"Why?" he asked.

But this was too much for the communications relays to handle. Cloud realized that he did not know spaceal at all well, since he had not been out in deep space very long. He knew that spaceal was a simple language, not well adapted to the accurate expression of subtle nuances of meaning. And all those intermediate translations were garbling things terrifically. He was not surprised that nothing much was coming through, even though the prettied-up monster was by this time practically throwing a fit.

"She's quit trying to spin her yarn," the Chickladorian said finally. "She says she's been trying to talk to you direct, but she can't get through. Says to unseal your ports—cut your screens—let down your barrier—something like that. Don't know what she does mean, exactly. None of us does except maybe the Manarkan, and she can't get it across on her fingers."

"Oh, my thought-screen!" Cloud exclaimed, and cut it forthwith.

"More yet," the pilot went on, after a time. "She says there's another one, just as bad or worse. On your head, she says—no, on your head-bone—what the hell! Skull? No, inside your skull, she says now. Hell's bells, I don't know what she wants!"

"Maybe I do—keep still a minute." A telepath, undoubtedly, like the Manarkans—that was why she had to talk to her first. He'd never been around telepaths much—never tried it. He walked a few steps and stared directly into one pair of Luda's eyes. Large, expressive eyes, soft now, and gentle.

"That's it, Chief! Now blast easy—baffle your jets. Relax, she means. Open your locks and let her in!"

Cloud did relax, but gingerly. He did not like this mind-to-mind stuff at all, particularly when the other mind belonged to such a monster. He lowered his mental barriers skittishly, ready to revolt at any instant. But as soon as he began to understand the meaning of her thoughts he forgot utterly that he was not talking man to man. The interchange was not as specific nor as facile as is here to be indicated, of course, but every detail was eventually made perfectly clear.

"I demand Darjeeb's life!" was her first intelligible thought. "Not because he is my enemy and the enemy of all my race—that would not weigh with you—but because he has done what no one else, however base, has ever been so lost to shame as to do. In the very capital of our city upon Lune he kindled an atomic flame which is killing us in multitudes. In case you do not know about 

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