His muscles wouldn't pull him up. The blows came again ... more than once, heavy and accurate. He ploughed forward onto cold pavement as his mind blanked out. * * * * * He came again to consciousness, groaned as heavy pain hammered through his skull. Gradually his eyes focused upon the details of the room. There weren't many details. It was a small room, quite bare. The floor was stone but the walls seemed to be of thick _crystyte_. Dim lights filtered through. There was no entrance of any kind that he could see. "So you are awake at last, Earthman. And none the worse for wear." The voice came from within the room. Ketrik raised his head, stared at the opposite wall, a section of which had taken on the silvery radiance of a tele-vise. Imaged there were the features of Dar Vaajo. Ketrik recognized him immediately. It was an elderly face, but smooth--with the color and toughness and texture of old leather. The lips were tight and purposeful, the cheek-bones bulged beneath crisp, graying hair. And the eyes ... they held Ketrik. They weren't old eyes. They were hard and bright as jewels. An indomitable light came up from the dark depths of them. Dar Vaajo spoke again from the screen. "As you see, I prefer to hold audience with you in this manner. You are a dangerous man. Yes, very dangerous, to have come so far. Through my Space Patrol. Past my Specials. Into the city and past the inner wall itself." The lips quirked a little. "Yes, I have determined everything about you. Your name is not Khosan, but George Ketrik--I have heard something of your exploits in the past. You are the spy sent here by the Earth Councillor, Mark Travers." Again he paused. "You are not surprised that I know all this?" If he was surprised, Ketrik didn't show it in the slight shrug he gave. He knew the voice would go on. "I have learned this," Vaajo said, "within the past few hours. You see--we, too, have a development of the Scanner Beam. This beam was trained upon you from the very moment you drove into the palace grounds. We learned your true identity and purpose." Ketrik went dry inside. It would have to be that, the one thing he couldn't have foreseen! He spoke to the screen. "Very well, so I have lost. I suppose I can expect no reward for saving the Princess." Something showed in the dark depths of Vaajo's eyes. Amusement? But he spoke thoughtfully. "Very well, you shall have your reward. I think I will send you back to Mark Travers--in a most unique way!" Quite suddenly then, Ketrik knew. He knew the reason for the beam he had seen launched into space, and almost he grasped the principle of it. He felt his insides twisting up into cold, hard knots. But he managed to say, "You mean--that just a part of me will go."