"Thanks, old snake." Kinnison's thought came faintly. "Just temporary. He's living on borrowed time. He'll get his. You've got everything under control, haven't you?" "On the green. Why?" "Because I can't hold this nerve block any longer.... It hurts.... I'm sick.... I think I'm going to--" He fainted. More, he plunged parsecs deep into the blackest depths of oblivion as outraged nature took the toll she had been so long denied. Worsel hurled a call to Earth, then turned to his maimed and horribly broken companion. He applied splints to the shattered limbs, he dressed and bandaged the hideous wounds and the raw sockets which had once held eyes, he ministered to the raging, burning thirst. Whenever Kinnison's mind wearied he held for him the nerve block, the priceless anodyne without which the Gray Lensman must have died from sheerest agony. "Why not allow me, friend, to relieve you of all consciousness until help arrives?" the Velantian asked pityingly. "Can you do it without killing me?" "If you so allow, yes. If you offer any resistance, I do not believe that any mind in the Universe could." "I won't resist you. Come in," and Kinnison's suffering ended. But kindly Worsel could do nothing about the fantastically atrocious growths which were transforming the Earthman's legs and arms into monstrosities out of nightmare. He could only wait--wait for the skilled assistance which he knew must be so long in coming. XXI. When Worsel's hard-driven call impinged upon the port admiral's lens, Haynes dropped everything to take the report himself. Characteristically Worsel sent first and Haynes first recorded a complete statement of the successful mission to Jarnevon. Last came personalities, the tale of Kinnison's ordeal and of his present plight. "Are they following you in force, or can't you tell?" "Nothing has been detectable, and at the time of our departure there had been no suggestion of any such action," Worsel replied carefully. "We'll come in force, anyway, and fast. Keep him alive until we meet you," Haynes urged, and disconnected. It was an unheard-of occurrence for the port admiral to turn over his very busy and extremely important desk to a subordinate without notice and without giving him detailed instructions, but Haynes did it now. "Take charge of everything, Southworth!" he snapped. "I'm called away--emergency. Kinnison found Boskone--got away--hurt--I'm going after him in the _Dauntless_. Taking the new flotilla with me. Time indefinite--probably a few weeks." He strode toward the communicator desk. The _Dauntless_ was, as always, completely serviced and ready for any emergency. Where was that fleet of her sister ships, on its shakedown cruise? He'd shake them down! They had with them the new hospital ship, too--the only Red Cross ship in space that could leg it, parsec for parsec, with the _Dauntless_.