Underwood called suddenly into his microphone, turning up the power to reach the other groups of explorers and those yet at the ship. "Underwood calling. We're attacked by Demarzule's garrison. Defend--" A laugh cut him off. "They would like to defend, no doubt, but the rest of them are as helpless as you are. Do you suppose that you could outwit the all-knowing mind of the Great One? He will be pleased to see those who dared match wits with him. He will be even more pleased with his servants for returning you." Underwood could not see the speaker because the ring of lights blinded them, but now one of the spacesuited figures stepped forward into the light of the other lamps and gestured imperiously. "Back to your ship!" he commanded. "We will return to Earth at once, as soon as all of you are rounded up. Don't think of escape. We outnumber you ten to one in this city, and those of us who stood guard in other places will join us. Our fleet has been notified already of our success and they will return immediately to escort us back." There was no identifying the voice of the speaker as other than Terrestrian, but there was something in it that none of their semantically trained minds had ever heard before, something that chilled and terrified the sensitive Dreyer. Underwood sensed it, and his mind struggled to evaluate its implications. The voice was that of one who has seen a great and mighty destiny for himself and his race, all the more shining because unrestricted by reality. And in that great and illusory dream, all creatures other than himself and his chosen god sank into insignificance. * * * * * It was the voice and the dream of a madman. None of the others spoke, but they remained like diligent herdsmen as the scientists were forced to walk back up the long incline, leaving the scooters behind. Out on the surface again, they saw that there were at least two dozen of the Great One's Disciples, indistinguishable in space garb. They had planned with obvious care, doubtless with maps provided by Demarzule, placing units of their garrison at strategic points where the scientists would be most likely to explore first. Underwood hoped that perhaps some of the other groups had had better luck than his, but it was unlikely, for the scientists had been totally unprepared for attack. When the fleet had been seen retreating into space, they had assumed that threat from that quarter had vanished with it. They marched slowly between the black and shining planes of the city's walls toward the _Lavoisier_, and as they moved they saw other groups of the scientists being led back from the opposite side of the landing area. The ship had already been taken over. That hadn't been difficult, Underwood supposed. Any approaching figures would have been taken for some of the scientists returning. Inside the ship, when the invaders burst from the airlocks, weapons ready, the scientists would have had little chance.