Four young Kinnisons flashed thoughts at Kathryn, who frowned and bit her lip. She had hit that hole with everything she had, and had simply bounced. She had been able to block the radiation, of course, but such solid barriers had been necessary that she had blinded herself by her own screens. That it was Eddorian there could be no doubt--warned by her own activities in the other tube--Plooran, of course--and Dad would be worth taking, in more ways than one. "I can't say that I'm any keener about going in than any of you are about having me to do it," the big Lensman went on, "but unless some of you can figure out a reason for my _not_ going in that isn't fuller of holes than a sponge-rubber cushion, I'm going to tackle it just as soon after we blow Ploor apart as I can possibly get there." And Kathryn, his self-appointed guardian, knew that nothing could stop him. Nor did anyone there, even Clarrissa, try to stop him. Lensmen all, they knew that he had to go in; and why. To the Five, the situation was not too serious. Kinnison would probably come through unhurt. The Eddorians could take him, of course. But whether or not they could do anything to him after they got him would depend no little on what the Kinnison kids would be doing in the meantime--and that would be plenty. They couldn't delay Dad's entry into the tube very much without making a smell, but they could and would hurry Arisia up. And even if, as seemed probable, Dad was already in the tube when Arisia was ready for the big business with Eddore, a lot could be done at the other end. Those amoeboid monstrosities would be fighting for their own precious lives, this time, not for the lives of slaves; and the Five promised each other grimly that the Eddorians would have too much else to worry about to waste any time on Kimball Kinnison. * * * * * Clarrissa Kinnison, however, fought the hardest and bitterest battle of her life. She loved Kim with a depth and a fervor which very few women, anywhere, have ever been able to feel. She knew with a sick, cold certainty, knew with every fiber of her mind and with every cell of her brain, that if he went into that trap he would die in it. Nevertheless, she would have to let him go in. More, and worse, she would have to send him in--to his death--with a smile. She could not ask him not to go in. She could not even suggest again that there was any possibility that he need not go in. He had to go in. He _had_ to.