The city sat there upon the plain and stared at them. The Nebula looked back.
At length a procession of cars moved toward them.
Grim Hagen’s voice came thundering over the loud-speakers.
“A truce, Ato. I offer you a week’s truce in return for a few meetings. This world has seen enough destruction—”
Gunnar and his crew leveled their death-gun at the advancing party. Odin kept them on the screen. Ato and a few of his captains got ready to disembark.
As Odin watched, he kept puzzling over that voice. It certainly was Grim Hagen’s. But it was different. Perhaps it was a bit lower, a bit more commanding. But there was just a bit of weariness in it. And the answer came to him suddenly—although he never knew why.
The voice was older!
Then Grim Hagen and his staff were below The Nebula. They were dressed in white and gold uniforms. That was not surprising, either. Ato and his men advanced for a parley. Odin watched and listened.
At first he could not get a clear look at the man for Ato’s broad shoulders. Then Ato turned aside, and Grim Hagen’s head and shoulders filled the screen.