"Right. And he's tightened the beam to less than a hundred miles' dispersion. Now, every time a sunspot gets hit amidships with a lady sunspot, the beam goes off on a tangent. We've lost the beam eleven times in a week. That's more times than I've lost it in three years!" "O.K.," said Channing. "So what? Mastermind is responsible. We'll sit tight and wait for developments. In any display of abilities, we can spike Mr. Burbank. Have another drink?" "Got any more? If you're out, I've got a couple of cases cached underneath the bed in my apartment." "I've plenty," said Channing. "And I'll need plenty. I have exactly twenty-two hours left in which to produce something comparable to the telephone, the electric light, the airplane, or the expanding universe! Phooey. Pour me another, Arden." A knock at the door; a feminine voice interrupted simultaneously. "May I come in?" It was Walt's secretary. She looked worried. In one hand she waved another letter. "Another communiqué?" asked Channing. "Worse. Notice that for the last three hours, there have been less than twelve percent of messages relayed!" "Five minutes' operation out of an hour," said Channing. "Where's that from?" "Came out on the Terra beam. It's marked number seventeen, so I guess that sixteen other tries have been made." "What has Mastermind tried this time?" stormed Channing. He tore out of the room and headed for the Director's office on a dead run. On the way, he hit his shoulder on the door, caromed off the opposite wall, righted himself, and was gone in a flurry of flying feet. Three heads popped out of doors to see who was making the noise. Channing skidded into Burbank's office on his heels. "What gives?" he snapped. "D'ya realize that we've lost the beam? What have you been doing?" "It is a minor difficulty," said Burbank calmly. "We will iron it out presently." "Presently! Our charter doesn't permit interruptions of service of that magnitude. I ask again: What are you doing?" "You, as electronics engineer, have no right to question me. I repeat, we shall iron out the difficulty presently." Channing snorted and tore out of Burbank's office. He headed for the Office of Beam Control, turned the corner on one foot, and slammed the door in roughly. "Chuck!" he yelled. "Chuck Thomas! Where are you?" No answer. Channing left the beam office and headed for the master control panels, out near the air lock end of Venus Equilateral. He found Thomas stewing over a complicated piece of apparatus. "Chuck, for the Love of Michael, what in the devil is going on?" "Thought you knew," answered Thomas. "Burbank had the crew install photoelectric mosaic banks on the beam controls. He intends to use the photomosaics to keep Venus, Terra, and Mars on the beam." "Great Snivelling Scott! They tried that in the last century and tossed it out three days later. Where's the crew now?" "Packing for home. They've been laid off!"