The two races had been at war with each other, most of the time, for centuries; and practically all of that warfare had been waged upon luckless Lune. Each race was well advanced in science. Each had atomic power, offensive beams, and defensive screens. Neither had any degree of inertialessness. Neither had ever heard of Civilization or of Boskonia. At this particular time peace existed, but only on the surface. Any discovery or development giving either side an advantage would rekindle the conflagration without hesitation or warning. Such was the condition obtaining when Darjeeb of Nhal blasted his little space-ship upward from Lune. He was glowing with pride of accomplishment, suffused with self-esteem. Not only had he touched off an inextinguishable atomic flame exactly where it would do the most good, but also, as a crowning achievement, he had captured Luda of Dhil. Luda herself; the coldest, hardest, most efficient Minister of War that Dhil had ever had! As soon as they could extract certain data from Luda’s mind, they could take Lune in short order. With Lune solidly theirs, they could bomb Dhil into submission in two years. The goal of many generations would have been reached. He, Darjeeb of Nhal, would have wealth, fame, and—best of all—power! Gazing gloatingly at his captive with every eye he could bring to bear, Darjeeb strolled over to inspect again her chains and manacles. Let her radiate! No mentality in existence could break _his_ blocks. Physically, however, she had to be watched. The irons were strong; but so was Luda. If she could break free he’d probably have to shoot her, which would be a very bad thing indeed. She hadn’t caved in yet, but she would. When he got her to Nhal, where proper measures could be taken, she’d give up every scrap of knowledge she had ever had! The chains were holding, all eight of them, and Darjeeb kept on gloating as he backed toward his control station. To him Luda’s shape was normal enough, since his own was the same, but in the sight of any Tellurian she would have been more than a little queer. The lower part of her body was somewhat like that of a small elephant; one weighing perhaps four hundred pounds. The skin, however, was clear and fine and delicately tanned; there were no ears or tusks; the neck was longer. The trunk was shorter, divided at the tip to form a highly capable hand; and between the somewhat protuberant eyes of this “feeding” head there thrust out a boldly Roman, startlingly human nose. The brain in this head was very small, being concerned only with matters of food.