Second-Stage Lensman Tregonsee of Rigel IV did not rush madly out into space

in quest of something or anything Boskonian in response to Kinnison's call. To hurry

was not Tregonsee's way. He could move fast upon occasion, but before he would

move at all he had to know exactly how, where, and why he should move.

     He conferred with his three fellows, he furnished them with all the data he

possessed, he helped integrate the totaled facts into one composite. That composite

pleased the others well enough so that they went to work, each in his own fashion, but it

did not please Tregonsee. He could not visualize any coherent whole from the available

parts. Therefore, while Kinnison was investigating the fall of Antigan IV, Tregonsee was

sitting—or rather, standing—still and thinking. He was still standing still and thinking

when Kinnison went to Radelix.

     Finally he called in an assistant to help him think. He had more respect for the

opinions of Camilla Kinnison than for those of any other entity, outside of Arisia, of the

two galaxies. He had helped train all five of the Kinnison children, and in Cam he had

found a kindred soul. Possessing a truer sense of values than any of his fellows, he

alone realized that the pupils had long since passed their tutors; and it is a measure of

his quality that the realization brought into Tregonsee's tranquil soul no tinge of rancor,

but only wonder. What those incredible Children of the Lens had he did not know, but

he knew that they—particularly Camilla —had extraordinary gifts.

     In the mind of this scarcely grown woman he perceived depths which he could

not plumb, extensions and vistas the meanings of which he could not even vaguely

grasp. He did not try either to plumb the abysses or to survey the expanses; he made

no slightest effort, ever, to take from any of the children anything which the child did not

first offer to reveal. In his own mind he tried to classify theirs; but, realizing in the end

that that task was and always would be beyond his power, he accepted the fact as

calmly as he accepted the numberless others of Nature's inexplicable facts. Tregonsee

came the closest of any Second-Stage Lensman to the real truth, but even he never did

suspect the existence of the Eddorians.

     Camilla, as quiet as her twin sister Constance was boisterous, parked her

speedster in one of the capacious holds of the Rigellian's space-ship and joined him in

the control room.

     "You believe, I take it, that dad's logic is faulty, his deductions erroneous?" the

girl thought; after a casual greeting. "I'm not surprised. So do I. He jumped at

conclusions. But then, he does that, you know."

     "Oh, I wouldn't say that, exactly. However, it seems to me," Tregonsee replied

carefully, "that he did not have sufficient basis in fact to form any definite conclusion as

to whether or not Renwood of Antigan was a Boskonian operative. It is that point which I

wish to discuss with you first."

     Cam concentrated. "I don't see that it makes any difference, fundamentally,

whether he was or not," she decided, finally. "A difference in method only, not in

motivation. Interesting, perhaps, but immaterial. It is virtually certain in either case that

Kandron of Onlo or some other entity is the prime force and is the one who must be

destroyed."

     "Of course, my dear, but that is only the first differential. How about the second,

and the third? Method governs. Nadreck, concerning himself only with Kandron,

tabulated and studied only the Kandronesque manifestations. He may— probably

will—eliminate Kandron. It is by no means assured, however, that that step will be

enough. In fact, from my preliminary study, I would risk a small wager that the larger -

and worse aspects would remain untouched. I would therefore suggest that we ignore,

for the time being, Nadreck's findings and examine anew all the data available."

     "I wouldn't bet you a millo on that." Camilla caught her lower lip between white,

even teeth. "Check. The probability is that Renwood was a loyal citizen. Let us consider

every possible argument for and against that assumption . . ."

     They went into contact of minds so close that the separate thoughts simply could

not be resolved into terms of speech. They remained that way, not for the period of a

few minutes which would have exhausted any ordinary brain, but for four solid hours;

and at the end of that conference they had arrived at a few tentative conclusions.

     Kinnison had said that there was no possibility of tracing a hyper-spatial tube

after it had ceased to exist. There were millions of planets in the two galaxies. There

was an indefinite, quite possibly an infinite number of co-existent parallel spaces, into

any one of which the tube might have led. Knowing these things, Kinnison had decided

that the probability was infinitesimally small that any successful investigation could be

made along those lines.

     Tregonsee and Camilla, starting with the same facts, arrived at entirely different

results. There were many spaces, true, but the inhabitants of any one space belonged

to that space and would not be interested in the conquest or the permanent taking over

of any other. Foreign spaces, then, need not be considered. Civilization had only one

significant enemy; Boskonia. Boskonia, then, captained possibly by Kandron of Onlo,

was the attacker. The tube itself could not be traced and there were millions of planets,

yes, but those facts were not pertinent.

     Why not? Because "X", who might or might not be Kandron, was not operating

from a fixed headquarters, receiving reports from subordinates who did the work. A rigid

philosophical analysis, of which few other minds would have been capable, showed that

"X" was doing the work himself, and was moving from solar system to solar system to

do it. Those mass psychoses in which entire garrisons went mad all at once, those

mass hysterias in which vast groups of • civilians went reasonlessly out of control,-

could not have been brought about by an ordinary mind. Of all Civilization, only Nadreck

of Palain VII had the requisite ability; was it reasonable to suppose that Boskonia had

many such minds? No. "X" was either singular or a small integer.

     Which? Could they decide the point? With some additional data, they could.

Their linked minds went en rapport with Worsel, with Nadreck, with Kinnison, and with

the Principal Statistician at Prime Base.

     In addition to Nadreck's locus, they determined two more—one of all inimical

manifestations, the other of those which Nadreck had not used in his computations.

Their final exhaustive analysis showed that there were at least two, and very probably

only two, prime intelligences directing those Boskonian activities. They made no attempt

to identify either of them. They communicated to Nadreck their results and their

conclusions.

     "I am working on Kandron," the Palainian replied, flatly. "I made no assumptions

as to whether or not there were other prime movers at work, since the point has no

bearing. Your information is interesting, and may perhaps prove valuable, and I thank

you for it—but my present assignment is to find and to kill Kandron of Onlo."

     Tregonsee and Camilla, then, set out to find "X"; not any definite actual or

deduced entity, but the perpetrator of certain closely related and highly characteristic

phenomena, viz, mass psychoses and mass hysterias. Nor did they extrapolate. They

visited the last few planets which had been affected, in the order in which the attacks

occurred. They studied every phase of every situation. They worked slowly, but—they

hoped and they believed—surely. Neither of them had any idea then that behind "X" lay

Floor, and beyond Floor, Eddore.

     Having examined the planet latest to be stricken, they made no effort to pick out

definitely the one next to be attacked. It might be any one of ten worlds, or possibly

even twelve. Hence, neglecting entirely the mathematical and logical probabilities

involved, they watched them all, each taking six. Each flitted from world to world, with

senses alert to perceive the first sign of subversive activity. Tregonsee was a retired

magnate, spending his declining years in seeing the galaxy. Camilla was a Tellurian

business girl on vacation.

     Young, beautiful, innocent-looking girls who traveled alone were, then as ever,

regarded as fair game by the Don Juans of any given human world. Scarcely had

Camilla registered at the Hotel Grande when a well-groomed, self-satisfied man-about-

town made an approach.

     "Hel-lo, beautiful! Remember me, don't you—old Tom Thomas? What say we

split a bottle of fayalin, to renew old . . ." He broke off, for the red-headed eyeful's

reaction was in no sense orthodox. She was not coldly unaware of his presence. She

was neither coy nor angry, neither fearful nor scornful. She was only and vastly

amused.

     "You think, then, that I am human and desirable?" Her smile was devastating.

"Did you ever hear of the Canthrips of Ollenole?" She had never heard of them either,

before that instant, but this small implied mendacity did not bother her.

     "No . . . o, I can't say that I have." The man, while very evidently taken aback by

this new line of resistance, persevered. "What kind of a brush-off do you think you're

trying to give me?"

     "Brush-off? See me as I am, you beast, and thank whatever gods you recognize

that I am not hungry, having eaten just last night." In his sight her green eyes darkened

to a jetty black, the flecks of gold in them scintillated and began to emit sparks. Her hair

turned into a mass of horribly clutching tentacles. Her teeth became fangs, her fingers

talons, her strong, splendidly proportioned body a monstrosity out of hell's grisliest

depths.

     After a moment she allowed the frightful picture to fade back into her charming

self, keeping the Romeo from fainting• by the power of her will.

     "Call the manager if you like. He has been watching and has seen nothing except

that you are pale and sweating. I, a friend of yours, have been giving you some bad

news, perhaps. Tell your stupid police all about me, if you wish to spend the next few

weeks in a padded cell. I'll see you again in a day or two, I hope: I'll be hungry again by

that time." She walked away, serenely confident that the fellow would never willingly

come within sight of her again.

     She had not damaged his ego permanently—he was not a neurotic type—but

she had given him a jolt that he'd never forget. Camilla Kinnison nor any of her sisters

had anything to fear from any male or males infesting any planet or roaming any depths

of space.

     The expected and awaited trouble developed. Tregonsee and Camilla landed

and began their hunt. The League for Planetary Purity, it appeared, was the primary

focal point; hence the two attended a meeting of that crusading body. That was a

mistake; Tregonsee should have stayed out in deep space, concealed behind a solid

thought-screen.

     For Camilla was an unknown. Furthermore, her mind was inherently stable at the

third level of stress; no lesser mind could penetrate her screens or, having failed to do

so, could recognize the fact of failure. Tregonsee, however, was known throughout all

civilized space. He was not wearing his Lens, of course, but his very shape made him

suspect. Worse, he could not hide from any mind as powerful as that of "X" the fact that

his mind was very decidedly not that of a retired Rigellian gentleman.

     Thus Camilla had known that the procedure was a mistake. She intimated as

much, but she could not sway the unswerving Tregonsee from his determined course

without revealing things which must forever remain hidden from him. She acquiesced,

therefore, but she knew what to expect.

     Hence, when the invading intelligence blanketed the assemblage lightly, only to

be withdrawn instantly upon detecting the emanations of a mind of real power, Cam had

a bare moment of time in which to act. She synchronized with the intruding thought,

began to analyze it and to trace it back to its source. She did not have time enough to

succeed fully in either endeavor, but she did get a line. When the foreign influence

vanished she shot a message to Tregonsee and they sped away.

     Hurtling through space along the established line, Tregonsee's mind was a

turmoil of thought; thoughts as plain as print to Camilla. She flushed

uncomfortably—she could of course blush at will.

     "I'm not half the super-woman you're picturing," she said. That was true enough;

no one this side of Arisia could have been. "You're so famous, you know, and I'm not—

while he was examining you I had a fraction of a second to work in. You didn't."

     "That may be true." Although Tregonsee had no eyes, the girl knew that he was

staring at her; scanning, but not intruding. She lowered her barriers so far that he

thought they were completely down. "You have, however, extraordinary and completely

inexplicable powers . . . but, being the daughter of Kimball and Clarrissa Kinnison . . ."

     "That's it, I think." She paused, then, in a burst of girlish confidence, went on:

"I've got something, I really do think, but I don't know what it is or what to do with it.

Maybe in fifty years or so I will."

     This also was close enough to the truth, and it did serve to restore to Tregonsee

his wonted poise. "Be that as it may, I will take your advice next time, if you will offer it."

     'Try and stop me—I love to give advice." She laughed unaffectedly. "It might not

be any better next time."

     Then, further to quiet the shrewd Rigellian's suspicions, she strode over to the

control panel and checked the course. Having done so, she fanned out detectors,

centering upon that course, to the fullest range of their power. She swaggered a little

when she speared with a CRX tracer a distant vessel in a highly satisfactory location.

That act would cut her down to size in Tregonsee's mind.

     "You think, then, that 'X' is in that ship?" he asked quietly.

     "Probably not." She could not afford to act too dumb-she could fool a Second-

Stage Lensman a little, but nobody could fool one much. "It may, however, give us a

lead."

     "It is practically certain that 'X' is not in that vessel." Tregonsee thought. "In fact, it

may be a trap. We must, however, make the customary arrangements to take it into

custody."

     Cam nodded and the Rigellian communications officers energized their long-

range beams. Far ahead of the fleeing vessel, centering upon its line of flight, fast

cruisers of the Galactic Patrol began to form a gigantic cup. Hours passed, and—a not

unexpected circumstance—Tregonsee's super-dreadnought gained rapidly upon the

supposed Boskonian.

     The quarry did not swerve or dodge. Straight into the mouth of the cup it sped.

Tractors and pressors reached out, locked on, and were neither repulsed nor cut. The

strange ship did not go inert, did not put out a single course of screen, did not fire a

beam. She did not reply to signals. Spy-rays combed her from needle nose to driving

jets, searching every compartment. There was no sign of life aboard.

     Spots of pink appeared upon Camilla's deliciously smooth cheeks, her eyes

flashed. "We've been had, Uncle Trig—how we've been had!" she exclaimed, and her

chagrin was not all assumed. She had not quite anticipated such a complete fiasco as

this.

     "Score one for 'X'," Tregonsee said. He not only seemed to be, but actually was,

calm and unmoved. "We will now go back and pick up where we left off."

     They did not discuss the thing at all, nor did they wonder how "X" escaped them.

After the fact,-they both knew. There had been at least two vessels; at least one of them

had been inherently indetectable and screened against thought. In one of these latter

"X" had taken a course at some indeterminable angle to the one which they had

followed.

     "X" was now at a safe distance.

     "X" was nobody's fool.