Bakar sprung to his feet, a small weapon clutched in his claw-like hand. "No!" he hissed, "I will not obey the machine. I am going to prove to you, and to all, that it can be wrong. You know of the soft places in the plain, Gor. It is a wonder that the man did not land in one of these, considering that there are more of these than solid ground. But he will weary of waiting for the ships, which he has been informed of, and begin to wander. He cannot go far before he is swallowed up, sinking deeper and deeper. Then we shall see if the future machine is always right!" Gor said nothing, but a slight smile came to his lips, a rather ironic one. It was much later when Gor again spoke. He turned from his position at the thought receiver and said, "News for you, Bakar. I have just received thought that the man is on his way." Bakar visibly started, and Gor continued, "How many times have you complied with an order from The Four and pressed the button that informs second in command that you had done so? Force of habit caused you to perform it this time, Bakar. The order went on, through second in command." He added softly, "The future machine never lies!" * * * * * Marcius Kemble stood upon the frozen plain and waited. A satanic smile lighted his face and the cry for revenge was in his heart. He somehow felt that the thoughts had not lied, that they would send the promised ship. Then he would be free again, blasting back to quench his thirst for revenge against the Combine. His face became flushed and the temperature within his suit became perceptibly greater, as he formed his fanatical plans. While he waited, the leaders of the Combine, in his mind, suffered and died a thousand times. The coming of the ships was swift. One moment there was nothing; the next, they rested upon the plain before him. Marcius was surprised to note that they were very small, as compared to others he had seen. So much the better, he thought, to elude the space patrol. He also marveled at the fact that the creatures coming toward him from the ships were lightly clothed, and that they could speak to him through his mind. "Do not fear us," came the thought. "You must come with us into one of the craft, to learn of the controls." Inside the ship, Marcius found that "learning of the controls" was much simpler than he had thought it would be. He sat in the pilot's seat, hands on the controls and eyes closed. A thousand times more effective than words, thoughts came to him, and he flew the Plutonian ship through every condition and position that could ever be encountered, even though he never left the place at which the ship had come to rest on the plain. Mental instruction. It all ended with Marcius Kemble, condemned dictator of Mars, soaring away from Pluto forever, still enclosed in his space suit because the air within the ship was never meant for the lungs of men, and heading toward earth, toward the fulfillment of his evil plans.