Thus Kit did not have to follow up his announced intention of making the Arisians hurry up. They did not hurry, of course, but they did not lose or waste a minute. Each Arisian, from the youngest guardian up to the oldest philosopher, tuned a part of his mind to Mentor, another part to some one of the millions of Lensmen upon his list, and flashed a message. "Lensman, attend--keep your mind sensitized to this, the pattern of Mentor of Arisia, who will speak to you as soon as all have been alerted." That message went throughout the First Galaxy, throughout intergalactic space, and throughout what part of the Second Galaxy had felt the touch of Civilization. It went to Alsakan and Vandemar and Klovia, to Thrale and Tellus and Rigel IV, to Mars and Velantia and Palain VII, to Medon and Venus and Centralia. It went to flitters, battleships, and loose planets. It went to asteroids and moonlets, to planets large and small. It went to newly graduated Lensmen and to Lensmen long since retired; to Lensmen at work and at play. It went to every living wearer of the First-Stage Lens of the Galactic Patrol. Wherever the message went, turmoil followed. Lensmen everywhere flashed questions at all the other Lensmen they knew or had ever met. "What do you make of it, Fred?" "Did you get the same thing I did?" "_Mentor!_ Grinning Noshabkeming, what's up?" "Must be big for Mentor to be handling it." "_Big!_ It's immense! Whoever heard of Arisia stepping in before?" "_Big!_ Colossal! Mentor never talked to anybody except Kinnison before, did he?" Millions of Lensed questions flooded every base and every office of the Patrol. Nobody, not even the vice co-ordinator, knew a thing. "You might as well stop sending in questions as to what this is all about, because none of us knows any more about it than you do," Maitland finally sent out a general notice. "Apparently everybody with a Lens is getting the same message, no more and no less. All I can say is that it must be a Class A Prime emergency, and everyone who is not actually tied up in a life-and-death matter will please drop everything and stand by." * * * * * Mentor wanted, and had to have, high tension. He got it. Tension mounted higher and higher as eventless hours passed and as, for the first time in history, Patrol business slowed down almost to a stop. And in a small cruiser, manned by four red-headed girls and one red-headed youth, tension was also building up. The problem of the mechanical screens had long since been solved. Atomic powered counter-generators were in place, ready at the touch of a button to neutralize the mechanically-generated screens of the enemy and thus to make the engagement a mind-to-mind combat. They were as close to Eddore's star-cluster as they could be without giving alarm. They had had nothing to do for hours except wait. They were probably keyed up higher than any other five Lensmen in all of space.