much of the actual fighting, though. Back in the early days of space conquest, they teamed up with the Ziths ... I imagine because the Xantus have a terrific technical culture but are few in number, relatively speaking, and the Ziths aren't great on technology but have the manpower. And too, their home systems are only a few light-years apart. So far, the partnership has worked out very well for the Dark Nebula League; the Xantus providing the brains, and the Ziths the muscle. They are both ancient races, and very probably their plans for the conquest of this end of the Universe would have gone nicely if they hadn't run up against the Solar Federation, led by Terra. We stand smack across their path. It has come to the point now where it's us or them, absolutely...."

After the Sanderson episode was settled, Harrigan suddenly felt drained and exhausted, and retired to his quarters. While he slept, O'Brien, Chief Scott and his men rounded up four more Zith spies who were immediately executed and unceremoniously dumped into the rocket chambers. On the double-check, a fifth was discovered cowering in the captain's life boat and he soon followed his brothers. The great ship plowed through the ink of space, and the only sounds were the muffled throbbing from the rocket banks, the steady hum of the chronometer and the clicking of the audio relay.

At 0500 hours the alarm gong clanged raucously. Harrigan was struggling into his trousers as O'Brien stuck his head in the door and shouted, "Jack! They've cut us off!"

The captain explained the situation hurriedly as they sprinted toward the bridge. "Port watch just spotted 'em. Three o'clock, low, in an arc. There's only seven of them, but apparently they've taken Polaris Base and cut us off from Sector I."

A series of muffled thuds was heard, and suddenly a succession of electric, blue-white flashes from outside the ports turned the dimness of the passageway into intense, eye-straining brilliance.

"Hot hell! We must have got us one," Harrigan roared, and the two men broke into a run.

In the powerful bridge screens they could see the great cloud of smoke hanging in the void, where the League ship had been hit, and, coming through it, several more of the grim pursuers. Occasionally a beam of ripping, ravaging energy would lick out towards the Albion, but the slim fingers of death fell shorter of their goal by the minute.

"Well," Mike breathed in relief, "we can outrun them. But 

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