"Is it?" she asked. "Watch!" * * * * * Jenna passed through the door and left. Moments later, the whine of a skyplane crescendoed and diminished. Jenna was heading for the next site. Lindsay sat for a long time, his mind whirling. Jenna was right. He'd been fretting over his denial of the right to command. It hadn't been fair. A group of psychoneurotics--commanded by one. Himself. Not denied the right to command because of his wife, but because of his psychotic nature. For one, any Terran who would enter a mixed-marriage was not possessed of the normal adjustment, and the same true of any Martian. Secondly, were he normal, fighting in combat would produce a psychotic condition since he'd be set against his wife's countrymen. He leaped up and ran to the driving panel. Harshly he threw the autopilot out of gear and took the controls himself. The ship took off raggedly and hissed through the upper air, racing. "Jenna!" he called into the radio. No answer. "Jenna! Turn on your receiver! Please," he begged. No answer. His trembling hands turned up the power and the ship shuddered at the overload drive. The upper air shrilled against rivet head and port sill. The burble point came and the ship shook and rattled terribly. Yet he knew that he had but an even chance. For Jenna was driving a superspeed plane that could race as fast as the big ship--with less danger in atmosphere. No spacecraft was made to travel horizontally across a planet. But Ralph Lindsay in a frenzy, swore at the sidelong pace, and turned his ship to arrow through the upper air. The burble died, but throughout the ship came the rattle of falling objects, dumped from table and shelf. He continued to cry into the microphone, and strained his ears for the answer that was not there. He depressed the nose of the ship and went into a steep, screaming dive. He--saw her. A minute speck, even through the telescope. And at the moment he saw her, she stepped from the plane onto the ground, and spoke to him through the radio. "I've no receiver on, Ralph. But listen--and stay back!" "Jenna!" he screamed. "Your duty, remember?" she said quietly. "It is to solve these--things. Your duty, I took away, and now I will return it." "Jenna!" he pleaded. "I don't want--" In futility, he gave up. She could not hear. An hypnosis took him, held him in its grip. "Ralph," she said. "Watch carefully." He shook himself. Angrily, he fought the controls. Madly he tried to urge another dyne from the drivers. He would be--too late. "Jenna! Don't!" "Ralph, I'm approaching the bomb. I am now seventy feet from it. See?" Seventy feet? "I'm seventy feet from it, Ralph, because I've thought only of you. Not once have I thought of defus--"