"I'll kill off the Selenites--there's only a million or so--with a supersonic generator Gates developed. Their brains are susceptible to a certain vibration rate; they'll die like flies. And Gates won't be here to interfere. There'll be no more Selenites; _I'll_ dictate to Earth. I'll blast some forests and a couple of villages to show them I can do it. Perfect, isn't it?" The engineer stared. Peterson was a madman, a wholesale killer at heart--worse. "What would be your terms?" Bonwitt asked steadily. "Not harsh. I don't want to be a dictator nor to destroy cities. I hate politics and war both. But I'll control Earth just the same--with wealth and power. I'll demand personal title to the moon and to Atomic's two space ships. To the larger ship for distant planet exploration now under construction as well. Also a billion dollars in gold delivered to me here on Luna. With these advantages, I can do anything I want to. Care to join me or not?" Mad, totally mad, this scheme of Peterson's. But just mad enough to come near succeeding unless he were stopped. The world would, in panic, concede anything if ever he should get as far as turning over the moon and burning forests and villages. For that matter, his madness might then flare up to the point of wreaking wholesale destruction as Gates proposed and intended. Bonwitt would have to play for time. "Sure, I'll join up," he lied. "Who wouldn't?" * * * * * Peterson smiled paternally. "Right; who wouldn't? And once I get control, see how many more will join up. Beats working for Atomic, doesn't it?" Bonwitt nodded dully. Fantastic as the thing was, the engineer recognized the danger to Crane and himself. The world could take care of itself. But the Selenites? Here were Gates and Peterson both plotting their destruction. For all Bonwitt knew, Gates might be planning the same thing against Peterson. If either won out it would be bad for a certain engineer and an ethertype man. Maybe-- "I'd like to see your ethertype myself," he told Peterson. "It's the one you used to communicate with Peel from the workings, isn't it?" "Huh? How'd you know that?" The super tensed suspiciously, then relaxed. "Oh, Crane guessed, I suppose. Sure, you can see it. Follow me." When they reached the ethertype room, it was to see Gates, wild of eye and disheveled of clothing, standing over Crane with one of the odd pistols in his hand. Crane's head was missing--blasted away. With a screech of pure animal fury, Bonwitt dived at the killer. Off guard, the big ethertype man went down and his pistol clattered into a corner. But he was up in a flash and the engineer was in for a battle.