"I see," said Tim, and this time he really did. "Then, you figure that if one clan could dominate Neptune, they'd strike?"
"Yes. And Hetlir's plan calls for precisely the sort of planetary organization that would suit the Neptunians. A master-race dominates ... and on Neptune ... that master-race would probably be the Tsom clan. They have a copy of Mein Kampst."
"You believe they've done it?"
"I see no other reason why ships should hover near our Callistonian frontier for five days."
"Then, I'll go investigate in the Solabor."
"Not the ships, Timmy. I want you to check on Neptune from the dark side. Look for two things. Are there any Neptunian cruisers massing? Have the planetary wars ended?"
Timmy sprawled back in his chair. "The answers to those questions," he said, "will tell us our next step."
"Exactly."
"I can leave in twenty minutes."
"Then," said the Director, "hop to it son. And I hope good luck goes with you." On the ceiling, the ominous dots seemed to grow more clear as their new significance thrust itself on Timmy. He grasped the Director's hand, shook it briefly, and walked out.