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 monster-
infested 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-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.
“Beam him down, Kim!” vanBuskirk yelled. “Don’t take any chances with that
bird!” and leveled his , own DeLameter.
“Lay off, Bus !” the Lensman snapped. “I can handle him-a lot easier out here
than on the ground.”
And so it proved. Inertialess as he was, the buffetings of the Velantian affected
him not at all, and when Worsel coiled his supple body around him and began to apply
pressure, Kinnison simply expanded his thought screen to cover them both, thus
releasing the mind of his temporarily inimical friend from the Overlord’s grip. Instantly
the Velantian became himself, snapped on his own shield, and the three continued as
one their interrupted downward course.
Worsel came to a halt upon the ledge, beside the practically incinerated corpse
of the lookout, knowing, unarmored as he was, that to go further meant sudden death.
The armored pair, however, shot on into the gloomy passage. At first they were offered
no opposition-the Overlords had had no time to muster an adequate defense.
Scattering handfuls of slaves rushed them, only to be blasted out of existence as their
hand weapons proved useless against the armor of the Galactic Patrol. Defenders
became more numerous as the cavern itself was approached, but neither were they
allowed to stay the Patrolman’s progress. Finally a palely shimmering barrier of metal
appeared to bar their way. Its fields of force neutralized or absorbed the blasts of the
DeLameters, but its material substance offered but little resistance to a thirty-pound
sledge, swung by one of the strongest men ever produced by any planet colonized by
the humanity of Earth. .
Now they were in the cavern itself-the sanctum sanctorum of the Overlords of
Delgon. There was the hellish torture screen, now licked clean of life. There was the
audience which had been so avid, now milling about in a mob frenzy of panic. There,
upon a raised balcony, were the “big shots” of this nauseous clan, now doing their