"No. I'm going to hit F-67 with three quarters of the main fleet. That'll divide their defenses and we'll end up with two hundred-mile areas." "You're going to leave enough here to hold this place?" "Yes. It'll be tough going, but once they're divided, it'll be easier here. With three quarters of our fleet attacking another place, they'll be forced to follow. Look, Hamilton, some of their power is down! Ben must have got that power-conversion plant!" "When are you leaving?" "As soon as Ben returns. Hello," he said, turning to see four officers struggling with--_a creature_. * * * * * "We caught this one alive," offered the foremost. "Thought you'd like to see what we've been fighting!" "Nice to know," said Maynard drily. "What now? Do you expect me to give it tea?" The laugh was universal. But the creature straightened, and waved the tentacle on top of the shapeless collection of antennæ, tendrillike fronds of hair, and wide, flat appendages that must have passed for the head on Mephisto. It whipped the tentacle to the back of the head and found a curved case that fitted the back of the head. Another tentacle tore from the officer's grasp and found a similar box at the belt. It turned a knob on top, and Maynard whipped his MacMillan from its holster and blasted the tentacle off at the "shoulder." And then, in Maynard's mind there came a thought. It staggered the patrol marshal, and he blinked in unbelief. It rang in his mind: "You shouldn't have done that!" "What?" asked Maynard aloud. "Why--?" "You shouldn't have done that. I meant no harm with this. Now I may not retune it to your fellows." "But--?" "It is a development that will ultimately win for us," came the thought. "A thought-beam transmitter." Maynard sat down suddenly. "No," he said. "I'm mad! I must be." Hamilton said: "That I doubt, Guy. What's the matter, though. You look ill, but madness I doubt." "He says that thing on his head and belt is a thought-beam transmitter." "What? He says--?" "That's his thought. But it can not be--" "Or can it?" "Your misbelief is amusing in the face of fact," came the amused thought. "Tell me aloud to perform some simple action." "Can you sit down?" asked Maynard. To the amazement of everyone, the creature bent in the middle and seated itself on a stool. Hamilton smiled foolishly. "From here on in, Guy, that's a thought-beam transmitter. Take it from there and go on." Guy smiled and nodded. "I'll accept it." "It's the explanation for a lot of things," said Hamilton. "Their concentration of forces against selected targets, for instance. Their use of the barrier." "Naturally," came the Mephistan's thought. "I thought you couldn't tune to them," remarked Guy. "They spoke to you--your mind followed their speech; I followed your mind. I can not talk to them direct." "I see. It's logical. But why did you permit us to get this far?"