Talents, Incorporated

by Murray Leinster

  Produced by Greg Weeks, Stephen Blundell and the OnlineDistributed Proofreading Team at https://www.pgdp.net

  [Cover Illustration]

  Bors felt as if he'd been hit over the head. This was ridiculous! He'dplanned and carried out the destruction of that warship because theinformation of its existence and location was _verified_ by amagnetometer.

  But, if he'd known _how_ the information had been obtained--if he'dknown it had been _guessed at_ by a discharged spaceport employee, and aparanoid personality, and a man who used a hazel twig or somethingsimilar--if he'd known _that_, he'd never have dreamed of accepting it.He'd have dismissed it flatly!

  * * * * *

  Aficionados of science fiction recognize and respect MURRAY LEINSTER asa writer of rare talent. His ingenuity of plot, his technical know-howand flight of imagination in TALENTS, INCORPORATED will go far toincrease his stature and popularity as an exciting and thought-provokingstoryteller.

  AVON BOOK DIVISION The Hearst Corporation 572 Madison Avenue--New York 22, N.Y.

  _TALENTS, INCORPORATED_

  Murray Leinster

  Copyright, (C), 1962, by Murray Leinster. All rights reserved. Published by arrangement with the author. Printed in the U.S.A.

  Transcriber's Note:

  Extensive research did not uncover any evidence that the U.S. copyright on this publication was renewed. Minor spelling and typographical errors have been corrected without note. Subscript characters are shown within {braces}.

  TALENTS, INCORPORATED

  _Part One_

  Chapter 1

  Young Captain Bors--who impatiently refused to be called anythingelse--was strangely occupied when the communicator buzzed. He'd rippedaway the cord about a thick parcel of documents and heaved them into thefireplace of the office of the Minister for Diplomatic Affairs. A fireburned there, and already there were many ashes. The carpet and thechairs of the cabinet officer's sanctum were coated with fine whitedust. As the communicator buzzed again, Captain Bors took a fireplacetool and stirred the close-packed papers to looseness. They caught andburned instead of only smouldering.

  The communicator buzzed yet again. He brushed off his hands and pressedthe answer-stud.

  He said bleakly: "Diplomatic Affairs. Bors speaking."

  The communicator relayed a voice from somewhere else with an astonishingfidelity of tone.

  "_Spaceport, sir. A ship just broke out of overdrive. We don't identifyits type. One ship only, sir._"

  Bors said grimly;

  "You'd recognize a liner. If it's a ship from the Mekinese fleet andstays alone, it could be coming to receive our surrender. In that caseplay for time and notify me."

  "_Yes, sir.--One moment! It's calling, sir! Here it is--._"

  There was a clicking, and then there came a voice which had the curiousquality of a loudspeaker sound picked up and relayed through anotherloudspeaker.

  "_Calling ground! Calling ground! Space-yacht_ Sylva _reports arrivaland asks coordinates for landing. Our mass is two hundred tons standard.Purpose of visit, pleasure-travel._"

  A pause. The voice from the spaceport:

  "_Sir?_"

  Captain Bors said impatiently, "Oh, let him down and see if he knowsanything about the Mekinese. Then advise him to go away at once. Tellhim why."

  "_Yes, sir._"

  A click. Young Captain Bors returned to his task of burning papers.These were the confidential records of the Ministry for DiplomaticAffairs. Captain Bors wore the full-dress uniform of the space navy ofthe planet Kandar. It was still neatly pressed but was now smudged withsoot and smeared with ashes. He had burned a great many papers today.Elsewhere in the Ministry other men were burning other documents. Theother papers were important enough; they were confidential reports fromvolunteer- and paid-agents on twenty planets. In the hands ofill-disposed persons, they could bring about disaster and confusion andinterplanetary tension. But the ones Captain Bors made sure of weredeadly.

  He burned papers telling of conditions on Mekin itself. The authors ofsuch memoranda would be savagely punished if they were found out. Thenthere were papers telling of events on Tralee. If it could be said thathe were more painstakingly destructive than average about anything,Captain Bors was about them. He saw to it that they burned to ashes. Hecrushed the ashes. He stirred them. It would be unthinkable that suchmorsels could ever be pieced together and their contents even guessedat.

  He went on with the work. His jaunty uniform became more smeared andsmudged. He gave himself no rest. There were papers from other planetsnow under the hegemony of Mekin. Some were memoranda from citizens ofthis planet, who had traveled upon the worlds which Mekin dominated asit was about to dominate Kandar. They, especially had to be pulverized.Every confidential document in the Ministry for Diplomatic Affairs wasin the process of destruction, but Captain Bors in person destroyedthose which would cause most suffering if read by the wrong persons.

  In other ministries and other places similar holocausts were under way.There was practically nothing going on on Kandar which was not relatedto the disaster for which the people of that world waited. The feel ofbitterness and despair was everywhere. Broadcasting stations stayed onthe air only to report monotonously that the tragic event had not yethappened. The small space-navy of Kandar waited, aground, to take theking and some other persons on board at the last moment. When theMekinese navy arrived--or as much of it as was needed to make resistancehopeless--the end for Kandar would have come. That was the impendingdisaster. If it came too soon, Bors's task of destruction couldn't becompleted as was wished. In such a case this Ministry and all the otherswould hastily be doused with incendiary material and fired, and it woulddesperately be hoped that all the planet's records went up in theflames.

  Captain Bors flung more and more papers on the blaze. He came to an endof them.

  The communicator buzzed, again. He answered once more.

  "_Sir, the space-yacht_ Sylva _is landed. It comes from Norden and hasno direct information about the Mekinese. But there's a man named Morganwith a very important letter for the Minister for Diplomatic Affairs.It's from the Minister for Diplomatic Affairs on Norden._"

  Bors said sardonically, "Maybe he should wait a few days or hours andgive it to the Mekinese! Send him over if he wants to take the chance,but warn him not to let anybody from his yacht leave the spaceport!"

  "_Yes, sir._"

  Bors made a quick circuit of the Ministry building to make sure the restof the destruction was thoroughly carried out. He glanced out of awindow and saw the other ministries. From their chimneys thick smokepoured out--the criminal records were being incinerated in the Ministryof Police. Tax records were burning in the Ministry of Finance.Educational information about Kandarian citizens flamed and smoked inthe Ministry of Education. Even voting and vehicle-registry lists werebeing wiped out of existence by flames and the crushing of ashes atappropriate agencies. The planet's banks were completing thedistribution of coin and currency, with promissory notes to thosedepositors they could not pay in full, and the real-estate registerswere open so individuals could remove and hide or destroy their titlesto property. The stockholders' books of corporations were being burned.Small ships parted with their wares and took promises of payment inreturn. The planet Kandar, in fact, made ready to receive itsconquerors.

  It was not conquered yet, but there could be no hope.

  Bors was in the act of brushing off his hands again, in a sort ofsymbolic gesture of completion, when a ground-car stopped before theMinistry. A stout man got out. A rather startlingly pretty girlfollowed. They advanced to the door of the Ministry.

  Presently, Captain Bors received the two visitors. His once-jauntyuniform looked
like a dustman's. He was much more grim than anybody hisage should ever be.

  "Your name is Morgan," he said formidably to the stout man. "You have aletter for the Minister. He's not here. He's gathering up his family. Ifanyone's in charge, I am."

  The stout man cheerfully handed over a very official envelope.

  Bors said caustically, "I don't ask you to sit down because everything'scovered with ash-dust. Excuse me."

  He tore open the envelope and read its contents. His impatienceincreased.

  "In normal times," he said, "I'm sure this would be most interesting.But these are not normal times. I'm afraid--"

  "I know! I know!" said the stout man exuberantly. "If times were normalI wouldn't be here! I'm president and executive director of Talents,Incorporated. From that letter you'll see that we've done veryremarkable things for different governments and businesses. I'd like totalk to someone with the authority to make a policy decision. I want toshow what we can do for you."

  "It's too late to do anything for us," said Bors. "Much too late. Weexpect the Mekinese fleet at any instant. You'd better go back to thespaceport and take off in your yacht. They're going to take over thisplanet after a slight tumult we expect to arrange. You won't want to behere when they come."

  Morgan waved a hand negligently.

  "They won't arrive for four days," he said confidently. "That's Talents,Incorporated information. You can depend on it! There's plenty of timeto prepare before they get here!" He smiled, as if at a joke.

  Young Captain Bors was not impressed. He and all the other officers ofthe Kandarian defense forces had searched desperately for something thatcould be done to avert the catastrophe before them. They'd failed tofind even the promise of a hope. He couldn't be encouraged by theconfidence of a total stranger,--and a civilian to boot. He'd takenrefuge in anger.

  The pretty girl said suddenly, "Captain, at least we can reassure you onone thing. Your government chartered four big liners to removegovernment officials and citizens who'll be on the Mekinese black list.You're worried for fear they won't get here in time. But my father--"

  The stout man looked at his watch.

  "Ah, yes! You don't want the fleet cluttered up with civilians when ittakes to space! I'm happy to tell you it won't be. The first of yourfour liners will break out of overdrive in--hm--three minutes, twentyseconds. Two others will arrive tomorrow, one at ten minutes after noon,the other three hours later. The last will arrive the day after, atabout sunrise here."

  Bors went a trifle pale.

  "I doubt it. It's supposed to be a military secret that such ships areon the way. Since you know it, I assume that the Mekinese do, too. Ineffect, you seem to be a Mekinese spy. But you can hardly do any moreharm! I advise you to go back to your yacht and leave Kandarimmediately. If our citizens find out you are spies, they will literallytear you to pieces."

  He looked at them icily. The stout man grinned.

  "Listen, your h-- Captain, listen to me! The first liner will reportinside of five minutes. That'll be a test. Here's another. There's aMekinese heavy cruiser aground on Kandar right now! It's on the seabottom fifty fathoms down, five miles magnetic north-north-east fromCape Farnell! You can check that! The cruiser's down there to lob afusion bomb into your space-fleet when it starts to take off for theflight you're planning--to get all the important men on Kandar in onesmash! That's Talents, Incorporated information! It's a free sample. Youcan verify it without it costing you anything, and when you want moreand better information--why--we'll be at the spaceport ready to give itto you. And you will want to call on us! That's Talents, Incorporatedinformation, too!"

  He turned and marched confidently--almost grandly--out of the room. Thegirl smiled faintly at Bors.

  "He left out something, Captain. That cruiser-- It could hardly actwithout information on when to act. So there's a pair of spies in alittle shack on the cape. They've got an underwater cable going underthe sand beach and out and down to the space-cruiser. They're watchingthe fleet on the ground with telescopes. When they see activity aroundit, they'll tell the cruiser what to do." Then she smiled more broadly."Honestly, it's true! And don't forget about the liner!"

  She followed her father out of the room. Outside, as they got into thewaiting ground-car, she said to her father, "If he smiled, I think I'dlike him."

  But Bors did not know that at the time. He would probably not have paidany attention if he had. Kandar was about to be taken over by theMekinese, as his own Tralee had been ten years before, and other planetsbefore that. Mekin was making an empire after an ancient tradition,which scorned the idea of incorporating other worlds into its owngovernmental system--which was appalling--but merely made them subjectsand satellites and tributaries.

  Bors had been born on Tralee, which he remembered as a tranquil world ofglamor and happiness. But he was on Kandar now. He served in itsspace-navy, and he foresaw Kandar becoming what Tralee had become. Hefelt such hatred and rebellion toward Mekin, that he could not notice apretty girl. He was getting ready for the savage last battle of thespace-fleet of Kandar, which would fight in the great void until it wasannihilated. There was nothing else to do if one was not to submit tothe arrogant tyranny that already lorded it over twenty-two subjectplanets and might extend itself indefinitely throughout the galaxy.

  He moved to verify again the complete pulverizing of the ashes in thefireplace.

  The communicator buzzed. He pressed the answer button. A voice said,"_Sir, the space-liner_ Vestis _reports breakout from overdrive. Nowdriving for port. Message ends._"

  Bors's eyes popped wide. He'd heard exactly that only minutes ago! Itcould be coincidence, but it was a very remarkable one. The man Morganhad come to him to tell him that. If he'd come for some other reason,and merely made a guess, it could be coincidence. But he'd come only totell Bors that he could be useful! And it was impossible, at adestination-port, to know when a ship would break out of overdrive!Einstein's data on the anomalies of time at speeds near that of lightnaturally did not apply to overdrive speeds above it. Nobody couldconceivably predict when a ship from many light-years away would arrive!But Morgan had! It was impossible!

  He'd said something else that was impossible, too. He'd said there was aMekinese cruiser on the sea-floor of Kandar, where it could blast allthe local fleet--which was ready to fight but vulnerable to a singlefusion-bomb. If such a thing happened, the impending disaster would beworse than intolerable. To Bors it would mean dying without a chance tostrike even the most futile of blows at the enemy.

  He hesitated a long minute. Morgan's errand had been to make aprediction and give a warning, to gain credence for what he could dolater. The prediction was fulfilled. But the warning....

  An enemy cruiser in ambush on Kandar was a possibility that simplyhadn't been considered--hadn't even occurred to anyone. But once it wasmentioned it seemed horribly likely. There was no time for a search atrandom, but if Morgan had been right about one thing he might have someway to know about another.

  Bors gave curt orders to his subordinates in the work ofrecord-destruction. He went out of the building to the greensward mallthat lay between the ministries of the government, and headed for thepalace at its end. The government of Kandar was not one of great pompand display. There was a king, to be sure, but nobody could imagine theperspiringly earnest King Humphrey the Eighth as a tyrant. There weretitles, it was true, but they were life appointments to the planet'slegislative Upper House. Kandar was a tranquil, quaint, and very happyworld. There were few industries, and those were small. Nobody wasunduly rich, and most of its people were contented. It was a world withno history of bloodshed--until now.

  Bors brushed absently at his uniform as he walked the two hundred yardsto the palace. He abstractedly acknowledged the sentries' salutes as heentered. Much of the palace guard had been sent away, and most of thepalace's small staff would hide from the Mekinese. The aggressors had anasty habit of imposing special humiliations upon citizens who'd beenprominent before they were co
nquered.

  He went unannounced into King Humphrey's study, where the monarchconferred dispiritedly with Captain Bors's uncle, the exiled Pretenderof Tralee, who listened with interest. The king was talking doggedly tohis old friend.

  "No. You're mistaken. You'll have my written order to distribute thebullion in the Treasury to all the cities, to be shared as evenly aspossible by all the people. The Mekinese can't blame you for obeying anorder of your lawful king before they unlawfully seize the kingdom!"

  Captain Bors said curtly, "Majesty, the first of the four liners is in.Two more will arrive tomorrow and the last at sunrise the day after. TheMekinese will be here two days later."

  King Humphrey and Captain Bors's uncle stared at him.

  "And," said Bors, "the same source of information says there's aMekinese cruiser waiting underwater off Cape Farnell to lob a fusionbomb at the fleet as it's ready to lift."

  King Humphrey said, "But nobody can possibly know that two liners willcome tomorrow! One hopes so, of course. But one can't know! As for acruiser, submerged, there's been no report of it."

  "The information," said Captain Bors, "came from Talents, Incorporated.It's sample information, given free. The first item has checked. He camewith a letter from a cabinet minister on Norden."

  Bors handed it to the Pretender of Tralee.

  "Mmmm," he said thoughtfully. "I've heard of this Talents, Incorporated.And on Norden, too! Phillip of Norden mentioned it to me. A man namedMorgan had told him that Talents, Incorporated had secured informationthat an atom bomb--a fission bomb as I remember, and quite small--hadbeen set to assassinate him as he laid a cornerstone. The informationturned out to be correct. Phillip of Norden and some thousands of hissubjects would have been killed. The assassins were really going toextremes. As I remember, Morgan wouldn't accept money for the warning.He _did_ accept a medal."

  "I think," said Bors, "I think I shall investigate what he said about aMekinese ship in hiding. You've no objection, Majesty?"

  King Humphrey the Eighth looked at the Pretender. One was remarkablyunlike the other. The King was short and stocky and resolute, as if toovercome his own shortcomings. The pretender was lean and gray, with themild look of a man who has schooled himself to patience underfrustration. He nodded. King Humphrey shook his head.

  "Very well," said Bors. "I'll borrow a flier and see about it."

  He left the palace. There was already disorganization everywhere. Theplanetary government was in process of destroying all the machinery bywhich Kandar had been governed, as if to make the Mekinese improvise agovernment anew. They would make many blunders, of course, which wouldbe resented by their new subjects. There would be much fumbling, whichwould keep the victims of their conquest from regarding them withrespect. And there would be the small tumult Bors had said was inpreparation. The king and the Kandarian fleet would fight, quitehopelessly and to their own annihilation, when the Mekinese fleetappeared. It would be something Kandar would always remember. It waslikely that she would not be the most docile of the worlds conquered byMekin. The Mekinese would always and everywhere be resented. But onKandar they would also be despised.

  Bors found the ground-cars which waited to carry the king and those whowould accompany him, to the fleet when the time came. He commandeered aground-car and a driver. He ordered himself driven to theatmosphere-flier base of the fleet.

  On the way the driver spoke apologetically. "Captain, sir, I'd like tosay something."

  "Say it," said Bors.

  "I'm sorry, sir, but I've got a wife and children. Even for their sakes,sir. I mean, if it wasn't for them I'd--I'd be going with the fleet.I--wanted to explain--"

  "Why you're staying alive?" asked Bors. "You shouldn't feel apologetic.Getting killed in the fleet ought to follow at least the killing of afew Mekinese. There should be some satisfaction in that! But if you stayhere your troubles still won't be over, and there'll be very littlesatisfaction in what you'll go through. What the fleet will do will bedramatic. What you'll do won't. You'll have the less satisfying role. Ithink the fleet is taking the easy way out."

  The driver was silent for a long time as he drove along the strangelyunfrequented highways. Just before the ground-car reached the air base,he said awkwardly, "Thank you, sir."

  When he brought the car to a stop, he got out quickly to offer a verystiff military salute.

  Bors went inside. He found men with burning eyes conferring feverishly.An air force colonel said urgently, "Sir, please advise us! We have ourorders, but there's nearly a mutiny. We don't want to turn anything overto the Mekinese--after all, no matter what the king has commanded, oncethe fleet had lifted off, there can be no punishment if we destroy ourplanes and blast our equipment! Will you give us an unofficial--"

  Bors broke in quickly.

  "I may be able to give you a chance at a Mekinese cruiser. Can you lendme a plane with civilian markings and a pilot who's a good photographer?I'll need a magnetometer to trail, too. There's a rather urgentsituation coming up."

  The men stared at him.

  He explained the possibility of a Mekinese space-cruiser lying in fiftyfathoms off Cape Farnell. He did not say where the information camefrom. Even to men as desperate as these, Talents, Incorporatedinformation would not seem credible without painstaking explanation.Bors was by no means sure that he believed it himself, but he wanted toso fiercely that he sounded as if some Mekinese spy or traitor hadconfessed it.

  The feeling of tenseness multiplied, but voices grew very quiet. No manspoke an unnecessary word. In minutes they had made completearrangements.

  When the atmosphere-flier took off down the runway, wholly deceptiveexplanations were already being made. It was said that theatmosphere-fliers were to load bombs for demolition because the king wasbeing asked for permission to bomb all mines and bridges and railwaysand docks that would make Kandar a valuable addition to the Mekineseempire. Everything was to be destroyed before the conquerors came toground. The destruction would bring hardship to the citizens--so thestory admitted--but the Mekinese would bring that anyhow. And theyshouldn't profit by what Kandar's people had built for themselves.

  The point was, of course, to get bombloads aboard planes with no chanceof suspicion by spy or traitor of the actual use intended for them.Meanwhile, Bors flew in an atmosphere-flier which looked like a privateship and explained his intentions to the pilot, so that the small planedid not go directly to the spot five miles offshore that the mysteriousvisitors had mentioned, to make an examination of the sea bottom.Instead, it flew southward. It did not swing out to sea for nearly fiftymiles. It went out until it was on a line between a certain small islandwhere many well-to-do people had homes, and the airport of the planet'scapital city. Then it headed for that airport.

  It flew slowly, as civilian planes do. By the time the sandy beaches ofa cape appeared, it was quite convincingly a private plane bringingsomeone from a residential island to the airport of Kandar City. If asmall object trailed below it, barely above the waves, suspended by thethinnest of wires, it was invisible. If the plane happened to be on acourse that would pass above a spot north-northeast from the tip of thecape, a spot calculated from information given by Talents, Incorporated,it seemed entirely coincidental. Nobody could have suspected anythingunusual; certainly nothing likely to upset the plans of a murderoustotalitarian enemy. One small and insignificant civilian plane shouldn'tbe able to prevent the murder of a space-fleet, a king and the mostresolute members of a planet's population!

  Captain Bors flew the ship. The official pilot used an electron camera,giving a complete and overlapping series of pictures of the shore fivemiles away with incredible magnification and detail.

  The magnetometer-needle flicked over. Its findings were recorded. Asthe plane went on it returned to a normal reading for fifty fathoms ofseawater.

  Half an hour later the seemingly private plane landed at the capitalairport. Another half-hour, and its record and pictures were back at theair base, being examined and com
puted by hungry-eyed men.

  Just as the pretty Morgan girl had said, there was a shack on the verytip of the cape. It was occupied by two men. They loafed. And only anelectron camera could have used enough magnification to show one manlaughing, as if at something the other had said. The camera proved--fromfive miles away--that there was no sadness afflicting them. One manlaughed uproariously. But the rest of the planet was in no mood forlaughter.

  The magnetometer recording showed that a very large mass of magneticmaterial lay on the ocean bottom, fifty fathoms down. Minutemodifications of the magnetic-intensity curve showed that there waselectronic machinery in operation down below.

  Bors made no report to the palace. King Humphrey was a conscientious anddoggedly resolute monarch, but he was not an imaginative one. He wouldwant to hold a cabinet meeting before he issued orders for thedestruction of a space-ship that was only technically and not actuallyan enemy. Kandar had received an ultimatum from Mekin. An answer wasrequired when a Mekinese fleet arrived off Kandar. Until that momentthere was, in theory, no war. But, in fact, Kandar was already conqueredin every respect except the landing of Mekinese on its surface. KingHumphrey, however, would want to observe all the rules. And there mightnot be time.

  The air force agreed with Bors. So squadron after squadron took off fromthe airfield, on courses which had certain things in common. None ofthem would pass over a fisherman's shack on Cape Farnell. None couldpass over a spot five miles north-north-east magnetic from that cape'stip, where the bottom was fifty fathoms down and a suspicious magneticcondition obtained. One more thing unified the flying squadrons: At agiven instant, all of them could turn and dive toward that fifty-fathomdepth at sea, and they would arrive in swift and orderly succession.This last arrangement was a brilliant piece of staff-work. Men hadworked with impassioned dedication to bring it about.

  But only these men knew. There was no sign anywhere of anything moreremarkable than winged squadrons sweeping in a seemingly routineexercise about the heavens. Even so they were not visible from the cape.The horizon hid them.

  For a long time there was only blueness overhead, and the salt smell ofthe sea, and now and again flights of small birds which had no memory ofthe flight of their ancestors from ancient Earth. The planet Kandarrolled grandly in space, awaiting its destiny. The sun shone, the sunset; in another place it was midnight and at still another it was earlydawn.

  But from the high blue sky near the planet's capital, there came astuttering as of a motor going bad. If anyone looked, a most minuteangular dot could be seen to be fighting to get back over the land fromwhere it had first appeared, far out at sea. There were moments when thestuttering ceased, and the engine ran with a smooth hum. Then anotherstutter.

  The plane lost altitude. It was clear that its pilot fought to makesolid ground before it crashed. Twice it seemed definitely lost. Buteach time, at the last instant, the motor purred--and popped--and theplane rose valiantly.

  Then there was a detonation. The plane staggered. Its pilot fought andfought, but his craft had no power at all. It came down fluttering, withthe pilot gaining every imaginable inch toward the sandy shore. Itseemed certain that he would come down on the white beach unharmed, agood half-mile from the fisherman's shack on the cape. But--perhaps itwas a gust of wind. It may have been something more premeditated. Onewing flew wildly up. The flier seemed to plunge crazily groundward. Atthe last fraction of a second, the plane reeled again and crashed intothe fisherman's shack before which, from a distance of five miles, a manhad been photographed, laughing.

  Timbers splintered. Glass broke musically. Then there were thuds as menleaped swiftly from the plane and dived under the still-fallingroof-beams. There were three, four, half a dozen men in fleet uniforms,with blasters in their hands. They used the weapons ruthlessly upon acivilian who flung himself at an incongruously brand-new signallingapparatus in a corner of the shattered house. A second man snarled andsavagely lunged at his attackers; he was also blasted as he tried toreach the same device.

  There was no pause. Over the low ground to the west a flight of bombersappeared, bellowing. In mass formation they rushed out above the sea.Far to the right and high up, a second formation of man-made birdsappeared suddenly. It dived steeply from invisibility toward the water.Over the horizon to the left there came V's of bomber-planes, one afteranother, by dozens and by hundreds. More planes roared above theshattered shack. They came in columns. They came in masses. From theheavens above and over the ground below and from the horizon that rimmedthe world, the planes came. Planes from one direction crossed a certainpatch of sea.

  They were not wholly clear of it when planes from another part of thehorizon swept over the same area, barely wave-tip high. Planes from thewest raced over this one delimited space, and planes from the northalmost shouldered them aside, and then planes from the east covered thatsame mile-square patch of sea, and then more planes from the south....

  They followed each other in incredible procession, incredibly precise.The water on that mile-square space developed white dots, which alwaysvanished but never ceased. Spume-spoutings leaped up three feet, or ten,or twenty and disappeared, and then there were others which spouted upone yard, or two, or ten. There were innumerable temporary whitecaps.The surface became pale from the constant churning of new foam-patchesbefore the old foam died.

  Then, with absolute abruptness, the planes flew away from the one squaremile of sea. The late-comers climbed steeply. Abruptly, behind them,there were warning booms. Then monstrous masses of spray and bubblesand blue water leaped up three hundred feet, four hundred feet, five....

  A square mile of ocean erupted as the planes climbed up and away fromit. There were bombs in the ocean--some had sunk down deep. Othersfollowed in close succession. Many, many burdens of bombs had beendropped into the sea as plane-fleet after plane-fleet went by.

  The sea exploded in monstrous columns. Ton, half-ton and two-ton bombsbegan to detonate, fifty fathoms down. The Mekinese duty-officer belowhad just learned that the spies' signalling device was cut off, when adetonation lifted the hull of the Mekinese cruiser and shook itviolently. Another twisted its tail and crushed it. A bomb hit seabottom a quarter-mile away. More bombs exploded still nearer, in closecontact with the giant hull. A two-ton bomb clanked into contact withits metal plating and burst.

  The cruiser's duty-officer, cowering, thrust over the emergency-leverwhich would put the ship through pre-recorded commands faster thanorders could be spoken.

  Rockets flared, deep under water. But the flames set off bombs and therocket-nozzles cracked and were useless. A midship compartment wasflooding. A forward compartment's wall caved in, and still bombsburst.... The skipper of the assassin cruiser screamed an order to fireall missiles. They were already set on target. They were pre-set for thespot where the space-navy of Kandar waited to rise.

  They did not. One missile was blasted as the cover of its launcher-tubeopened. Another was blown in half when partly out of its tube and athird actually rammed a sinking bomb and vanished with it when itexploded.

  The huge thing under the sea heaved itself up blindly. It reached thesurface. But it was shattered and rent and dying, and planes divedvengefully upon it and blasted apart whatever could be seen in theroaring foam. So the blinded, suffering thing of metal only emptieditself of air and went down to the bottom again, where more bombs rippedand tore it.

  The atmosphere-fliers of Kandar swung in a gigantic, ballooning circleabout the spot where they had dropped a good fraction of a ton of bombsto the square yard. But nothing stirred there any more. Still, theplanes flew in a great, deadly band about it until a flitterboat cameout from shore and lowered a camera and a light by long, long cords.

  There was no space-cruiser at the bottom of the sea. There was evidenceof one, yes. There were patches of plating, and there were naked,twisted girders. The dangling underwater camera faithfully reported whatit saw by the light that was lowered with it. But there was nospace-cruiser. There were only the r
ather small fragments of what hadbeen one a little while before.

  Captain Bors went back to the palace. He was savagely pleased. He andthe air-fleet men had done something. They'd had some satisfaction.They'd killed some Mekinese and ruined a plan to assassinate the Kandarfleet. But they'd only gotten an immediate satisfaction. Kandar wasstill to be conquered. Nothing important had changed.

  Bors made his way to the king's study. He entered. King Humphrey theEighth and the Pretender of Tralee were listening doubtfully to a stoutman. The man was Morgan.

  He stopped talking and blinked at Captain Bors. The captain ignoredroyal etiquette and spoke to him without first greeting the king.

  "The ship was there, as you said. We smashed it. Thank you. Is there anymore information you can give us?"