Formula For Conquest By JAMES R. ADAMS August Q. Twilken had a formula, Freebooter Tod Mulhane had a nose for adventure and Mon Pordo had an urge for Interworld domination. When those three got together, hell had to explode--and did. [Transcriber's Note: This etext was produced from Planet Stories Fall 1945. Extensive research did not uncover any evidence that the U.S. copyright on this publication was renewed.] "I have a formula," the little man said loudly. I punched him ungently in the ribs and jerked my head toward the mangy crew whooping it up in the close confines of the ill-smelling Martian _musk-parlor_. "Shh. Not so loud, guy," I whispered from the corner of my mouth. "This bunch would slit your throat in a minute, if they knew you had something on you that would bring a credit or two. I don't know what your game is, but let's go in the back room where we can talk without startin' someone's ears to burnin'." I wrapped my arm around the guy's shoulders and steered him toward the back room, singing and laughing, as though I had an overload of _Meez-musk_ and was feeling a little bit happy. I didn't know what had brought the little fellow to me. I'd never seen him before yet he seemed to know me and had made his way directly to the bar where I stood and addressed me by name. Anybody that knew that much about Tod Mulhane, soldier of fortune, needed looking into, and I was determined to give this mild-mannered, shrimp of a man a thorough going over. I bolted the door behind us and seated myself at the table always kept there for various games of chance. "Mousie" nervously assumed a seat and sat staring at me, his big, milky-blue eyes blinking nearsightedly and a withered, vein-covered hand tweaking incessantly at a bedraggled gray mustache. "I'm Professor August Q. Twilken," he essayed. "I have a formula." "And I'm Tod Mulhane, as you seem to know, and I have a couple of great big ears, open and waiting. What can I do for you, Twilken?" Twilken's face suddenly became grim and the milkiness left his eyes a moment, to disclose dancing, hard lights of determination. "Nothing for me, Mr. Mulhane," he said slowly. "This is for the world! Yes, for three worlds!" I nodded patiently, thinking maybe I had a nut on my hands. "Of course, Twilken. And just what is it we're going to do for these worlds?"