"Scared," the Velantian replied, sending a rippling surge of power the full length of the thirty-foot-long cable of supple, although almost steel-hard flesh that was his body. "Scared to the tip of my tail. Not that they can treat me as they did before--we three, at least, are safe from their minds--but at what they will _do_. Whatever it is to be, it will not be what we expect. They certainly will not do the obvious." "That's what's clogging my jets." The Lensman agreed. "As a flapper told me once, I'm getting the screaming meamies." "That's what you mugs get for being so brainy," Van Buskirk put in. With a flick of his massive wrist he brought his thirty-pound spaceax to the "ready" as lightly as though it were a Tellurian dress saber. "Bring on your Overlords--squish! Just like that!" and a whistling sweep of his atrocious weapon was illustration enough. "May be something in that, too, Bus," he laughed. Then, to the Velantian, "About time to tune in one of 'em, I guess." He was in no doubt whatever as to Worsel's ability to reach them. He knew that that incredibly powerful mind, without Lens or advanced Arisian instruction, had been able to cover eleven solar systems: he knew that, with his present ability, Worsel could cover half of space! Although every fiber of his being shrieked protest against contact with the hereditary foe of his race, the Velantian put his mind en rapport with the Overlords and sent out his thought. He listened for seconds, motionless, then glided across the room to the thought-screened pilot and hissed directions. The pilot altered his course sharply and gave her the gun. "I'll take her over now," Worsel said, presently. "It'll look better that way--more as though they had us all under control." He cut the Bergenholm, then set everything on zero--the ship hung, inert and practically motionless, in space. Simultaneously twenty unscreened men--volunteers--dashed toward the main air lock, overcome by some intense emotion. "Now! Screens on! Scramblers!" Kinnison yelled; and at his words a thought-screen enclosed the ship; high-powered scramblers--within whose fields no invisibility apparatus could hold--burst into action. Then the vessel was, right beside the _Dauntless_, a Boskonian in every line and member! "Fire!"