As they approached now, Ga-Marr betrayed no emotion. "The city of Calthedra is on the other hemisphere," he said. "I'll direct you to the landing."

They crept slowly along the surface, and the Earthman found himself looking upon a land similar in many respects to his own. Nostalgia seized him. Here were lakes and woods and broad fields in the state of cultivation. Here were lanes, roads and hedges, a tracery of browns and greens that was good to see.

But when a moment later Ga-Marr pointed out the port and said, "Calthedra," Standish's jaw set hard. The city had been devastated. Buildings stood in ruins. Towers were crumbling masses of masonry. Only one structure seemed to have escaped the fearful onslaught, a globe-shaped building, fashioned of some kind of black metal.

The Earthman saw the landing place and guided the ship downward. Below he could see people milling about excitedly, groups of them pointing upward.

The moment the ship came to a rest, Ga-Marr threw open the hatch and climbed out. Standish followed, to find an assemblage drawn up suspiciously in battle array, their weapons ready for any hostile move of the newcomers.

In the foreground stood a taller man of Lyra, wearing a suit of copper-colored chain mail and a helmet studded with gleaming chips of yellow metal. At his sides were two men in white flowing robes. All had high brows, penetrating eyes and frond-like appendages in lieu of arms and legs.

Ga-Marr ran forward and embraced the man in the helmet.

"My father," he said, "this man is Mason Standish, a great warrior from the planet Earth. He has rescued me from certain death, and has brought me back to your empire at the risk of his life."

The Emperor paced forward, a benevolent smile playing across his lips.

"He who befriends my son has my gratitude," he said softly.

Standish was bewildered. Ga-Marr had made no mention of the fact that he was of royal birth. It was a long time before the Earthman found his tongue.

"Your son tells me that your people and my people are at war with a common enemy. May I ask how long since the Sirians made their last attack upon you?"

"Within the risings of twelve suns," the Emperor replied. "But come. Let us go to the palace where we 

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