"Clarrissa! Clarrissa! Pay attention, please!" The Red Lensman came to herself with a start--Helen had been thinking at her, with increasing power, for seconds. The _Velan's_ blunt nose filled half the plate. In minutes, then Clarrissa and her party were in Kinnison's private quarters in the _Dauntless_. There had been warm mental greetings; physical demonstrations would come later. Worsel broke in. "Excuse it, Kim, but seconds count. Better we split, don't you think? You find out what the score around here is, from Clarrissa, and take steps, and I'll chase that Boskonian. He's flitting--fast." "QX, Slim," and the _Velan_ disappeared. "You remember Helen, of course, Kim." Kinnison bent his head, flipping a quick grin at his wife, who had spoken aloud. The Lyranian, trying to unbend, half-offered her hand, but when he did not take it she withdrew it as enthusiastically as she had twenty years before. "And this is Cleonie, the ... the wench I've been telling you about. You knew her before." "Yeah. She hasn't changed much--still as unbarbered a mess as ever. If you've got what you want, Chris, we'd better--" "Kimball Kinnison, I demand Cleonie's life!" came Helen's vibrant thought. She had snatched one of Clarrissa's DeLameters and was swinging it into line when she was caught and held as though in a vise. "Sorry, Toots," the Gray Lensman's thought was more than a little grim. "Nice little girls don't play so rough. 'Scuse me, Chris, for dipping into your dish. Take over." "Do you really mean that, Kim?" "Yes. It's your meat--slice it as thick or as thin as you please." "Even to letting her go?" "Check. What else could you do? In a lifeboat--I'll even show the jade how to run it." "Oh, Kim--" "Quartermaster! Kinnison. Please check Number Twelve lifeboat and break it out. I am loaning it to Cleonie of Lyrane II." XXII. Kit had decided long since that it was his job to scout the planet Eddore. His alone. He had told several people that he was en route there, and in a sense he had been, but he was not hurrying. Once he started _that_ job, he knew that he would have to see it through with absolutely undisturbed attention, and there had been altogether too many other things popping up. Now, however, his visualization showed a couple of weeks of free time, and that would be enough. He wasn't sure whether he was grown-up enough yet to do a man's job of work or not, and Mentor wouldn't tell him. This was the best way to find out. If so, QX. If not, he would back off, wait, and try again later. The kids had wanted to go along, of course. "Come on, Kit, don't be a pig!" Constance started what developed into the last violent argument of their long lives. "Let's gang up on it--think what a grand work-out that would be for the Unit!" "Uh-uh, Con. Sorry, but it isn't in the cards, any more than it was the last time we discussed it," he began, reasonably enough.