the way-station so we can get to Mars."

"That's right, Sir," said the colonel.

"Progress is a wonderful thing," said the general. "Things certainly
have changed since those early days of strategic atomic bombing and
guided missile experiments."

"Yes, Sir," said the colonel.

The young man in the communications room of the spaceship let his
attention wander away from the scene back on Earth and experimented with
some of the switches and controls. Trial and error led him to one which
lit up a signal on the desk of the general.

The general flicked it on.

"Yes?" he said. He looked puzzled when he got no picture, just a voice
saying, "Hello, hello."

"Yes?" he said. "Hello. Speak up, man."

"This is your agent aboard the enemy spaceship," said the young man. "Do
you read me?"

"Yes," said the general. "We read you. Go ahead."

"I may not have much time. Get a fix on me if you can. And send help."

"What's your position?" the general was reacting well. He was alert and
all business.

"I don't know. I've been taken prisoner, but I'm temporarily free. There
isn't much time. Hafitz is bound to be back soon. He seems to be the
brains of this outfit--this part of the outfit, anyway. Naomi is here,
too, but I don't know whether she's with them or against them."

"Where are the plans, son?" asked the general.

"They're safe, for the moment. I can't guarantee for how long."

"I'm getting the fix," the colonel said. He was beyond the range of the
young man's vision screen. "I've got him. He's still within range, but
accelerating fast. We can intercept if we get up a rocket soon enough."

"Get it up," ordered the general. "Get up a squadron. Scramble the Moon
patrol and send out reserves from Earth at once."

"Right!" said the colonel.

The young man was so engrossed in the makings of his rescue party that
he didn't see the wall open up behind him.

There was a squeak of rubber tires and he whirled to see Hafitz, in his
wheelchair, slamming toward him. The fat man's hand held a weird-looking
gun.

The young man recoiled. His back pushed against a row of control
buttons.

_Then everything went white._

* * * * *

Paul Asher blinked his eyes, like a man awakening from a vivid dream.

The house lights went on and the manager of the theater came on the
stage. He stood in front of the blank master screen with its
checkerboard pattern of smaller screens, on which the several