She pressed a button upon its surface. It began to hum. Slowly it rose into the air. The silky wires drooped down. They writhed and probed about. "This is as near as man has ever come to making a living thing," Nea explained. "It moves. It reacts to sensations. It makes its own energy. Watch!" Slowly the globe with its trailing tentacles moved about the room. It whined hungrily when it found the batteries. It hovered above them and the silky wires fanned out. Then it darted down. The wires felt over the batteries and their connections--softly--eagerly. The whine changed to a purr of enjoyment. The thing fed. And slowly the pointer upon the volt-meter moved over to zero. * * * * * Nea raised a tiny whistle to her mouth. There was no sound, but the copper-studded globe seemed to hear. It raised itself back into the air. The silken wires wrapped themselves about the round body. It came back to Nea--slowly--almost defiantly--and settled into her arms like a plump cat returning to a doting mistress. Nea pressed the button again and put it back into its case. "Wonderful," Ato applauded. "I move that we give Nea a vote of thanks." "But what earthly good is it?" Gunnar asked. "I could have swatted it with a broom." "And you would have died." Nea turned upon him like a tigress. "It feeds upon electricity and it can discharge a lightning bolt. Don't you see? There are few weapons that can resist it. But that is not all. In your own brain, Gunnar, there is a charge of electricity. It may be the only real life that you have within you. This can take it all away. That was why I asked for a live thing to demonstrate--" The grizzled Bron who had spoken once before now laughed good-humoredly. "Demonstrate it on Gunnar," he suggested. "And I will thump your skull--" Gunnar was ready to go for him, but Odin grabbed the little giant's arm. "He jokes. Besides, you are ruining the girl's show. This means much to her." Nea gave him a grateful glance. The council voted their thanks to Nea and a tribute to her father. She was assigned a half-dozen helpers to fashion as many of the globes as she could. They adjourned. * * * * * As The Nebula drove on, it became harder and harder for Odin to judge time. He could only gauge it by some event such as the council meeting and say "before this" or "after that." He and Gunnar were with Ato in the control room when suddenly warning bells began to jangle and red lights flashed on and off. Ato adjusted the largest screen. And there, slowly revolving like an hour-glass of gold amid uprushing sparks of sun and flame, was The Old Ship. Ato pointed to a bright star. "Aldebaran. They are headed there." His voice was shaking just a bit when he called into the speaker: "Battle stations, everyone!" Gunnar took off for the needle-nosed instrument which he had grown to hate. Odin stood by to help with the screens.