"Good. Get me blueprint papers, and diagrams of your ultraviolet radiator batteries. I want relayed batteries set up, and I must know how many I have to work with." Ilse saw hope struggling for place in the eyes of the men as they looked at Kortha. She laughed gaily, putting a hand on the big man's arm, saying loudly, "This is Kortha. I told you. He can pull miracles out of a hole in space!" Feet pounded on the linoleotile flooring. Drawers opened, banged shut; glass cabinets clinked faintly, and papers rustled. Ilse stood against Kortha, touching him, smiling wryly. "Only your name could make them hop like that against the power that is Guantra. They're all loyal, but practical. They know to an iotagram what chance Hurlgut has!" "He has a good chance," growled Kortha. He did not look at her. He did not dare: she was too lovely, with her blue eyes and platinum hair, and the kissable mouth. He had not decided yet, and wanted his reason to figure this out, not his emotions. * * * * * The men came and spread their diagrams and date-sheets and charts before him. His keen eyes flicked back and forth, ran down columns, studied hook-ups and relays. "These batteries," he said suddenly, pointing. "Shift them there. These others, over to this spot. Move those back, arrange them in arcs. They must be distributed evenly around Ruuzol. Here, I'll work it out for you." He sketched quickly. With T-square and calipers he strove for arrangements on the blueprints, and succeeded. The engineers and physicists looked at his work and up at him, puzzled. Kortha snorted. "The batteries will furnish ultraviolet rays, won't they? In the patterns we set by grouping them like this?" A young engineer nodded dubiously. "Yes, but--" Kortha rasped an oath, stood up. "Do what I say. I'll explain to you later, when I bring the final distribution sheets to you. You'll have to follow my instructions to the letter. The radiator batteries must be set so, to make a pattern thus. Any deviation will result in disaster. Hurry!" Up in the control tower the red light was flickering. Kortha allowed himself a smile. The ultraviolet batteries were in place, needing only a fingerpress on a button beneath his hand to fire them. He looked up at the flagship maneuvering in circles above the dome. They were ready up there now. Kortha depressed the button, and laughed. An instant later, white fires burst from the guns of the flagship, flaring zigzags that darted toward the upright tubes on either side of the paraboloid. The metal planes would draw that lightning; it would sear them, crack them, erupt into thunderous cascades of escaping power-- The lightnings never touched their target.