While Kueelo was telling his story, Ric watched this Phobian leader, Gorak, who was as ghastly a character as he had ever seen. Pallid, with a bluish tinge, the man stood well over six feet tall, but his body seemed frail. His head was absurdly large, quite hairless and glistening. The colorless, lidless eyes were not nice to look into. He watched the others, especially Praana, with those cold eyes as Kueelo talked. "So. The Princess Praana," Gorak said at last, and his thin gash of a mouth parted in a grin, revealing brownish teeth. "But are you quite sure, Kueelo? I seem to remember her differently, in the tele-magnum." "I am quite sure, Gorak. It was Bedril's wish that she disguise herself." Gorak nodded, never once taking those lidless orbs from Praana. "You have done well, Kueelo. She will serve as a most valuable pawn. And this other--Tal Horan. Is he not the metallurgist who worked with Bedril?" "Yes, and I'm sure he must have their formula for the Counter-active! They were working in the right direction, just as we...." Gorak held up a hand. He surveyed Tal Horan coldly from head to foot, and Tal returned the gaze unflinchingly. Then Gorak's gaze lingered on Tal's right hand. He spoke without emotion. "Kueelo. You have not been very observant." Tal Horan whirled for the door, but a dozen Phobians had entered silently to bar the way. Tal lashed out at them, and three went down before his pile-driver fists before the others brought him back, struggling, to stand before Gorak. "It is useless, Tal Horan. You see, we need this formula." Gorak reached to Tal's right hand, removed a colorless, plastic ring from his finger. From the inside of the ring he stripped a tightly-rolled film, handed it to Kueelo. "It is you who will need this, Kueelo. I am sure you can persuade Tal Horan to assist you in deciphering it." "Think again!" Tal husked through clenched teeth. Praana faced the Phobian leader squarely. "You beast! You'll never reclaim Mars from the red plague! And--my people are safe!" Triumph filtered into her voice. Gorak grinned down at her. All of him grinned except those horrible eyes. He turned, touched the huge tele-magnum behind him. "Let us say, rather, that your people have gained a temporary respite. They are safe on Earth's moon. I watched it." Sudden vicious hate erased the grin. "But my people remain too, Praana! For three hundred years the Phobians have hidden and burrowed and builded--and planned! The Martians thought they had wiped us out. They levelled our cities with atom-blasts, they slashed and blackened the surface of Phobos and hunted down my people mercilessly. Even when our Fleet had gone down to destruction and we were helpless, even when my people sued for a peace from the horrible war, _pleaded_, the Martian leaders would not listen!"