"You remember about the curious cat, don't you? However, no particular secret about it, I guess—ten duodec bombs placed where they'll do the most good, and timed for exactly simultaneous detonation. Here we are. Don't tell anybody I'm here."
Aboard the vessel, Kinnison disappeared into a stateroom while Blakeslee continued in charge. Men were divided into watches; duties were assigned; inspections were made, and the ship shot into the air. There was a brief halt to pick up Kinnison's speedster; then, again on the way, Blakeslee turned the board over to Crandall, the pilot, and went into Kinnison's room.
There the Lensman withdrew his control, leaving intact the memory of everything that had happened. For minutes Blakeslee was almost in a daze, but struggled through it and held out his hand.
"Mighty glad to meet you, Lensman. Thanks. All I can say is that after I got sucked in I couldn't——"
"Sure, I know all about it. That was one of the reasons I picked you out. Your subconsciousness didn't fight back a bit, at any time. You are to be in charge, from here to Tellus. Please go and chase everybody out of the control room except Crandall."
"Say, I just thought of something!" exclaimed Blakeslee, when Kinnison joined the two officers at the board. "You must be that particular Lensman who has been getting in Helmuth's hair so much lately!"
"Probably. That's my chief aim in life."
"I'd like to see Helmuth's face when he gets the report of this. I've said that before, haven't I? But I mean it now, even more than I did before."
"I'm thinking of Helmuth, too, but not that way." The pilot had been scowling at his plate, and now turned to Blakeslee and the Lensman, glancing curiously from one to the other. "Oh, I say——A Lensman, what? A bit of good old light begins to dawn; but that can wait. Helmuth is after us, foot, horse, and marines. Look at that plate!"
"Four of them already!" exclaimed Blakeslee. "And there's another! And we haven't got a beam hot enough to light a cigarette, nor a screen strong enough to stop a firecracker. We've got legs, but not as many as Helmuth's fliers. You knew all about that, though, of course, before we started; and from what you have pulled off so far you've got something left on the hooks. What is it? What's the answer?"