"If it ever came to hostilities between us we'd be doomed, overwhelmed almost before we realized what was happening." Saxon listened in astonishment. The thought in the back of his mind kept trying to push to the fore, but he repressed it, afraid that the Aliens might see it. "Their amazing fecundity," the Moderator was saying, "their short life spans, their ingenuity and ferocity made them a very real menace even isolated outside our stellar system. Fortunately, we also foresaw the inevitable crisis and prepared for it." "Crisis?" Saxon echoed. "The time when the humanoids would reach our scientific level and surpass us," said the Moderator in a grim voice. "That time has arrived!" IX Somewhere a bell began to ring shrilly. Saxon saw an expression of annoyance pass across the Moderator's wrinkled visage. He pressed a button set in the table top. The bell stopped ringing. A voice began to speak in an alien tongue directly behind Saxon. The burly nuclear physicist spun around in surprise. He was looking into the control room of a small private space yacht! The deception was so realistic that Saxon gasped before he noticed the three beams of light converging from lenses in the wall, focusing at a point directly behind him to form the solid appearing image. A three-dimensional televisor complete with sound! Then all speculation was driven from his mind as he recognized the figure who was speaking. Mustapha IX, Supreme Autocrat of the Terran Empire! The image of Mustapha sat stiffly in an acceleration chair before the control panel of the space yacht. His voice, rattling away in the strange language, was high, tense, frightened. Saxon, unable to understand, looked over his shoulder at the seven old men. They were all on their feet, staring in disbelief at the three dimensional image. The Moderator's hands began to tremble. He sat down as if his knees had turned to water. The voice rattled on and on. At last Mustapha IX quit talking. The Moderator pressed the button. The image dissolved. A stunned silence followed, as one by one the old men sank back to their seats. Saxon, devoured with curiosity, asked, "What was it?" The Moderator gave him a level glance. "That was the man you know as Mustapha IX, Supreme Autocrat of the Terran Empire. He was reporting from his private yacht which has just emerged from the time field and is decelerating. It'll be a week before he lands on Vark." "Mustapha IX?" Saxon burst out. "Here on Vark? But that's impossible. What's he doing--" "There's been civil war," the Moderator interrupted savagely. "General Atomic has overthrown Government. General Atomic is the Terran Government now!" "But I don't see ..." protested Saxon. "Bah! I spoke of controls. Naturally our first necessity has been to control the humanoid's government. The Supreme Autocrats have all been Varkans, our governors, which we sent to Earth!