Horta smiled grimly. "They will submit, or die." He gestured imperiously, and the guards pushed the flyers forward as Horta strode from the room. As they trailed behind, Moore whispered, "He doesn't look like a killer." "Probably a fanatic," Ross muttered. "What's the play?" "Watch our chance, and wreck the ray machine." "And us with it," grumbled Moore. "Most likely," Ross agreed. They entered a softly lit room, in the wake of Horta. As their eyes became accustomed to the dim light they gasped. There was Illeria. But beside her was the queen--Boada! * * * * * She swept them with a glance in which contempt was mingled with a kind of pity. "You did not expect to see me here," she said harshly. "But I serve the destiny of the Moon. The wise men have shown me that the Moon was never destined to serve the Earth, but must stand with the Blue Stars when the Universe is rent asunder. And now the Moon is ready to defend itself, thanks to the new King Horta!" In the silence that followed Ross heard the girl gasp. The queen spoke softly. "And you, my daughter, shall be the new queen, wife of the almighty Horta the Liberator." "Not," Ross muttered between his teeth, "if I can help it." "Me, too," whispered Moore. The girl said nothing. But her eyes sought Ross with piteous entreaty. Horta broke the silence. "The nuptials shall be solemnized in tomorrow's full light. You, Earth-men, shall remain under guard until you have given earnest proof of your fealty." The guards punched the two as Horta rapped an order in the Moon tongue, and they allowed themselves to be led away. Through a dim corridor they passed, and into a stone cell, with oddly fashioned stone bars and a door that slid on a metal base, locking them into their tomb. Ross circled the cell, then shook his head. "We couldn't get out of this without a ray machine," he muttered. Moore sat down against a wall. "Guess not. Say, Bruce, did you hear the old girl?" "The Universe is to be rent asunder," grunted Ross. "Where does that leave us?" "Behind the eight ball, as I believe they used to say back in the twentieth century," grinned Moore. "That is, that's where we would be if the Universe really were to be rent asunder." "Oh!" grunted Ross in heavy sarcasm. "So it isn't going to happen?" "Gosh, no," chuckled Moore. "It's the silliest kind of astrological fake, discredited two centuries ago. Where Horta picked it up I don't know. Probably he got some power from the blue stars by accident, and his faker astrologists strung him along on the big bust-up idea." "Nice clean fun," muttered Ross. "Well, we missed. Horta's still got his ray machine. He's also got the princess--and the queen for an ally." "He's also," amended Moore dryly, "got us." "And how," grunted Ross. "How long do you suppose we'll last if we don't--" He stopped abruptly. A faint noise came to his ears. "Hear that?" he asked, puzzled.