magnetic fields that achieved degravitation, arresting mass and speed synchronously. The huge lock clanged shut instantly, and with what breath remained in his battered body, Bill Nardon managed to shout into the communication system:

"Inner and outer Energon screens ..." he gasped. "Man all emergency and battle stations.... Prepare to launch, we're going up!" Blood was seeping a scarlet thread out of his ears and nose. Freml, the Panadur, was a limp heap on the auxiliary's floor, as energy drained, the sudden acceleration had blanked out even his stupendous mind.

Bill pressed the exit lever of the Auxiliary and got up stiff and weary, his body a living ache. And even before he got to the exit, Nydron was there, inscrutable as usual, product of several races from the wild days of the last inter-planetary war, until it was doubtful if he himself knew his antecedents, or his age, for that matter. But Terra counted only on achievement—not racial purity. They had at last learned that much, and Nydron's military genius was ... well, Nydron's. He was bowing slightly now, and behind him Bill discerned the Juvenals, who under the direction of a Juvenal Surgeon, repaired bodies through a rejuvenating therapy that involved an extremely delicate sub-glandular technique.

Bill waved to them to take charge of Freml and the Aurean girl, and wished he himself could afford the luxury of sinking into the ineffably peaceful, dreamless sleep which was the first step in the process; but no time for that now. He glanced at the light-copper features of Nydron, that might be a modified-Martian, with a dash of Mercury thrown in.

"I see our military expert is ready for all contingencies!" He strove to be light, casual almost. "Have your forces been instructed, Nydron? I mean ... to meet this unexpected attack?"

"All screens are on, Commander. As per your orders we're blasting off in seconds. I shall modify strategy and technique according to what information you may give me." The long, lambent green eyes of the man widened briefly illumining the smooth, narrow face which though unlined gave the feeling of incredible age. "As you doubtlessly know, any enemy has a weak link in the chain—an ... an ..."

"Achilles heel?" Bill's eyes flicked with humor.

Nydron assented with the barest flicker. Everything about him seemed outwardly static, thanks to his amazing economy of movement.

"Any luck with the Astro-radio during my 

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