"The batteries will be enough, Sir," came the Engineer's voice. "I arranged an automatic out-in, Sir. I knew electrons couldn't bombard atoms without ether to travel through." "Good work, Mister!" said McPartland. "Thank you, Sir." * * * * * The Captain said nothing more. He was listening to the steady drum of the stern rockets. The explosive charges were fired by electric spark. All the functional mechanism of the ship was operated electrically. His ship could travel. They would reach Terra. There was nothing to do but wait--wait in an emptiness that brought a man to the edge of insanity. It was eerie, this feeling of isolation. Only the rocket jets seemed alive, pushing the _Avenger_ ahead. Jon put out his hand and felt the phone. It was warm under his fingers. He shivered in the warm air of the control room. Suddenly he had to speak, to reach the others in this Stygian pit. "It must be bitter cold on Terra," he said evenly, "without sunshine, without heat drawn from the central power beams." Near him, Clemens sighed heavily. Reynolds' fingers drummed over his keyboard. It was McTavish who answered: "Aye, Sir," he said, his words edged with rage, "a few days of this and Terra would be a frozen wasteland." McPartland clenched his great fists harder. "There won't be a few days!" he grated. "Whoever's behind this will want Terra and her industries--and her people--in working order." "You think it's human beings?" came the Engineer's question. "I hadn't thought--" "It has to be," Jon reasoned. "The timing is perfect, and so is the strategy. Striking the heart of the Solar System--when the Patrol is there and helpless. They knew." "Outlaws." Reynolds commented quietly. "More than that, man!" exploded McTavish. "There's science here. It takes science--genius--to eliminate the ether! It's never been done before!" "I think you're right, Mister," McPartland said. His words fell with an inflection as soft and deadly as the impenetrable blackness about them. "There's science here--and outlaws, armed desperate men who would dare to try this. "It's treason. Specialists and outlaws in an unholy alliance, trying for a _coup d'etat_--for power over the whole system! There'll be a demand for surrender." "A black plot," quipped McTavish. But the others could hear the angry quickening of his breath. "What choice will the Congress have but surrender?" Clemens asked sadly. The Captain smashed the flat of his hand against the intra-ship phone before him. "_WE_ have the choice! We are fighters! There can't be many of them in the plot--or it would have leaked out. They need the blackness for protection." "Your logic is sound, Sir," said the calm voice of the Ray Control Officer. "But how will we reach them--how will we fight them?"