The catmen came as Thompson's flight left the camp and Lane's ships dropped into the charging positions. They came in a horde, they came and they swarmed over the two flights that were patrolling. In a wide circle, the Solarians raced just outside of the camp. The planet mounts covered the sky above, and a veritable arched roof of death-dealing energy covered the twenty-five ships of Lane's flight. The space between the Solar circle and the catman circle was ablaze with energy, and the ether was filled with interference. Even the subether carried its share of crackle, and the orders went on the tone-modulated code instead of voice. Solid ordnance dropped, and exploded through the crisscrossing of the planet mounts, and the planeted ships ran their charges down instead of up by adding to the fury over their heads. They were sitting ducks and they knew it. But unlike the sitting duck, these could shoot back. And they took their toll. Then without apparent reason, the flight of catmen left their whirling circle on a tangent and streaked for space. Behind them lay nine smoking ships--prey to the Solar Guard. But they had not gone in vain. There were seven of the Solar Guard that would fly no more--seven ships and a total of one hundred and seventy-five men. "_Whew._ They haven't any sense at all," snarled Downing. "Either that or they value their lives rather poorly." "Must be. I wouldn't know. But usually a vicious mind doesn't value life too highly." "I wouldn't be too certain of that." "All right. I won't belabor the point. I don't know. It just seems--" The next ten days was under rigid rule. Lane's ships charged, and the last day was spent in replenishing the charges lost in the short but torrid fight. "Now," said Lane, "what's with this hell-machine that the Little Man mentions?" "The detectors do not detect," objected Downing. * * * * * They confronted the Little Man with the nonoperating detector. He shook his tiny head and worried visibly. He puzzled over it, juggled the circuit controls, and then threw up his hands in bafflement. He spoke to Hotang Lu: "The field must be so great that the detector is paralyzed." "It is more than likely. Remember, it was working on Tlembo. It was working on ... on ... I have not the word for their star. Many many light-years away it is good. Close by--it must be paralyzed." "Then we must make it less sensitive." "Do you know how?" "I did once, long ago. But I have forgotten my techniques and my ability lags because of lack of practice." "And I devoted myself to the arts instead of technology. A revered master at the problem of mental culture; I cannot invade this gadget with tools." Hotang Lu smiled. "You might try psychoanalyzing it." "Yes, if it contained but one memory-pattern," laughed Toralen Ki. "They'd have done better to have sent a plumber and an electrician than we two failures."