how do they know this
isn't some other police or military car?"

"Those aren't soldiers," Murray decided. "There's been a riot, and
some civilian's got hold of an ato-projector."

"I know what's happened!" Sira exclaimed suddenly. "Wasil--a
technie--has managed to broadcast the secret session! That upset their
psychology. Oh!" Her face was alight, and she threw up her arms in
ecstasy. As quickly she subsided, and tears came to her eyes.

"Wasil!" she cried. "If he is dead, Mellie will never forgive me!"

"Where is this technie?" Sime asked bruskly.

"In the broadcast room. But they have probably killed him."

"Never can be sure. Head her smack for the main entrance, Murray!"

Murray threw the car into a steep dive, and the hall portal rushed up
to meet them. A soldier came partially out of concealment, waved a
signal. Murray paid him no heed.

They struck with a crash. The stout car crushed through the glittering
doors of metal and glass, and before the fragments fell the four men
were in the thick of short, sharp and decisive battle. Their neuros
hissed venomously, spanged as they met opposing beams. And the
princess, struggling through the wreckage, wept tears of rage as the
coarse fabric of her clothing caught, entangled hopelessly, and held
her.

"Something queer!" Murray said, as they halted for breath after
routing what little opposition they had encountered. "Maybe it's a
trap. But what an expensive trap for somebody! Where's this
broadcasting plant?"

"This way!" Tuman called eagerly. "Maybe we can still save the poor
fellow who turned the trick. Broadcast the secret sessions! Don't tell
me that little girl isn't fit to rule!"

The heavy metal doors were open, and they hurried in. But Tolto,
noting that the princess had not followed, hurried out in search for
her.

* * * * *

Sime stumbled over a body. It had been a dark, sleek, youngish man. A
jagged burn on his throat told of the needle-ray. "Who's this fellow,
Murray?"

Murray glanced at the body. He smiled a brief smile of satisfaction.

"That's Scar Balta. Got what's coming to him at last. Help me with
this bird: he's still alive. Cold, though!"

"Got a shot of neuro. Could this be the technie?"

Sime found a fountain of water. He filled a cup, dashed it over the
still face. The shock made the man's lips move.

"Mellie, I did it!" he whispered.

"Who's Mellie?" Sime asked.

"Mellie? Seems to me the p