"Let yourself get emotionally involved in a problem and it'll turn around and bite you." He forced himself to sit back, his hands away from the controls. Then he looked back at the body on the courtyard paving. [Illustration] Gorham had implied that he was the power behind the whole present regime. Maybe he'd been bragging. But again, maybe he hadn't. There had been a queer, hard force about the man. There had been an aura which Don had sensed, but could not analyze. One thing was certain. This man had never been able to work under someone else's orders. He looked around the interior of the flier. "It's a Royal Guard job," he told himself. He could see painted legends, giving cautions and instructions to whomever should pilot the ship. He felt under the dash. There was a light board snapped into clips. He pulled it out and turned on the cabin lights. Yes, it was all there. Instructions for the identification devices--description of the identification and warning lights. It gave the location of switches--the settings for communications. There was even a small card inserted in a pocket. It gave the communications code used by patrol fliers in routine communication. Don smiled happily. Now, he could fly back to the hills. It would only take a few minutes, and---- Why should he? There was an easier way now. It would be much easier to ride this flier right on into Oreladar. If he headed for the hills, questions might be asked which would be hard to answer. But Oreladar would be the normal place for Gorham to go. And the Federation compound wasn't too far from the Palace. He could feint at the Palace landing pad, then---- He nodded and studied the lighting plan and identification settings. At last, he nodded in satisfaction, then turned his attention to the small card with the operations code. It was a simple, systematic arrangement, obviously arranged for day-to-day use, not for secrecy. He nodded and clipped it in front of him under the panel light, where he could see it easily. Then, he looked thoughtfully at the courtyard. There was a small chance that some guard might decide to come into the house, he decided. Of course, it was still to be regarded as a private home, and they had no right to---- He laughed sarcastically. "That would worry them!" he said aloud. He got out of the flier and leaned over the body of Gorham. It was surprisingly light. The man had been carrying almost unbelievable strength and power of will in a tiny, frail body. Don threw his load over his shoulder and climbed back into the flier. Then he sat back and looked dully at the control panel. * * * * * Suddenly, he felt completely drained. It was just too much effort to get this ship off the ground. And that long flight to Oreladar? Just how much was a guy supposed to do in one day?