Marima uttered a cry of horror and leaped forward, placing her body between that of Bra Naan and Dahnjen. There was a sharp twang of a bowstring, and the arrow leaped from the priest's crossbow to bury itself in her breast. With a scream she sank to the ground. But as she did so Dahnjen recovered from his frozen surprise and whipped his rifle from his shoulder. Crouching behind her fallen body, he leveled it and pressed the trigger. Bra Naan's head exploded on his shoulders and disintegrated. He fell to the ground. And as he did so, the remaining priests charged forward. Methodically, cursing and sobbing, Dahnjen shot them, one by one, and as the last two reached him, he clubbed the rifle and swung it savagely about his head. There came a satisfying crunch as the skull of the man in the lead cracked, and then the last man was upon him. Dahnjen brought the stock of the rifle up under the man's chin and almost drove it through his skull. Then, the battle over, he stood there, swaying. Eyes glazing, he dropped to his knees and sagged over the body of Marima Saan.... * * * * * Mary Mason opened her eyes in bewilderment and looked up at Don Jensen bending over her. On his forehead the silver electrode was still strapped, but broken wires dangled from it, over one ear. "What happened?" she asked. "I don't exactly know," he said. "But I do know you suddenly dashed over and clouted me in the face. Then everything went black for what I judge was quite a period of time. I must have fallen off the couch, finally, and broken the wires, which stopped the machine. Anyway, I came to to find you lying beside me on the floor. Whatever was the idea of bashing me?" A flood of red suddenly rose to her cheeks. "Now I remember," she said. "It was what you were thinking! It was on the screen!" It was his turn to redden. "What was on the screen?" "You know very well." She got to her feet, went over to the television screen and looked into it. It was blank. He followed her over, removing the electrode from his forehead. He tossed it on the bench and looked at the clock. "Twenty minutes," he said. "Twenty minutes what?" she asked. "We were both out twenty minutes, and all the time the machine was running. So, whatever was recorded, the only evidence we'll have is the camera. Might as well run it back and see what you missed." She stiffened. "Lord knows what's on it. If what you started out with is any criterion." He grinned at her. "It's _my_ thoughts, not yours, which are going to be exposed to the public, in this case you," he said. "And while I develop the film, I suggest you powder up a bit. You look a bit wan and tired...." "Before I do," she said, "I want to warn you." "About what?" "It wasn't just lines and patterns and lights on the screen. It was actual pictures." He gaped at her. "_Pictures!_"