to do about the
_Endymion_?"

"Tell him to--no, put him on here, I'd better tell him myself," Samms
directed, and his face hardened in ruthless decision as the horny,
misshapen face of the Martian lieutenant appeared upon the screen. "What
do you think, Knobos? Shall they come to trial or not?"

"No."

"I don't think so, either. It is better that a few gangsters should
disappear in space than run the risk of another uprising. See to it."

"Right." The screen darkened and Samms spoke to his secretary. "Put
Milton and Fletcher on whenever their rays come in." He then turned to
his guests. "We've covered the ground quite thoroughly. Good-bye--I wish
I could go with you, but I'll be pretty well tied up for the next week
or two."

"Tied up, doesn't half express it," Rodebush remarked as the two
scientists walked along a corridor toward an elevator. "He probably is
the busiest man on the three planets."

"As well as the most powerful," Cleveland supplemented. "And very few
men could use his power as fairly--but he's welcome to it, as far as I'm
concerned. I'd have the pink fantods for a month if I had to do only
once what he's just done--and to him it's just part of a day's work."

"You mean the _Endymion_? What else could he do?"

"Nothing--that's just what I'm talking about. It had to be done, since
bringing them to trial would probably mean killing half the people of
Morseca; but at the same time it's a ghastly thing to have to order a
job of deliberate, cold-blooded, and illegal murder."

"You're right, of course, but you would...." he broke off, unable to put
his thoughts into words. For while inarticulate, manlike, concerning
their deepest emotions, in both men was ingrained the code of their
organization; both knew that to every man chosen for it _The Service_
was everything, himself nothing.

"But enough of that, we'll have plenty of grief of our own right here,"
Rodebush changed the subject abruptly as they stepped into a vast room,
almost filled by the immense bulk of the _Boise_--the sinister
space-ship which, although never flown, had already lined with black so
many pages of Triplanetary's roster. She was now, however, the center of
a furious activity. Men swarmed over her and through her, in the orderly
confusion of a fiercely driven but carefully planned program of
reconstruction.

"I hope your dope is right, Fred!" Cleveland called, as the two
scientists separated to go to their respective labora