They walked on, came at last to one of the prefabricated dwellings which seemed no different from all the others. It was late autumn, 1954, but here in southern Nevada, warm winds swept uncomfortably through the dusty street. A short, stocky man met them at the door. "You'll have to be quiet," he said. "Dr. Jangor, how is my father?" "Badly hurt, I'm afraid. He'll live, but we had to amputate his right leg above the knee. Come in, child." Tedor followed Laniq awkwardly inside. "He's in there," the doctor said, pointing to a closed door. "I'd better wait outside," Tedor told Laniq. "No, I want you with me." Shrugging, Tedor followed her within the room. His head propped on pillows, a man lay in the single bed. He was neither awake, nor asleep, but in that half-way state, semi-conscious, dreamy, yet extremely lucid. "He's been doped against the pain," said Dr. Jangor, and closed the door behind him. "Dad," Laniq called softly. The head on the pillow stirred. Sweat beaded the skin, ran into the eyes and made them squint. "Dad, it's Laniq." The lips hardly moved, but Tedor heard: "La-niq? Laniq, you've come back." She knelt by the bed, let her hand rest on her father's feverish brow. "It's all right now, Dad. Everything's going to be all right." "They destroyed the starship, Laniq. Completely. We--don't have that way out any longer. We've got to beat the monopolist in Russia. It's his last chance." Domique Hadrien spoke without heat, with no emotion at all. The words spilled from his lips one after the other, tonelessly. "We have beaten him all along the line, without even knowing his identity. But he has the best chance in Russia and knows it. "We approach 1955, the crucial year. I said it was the monopolist's last chance. Well, it is ours as well. If he wins in Russia, if he goes on to unite the whole 20th century world as a Russian slave state, then he's on his way toward ultimate conquest of all time. Think of the power at his disposal: an Army to be drawn from two and a half billion people. We must stop him. "Who is with you, Laniq?" "A friend," Laniq assured him. "You can talk." "I--I know what we have to do. A one-legged man, recuperating, isn't good for much. Someone must go to Russia and--" "I can go," Tedor said. "I have contacts there. Century Agents." "I'll go with you," Laniq told him. "You'll stay right here." "Yes? What would you do in Russia?" "Well--" "Do you have a plan?" "Of course not--yet. But I could see what's happening--" * * * * * Domique Hadrien seemed more clearly awake, more alert. "Nonsense, young man. When it comes to intrigue, Laniq is as capable as a man. Further, she knows what we've been planning all along." "What's that?"