Kang said simply, "Yes, Borisu, you are free." And he moved closely to the little man to cut the strips of cloth which bound his wrists. A knife flashed briefly, and then: "_Father!_" screamed Penny. "Father, look out! He--" Her words were drowned in a roar of rage as Gary, stirring belatedly, was witness to the last mad vengeance of the erstwhile kraedar Borisu. The instant his bonds had been stricken the little man's hands danced like serpents, turning the knife in Kang's hand and thrusting forward with all his strength. Kang grunted once heavily, then slumped forward, hands clutching futilely at a blade which clung half buried in his side. From between his clawing fingers surged ugly rivulets of crimson. Nor was this all. In the same flashing movement Borisu snapped a ray pistol from the falling doctor's belt, turned its lethal muzzle upon those who leaped toward him. His mad voice rose in harsh command. "Back! Back, all of you or I will ray you down like dogs. Victory, eh?" His laughter cackled shrilly. "Your moment of triumph? We shall see!" His tiny eyes darting from one to another of them to detect any slightest motion, he backed all the way across the room to where stood the most ponderous of all the machines in that control tower. A gigantic tube surrounded by gleaming coils and iridescent busbars. A huge, revolving drum of an instrument whose purpose Gary did not know. Borisu left him not long in doubt. Still mouthing the taunts and curses of a half-demented man, he clambered to a raised platform on this machine, loosed a panel, and dug his free hand somewhere deep into its entrails. "So," he mocked, "you have won victory? But out of your victory you shall drink only the dregs of deepest defeat! You and all your cursed universe!" Kang, who had lain as one dead where he had been stricken, now stirred and lifted his head dazedly. His eyes, turning slowly, sought and found Borisu, then widened in horror. He tried to speak, but his voice was a thick mumble; his words were punctuated by tiny streamers of blood that leaked from the corners of his mouth. "That ... machine! Don't ... let him ... touch it!" Borisu's quick gaze darted to the dying man. He laughed stridently. "Then you are not dead yet, my good doctor? You barbarians take a lot of killing. Well, I shall not finish the job. I much prefer that you should live long enough to watch, with your comrades, the vengeance of Borisu." * * * * * He tugged suddenly, and something came loose in his hand. Wires. Connecting wires of some sort. Instantly the low thrum which had sounded through the control chamber began to heighten. The tone crept higher up the tonic scale. Something within the machine Borisu had damaged was beginning to move faster and faster. "You dog!" grated Lark O'Day. "You filthy, conniving scoundrel! I'm coming after you. I'll break your neck with my bare hands if it's the last thing I--"