Acting quickly, Conroy threw open the door of the cell and scooped up the ray pistols of the two guards. Then, shoving them both within the cell, he locked them in with the vibro-key. He smiled. So far, so good. He turned to run back toward the Exec's office. There was no one there. He eased the outer door, gun in hand. Everything looked normal enough, in the outer office. Hiding the ray pistol in his tunic, he strode boldly out. The blonde at the desk said: "Why, yes, sir. The Captain and the other main officers left here several minutes ago." "Was anyone with them?" "Ah--yes, there was," she said. "Lieutenant Bayliss Kent and some other junior officers." Conroy nodded. That was as expected. "Did they say where they were going?" "There seems to be something wrong with the atomic furnace at Number Nineteen Thrust Tube. I heard them say they were going down to check it." "Thanks." He had no time to call anyone, no time to explain. He had to move fast if he was going to save the Captain and the others. Somehow, the thought of Kent's murdering the Captain was inconceivable. The old man had been on the ship half a century; he was the last survivor of the original crew, and was as much a part of the great starship by now as the drive engines and the navigator's turret. Conroy could see the whole fiendish plan. Bayliss Kent had forced the ship's officers down to Number Nineteen Thrust Tube, one of the huge projectors that drove the mighty ship through space. All Kent needed to do would be to kill them with ray pistols and claim that something had gone wrong with the atomic furnace. It would be impossible to disprove. And then Bayliss Kent would be Captain. Unless Peter Conroy could stop him. He raced through the gleaming, twisting corridors of the giant ship, running frantically down and down toward Number Nineteen Thrust Tube. He pushed his way past surprised crew members, circled into the lower levels of the ship, made his way through the network of passageways that led to the blast tubes. Finally he reached Power Section. The guard at the door was one of Kent's men. He looked up, startled, as Conroy appeared. "Where are you--?" Before the man could do anything, Conroy cut him down with a shot from his ray pistol. This was war--civil war--and there was no time for subtlety. He stepped over the body and flung open the door of Number Nineteen. * * * * * He took in the situation in a glance. The Staff Officers, including the Captain, were lined up against one wall, and four of Kent's men were aiming their ray pistols. Kent was saying: "Ready--aim--" But the last word never was uttered. Kent was beginning to form it when Conroy got both his guns out and started to fire. His first bolt smashed down the nearest executioner; a fraction of a second later, the man next to him dropped. Their attention deflected from the victims to Conroy, the other two and Kent whirled to face the newcomer.