"But, Silvy, think of the convention," Dwane protested. "I had to give them special fluorescent lighting; they'll be angry if I cut them off!" "If you don't cut them off this time they'll never be cut off again. Kick that master switch over pronto. The Authority will take all responsibility!" "Okay," lisped Dwane. "Okay, _sharnar_!" Ward cut off wondering if that "_sharnar_" had meant "friend" or "bigshot"; it meant one thing in Pali and another in Vanyi, the city across the "tracks". Four minutes gone. Twenty degrees. The destroyer should be almost west-south-west now. "Wagner," Ward barked. "How are you coming?" "It's the relay, right enough. I should have it clicking in a few mins." "You've about twenty, so do it right! Buzz Control and tell them that we're going to cut off the landing beams on the south of the field and for them to light up all the eastern boundary lights." "Yes, sir." Six minutes gone. Thirty degrees. IV The spirit of the Leader rides with us, thought the destroyer's commander. The very force of his will has caused those fools below to leave their beam on. And they are members of the race that seeks to dictate terms to the Leader! So ignorant they are, so unenlightened. They are unfit to rule. By the great god Zabir--nay, not by that false god, but by the Leader, we are the only ones fit to rule and we shall! "_Andrakalarn marsti virki!_" he shrilled into the intercommunication tube. The moment of reckoning--in twelve minutes! Meanwhile Charleston's spaceyacht was following the destroyer down the strange layer of wild winds in Venus' stratosphere. Some time before he had reached out a pudgy hand to turn on his infrared view-plates and the destroyer stood out sharply on the visual grid. "Damn it!" the fat millionaire was thinking, "no state of war exists. Why should that Martian blast the patrol ship and tear away my broadcast antenna with a torp?" The air was extremely rough. The yacht pitched and yawed, and with the pitching and yawing Charleston found his daughter Ginny at his side. "Pater, what is wrong?" she queried in a post-deb voice. "There's a des--" Jimmie started. "Harrrrumph!" Charleston burst. Jimmie was squelched. "Just following another ship down which acts kind of peculiarly," explained the millionaire. "Wish I could report him to the Authority. Can't, though, a--er--meteor tore away the antenna!" "Why are you swerving your course?" Unquestionably Ginny knew her rocketships. "Winds are pretty bad. Seem to be coming full force from the southeast if you can trust the compass. Had to tack around to counteract their force." Charleston of course couldn't admit that his infrareds didn't allow for variable headwinds and compass deviations and therefor weren't as dependable as the Authority's beams. But his daughter could. "Why don't you switch onto the Authority frequency? The beam's on 65 megacycles in case you're interested."