"How do you know, Miss?" asked one. "We're a black lot."
"I know you are." The head nurse's voice was serenely positive. "I won't say how I know, but you can take my word for it that I do know."
''Those of you who want to take a chance with us line up over here," Kinnison directed, and walked rapidly down the line, reading the mind of each man in turn. Many of them he waved back into the main group, as he found thoughts of treachery or signs of inherent criminality. Those he selected were those who were really sincere in their desire to quit forever the ranks of Boskone, those who were in those ranks because of some press of circumstance rather than because of a mental taint. As each man passed inspection he armed himself from the cabinet and stood at ease before the group of women.
Having selected his crew, the Lensman operated the controls that opened the exit nearest the hospital ship, blasted away the panel, so that that exit could not be closed, unlocked a door, and turned to the pirates.
"Vice–Commander Krimsky, as senior officer, you are now in command of this base," he remarked. "While I am in no sense giving you orders, there are a few matters about which you should be informed. First, I set no definite time as to when you may leave this room—I merely state that you will find it decidedly unhealthy to follow us at all closely as we go from here to the hospital ship. Second, you haven't a ship fit to take the ether, your main injector toggles have all been broken off at the pivots. If your mechanics work at top speed, new ones can be put on in exactly two hours. Third, there is going to be a severe earthquake in precisely two hours and thirty minutes, one which should make this base merely a memory."
"An earthquake! Don't bluff, Blakeslee—you couldn't do that!"
Well, perhaps not a regular earthquake, but something that will do just as well. If you think I'm bluffing, wait and find out. But common sense should give you the answer to that—I know exactly what Helmuth is doing now, whether you do or not. At first I intended to wipe you all out with out warning, but I changed my mind. I decided to leave you alive, so that you could report to Helmuth exactly what happened. I wish I could be watching him when he finds out how easily one man took him, and how far from foolproof his system is—but we can't have everything. Let's go!"
As the group hurried away, Mac loitered until she was near Blakeslee, who was bringing up the rear.
"Where are you, Kim?" she whispered urgently.
"I'll join up at the next corridor. Keep farther ahead, and get ready to run when we do!"
As they passed that corridor a figure in gray leather, carrying an extremely heavy object, stepped out of it. Kinnison himself set his burden down, yanked a lever, and ran—and as he ran fountains of intolerable heat erupted and cascaded from the mechanism he had left upon the floor. Just ahead of him, but at some distance behind the others, ran Blakeslee and the girl.
"Gosh, I'm glad to see you, Kim", she panted as the Lensman caught up with them and all three slowed down. "What is that thing back there?"
"Nothing much—just a KJ41Z hot–shot. Won't do . any real damage—just melt this tunnel down so they can't interfere with our get–away."
"Then you were bluffing about the earthquake?" she asked, a shade of disappointment in her tone.
"Hardly," he reproved her. "That isn't due for two hours and a half yet, but it'll happen on scheduled time."
"How?"
"You remember about the curious cat, don't you? However, no particular secret about it, I guess—three lithium–hydride bombs placed where they'll do the most good and timed for exactly simultaneous detonation. Here we are—don't tell anybody I'm here."
Aboard the vessel, Kinnison disappeared into a stateroom while Blakeslee continued in charge. Men were divided into watches, duties were assigned, inspections were made, and the ship shot into the air. There was a brief halt to pick up Kinnison's speedster, then, again on the way, Blakeslee turned the board over to Crandall, the pilot, and went into Kinnison's room.
There the Lensman withdrew his control, leaving intact the memory of everything that had happened. For minutes Blakeslee was almost in a daze, but struggled through it and held out his hand.
"Mighty glad to meet you, Lensman. Thanks. All I can say is that after I got sucked in I couldn't…
"Sure, I know all about it—that was one of the reasons I picked you out. Your subconscious didn't fight back a bit, at any time. You're to be in charge, from here to Tellus. Please go and chase everybody out of the control room except Crandall."
"Say, I just thought of something!" exclaimed Blakeslee when Kinnison joined the two officers at the board. "You must be that particular Lensman who has been getting in Helmuth's hair so much lately I"
"Probably—that's my chief aim in life."
"I'd like to see Helmuth's face when he gets the report of this. I've said that before, haven't I? But I mean it now, even more than I did before."
"I'm thinking of Helmuth, too, but not that way." The pilot had been scowling at his plate, and now turned to Blakeslee and the Lensman, glancing curiously from one to the other. "Oh I say…A Lensman, what? A bit of good old light begins to dawn, but that can wait. Helmuth is after us, foot, horse, and marines. Look at that plate!"
"Four of 'em already!" exclaimed Blakeslee. "And there's another! And we haven't got a beam hot enough to light a cigarette, nor a screen strong enough to stop a firecracker. We've got legs, but not as many as they've got. You knew all about that, though, before we started, and from what you've pulled off so far you've got something left on the hooks. What is it? What's the answer?"
"For some reason or other they can't detect us. All you have to do is to stay out of range of their electros and drill for Tellus."
"Some reason or other, eh? Nine ships on the plate now—all Boskonians and all looking for us—and not seeing us—some reason! But I'm not asking questions…
"Just as well not to. I'd rather you'd answer one. Who or what is Boskone?"
"Nobody knows. Helmuth speaks for Boskone, and nobody else ever does, not even Boskone himself—if there is such a person. Nobody can prove it, but everybody knows that Helmuth and Boskone are simply two names for the same man. Helmuth, you know, is only a voice—nobody ever saw his face until today."
"I'm beginning to think so, myself," and Kinnison strode away, to call at the office of Head Nurse MacDougall.
"Mac, here's a small, but highly important box," he told her, taking the neutralizer from his pocket and handing it to her. "Put it in your locker until you get to Tellus. Then take it, yourself, in person, and give it to Haynes, himself, in person, and to nobody else. Just tell him I sent it—he knows all about it."
"But why not keep it and give it to him yourself? You're coming with us, aren't you?"
"Probably not all the way. I imagine I'll have to do a flit before long."
"But I want to talk to you!" she exclaimed. "Why, I've got a million questions to ask you!"
"That would take a long time," he grinned at her, "and time is just what we ain't got right now, neither of us," and he strode back to the board.
There he labored for hours at a calculating machine and in the tank, finally to squat down upon his heels, staring at two needle–like rays of light in the tank and whistling softly between his teeth. For those two lines, while exactly in the same plane, did not intersect in the tank at all! Estimating as carefully as he could the point of intersection of the lines, he punched the "cancel" key to wipe out all traces of his work and went to the chart–room. Chart after chart he hauled down, and for many minutes he worked with calipers, compass, goniometer, and a carefully–set adjustable triangle. Finally he marked a point—exactly upon a numbered dot already upon the chart—and again whistled. Then.