The ruler of the Venus Central State was murdered! An almost incoherent message. The murder of the ruler, at a time co-incident with 6:30 in Greater New York. Then the words: _"City being attacked ... Tarrano, beware Tarrano ... You are in danger of ..."_ In danger of what? The message broke off. The observers, behind their huge telescopes at the Potomac Headquarters, saw the helio-lights of the Venus Central State go dark suddenly. Our own station flashed its call, but there was no answer. Venus--evening star on that date--was sinking to the horizon. But our Observatory in Texas could see the planet clearly; and gave the same report. Communication was broken. The authorities of the Venus Central State--friendly to us in spite of the recent immigration controversy--had tried to warn us. Of what? CHAPTER II _Warning_ It must have been nearly nine o'clock when a personal message came for me. Not through the ordinary open airways, but in the National Length, and coded. It came to my desk by official messenger, decoded, printed and sealed. _Jac Hallen, Inter-Allied News_. Come to me, North-east Island at once, if they can spare you. Important. Answer. Dr. Brende. Our Division Manager scanned the message curiously and told me I could go. I got off my answer. I did not dare call Dr. Brende openly, since he had used the code, but sent it the same way. I would be up at once. With a word of good-bye to Greys, I shoved aside my work, caught up a heavy jacket and cap and left the office. The levels outside our building were still jammed with an excited throng. I pushed my way through it, up to the entrance to the Staten Bridge. The waters of the harbor beneath me had a broad band of moonlight upon them, dim in the glare of the city lights. I glanced upward with satisfaction. A good night for air-traveling. My small personal air-car was on the stage near the bridge entrance. The attendant was there, staring at me as I dashed up in such haste. He handed me my key from the rack. "Going far, Jac? What a night! They'll be ordering them off if many more go up.... Going north?" "No," I said shortly. I was away, rising with my helicopters until the city was a yellow haze beneath me. I _was_ going north--to Dr. Brende's little private island off the coast of Maine. The lower lanes were pretty well crowded. I tried one of the north-bound at 8,000 feet; but the going was awkward. Then I went to 16,000. But Grille, the attendant back at the bridge, evidently had his finder on me, out of plain curiosity. He called me. "They'll chase you out of there," came his voice. "Nothing doing up there tonight. That's reserved. Didn't you know it?" I grinned at him. In the glow of my pitlight I hoped he could see my face and the grin. "They'll never catch me," I said. "I'm traveling fast tonight." "Chase you out," he persisted. "The patrol's keeping them low. General Orders, an hour ago. Didn't you know it?" "No."