And what a difference! In those beams the attacking reptiles did not smoke or burn. They. simply vanished in a blaze of flaming light, as did also the nearby walls and a good share of the building beyond! The Delgonian hordes having disappeared, vanBuskirk shut off his projector. Kinnison, however, left his on, angling its beam sharply upward, blasting into fiery vapor the ceiling and roof over their heads, remarking.
"While we're at it we might as well fix things, so that we can make a quick getaway if we want to."
Then they waited. Waited, watching the needles of their meters creep ever closer to the "full–charge" marks, waited while, as they suspected, the distant, cowardlyhiding Overlords planned some other, more promising line of physical attack.
Nor was it long in developing. Another small army appeared, armored this time, or, more accurately, advancing behind metallic shields. Knowing what to expect, Kinnison was not surprised when the beam of his DeLameter not only failed to pierce one of those shields, but did not in any way impede the progress of the Delgonian column.
"Well, were all done here, anyway, as far as I'm concerned," Kinnison grinned at the Dutchman as he spoke. "My cans've been showing full back pressure for the last two minutes. How about yours?"
"Same here," vanBuskirk reported, and the two leaped lightly into the Velantian's refuge. Then, inertialess all, the three shot into the air at such a pace that to the slow senses of the Delgonian slaves they simply disappeared. Indeed, it was not until the barrier had been blasted away and every room, nook, and cranny of the immense structure had been literally and minutely combed that the Delgonians—and through their enslaved minds the Overlords—became convinced that their prey had in some uncanny and unknown fashion eluded them.
Now high in air, the three allies traversed in a matter of minutes the same distance that had cost them so much time and strife the day before. Over the monsterinfested forest they sped, over the deceptively peaceful green lushness of the jungle, to slant down toward Worsel's thought proof tent. Inside that refuge they snapped off their thought screens and Kinnison yawned prodigiously.
"Working days and nights both is all right for a while, but it gets monotonous in time. Since this seems to be the only really safe spot on the planet, I suggest that we take a day or so off and catch up on our eats and sleeps."
They slept and ate, slept and ate again.
"The next thing on the program," Kinnison announced then, "Is to clean out that den of Overlords. Then Worsel will be free to help us get going about our own business."
"You speak lightly indeed of the impossible," Worsel, all glum despondency, reproved him. "I have already explained why the task is, and must remain, beyond our power."
"Yes, but you don't quite grasp the possibilities of the stuff we've got now to work with,' the Tellurian replied. "Listen, you could never do anything because you couldn't see through or work through your thought screens. Neither we nor you could, even now, enslave a Delgonian and make him lead us to the cavern, because the Overlords would know all about it 'way ahead of time and the slave would lead us anywhere else except to the cavern. However, one of us can cut his screen and surrender, possibly keeping just enough screen up to keep the enemy from possessing his mind fully enough to learn that the other two are coming along. The big question is—which of us is to surren
der?" "That is already decided," Worsel made instant reply. "I am the logical&mdash:in fact, the only one—to do it. Not only would they think it
perfectly natural that they should overpower me, but also I am the only one of us three sufficiently able to control his thoughts as to keep from them the knowledge that I am being accompanied. Furthermore, you both know that it would not be good for your minds, unaccustomed as they are to the practice, to surrender their control voluntarily to an enemy."
"I'll say it wouldn't!" Kinnison agreed, feelingly. "I might do it if I had to, but I wouldn't like it and I don't think Pd ever quite get over it. I hate to put such a horrible job off onto you, Worsel, but you're undoubtedly the best equipped to handle it—and even you may have your hands full."
"Yes…" the Velantian said, thoughtfully. "While the undertaking is no longer an absolute impossibility, it is difficult…very. In any event you will probably have to beam me yourselves if we succeed in reaching the cavern…The Overlords will see to that. If so, do it without regret—know that I expect it and am well content to die in that fashion. Any one of my fellows would be only too glad to be in my place, meaning what it does to all Velantia. Know also that I have already reported what is to occur, and that your welcome to Velantia is assured, whether or not I accompany you there."
"I don't think I'll have to kill you, Worsel," Kinnison replied, slowly, picturing in detail exactly what that steel hard reptilian body would be capable of doing when, unshackled, its directing mind was completely taken over by an utterly soulless and conscienceless Overlord. "If you can't keep from going off the deep end, of course you'll get tough and I know you're mighty bard to handle. However, as I told you back there, I think I can beam you unconscious without killing you. I may have to burn off a few scales, but I'll try not to do any damage that can't be repaired."
"If you can so stop me it will be wonderful indeed. Are we ready?"
They were ready. Worsel opened the door and in a moment was hurtling through the air, his giant wings arrowing him along at a pace no winged creature of Earth could even approach. And, following him easily at a little distance, floated the two Patrolmen upon their inertialess drives.
During that long flight scarcely a thought was exchanged, even between Kinnison and vanBuskirk. To direct a thought at the Velantian was of course out of the question. All lines of communication with him had been cut, and furthermore his mind, able as it was, was being taxed to the ultimate cell in doing what he had set out to do. And the two Patrolmen were reluctant to converse with each other, even upon their tight–beams, radios, or sounders, for fear that some slight leakage of thought–energy might reveal their presence to the ever watchful Overlords. If this opportunity were lost, they knew, another chance to wipe out that hellish horde might never present itself.
Land was traversed, and sea, but finally a stupendous range of mountains reared before them and Worsel, folding back his tireless wings, shot downward in a screaming, full weight dive. In his line of flight Kinnison saw the mouth of a cave, a darker spot of blackness in the black rock of the mountain's side. Upon the ledged approach there lay a Delgonian—a guard or lookout, of course.
The Lensman's DeLameter was already in his hand, and at sight of the guardian reptile he sighted and fired in one fast motion. But, rapid as it was, it was still too slow—the Overlords had seen that the Velantian had companions of whom he had been able to keep them in ignorance theretofore.
Instantly Worsel's wings again began to beat, bearing him off at a wide angle, and, although the Patrolmen were insulated against his thought, the meaning of his antics wag very plain. He was telling them in every possible way that the hole below was not the cavern of the Overlords, that it was over this way, that they were to keep on following him to it. Then, as they refused to follow him, he rushed upon Kinnison in mad attack.