen should have known the result. He and his men were in flight when they found you and took Maya. They gathered at the Old Ship and took off. Meanwhile, we fought our way out of the city. We decided to have one last try for Maya. But we found you two and a dead Bron and the head of a native. We brought you here and took off. All this time I have had a fix on Hagen."

"Can't we overtake him?" Odin asked.

"We are trying to. He seems to be heading for a huge dust-cloud. He also sent us a message. Some nonsense about having contacted some race at the edge of creation who would go with him to plunder the stars. He demanded the secret of Wolden's invention again. I think his mind is going fast."

"Not as fast as he will go if I ever get my hands on him," Gunnar promised.

"But Maya is awake now," Ato explained. "We had time on our side before. Now, if he gets away from us he can live out his days on some obscure planet. The years will pass like a whirlwind—while we go dashing this way and that, and in a surprisingly short time our willing and unwilling fugitives will have lived out their lives. They have the vagaries of time, space, and speed upon their side."

Nea laughed. "Even as I said before." She gave Jack Odin a searching look, but Odin avoided her gaze—

"Then, what have you done?" Odin asked.

"All that I could do under the circumstances. I have a fix upon him. We sapped all the energy from Aldebaran that we could. We have power enough, but there are no stars nearby. As I said before, he is heading for a dust-cloud. There, both ships can replenish their energy. After that we will have to stick close by him and see what happens. After all, we are behind him. By the old Airmen's rule of thumb, a ship with another upon its tail is a hundred percent loss."

"Only at that moment," Odin corrected. "If not destroyed, it has a chance to improve its percentage when the pursuer has made its pass."

"True enough," Ato admitted. "That is why I propose to stay close behind it. I can't seem to find that dust cloud on any map. It must be far, far away."

Nea laughed again. "What is far? What is near? You do not even have catch-words for Trans-Space. You are looking into the books of the advanced classes, and you have not yet opened the primers of space."

Ato flushed in anger. "Nea, I was my father's helper for years and years. I know as much about space as any man."

She shrugged. "Oh, you can cover blackboards with formulas, and I don't doubt that they will be right. But living things and living emotions demand something to cling to. A measuring stick. Grim Hagen tried to give them something substantial back there: A system of brutality and graft that worked for the last-minute Caesars. He even threw in a goddess. Did he succeed?"

She paused to caress the two things she held in her arms. "My pets know more about time and space and energy than all of you, don't you, dears?" She kissed one of them and gave Odin a mysterious smile.

The Kalis began purring contentedly, as though space were no more than a huge living room, and they were beside a comfortable fireplace, looking up at their all-powerful mistress.



CHAPTER 13

The dust-cloud was farther away than Ato had guessed. Long before they reached it, his instruments began to waver.

He looked at a star-map. Meanwhile, Nea fed rows of figures into a humming calculator.

"We'll never make it this way," Ato said. "Not even the emergency storage would help us. Here," he pointed to a pinpoint of light upon the map. "A white star. We can reach it, I think."

Nea sighed. "That dust-cloud is beyond our calculations. We should be nearly there, but it's still far-off. I think it is shrinking and expanding. At the same time it's dashing off into space at a terrific rate of speed. You'll have to swing toward that star, Ato. I'll try to probe the cloud some more. My father would have liked this problem—"

"I don't like the problem at all—" Gunnar complained. "Just where is Grim Hagen?"

"He must be having as much trouble beating his way to that dust-cloud as we are," Ato assured him. And then, doubtfully, he added. "But he has more energy. The Old Space Ship was sitting there below Aldebaran for years and years. He surely took advantage of the time to replenish his fuel. All the while, we were using ours up in an effort to find him."

* * * * *

Jack Odin's science did not go far enough to pursue the conversation. He knew that their power was something like a solar battery. When in gear, the current that went through the "frame" of the hour-glass-shaped craft turned it into a huge blob of plasma, a miniature nebula, and hurled it into space. As for the Fourth Drive, he hadn't the slightest idea how it worked. Ato had said that the scientists who developed it were not sure—just as men had developed generators long before they knew the laws that governed them. Ato had a theory that the Fourth Gear slid the ship from plane to plane. If a bug were crawling along a million mile spiral of wire, he might go on until he died before getting anywhere—but if he simply lumbered across the intervening space to the next coil, would he have traveled a short distance, or a million miles? Ato had also told Odin that the ship took energy from the gravitational field that it created when traveling at tremendous speeds, so that the motors were 99% efficient.

Ato set a course for the distant star, and in a short while it was looming upon the screen with sheets of atomic flame leaping out like the teeth of a circular saw. One huge explosion flicked a long tongue of heat at them. The corona of the sun gleamed and writhed like a thin band of quicksilver.

"We're going in there," Ato decided. "It's the quickest way."

Warnings were sounded all through the ship. The screens were turned off now, as no eye could have survived the sight of that flaming ball which was rushing toward them at such extraordinary speed.

The ship groaned as it hit the corona. Vast whirlwinds of flame shook it. The motors coughed and spat. Then the gyroscopes took over. It steadied itself and went through. Like a moth fluttering through a candle-flame, The Nebula drew away from the star. But this moth was unharmed—and a million cells had drunk so much energy that the ship reeled with its power.

* * * * *

On and on. In zig-zag pursuit of Grim Hagen, they crashed through Trans-Space. The dust-cloud loomed larger now upon their screens. It was still no larger than a baseball, though it must have been millions of miles across.

Three times they had to sweep from their course to renew their energy from straggling suns that seemed to be farther and farther apart. The first was a tiny blue sun that burned its way through the emptiness. The second was a huge nebula that pulsed and spouted flame and protean worlds into space—enveloped them again as it breathed, scared them, and cast them out once more. And Odin wondered if in such a furnace and such torment his own world had been born. He had now seen as much of space as any man, with the exception of Grim Hagen, and so far it had been a tumultuous creation that he had watched. Nothing was still. The forges of space were white-hot. As they sped toward this sun, they passed two planets, perilously close together, pelting each other with splashing gobs and spears of flame and slag. The third was a red sun with lonely burned-out planets circling wearily about it. As they skimmed above its surface Odin slid a dark plate over the screen and watched. Here were molten lakes of metal rimmed by red flames that looked like writhing trees. The surface was splitting and bubbling. A mountain of molten ooze swiftly grew to a height of thirty miles. Then it burst into red flame from its own weight and came toppling down.

As they hurled away from the red star, Ato turned to Odin and Gunnar and said: "I'm afraid that will be the last. Even the stars are behind us—"

The screens now showed nothing but the dust-cloud, with specks of light and coils of darkness threaded through it. It loomed larger and larger until it filled the screen.

"Ragnarok," Gunnar growled in his throat. He adjusted the shoulder strap that harnessed his broadsword to his back and looked at Odin curiously.

"You should have rest, Nors-King. You look gaunt and tired—but stronger too. I wonder if I have changed as much as you since we started this trip. Eh, Nors-King," he chuckled, "if you had but one eye, I would swear that you were old Odin himself, rushing out to the edge of space to start that last bonfire of suns."

"Quiet," Nea pleaded as she worked with the calculator. "So far this has defied computation. It's unstable, Ato. Before I can identify it, a factor is added or taken away."

"Grim Hagen went in there," Ato replied as he studied his instruments. "If he can, we can."

"Perhaps," she answered. "But space out there is curdling in his wake." She shivered. Nea's shoulders were beautifully shaped, and Odin found himself thinking that they were made for a man's arms instead of bending over calculators and machines.

"Oh, well!" he thought. "They are not for my arms, but why doesn't Ato wake up and claim her? Then there wouldn't be distractions like this—"

With one warning blare, The Nebula plunged into the fringe of the dust-cloud.

The boat rocked. A spattering sound like the falling of heavy sleet filled the control room. Needles jumped and wheeled. Dials turned madly, spun back and forth, and jammed.

The lights flickered on and off. For a time they were in darkness. Then the lights came back, but continued their flickering. The screens were dark.

Nea worked with the instruments. When power enough was available she began probing the dust-cloud as though nothing had happened. Then she fed more figures into the calculator and handed the result to Ato.

"Try this," she said in a tremulous voice. "It may work."

Ato took the tape from her hands and set the controls accordingly.

The lights dimmed again—came on—and remained steady. The expanses of dim yellow light through which coils and ellipses of darkness crawled like black worms.

Odin knew that such a feeling was impossible out here, but it seemed to him that The Nebula leaped forward.

Ato cried out in triumph. "I've got another fix on Grim Hagen. He's much nearer now."

"Hurry, Ato. Hurry," Nea was pleading.

They drove on and on. The screens remained as before. Yellow light and crawling shadows. Then, suddenly, the screens were filled with dancing circles of flame. They blazed brightly, and thrust out little fiery arms and took their neighbors' hands. They danced. They gleamed and glistened. They became circles of flame. They grew toward each other and ran together into little puddles of light.

"Ato. Hurry," Nea screamed. One of her instruments melted as she stared into it and she jumped back, her hands to her eyes—

Then they were out of the cloud, and space lay empty and free before them, with only one tiny sun in view.

* * * * *

Jack Odin twisted the controls to take a look at what was happening back there in the cloud.

Just as he got it in view, the moiling space out there coalesced into one smoldering ember. Crushed by the awful weight, that single giant of flame suddenly burst into a thousand pieces. Comets streaked away. Dripping suns streamed across the mad sky. Worlds spewed out—and moons dripped tears of light as they followed after their mothers. They crashed and wheeled. They merged in gigantic splashes of fire. Pinwheels rushed across the screen. Rockets flashed. And fountains of flame spilled sun after sun into the sparkling void. Odin stood transfixed by the sight.

Then, momentarily, the holocaust of flame was over. New suns and new worlds drifted calmly, with only a few erratic meteors and some settling dust-clouds left to tell of the explosion that had shaped them.

* * * * *

All was as bright and calm out there as the day after creation. But only for a while. For a very short time the new suns sparkled clean and fresh. Then one by one they guttered and winked out. They drew closer together as though afraid of the dark. Then smoldered and flickered. Then they were gone. And all that was left was one dark cloud that slowly drifted away.

"It was an artificial explosion," Nea murmured in a puzzled voice. "Grim Hagen's ship and ours destroyed the balance and caused a premature burst. There must be some law—some time and weight factor that governs these things. I would judge that the explosion was not violent enough."

"Not violent enough," Odin exclaimed. "How violent can an explosion be?"

Her eyes were still wide and creamy with wonder when she replied. "I don't know. Something went wrong. Relatively speaking, it may have been a mild explosion. At any rate, that new galaxy was unstable. I wish we had time to go back and make some tests—"

Gunnar shivered. "Not back there. I have seen enough. Now, Ato, what lies ahead?"

Ato shrugged his lean shoulders. "I still have a fix on Grim Hagen. And there seems to be but one place for him to go."

He turned a dial and the screens picked up one lone red sun far away. One tiny black dot slowly circled it.

That was all. Space itself was wrapped in primeval darkness. And the sable wings of nothingness spanned the void. Odin's eyes ached at sight of the awful emptiness. His heart felt heavy as the weight of dread distances pressed upon him. Could space itself reach some limit and curve wearily back upon itself? Like folds of black silk, the emptiness out there shimmered and flowed away—

One other speck now appeared upon the screen. A pinpoint of light that crawled toward the lone sun and its single huge planet.

Grim Hagen and the Old Ship!

* * * * *

Time, if time existed at all, went slowly by. They ate and slept. Nea and her workers were busy with the Kalis, as she called them. Four were now finished. A fifth had been fashioned, but Nea had sent it through the locks into space and it had been lost. It had simply sailed out there and disappeared.

"Sunk from sight," were Gunnar's words, and this explained the disappearance as well as anything. It was as though they had been on a boat and the thing had dived overboard.

Nea, who had been trained to scientific thinking since she was knee-high, had to think up an answer. Her explanation was that it had slid down a plane into three-dimensional space. Even now, it might be on some planet, puzzling and worrying the natives. For the Kalis were almost like living things—and almost like gods.

That was like Nea, Odin thought. A scientist, always. Anything unexplainable must be immediately attached to a theory—whether the theory were right or wrong. Just as long as there was an explanation to hang upon a phenomenon she was happy enough. She might blithely think up a new theory tomorrow and throw the old one away, but that was of no consequence. Odin had grown skeptical of such thinking when he was a medical student. Each doctor had his own pet diagnosis—and too many tried to fit the patient to the cure instead of working out a cure for the patient. Oh, well, that was far away and long ago.

How far away and how long ago!

* * * * *

Meanwhile, the red sun and its planet were looming large upon the screen. The shining light that was the Old Ship was crawling nearer to them. Twice Grim Hagen had hurled sheets of flame at them. And once he contacted The Nebula on the speaker—and cursed everyone fluently in three languages. He assured them that he now had a fighting crew and would soon join up with others. He had a dozen new weapons. So why didn't they simply get lost?

Sleep after sleep went by and still the two ships crawled toward that last port on the edge of space.

Until, finally, they saw the Old Ship leave Trans-Space and glide down to the huge planet. And with a last burst of speed, Ato came in behind it.



CHAPTER 14

The two ships landed a few miles apart at almost the same time.

They settled to the plane's surface like whirling hour-glasses. Fire spouted from them in all directions. Then their movement stopped. Smoke shrouded them and slowly drifted away.

They were upon a reddish plain. Above them, the red sun filled a twelfth of the sky. That sky was one vast swirl of crimson. Even the few clouds seemed to be on fire. And yet their instruments showed that the temperature of the thin air outside was in the sixties.

There were no mountains or valleys. The giant planet had weathered down to one great curving plain. It was mostly red sandstone, but here and there were reddish carpets of moss and grass. In the distance were a few gaunt trees. They had seen no rivers or seas before they landed. Odin learned later that there were many muddy ponds left upon the surface from the remains of stagnant seas. He also learned later that huge reservoirs were underground.

With the exception of the trees, the only thing that broke the monotonous line of the horizon was one great dome of violet stone or metal. It flashed like an amethyst in the red glare of the sun—and it was certainly man-made.

But on that occasion Jack Odin had little time to look at the scenery. They had hardly settled to the planet's surface before Grim Hagen trained his guns upon them and began to fire. Flame enveloped them. Bombs of acid and steel shook The Nebula. The battle-stations were already manned, and Ato gave orders to return fire. For nearly an hour, the holocaust continued. Both ships rocked upon their steady foundations. They were bathed in flame, acid streamed down their sides, and rockets tore at them. Shells burst upon them. And then it was over.

The two ships, scarred and blackened; glared at each other across a three-mile expanse that had now turned to cinders. And that was all. Practically indestructible, and evenly matched, they had fought to a standstill. Neither ship had lost a man.

"See how it is, Nors-King?" Gunnar said as he drew his fingers across the shaft of his sword. "It is as I told you before. We have the same weapons. The same defenses. I will use the Blood-Drinkers yet, before this is over."

There was a demanding buzz from the loudspeaker.

Ato turned the dial. A strange, harsh voice was calling. "You there, on the Second ship. You on the second ship. Answer."

"Yes!" Ato replied gruffly. "Who are you?"

"I am the head man of the city—the city within the dome."

"How did you know our language?"

"We have known it for thirty years. For that long have we been in contact with Grim Hagen."

* * * * *

Jack Odin was never quite able to cope with the passing of time on these planets, while the ships scurried through Trans-Space in what appeared to be a matter of a few days.

The voice continued. "We invited Grim Hagen to our world. We did not invite you. Go away."

"I don't think I like his tone," Gunnar interrupted. "Some day I will catch the owner of that voice and make him eat his ears."

"We are not going away," Ato told the voice stubbornly.

"Then you can stay where you are. We have just witnessed the battle. We do not have weapons such as yours. But we do have a defense. An electric screen nearly half a mile across has been placed about you. Watch."

They looked at the screen, and a tiny drone-torpedo came winging its way from the violet dome. It came to within a thousand yards of them and suddenly crashed into an unseen barrier. Broken and blazing, it came falling down like a crippled bird.

"There," the voice said triumphantly. "That is what will happen to you. Why don't you leave us? You are not wanted. Leave us."

"Faith, he's a hospitable soul," Odin murmured.

Ato's voice was shaking in wrath when he answered. "We can find a way to smash that curtain. We want Grim Hagen and his prisoners. When we have them we will depart."

"Grim Hagen is our ally. We have already sworn our allegiance. I have no more words for you."

There was a clicking sound and the loudspeaker died with a sputter of static.

It sputtered again, and this time Grim Hagen's voice mocked them. "There, Ato. You have your answer. You are wasting your time. But I am a reasonable man. You can have Maya. You can have the ship. You can have the prisoners—the few that are left. I will trade all these for Wolden's secret."

"Greed has you in its hand, Grim Hagen. I know nothing of my father's secret. I do not even know if he succeeded—"

"Then summon him and let him decide for himself. You are young, but two-thirds of my life is gone now—"

"Your calculation is wrong," Gunnar shouted. "You life is nearly all gone, Grim Hagen."

"The dwarf still lives," Grim Hagen answered with a curse. "But so does Maya, my slave. I had to beat her the other day. My boots were not polished very well—"

"Talk on, Grim Hagen," Odin growled. "I am here. And I intend to kill you—Just as I promised."

"Like most of your race, you talk too loud, Odin. Well, Ato, Gunnar, and Odin, I am going now. Please don't get in my way or I will hatchet the flesh from your bones."

Another click and the loudspeaker was silent.

* * * * *

They had landed on the giant, worn planet very early in the day. Now, as time went on, they watched Grim Hagen's ship and tried to make plans.

Gunnar was in favor of hazarding an attack on the barrier and then going on to the city.

Ato and Odin voted in favor of waiting, although they admitted that they could think of no better plan. Ato was sure that The Nebula could plunge through any curtain, but he wanted to try that as a last resort.

Meanwhile, a steady stream of tractors and men was going back and forth from the Old Ship to the city. Odin watched them on the screen. They were mostly the white-skinned people of Aldebaran. The Brons who had gone out into space with Grim Hagen had dwindled away. Odin saw a few white-headed ones. And once he saw a captain stop to lash a worn, gray-haired Bron who must have been one of the original prisoners. The poor fellow looked so old and frazzled that Odin could not recognize him. His heart grew heavy as he thought of those prisoners. They had done no harm. Their lives had been wasted away because of their loyalty to Maya. And the words of an old poet came to his mind: "Think of man's inhumanity to man and write your poem if you can."

The day passed wearily by.

Odin felt that it was one of the worst days of his life. They had spanned thousands of light-years and time had slid by like a stream of quicksilver while they hunted through space. And now, at the last, they were pinned down on a gaunt planet while a triumphant Grim Hagen went back and forth from the Old Ship to the violet dome. Welcomed like a conqueror, and holding every card, Grim Hagen was the man of the hour.

Yes, it was certainly Grim Hagen's day.

Night fell quite suddenly. But the sky above them turned to the faintest mauve, and there was still a pale ghost of a light hovering over the plain. There were no stars. No moon. Jack Odin learned later that the people of this planet had fed their moon to the dying sun long before.

* * * * *

They ate supper—as Gunnar called it—and then Ato and Odin studied some photo-maps which they had taken just before they landed. Meanwhile, Gunnar busied himself with the sword. And Nea, who stayed in her lab most of the day, brought in a few calculations on the barrier that prisoned them.

"It's an old idea," she told them quietly. "It can be broken by a steadily increasing force. Twenty days, perhaps, after I rig up the machine—"

Odin groaned. "In twenty days Grim Hagen will be back among the stars—"

She smiled quietly. And now he saw how tired her face and eyes were. Like the face of a child that has worked too hard. "I think not," she answered him simply. "Gunnar is always talking about fate. I do not believe in such. But all day I have felt that the end is drawing near. Remember, I still have my Kalis. With them I could have been a huntress on some greener planet—another Diana, perhaps. Oh!" She stamped her foot in worriment. "We held creation in our grasp out here. We could have forced the last secrets from her. Yes, I will say it! We could have been as gods. And where is it ending? A mad chase after a madman. And for all the years and all the lives that have been spent on these two ships, time and space are the only winners."

* * * * *

Nea went back to the lab. Odin and Ato continued their study of the maps. Gunnar was putting a fine edge to his broadsword.

Then the warning buzzer sounded its alarm. Odin dived for the screen and turned on the controls.

A long procession of mauve shadows was approaching. Already inside the barrier, they came single-file and slowly circled The Nebula.

Even in the pale weird light, they certainly seemed to be men.

Ato ordered "Battle-Stations" and sirens sounded all over the ship.

* * * * *

But the circling host made no offer to attack. Odin turned the receiver up to its highest point, and speaking brokenly in the language of the Brons a voice came through.

"Men of the strange ship. Men of the strange ship—"

"Yes," Odin answered.

"Good. You hear me. We are those who have been driven out of the city. We would visit you in peace. We are called Lorens."

Within a few minutes, a dozen of the strangers had been brought aboard The Nebula. Ato summoned Nea and the rest of the captains.

The leader of the visitors was a man by the name of Val. He was a tall, lean man with a Norman nose and his dark skin was drawn so tightly about his face that he looked a bit like a mummy. Val was over sixty, Odin judged, and though his wrists were skinny the tendons and muscles on his arms stood out like taut lengths of cable. He and his men were dressed alike—a sleeveless shirt of walnut-brown plastic, dark peg-bottomed trousers of corduroy, and footgear that looked like engineer's boots with rippled soles. The tops of the boots were tight-fitting and the peg-bottomed trousers were drawn snugly over them. Odin learned later that what had appeared to be green moss out there on the weathered plain was a kind of thistle with cat-claw thorns.

Each man wore a heavy black belt about his waist. Attached to the belt were at least a dozen weapons: several grenades, a pistol, another pistol with a flaring muzzle, a long knife, a glassy looking tube fitted to a pistol-butt, and a blue-black ugly thing which was shaped like an over-sized toadstool.

In addition to this odd assortment of gear, each man carried something in his hand which greatly resembled the frame of an old-fashioned umbrella—except that half a dozen vari-colored buttons were set into the handles.

"It was nearly thirty years ago," Val was explaining, "that the voice of Grim Hagen began to interfere with our broadcasting system. Some said it was a god. Some said it was a devil. It came from space. It came from almost anywhere. We have been an intelligent race, but we were sore beset. Our sun was dying. All that we had was our sun and a huge dust-cloud in the distance. In times past, our astronomers had seen the glow of millions of suns, millions upon millions of miles away. But we were never able to perfect a telescope that could bring a single sun into view.

"Nor did we ever have a chance to do this. The dust-cloud surged out toward us every twenty years, and our scientists were able to use a gravitational beam to deflect a part of it toward our sun. In this way we kept it alive and might have been able to do so for ages. But now the dust-cloud is gone."

* * * * *

Val paused to sigh, and then resumed his story. "The voice—I mean the voice of Grim Hagen—promised my people that if they would accept him he would take them forth into the stars. They would plunder thousands of worlds and they would live for centuries while generations died. Also, he said, he was on the brink of discovering eternal life—"

"He was playing at being the eternal Loki—the old mischief-maker—" Gunnar interrupted and went on edging his sword.

"Well," Val continued, "I cannot blame my people too much for believing this story. Our plight was desperate. But there were those of us who did not believe him. He seemed to know too much, when according to our philosophy the only wise man is the one who admits that he knows nothing—"

"I am not a philosopher," Gunnar interrupted again. "I only know that once you have thrust a foot of steel into a man he does not bother you again."

"Please, Gunnar," Ato begged. "Let Val go on with his story."

"The rest of the story I do not understand at all," Val said with a shake of his grizzled head. "This Grim Hagen said that he did not age until he stopped to conquer a planet and replenish his ship's energy. It was thirty years ago when he first spoke to us. He looks like a man of forty-five now. Could he have been an upstart of fifteen when he first spoke into our receivers?"

"I will try to explain that later," Ato answered.

"Well, there were those of us who could not agree with the general idea. There are even some of the Lorens in the Violet Dome who think he is a god. We think he is an evil man. We have no desire to plunder the stars. If he is so great, why doesn't he give new life to our feeble sun? That is what we really need. Meanwhile, the people of the Dome are building five new ships, as Grim Hagen directed. They have been working upon them for years—"

"Good God," Jack Odin was thinking, "what a hideous propaganda machine these ships are? To condition and instruct a whole generation while you flash through space in the twinkling of an eye!"

"And that is all," Val finished with a shrug of his lean shoulders. "Those of us who had never agreed with the idea were thrown out of the city as soon as Grim Hagen arrived. We have come to join forces with you."

"How did you get through the barrier?" Nea asked.

Val lifted the umbrella-frame. "We have had the barrier for years. There are strange beasts out there on the plain. This instrument allows us to go through the barrier when we please."

"Then we can go to the city?" Gunnar exclaimed with a joyful war-whoop. "To kill, and kill, and kill—"

"You are right," Ato admitted. "Delay will only increase Grim Hagen's advantage. To the city—as fast as we can—"



CHAPTER 15

Val and his men had brought along enough of the umbrella-shaped defenses to get them through the barrier.

They held a short council of war. It was agreed that every able-bodied man would go into the city. Nea and a few of the older men were detailed to stay by The Nebula and take care of the women and children.