Suddenly the soldiers felt the supine figure under their hands explode into energy. Elbows and fists seemed to fly from all directions at once. A needle-ray appeared, and before they could draw their own weapons they were howling with pain as searing welts drew over their bodies. With one accord they plunged into the pool. Only the officer remained, and he fell to the mosaic floor, his weapon half raised, the small black hole in his chest giving off a burnt odor. Mich'l appropriated the officer's brassard of rank, and, menacing the cowed guards, forced them to herd into a nearby room, carrying the body of the officer with them. Mich'l locked the door and looked around. He saw no one observing him, and could count on carrying a pretty good bluff in his uniform, which was rapidly shedding its water. With a firm step Mich'l walked to Lane Mollon's door, threw it open, and entered. * * * * * Lane sat up on his couch, his feet striking the floor with an angry thump. But when he recognized Mich'l he paled slightly. "Where is she?" Mich'l demanded roughly, "before I burn you down!" "You said once," Lane began sneeringly, "that you wanted to fight me. Now, if you'll just put down that--" "Not now," Mich'l dissented with deadly coldness. "Where is Nida? Speak fast." Lane did so. "She isn't here. The little short[2] crowned me with a chair, and slipped out. How did I--" [Footnote 2: Short--trouble-maker, spitfire. A colloquialism probably growing out of the once frequently used electrical term "short-circuit."] "When? Hurry up!" "Hardly an hour ago. She walked down the corridor, showed a thick-witted guard my own executive pass, and got away. But I got that guard--" "Never mind what you did to the guard--" Suddenly the image of an officer strange to Mich'l stood in the room and saluted smartly. "Has Captain Ilgen Mr. Lane Mollon's leave to stay?" he asked. Mollon started forward, but before he could disclose his predicament Mich'l had sidled over to him and thrown one arm affectionately over his shoulder. In his hand, concealed by the rich folds of Lane's robe, Mich'l held his needle-ray, and it was pressed firmly against Lane's ribs. "Mr. Mollon will be glad to hear you," Mich'l said smoothly. * * * * * He fancied that the eyes of the officer's image dilated slightly, but it lost none of its military rigor. But some explanation of his presence there in his still damp uniform must be given Ilgen, so he growled, in a voice that he tried to make a bit thick, as if he had chewed too much merclite: "At ease, Captain. At ease! Damn it man, you don't have to be so damned military. You're among friends!" And he towseled Lane's dark hair affectionately. Captain Ilgen looked his disgust. "Sir," he said to Lane, "we recaptured Nida Mane as she tried to board a public car near the Executive Mansion."