_The forces of the Universe met at Lion Mesa. They were represented by the rebel Terrans; by Dowland of the Interstellar Police; and by the monstrous shapes from an alien galaxy. They all sought the same thing: the time-wrenching power of ..._ The BEACON to ELSEWHERE Complete Novel by JAMES H. SCHMITZ Illustrated by FINLAY [Transcriber's Note: This etext was produced from Amazing Stories April 1963. Extensive research did not uncover any evidence that the U.S. copyright on this publication was renewed.] It didn't happen twice a year that Gustavus Robert Fry, Chief Commissioner of the Interstellar Police Authority, allotted more than an hour in his working day to any one appointment. However, nobody in the outer offices was surprised to learn that the chief expected to remain in conference until noon today, and was not to be disturbed before then. The visitor who had been ushered in to him--without benefit of appointment--was Howard Camhorn, the Overgovernment's Coordinator of Research. It was a meeting of political mastodons. Portentous events would be on the agenda. Seated at the desk in his private office, Gus Fry, massive, strong-jawed, cold-eyed--looking precisely like the power-house, political and otherwise, which he was--did not feel entirely at ease. Howard Camhorn, sprawled in a chair half across the room from the Chief Commissioner, might have passed for a middle-aged, moderately successful artist. He was lanky, sandy-haired, with a lazy smile, lazier gestures. But he was, by several degrees, the bigger VIP of the two. Camhorn said, "There's no question at all, of course, that the space transport your boys picked up is the one we're interested in. But is it absolutely certain that our Ym-400 is no longer on board?" Fry shrugged. "It's certain that it isn't in the compartment where it was stored for the trip--and the locks to that compartment have been forced. It's possible that whoever removed the two Ym cases has concealed them in some other part of the ship. That would be easy to do, but...." Camhorn shook his head. "No," he said. "Nobody would benefit from that. I'm afraid we'll have to resign ourselves to the fact that the stuff has been taken." * * * * * Fry said, "It looks like it. The police search will go on until your own investigators get there, but there's no reason to believe anything will be found." "The ship's course had been reset so that it was headed into unoccupied space?" "Yes," said Fry. "It was only by a very improbable coincidence that an IPA boat happened to spot it. The transport's new course wouldn't have brought it anywhere near a traffic lane, inhabited planet, or normal patrol route. Three weeks later, when its fuel was exhausted, the planted explosives would have blown it up without a chance that the wreckage would ever be detected."