pension for the
rest of his life.

No, he had to think, and quickly.

Earth had only too recently gotten an entire history of wars out of
her system. Perhaps for good, this time. And that was it; that was his
answer. Better keep his nose clean--

"For God's sake, skipper," Cain snapped. "Come out of it! This is a
natural, we'll clean up!"

"Sergeant Kent! R-drive!"

There was a moment's sensation of nothingness as the Scout made the
Euclidean-Riemannian Transition; the scanner paled and the segment of
the universe it framed twisted, changed.

Cain didn't say anything. He glowered, and Mason could feel the big
man's contempt. But he didn't have time for it.

This time there wouldn't be any error. This time he'd be a step ahead
of the situation and stay there. "Scratch those reversal co-ordinates,
Sergeant! Set up to diverge thirty degrees!"

Cain's sarcasm was little disguised. "Mind if I ask a question?"

"Just stay at ease, Mister Cain, until we're out of this!"

Mason watched the scanner's distorted image as the Scout hurtled
through a curved pencil of four-point Space; she didn't have a
fraction of a powerful Explorer's speed, and her small powerframe
physically limited her to that of light. Yet it could be fast enough,
for the aliens might know nothing of Transition technique, or could be
as wary as Earthmen of the Rim. His precautions could be needless. But
he had seen them and they were war-like, and he had no intention of
being followed, either back to the Explorer, or ultimately to Earth
itself. He'd have to maintain the diverged course until he was
certain.

There was a black pip on the fog-colored scanner. Judith saw it even
as he did. There was a fleeting look of fright on her intent young
face that she hadn't been able to mask.

Cain saw it too.

"You got a tail, skipper!" he said, and the grin was back on his big
freckled face.

Cain was right. The alien was capable of Transition. And he obviously
had little fear of the Rim. His ship grew larger in the scanner.

Mason felt his fingers grow cold again.

* * * * *

Lance told the girl to eject the tape of co-ordinates from the
nav-computers, and he took over manually, hoping the comps would keep
up. It would be up to him where they went, and up to the comps to keep
track of the Scout's position relative to both the Solar System and
the Explorer.

His fingers played across the control-banks as though the