A room took form upon the screen, a bleak, bare, metal room where blue-uniformed Federation crewmen moved to and fro. Ungo clipped: "The screen-room--! The screen-room of Gundre's own fleet flagship, down on Vesta!" Mute, Jarl Corvett nodded; focussed. * * * * * Now a new figure appeared before the screen ... the iron-backed, handsome figure of High Commissioner _rey_ Gundre. Deep lines etched his lean face. His hair was mussed, his tunic-collar open. But he stood erect, and his eyes were cold as Pluto's ice-things. His voice came, harsh and savage: "You _starbos_! If you've laid one finger on my daughter, I swear by every god from here to Arcturus that you'll die by inches!" A spark of quick admiration touched Jarl Corvett; and with it came flooding a feeling that was almost pity. But he held his face cold, and twisted his lips in a mocking, mirthless smile. "Brave talk, Commissioner!" And then: "You can have her back, you know ... in exchange for _Ktar_ Wassreck!" _rey_ Gundre's mouth twisted. "You _chitza_! You know he's gone!" "Then get him back." "From the _slan_-chambers, the Venus headquarters?" _rey_ Gundre cursed. "From hell, if need be!" Jarl took a quick half-step forward; stood with hands on hips, feet wide apart, in fierce, cold-eyed defiance. He let his voice ring: "The choice is yours, Commissioner! How much do you love her? Take your pick now! It's her, or _Ktar_ Wassreck!" The older man brought up a fist that shook with fury. His face worked in a twitching spasm. "I'll blast you, Corvett! By the gods, I'll blast you--!" "Blast, then," Jarl shrugged. "Blast, and be damned! But remember--your daughter's with us!" Things happened to the other's face, then ... things that were not good to see. The cheeks sagged, and the mouth went limp, and the eyes' fire dulled to coals of pain. Of a sudden _rey_ Gundre was no longer the high commissioner, but only a shriveled husk of a man all at once grown old beyond his years. He swayed, then turned, as if he had forgotten Jarl and the raiders. "Atak, what can I do--?" It was a plea, a supplication. His _Malya_ aide moved into view beside him on the screen. The dark, rough-hewn face had the set of granite. "Corvett...." Jarl forgot his pity. Sudden needles of tension pricked at his neck. "Yes." "Tell me, raider--have you heard of _Ktar_ Wassreck's new projector?" "Yes." "And that we've already set it up--that this moment it's geared for action?" Woodenly, Jarl nodded. The _Malya's_ eyes grew black as the void. "Then know another thing. Jarl Corvett! Know that we've plotted your course as you ranged off from Vesta." Chill tendrils brushed Jarl's spine. But he held his face blank, without emotion. "And so--?" "So you, too, have a choice to make, raider--the choice between coming back, or trying to cross the void in a short-flight carrier." * * * * *