"Yeah. That we all know," drawled Jake in a bored voice. His tone took on that razor edge again and he snarled: "What we're after is the how, get me? How?" "Oh, w-w-w-well, the trick is--" "Creeps!" exploded Logy. He crossed the cabin in almost nothing flat and jerked upward on the power lever. * * * * * The little ship surged upward at six gravities, making speech impossible. Blair wondered about this, sitting there helpless and scared green, until a blast of heat came from behind, and the ship lost drive. A tractor beam flashed upward, catching the ship and hurling it backwards. The reaction threw all three up against the ceiling with considerable force, and the reverse acceleration generated by the tractor's pull kept them pasted to the ceiling. Another ship was beside them in a matter of seconds, and four spacesuited men breached the air lock and entered, throwing their helmets back. "Jake Jackson and Freddy Logan," laughed the foremost of the newcomers. "How nerce of you to meet us here." "Grab the blinker," said the one behind. "Naturally. Naturally. Pete and Wally take Blair. Jim and I'll muscle the gripper." Two of them carried Cal to the larger ship. The other two scooped up the equipment and carried it behind them. Once inside, the tractors were cut and the smaller ship plummeted towards Terra. With no concern over the other ship and its two occupants, they hurled Cal back against the wall while they put his apparatus on the navigator's table. "Very nice and timely rescue, eh Cal?" Cal whirled. "Benj," he snarled. "Might have known--" He started forward, but was stopped by the ugly muzzles of three needle beams that waggled disconcertingly at the pit of his stomach. He laughed, but it had a wild tone. "Go ahead and blast! Then run the Key yourselves!" he hurled at them. But he stopped, and the waggling of the three weapons became uncertain. "Hell's fire," snorted Pete, looking from one to the other. "They're duplicates!" Cal leaped forward, smashed Pete's beam up, where it furrowed the ceiling. His fist came forward and his knee came up. Beneath Cal's arm flashed a streak of white. It caught Pete in the stomach and passed down to the knee, trailing a bit of smoke and a terrible odor. Cal dropped the lifeless form and whirled. Benj stood there, his needle beam held rock-steady on the form that lay crumpled beneath Cal's feet. Benj addressed the other two. "My brother and I have one thing in common," he said coolly. "Neither of us cares to be called a duplicate!" He holstered his weapon and addressed Cal. "Where is it?" "Where is what?" asked Cal quietly. "Murdoch's Hoard." "I haven't had time to find out." "O.K. So tell us how to make this thing run." "I'll be psyched if I do." "You'll be dead if you do not," warned Benj. "Some day, you stinker, I'll take the satisfaction of killing you." "I'll never give you cause," sneered Benj. "Stealing my identity is plenty of cause."