Almost instantly, the ship soared aloft.
"Wait!" Underwood exclaimed, as he entered the control room.
Phyfe and Dawson looked toward the door. "There can be no waiting," said Phyfe. "We had almost given up you and Terry and Illia. The police have been searching for us for weeks, and now that we're out in the open they'll spare no force to take us."
"We can't go without the Stroid records," said Underwood. "Terry tells me I've been elected to head this outfit. If that's so, then my first order is to pick up every scrap of Stroid record and artifact that has ever been found before we take off."
Dreyer came in and looked interestedly as Underwood spoke, but he said nothing.
"Why?" said Phyfe. "I don't understand."
"There was a weapon," said Underwood, "a weapon that the Sirenians were afraid of, which apparently was responsible for the power of the Dragbora over them. If any trace of that weapon remains in the Universe, our goal is to find it. It may be our one hope of defeating Demarzule."
The others looked at him as if doubting his sanity, yet hoping he was on the trail of a solution.
"But that was five hundred thousand years ago!" said Phyfe. "How could we hope to find such a weapon that disappeared that long ago? We have no clues—"