"Looks intact, but he probably has sidearms. All the pirates carry them. One funny thing, Director. The timer robot has been removed from the control panel. What on Callisto would he want with a loose timer?" "Report back to headquarters immediately, Captain Wayne," Director Barrow ordered. The hum of the carrier wave died and Mart clicked off the set. Then, belatedly, he stood up and saluted. "Anything I can do, sir? Everything's set for the freighters to clear as usual, so I'm more or less free--" Barrow nodded. "Very good, Wells. You may go to the field and direct a search of the freighters. The Venusian's first thought will be to get away, and he may already be stowed in one of--" A dry voice interrupted from behind the Director's back. "But the Venusian would not do anything so obvious, Director Barrow." Mart whirled around. Barrow turned slowly and with dignity. It was the tall man dressed in the uniform of a smelting plant worker who had spoken. But he wasn't dark-haired any more. Still seated, he was smiling at them sardonically as he fanned himself with a black wig he had just removed. The top of his head was as smooth as a billiard ball, and dead white. There was a line of demarcation where the dye he had applied to his face came to an end. He had removed the tinted glasses too, and the blank-surfaced gray eyeballs showed why they had been worn. Now that the simple disguise of wig and glasses was removed, Mart noted some of the other distinguishing features that marked the Venusian. The general flatness of the face and flat unconvoluted ears. The six-fingered hands that had probably been thrust into the pockets of the stolen uniform. The Venusian glanced down at the wig and glasses. "Standard equipment," he explained. "I always carry them in my ship and they've come in handy before." He rose and bowed mockingly. "My name is Tar Norn, and your supposition that I am a pirate is correct. But I assure you that my visit here is accidental and I have no designs on Comprotown." Tar Norn! The most vicious and notorious of the pirates, and the most ruthless killer of them all. Mart hastily jerked open the drawer of his desk and pulled out a hand-blaster. He started the formula: "Under authority of the Interplanetary Council, I arrest you, to be held for trial--" The sardonic smile did not fade from the pirate's thin lips. He rose and extended his arms upward. "I am unarmed," he cut in. "It will help our discussion if you will verify that." "--before the Supreme Council on Earth," Mart finished. Then, glancing side-wise at Director Barrow and seeing him nod, he stepped forward warily. Venusians, he knew, were both fast and tricky. Watching every move, he completed the search. Tar Norn carried no weapons. Why, Mart wondered, had the pirate walked openly into headquarters and given himself up? Obviously, Tar Norn had something up his sleeve. But--