stant in the Sirius
Sector. Crude but workable atomic motors powered most of them, and
there was a high proportion of submarines. Powers thought of Earth's
oceans for a moment, but then dismissed the thought. Biological
technical data were no specialty he needed. Terra might be suitable for
the action formulating in his mind, but a thousand suns of Sirian
Combine might prove more useful. The biologists of Grand Base would
determine, assisted by data his ship provided, in their monster
computers, what was called for. Powers had been trained for different
purposes.

He was, as every survey commander was, a battle-hardened warrior. He
had fought in two major fleet actions in his day, and had once, as a
very junior ensign of the Sirian Grand Fleet, participated in the
ultimate horror, the destruction by obliteration of an inhabited
planet. For planetary destruction a unanimous vote of the Sirian Grand
Council, representing over four thousand worlds, was necessary. It had
been given only four times in the long history of the Confederacy.
Every intelligent being in the great Union shuddered at the thought of
its ever becoming necessary again. Powers stared moodily over the rocky
ground toward a group of figures in the distance which were moving in
his direction. The final delegation of the Mureess government, a world
government, was coming for its last meeting before the _Benefactor_
departed into the far reaches of space.

Powers braced himself mentally for a grand effort. He held equivalent
rank to that of a Galactic admiral, and it was held for one reason
only, because of his real work and its importance. He was a
super-psychologist, a trend-analyzer, a salesman, a promoter, a viewer,
an expert on alien symbology and the spearhead of the most ruthless
intelligence service in the known universe. Long ago, he had
transferred from the battle fleet to the inner school at Sirius Prime
for the most intensive training ever devised. Now it would be put to
the ultimate test.

He heard the air lock open and turned away from the window. He had a
long way to walk to the neutral council chamber, for the _Benefactor_
was a big ship, despite the fact that only twenty beings comprised the
total complement. Down the echoing corridors he paced, brow furrowed in
thought. Mazechazz would have his own ideas, he knew, but if they made
no impression, he would have to put his oar in. Each being on board,
whether he breathed halogen or oxygen,